Debauched (Undone Book 3)

by Jennifer Dawson

  “Why would I be bothered?”

  I shrug one shoulder and continue to study the screen. “That you were stuck with the unadventurous girl.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Ruby, where does this competition come from?”

  I frown at the word. “I’m not competitive.”

  “What do you call it?”

  The words that come to my head alarm me. They’re about approval. His approval. I don’t like them, they sound like my mother. I swallow. “I just feel bad for you.”

  He studies my face. I’ve learned enough about him to know he’s read something in my expression. That something put his instincts on high alert. I steel myself, waiting for whatever he says.

  His gaze narrows. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  I shrug again.

  “Tell me why.”

  I want him to be proud of me, but I can’t say that. Can’t admit I want something so backward. “I want to be fun.”

  “How are you defining fun?”

  I don’t like the path this conversation is heading. Or how it makes me sound. Or feel. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

  Again he studies me in silence, and I can tell by his expression he knows something about me that I don’t. Which is par for the course.

  “You’re not holding me back.” His tone is soft and soothing. “You have to remember Ruby, Layla and Jillian have been with Michael and Leo for a long time. They are at different places in their relationships than we are.”

  Of course, he seems to know what I’m circling around and refuses to say. And he’s right, I had forgotten. My brow furrows.

  He squeezes my ankle. “You’re Layla’s best friend. Think back to when she first started seeing Michael. Do you honestly believe he’d have put her in a public scene two weeks in?”

  I remember those days, where everything for Layla was a constant fight. A constant struggle. Back then she could barely get through the day. But I’ve dismissed all that, choosing to focus on how she is now. A vibrant, empowered female that awes me. I suck in a harsh breath and my eyes fill with swift and sudden tears.

  Chad’s fingers sweep back and forth along my calf, but he makes no mention of my emotional distress.

  I blink furiously, trying to quell the betraying rush of sadness. When I think I have myself under control, I squeak, “I guess I think she has a good excuse and I don’t.”

  “Ruby.” My name so soft on his lips.

  I look at him.

  “You don’t need an excuse.”

  Then why do I feel like I do? I nod. “Okay.”

  “If you need to cry, let yourself cry.” He takes my wrist and tugs. “I’ve got you.”

  No. I don’t want to cry. I want to go back to the girl I was a couple of hours ago. I shake my head. “I’m okay.”

  He pulls harder, and I don’t resist, tumbling against his chest. “I’ve got you anyway.”

  Some of the pressure against my ribs eases as I stare up at him, amazed. “Who are you?”

  He smiles. “You know who I am.”

  I shake my head. “You’re too perfect.”

  “I’m not even close to perfect.” He cups my jaw and traces his thumb over my lower lip. “You just think that because you’ve never had anyone understand you before.”

  “I haven’t.” I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “I don’t think I even understand me.”

  “I know. But you will, in time.”

  I settle in his lap, curling into him, because he feels so goddamn good I can’t help myself. And I’m scared. I’m starting to need him. And as good as this is, I’m not Chad’s forever girl. For forever, he needs someone else, someone better, that will be the woman he deserves. “Thank you.”

  “For what. I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Yes, you did.” I can give him this much. He deserves this much. I meet his gaze. “You put me first, and in my whole life nobody has ever done that, not even my parents.”

  His gaze darkens. “Who did they put first?”

  “God.” That one word says everything. And nothing.

  “I see.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression. They are lovely people, and good parents. And they mean well.”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  “They love me. They just don’t get me.”

  He rubs a finger down the curve my jaw. “I get it. I understand. You can love your parents and not like some of the things they did.”

  “I know.” I don’t want to talk about them. But I don’t know what to talk about. I only wish I could stop thinking, stop the millions of questions swirling in my head, including the ever pressing, why are we doing this? I’ve never cared much about the future, preferring to live in the now. But that’s increasingly difficult with Chad.

  I’m not willing to admit it to anyone, I can barely admit it to myself, but I’ve never felt about anyone the way I’ve felt about Chad. He matters to me. He’s starting to feel like home, like the person I want to call when I’m upset, or have had a good day. I want to do stuff for him. Please him. Make him happy. I’m going to be devastated when it ends. When he goes back to the type of girl he’s meant for.

  I stiffen. If I were smart, I’d end it. Save myself.

  “What?” He’s too smart, too in tune.

  My heart starts to hammer against my ribs. There is no future. There is only heartbreak. In the end, I’ll only disappoint him. I open my mouth to say the words to sever the bond that’s forming between us, but what I say shocks me. My voice trembles. “I have to go home next month for a reunion. Will you come with me?”

  The invitation causes a riot of panic to stampede through me. What am I thinking? I was about to end it and instead I ask him to meet my family? Besides, you don’t ask a guy to go meet your parents after so soon. I immediately backpedal. “Wait. That’s too soon. Sorry. That’s a lifetime from now.”

  “Ruby.”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

  “Ruby.” His arms around me tighten.

  “Forget I said that. It was silly.”

  “Ruby.” My name on his lips is loud enough to still my babbling.

  I look up at him.

