by Trisha Wolfe
For one second, I just wanted to lash out—to do something so out of character that I could pretend I was truly the one handling the reins of my life. I’m such a joke.
My head spins as I stand, and Ryder wraps an arm around my waist. I don’t argue as he leads me past the debauchery going on in the bar. Oh God, but I’m a hypocrite.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I splash water over my face, then curse. I put on way more makeup than I normally wear, and mascara is bleeding all around my eyes. Awesome. I think about grabbing my purse from the back, but don’t want to call any more attention to myself. I suck it up and dab at the caked-on blackness with a moistened paper towel.
After I rinse my mouth, I hear a knock at the door. Tentatively cracking it, I see Ryder holding my purse and clothes. “Thought you might want these.”
There’s no judgment in his voice, but shame cloaks me just the same. I thank him and then quickly rush into a stall to change. I finish making myself look halfway decent, though there’s nothing to be done for the glitter coating my skin, and quickly rinse my mouth with mouthwash.
When I exit, Ryder is leaning against the wall, waiting for me. There’s a whole show of semi-naked girls dancing and writhing behind him, but his focus is on my pathetic self.
“Walk?” he offers. “The cold air will help clear your head, and also help with the nausea.”
I nod. But then, “Vee. I can’t leave her…”
A wan smile touches his mouth. “She left with Gavin a few minutes ago.”
Relief floods me. “Thank you.” He makes a face, but I know it was his doing as to why Vee’s now away from here, with the guy she adores. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe this really was the only way she could get Gavin’s notice, and maybe I should stop being so judgmental.
Ryder escorts me through the bar, his hand in mine. The frigid air is a shock to my system, and I suck in a fast breath. “I’m so stupid,” I breathe out.
He doesn’t respond—to agree or disagree—which sets my nerves on edge, but leads me down toward the lose sand of the beach. The moonless night encases us in a heavy darkness, the water black, breaking with a blue-gray crest against the shadowed shore. It all looks so ethereal; a dark world lit by the stars reflecting off the glassy ocean.
“How do you feel?” Ryder asks, interrupting the eerie tranquility.
“Like an asshole,” I admit. He turns toward me swiftly, his mouth parting to follow up, but I wave my hand. “I know you meant my stomach. And I’m feeling a little better. The beach always seems to calm me.”
“You’re allowed to make mistakes.” His blue gaze is charcoal gray in the surreal light, the wind sending his dark hair against the furrowed creases of his forehead. “You’re also allowed to strip…if that’s really what you want to do.”
A pang hollows out my chest. “Ugh,” I groan. “It’s so not. I’m not knocking women who do…seriously. I realize just how brave one needs to be to bare all. But I’m not cut out for it. I’m not even any good at it. That was so embarrassing.” I want to dig a hole in the sand and stick my damn head in it.
“I have to argue with you on that point,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Had I not known you personally, I’d probably be one broke jerk by the end of the night. I’d have fed you every last one of my dollars.”
I snort. “Shut up.”
“Honestly,” he says, and takes a seat on the beach. He looks up at me, his face washed in the stars’ soft glow. “I admit, I had a different fantasy set up for that scenario. One that didn’t involve my teammates. But that small taste was enough to put me on frustrate for a good long while.”
“I shocked you,” I state.
He shakes his head. “Nothing you could ever do would shock me.”
His gaze turns intense, his eyes unblinking against the frigid wind. They hold mine for an undetermined amount of time, until his words sink in past the haze of regret. God, what am I doing?
I throw my attention out over the ocean. “We could…” I start but stop. How the hell do you proposition a guy like Ryder? I know that neither one of us are looking for anything serious, it’s just too difficult. He’s going off to join the pros, and I’m staying right where I am. Chained and bound to my life. We’re a part of two very different worlds. It’s not fair to treat it any differently.
“Tell me,” he says, and tugs on my hand, pulling me down beside him in the sand. “Just say it. I promise, I’ll hear you out.”
“As opposed to last time?” I glance over at him.
His lips turn down in a hard frown. “I told you before, when I want something badly, I have no patience.” His fingers lace through mine, the grit of sand a pleasurable friction between our palms. “You can think I’m full of it all you want, but I’m in, Ari. At this point, I’ll take whatever you can offer. I’m fucking miserable waiting on the sideline.”
My heart stutters. My head screams not to believe him, and my soul rebounds, demanding I sate its starvation. But does it matter? In the end, when we both go off on our separate, prospective paths, does it really matter whether or not it was real? A lie, even? All I ever wanted was one moment of freedom, and Ryder is offering me just that. The chance to make one choice for myself. Right now.
To hell with propositions.
I release his hand only to straddle his lap. I link my arms around his neck, feel the taut, chiseled muscles of his stomach press against me as he clutches my waist. Then I’m looking into his vivid blue eyes, only giving him a second to refuse, before my lips crush his.
The world tilts.
Ryder’s soft lips are firm at first, holding resistance, but I don’t pull back. I part my mouth over his and release a light moan, my whole body absorbed in the caress, in his taste. He sucks in a quick breath, cool against my tongue, then a groan rumbles through the kiss. His tongue delves into the cavern of my mouth, exploring sweetly, then demanding more, replacing the cool with heat.
His hands slide along my back to grip me to him, his arms flexing possessively around me, as he takes control of the kiss. And, oh, I need him to. I give in completely, relinquishing all power, and let him own every inch of me.
I’m tearing at his shirt, trying desperately not to break us apart. Finding his hard stomach, I run my palms along the tight muscles, up to his chest, loving the way he quakes at my touch. As if he’s attuned to my body’s needs, he grasps my thighs, inching my dress up as he roams my skin. All the while pulling me down harder against him.
The rough material of his jeans rubs against my clit as his arousal grows, hardening against me with each thrust. It’s so frenzied. My hands in his hair, then back to his chest. His sliding farther up until he’s pushing the bikini top aside and cupping my breast.
Turning his head to the side with a harsh curse, he breaks the kiss, his breaths releasing in rapid pants. “Jesus,” he says.
But I’m nowhere near ready to stop. I’m at his neck, kissing and licking, losing myself in the masculine smell of his cologne. He pulls away, forcing me back by my shoulders. “Hell... Ari. Wait. Are you drunk?”
I can’t help it, I laugh. Then shake my head. “No.” And it’s the truth—unless he counts being drunk on him. Whatever buzz I had from the vodka has burned through my veins, replaced by scorching heat, my blood boiling.
He blinks hard. “I’m about to lose my shit.” He swallows, the knot inching up his throat.
That…is the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me. I’m all but attacking him again. It’s like years of pent-up frustration and disappointment unleashed. Ari gone wild. But he’s pulling back again.
“Seriously…” He makes me look into his eyes. “You have got to stop. I’ve never felt this out of control before. Just…I need a minute.”
“Why?” I lick my lips, tasting him on me, watching his gaze follow the path of my tongue. “I’ve spent far too much time analyzing every move before I make it. And I don’t want to do that right now, Ryder. You said whatever I could offer…” I
trail off, not knowing how to express this without sounding like a complete, sex-starved moron. “I want you. I don’t want to overthink it. Not anymore.”
His breath slips past his lips on a shaky exhale. “Fucking say that again.”
My eyebrows pull together. “I don’t want to—”
“No. The other.”
I inhale deeply. “I want you.”
The words have barely hit the span of air between us before he’s captured the last one with his mouth. I reel back from the impact, but rebound on him just as forcefully and greedy. All reservation has flown, evaporated, like the mist coming off the ocean.
We fall back, Ryder lowering us to the ground, keeping me atop him. My knees dig into the sand as I bear down, getting as close to him as our bodies allow. And as he moves to my neck, kissing a fiery trail along the column of my throat, his rough hands make quick work of the buttons on my dress. He pushes the material open, and I lift up just long enough to pull his tee over his head; our exposed skin makes contact.
Then his mouth is on mine.