  He smiles. “I’d love to go with you.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t have to. It’s too soon.”

  “No it’s not.” He grips my jaw. “I’m going.”

  Everything inside me that’s been bouncing around like jumping beans all night settles as I finally accept the truth of my situation.

  I want him to go.

  I don’t want to save myself the heartbreak.

  I want to be with him more than I want to protect myself.

  It’s terrifying and risky and not smart—but it’s true. He is absolutely what I want.

  I nod. “Okay. You don’t feel obligated?”

  “No.” He kisses me and his hands roam over my ribs. “Have you ever brought anyone home?”

  I shake my head. “Never.”

  His hand cups my breast while his thumb strokes over my nipple. “I’ll be the first.”

  “Yes.” My back bows in invitation, I want a deeper touch. Now that I’ve accepted I want him imprinted onto my skin.

  His hand skims down my stomach and works under my top. His palm is hot, leaving a trail of heat behind. “I like being your firsts.”

  I suck in a breath. “I like it too.” Because I do—if I can do one thing for him it’s give him everything I’ve never given to anyone else.

  He meets my gaze. “Do you want my fingers on your cunt?”

  My hips twitch involuntarily in anticipation. “Yes.”

  “Good.” His hand skims back down my body to rest on my bare thigh. “That’s a pretty sight.”

  I watch as his tanned hand settles against my pale skin. My skirt is so high you can see my black panties. He’s right it is pretty.

  He grips my leg and slides up, his finger
s brushing where I’ve been so desperate for him. “I’m going to tease you, but I’m not going to try and make you come, okay?”

  Muscles I didn’t know had tensed ease.

  He smiles. “That’s right, you relax and let me take care of things. And, Ruby?”

  “Yes.” My voice is already breathless.

  “Whatever you do, don’t think about orgasms.”

  Don’t think about orgasms. Don’t think about orgasms.

  I swallow hard and watch as Chad’s hand slides up my thigh in slow motion. My breath catches as his fingers brush over the silk of my panties. Panties I’d worn with him in mind, both scared and hopeful tonight would be the night he touched me.

  Now it’s happening and I can’t turn off my brain.

  “Breathe, Ruby.” Chad’s voice shocks me back.

  My gaze flies to his face. He’s watching me in that intent way he has. As though he’s a mind reader. As though he can see every thought in my head.

  I exhale, trying to slow my rapid heart.

  His hand stops, resting on my mound.

  “You’re okay.” His words are sure and steady.

  Embarrassment washes over me and I nod. I hate this about myself. My fucked-up notions about sex are exactly the opposite of what I want them to be. Of who I want to be. I want to be empowered. Confident. Alive and pulsing with sexuality. I want to own it.

  I’m none of those things. No matter how hard I try.

  It’s why I started faking in the first place.

  Pretending makes things so much easier, but Chad knows my secrets, most of them anyway, the important ones. There is no pretending with him.

  As liberating as that is, as much as it’s a weight lifted off my chest, all I want right now is to be someone else. I want my body to communicate to him how it thrums with lust for him, how it pulses with need, hammers with desire. What is wrong with me that I can’t make that happen?

  His hand retreats to my lower leg. “We’ll try this another night.”

  I shake my head, and put his palm back where I’ve been desperate for him to be for weeks. “Please, no.”

  “You’re too tense. Too on edge.”

  “I know.” I tilt my hips. “But please don’t stop.”

  With the lightest of touches he rubs a slow, teasing path down my panties. “Are you doing what I told you?”

  I bite my lip, trying to remember. “What?”

  “Are you not thinking about orgasms?”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Stop.” His finger trails light circles down, moving once again to my thighs. “What are you afraid of?”

  I want to protest that I’m not afraid, but it’s so clearly untrue, I can’t speak the lie. “I don’t know.”

  He continues his little circles, high on my inner thigh. “What’s the worst-case scenario? Tell me.”

  I know him now, he’ll ask me all night until he gets the truth. I swallow past my tight throat. “That I’ll be cold and unresponsive.”

  He meets my gaze. “So what? Does it matter if I touch you and you’re not wet?”

  I nod. “It matters to me.”

  “Why?”

  I look down at my lap. “I don’t want to fail you.”

  “There’s nothing I can say to assure you, but I’ll try.” He cups my jaw and forces my attention to him. “You’re worrying for nothing. You’re already wet. And even if you weren’t I wouldn’t take it as a personal slight against my ego.”

  I blink at him. “You wouldn’t?”

  Again, his expression turns exacting and scrutinizing. “No. My ego can take it.”

  “I want to believe.” Anxiety is a buzz through my veins. Vibrating over my skin.

  “I know you do.” He releases his grip and his hand slides down my chest, over my stomach and traces the edge of my panties. “Let’s find out if I’m right, shall we?”

  I shake my head. There’s no way and I’ll be humiliated.

  “Yes.” His fingers slip down my underwear and I clamp my legs together. “Open.”

  Almost as though guided by some sort of weird instinct, my thighs part even as my brain tells me to stop.