Ryder shifts his jacket along the sand, then rolls me on top of it. He gazes down, tracing my body with his eyes, the passion consuming us ablaze in his intensely blue irises. He presses hard against me, eliciting a moan from my mouth, and he curses sharply.
“I want you. So badly it hurts,” he breathes against my neck.
I understand completely. The ache between my thighs pulses painfully each time he thrusts, our clothes an annoying barrier between us. “Take off your pants,” I whisper.
He groans again, more audibly. “Not like this…”
“Exactly like this,” I say. When he looks at me, I reiterate, “No regrets.”
He kisses me. I have no idea what’s going through his mind, what he now thinks of me—but I kill that insecure part of my brain. Just shut it down. As he reaches into his pocket, I wrap my legs around his waist, giving him enough room to maneuver, but refusing to let him go. Then I run my hand along his chest, his stomach, his jeans, until I find the clasp of his fly.
I feel his unsteady gasp against my mouth as I work the zipper open and take him into my hand. A delicious shiver trills through me at the feel of him—hard and hot in my grasp. Anticipation thrums through me with alarming need, the unguarded desire to feel the full length of him inside me, filling me.
With sure, deft movements, he soon has a condom in his hand, and is wriggling off his jeans. I help by running my feet down his legs. I don’t want a second of hesitation to creep over us—no time to question our actions. I only want to be lost in him.
Forcefully, and without warning, he captures my arms and pins them above my head, pressing my wrists into the sand as his body covers mine. His lips bruise mine with demanding need as his fingers trail a scorching path down my arms. They don’t stop their pursuit until they’ve reached my underwear. I suck in a breath against his lips.
I’m relieved he doesn’t ask me again if I’m sure—that he just grips the thin material and slides it down my thighs. Freeing me of the desperation that will surely be in my voice if I have to confess how badly I want him—need him to take me in every way.
His mouth goes to my chest, one hand massaging my breast as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. I’m climbing, the feel of him rubbing against my clit, sliding between me…not yet with the condom. Skin licking skin. The warm pulse intoxicating me.
“You’re so wet…” he whispers against my mouth. “You feel so damn good, Ari. I could do this, right here, forever.” He pulls back enough to look into my eyes, and his show with hunger. His body trembles with restraint. “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you…just like this? How much you’ve invaded my every thought?”
I shake my head against the ground, my throat tight with emotion. Every time he moves against me, I’m tempted to lift my hips—just a fraction to let him drive right in.
He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, his gaze refusing to release me. And as he reaches down to slip it on himself, I lick my lips, heavy with anticipation. His body shelters mine as he rests himself against me, that one moment suspended before he pushes in, eliciting a soft cry from my mouth.
“Shit,” he curses roughly. His hand grips my thigh as he backs out slowly, then drives into me deeper. “Fuck, but you feel so tight around me.” Then all hesitance is gone. My thighs lock against his strong hips as he rocks into me fully, stretching me to accommodate his notable size. I can’t lie and say that I wasn’t worried there’d be pain. It’s been a while—and Ryder is all man, from head to toe. But my body opens to him, unfolding like petals of a wilted flower, demanding he quench my thirst.
“All the way,” I pant out. His eyes snap to mine, a desperate need gleaming there. “I want all of you inside me, Ryder. Don’t hold back—let me feel you.”
His lips crash down on mine, swallowing the last of my words, as he drives into me, giving me exactly what I crave. My fingers slick over his back, nails clawing to find purchase, as his solid muscles flex. I finally find my grip in his hair as one of his hands locks onto the back of my thigh, pulling me to him as he fills me with each unguarded thrust.
I rock up to meet him each time he comes down, the sweet, tantalizing sensation making me gasp as the taut muscle between the V of his pelvis rubs my clit. Then I’m shoving all doubts aside, enraptured in the oncoming climax. My muscles clench on a spasm, my walls gripping him, begging for just one more thrust… And then he groans and pushes his hand between my legs, his fingers knowing just where to touch me.
A cry slips from my mouth, and Ryder lifts up. He drives into me with more force, slow and achingly deep, watching me as I arch my back. I cling to his shoulders, holding on as he brings me to the edge. Then I’m crashing. He groans and thrusts deeply, his body seizing, and he stays there—hard and pulsing inside me.
His head drops to my shoulder, our breaths panting and floating out to meet the crash against the shore. Euphoria has never felt like this. The aftershocks wash over my body, sending rippling waves of heat and chills along my skin.
I feel his chest expand against mine, then he turns his head and presses a soft kiss against my neck. “You’ve ruined me,” he says, before taking my mouth again.
22
Ryder
The problem with hookups is—most of the time—the chick doesn’t go away after. I’m better than most guys, at least, I think; I let them know beforehand that there won’t be any texts, dates, a next time. I’m always upfront. So I’m not completely ruthless.
Ever since the night everything went to hell, I’ve never once desired a long-term anything with a girl beyond meeting my most basic, carnal needs. Hell, I’m still human. But after Alyssa, I had zero interest in putting my heart through the fucking shredder again. Just thinking about it makes me want to punch myself for being such a pussy—but it’s the truth.
Sometimes, you just can’t rebound.
Gavin and Laney have somehow figured out the fine finesses of having a strictly sexual relationship without allowing the complication of feelings to get involved. But I never wanted to tempt it. You let them know bluntly it’s a mutually beneficial coupling to get your rocks off, and then you each part, no baggage, no drama.
I have never been on the other end of a hookup, however. I was not the one who secretly hoped that I was different, that I’d be the one time, the one moment, to blow your mind so hard that you’d want to stick around. Now, for the first time…I’m that person. And I don’t like it one fucking bit.
“Bro, we’re heading out,” Gavin says as he slides on his sneakers. “You sure you just want to sit around here and mope all night?”
Dropping my iPad to my lap, I glare at him. I’m so fucking tempted to ask him if Vee’s said anything about Ari, if she’s said anything about me—I feel like a total asshole. I resist the urge, and instead say, “Bring back some wings.”
He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, sure.” Then he walks out the door, leaving me to brood by my damn self. I have
to admit, I don’t blame him. I’m getting pretty sick of me, too.
I’ve been the biggest dick out on the field this past week. Taking a lot of my shit out on the guys at the away game—though they haven’t complained. We have the playoff steadily approaching, and working them hard is what they expect. Doesn’t stop me from feeling like a douche, though.
That night with Ari on the beach…hell. I run my hand down my face, as if I can clear away the memory that’s been tormenting me all week. But it’s a futile attempt. I’m thoroughly wrecked. I’ve never felt anything close to what I experienced with her. I’ve been racking my brain, searching my Writer’s Thesaurus, seeking the words to describe it:
Ardent. Impassioned. Intense. Otherworldly. Powerful.
However close they are, they don’t fully capture the intimacy that left me reeling.
From the second she pressed her soft lips to mine, she owned me. Entirely. And I was terrified. I clung to her, desperate to keep her bound to me, fearful of letting her go—because I knew the inevitable distance would shatter me.
I’m that pathetic, I know. Believe me, I’ve been trying to put it into a context with which I can downplay it and recover. I keep reminding myself of what Ari voiced with the roar of the ocean as our backdrop, the stars our only witness to what transpired. She very clearly stated that she couldn’t offer me more than that moment, but damn it to hell. It’s not enough, not by a long shot.
The low knock at my door draws me out of my dark thoughts, and I consider ignoring it. It’s probably one of the other guys, sent by Gavin to try to talk me into going out. But hanging around Gavin as he macks on Vee is just not how I want to spend my night.
Another knock, more assertive this time, and I’m pushing off my bed. Annoyed, I yank the door open, my mouth parted to spew bitter words ready on my tongue…and I nearly choke as I swallow them back. The sight in the hallway a kick to my gut.
Ari stands with a binder pressed to her chest. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, the ringlets cascading over one shoulder. She’s dressed in a soft black thermal that sets off her amber irises and a pale pink skirt that falls to her ankles. An ache hitches in my throat, hot and solid.