  “Good girl.” He circles my clit and, despite my distress, lust flutters low in my belly. He glides over my folds and I twitch involuntarily. He retreats; and I hold my breath as he raises his hand and paints my lower lip with the wetness slicking his finger. “Just as I thought.”

  I frown. How was that possible?

  His lips curve. “Someday I’ll explain it to you.”

  My frown only deepens and he laughs, flashing me a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. “Some girls can be nervous and aroused. It’s not always mutually exclusive.”

  “It’s never happened before.”

  His fingers slide between my legs and brush featherlight over my soft center. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh.

  His expression twists into exaggerated menace. “Are you saying I’m not?”

  My mood lightens and I can’t help but grin. “I don’t know, we’ve only been to second base.”

  “What do you call this?” He traces circles over my folds, not really touching me with purpose, more playing. Teasing.

  My body gives a pulse of desire. “Two and a half.”

  He cocks a brow. “Are you trying to force my hand?”

  “Who me?” I flutter my lashes. “Never.”

  “Not you.” He leans down and flicks his tongue over my lower lip. “I’m going to play with your pussy while we watch TV. All I’m going to do is play; I have no expectation you’ll come. In fact, I am one hundred percent sure you won’t so it’s not even on my radar. I just want to touch you. Don’t pay any attention to me, okay?”

  “Are you insane?”

  “Probably.” He juts his head toward the flat screen. “Watch.”

  “But—”

  “No talking. We’re watching TV and cuddling. Completely innocent.”

  I bite my lip at the millions of questions in my head that all circle back to one. I clear my throat. “And if I don’t? Watch TV that is?”

  Something flashes in his expression and his eyes narrow on me with suspicion. “Then I’ll stop. Anytime I feel you’re trying, I’ll stop.”

  I blink, tilting my head to think about his statement. “Trying?”

  He nods. “Trying to come. Trying to force it. Getting into your head. Talking to distract me.”

  I laugh. “That’s a long list.”

  “You have two jobs here. Watch TV and relax.” His fingers play lightly over my skin. “That’s the extent of your responsibility.”

  “I can do that.” I don’t know how he does it but he always manages to ease me.

  “That’s because you’re a good girl.” He gives me a hot, searing kiss that leaves me breathless. “Now watch.”

  I turn my head toward the TV and he begins.

  I wait for him to go in for the kill, because that’s what most guys do, but this is Chad.

  So, of course, he doesn’t do that at all. Instead, his fingers slide down my leg to the edge of where my tights meet my thigh. He traces a path over the seam, between my legs, touching fabric and skin, light and gentle.

  My gaze may be on the flickering television but I couldn’t tell you what we’re watching, or even what’s on the screen, because all my attention is focused on the stroke of his hand over my flesh and the anticipation buzzing inside me.

  My heart flutters, my belly dips.

  He continues his slow dance over my skin.

  I shift.

  “Comfortable?” His tone is mild and unconcerned.

  I shrug.

  “Hmmm… Maybe we should readjust?”

  My head swivels to look at him and he grins. I’d never considered boyish sexy before but there’s something about Chad that works. He’s a study in contrasts. He’s the angel and devil all rolled together. Everything a proper young man should be, until it comes to
sex. I never knew a man could be so good, while his mouth and hands were so very wicked.

  And I love the way he talks. I’ve never had a man talk to me the way he does. He makes everything sound hot, and delicious, like something I want, not something I need to cringe away from. Most men with his good looks and considerable sexual skills are usually jerks, but he’s not like that at all. I didn’t know men could be so considerate, could listen so intently. Could take so much time. He’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever met and I want him so badly. Somehow, I need to find a way to give him everything.

  “Straddle me for a minute.”

  His words startle me out of my whirlwind thoughts. I don’t think about not complying. I move, sliding my body on top of him, my thighs cradling his lean hips. I look down. His open palms are high on my thighs, and in that second everything about us looks exactly right. Exactly the way it’s supposed to be. The need, the urge, swells inside me like a wave, threatening to crash over me and pull me under its powerful current.

  He squeezes. “Stay with me, Ruby.”

  I blink to find blue eyes peering into me, pinning me to the spot. For the first time in my life I don’t want to play it close to the vest, don’t want to pretend. I’m not wishing I could disappear or have some out-of-body experience. I want to be right here. With him. I trust him like I’ve never trusted another soul.

  Looking into his penetrating gaze, the most miraculous thing happens, my heart opens, and something that had been a tight ball inside me breaks apart and shatters into a million pieces.

  I touch his jaw and whisper in a shaky voice, “I want to give you everything.”

  Most men would have a panic attack at that statement, but Chad nods and says simply, “Don’t worry, you will.”

  “I’m not afraid.” I don’t quite know what I’m trying to communicate, or how to articulate what’s roiling around inside me. It’s the best I can come up with.

  “Good.” His hands roam over my hips to rest at my waist. “Lift your arms over your head.”

  I do and he whisks my top off, dropping it to the floor. I expect my bra to follow, but instead he cups me and rubs his thumbs over my satin-covered nipples.

  My breath immediately catches in my throat.