by Chloe Walsh
But then I thought about everything I had learned about him since I came here.
Rourke wasn’t a liar. He didn’t have that urge most people had to please and protect others. Rourke was brutally honest, almost savagely so. He didn’t pick and choose his words either. He came right out with it, and if you didn’t like what he had to say, then deal with it or get out of his way. He made no apologies for who he was and how he thought about things. I loved that about him. Even back in the beginning when he was being a heartless jerk to me, I always admired his honesty.
“And please,” I added, holding up a hand. “Choose your words better than last time.”
Britt is a girl I occasionally fuck.
Ugh.
“You really want to talk about her?” he asked, raising a brow.
No, I didn’t want to talk about Britt.
I had to.
Mustering up as much courage as I could, I nodded once and said, “I want to know.”
“Fine.” Reaching forward, Rourke grabbed a bottle of water from the cup holder and took a deep sip before exhaling heavily. “Ask your questions, Six.”
Tucking my legs beneath me, I angled my body to face his. “How long were you with her?”
“Five years,” he replied stiffly.
“Five years?” That was a freaking lifetime. “Since you were twelve?”
“Yeah. Britt was my first girlfriend,” he replied before releasing a harsh breath. “What am I saying? She was my only girlfriend.” Sighing, he added, “We were close growing up. She was one of my best friends. When we started dating in the sixth grade, it kind of felt…inevitable – like being with her was what I was supposed to do.”
“You lost your virginity to her?”
“Yeah. Sophomore year.”
“How old were you?”
“I don’t know… maybe sixteen?” He seemed to think about it before repeating, “No, I was still fifteen at the time. Britt was sixteen. She’s older than me by a few months.”
Oh my god. “You had sex when you were fifteen?”
He looked at me sheepishly and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
“So, you haven’t been….” My words trailed off and I blushed a deep crimson color before forcing myself to say, “Is she the only girl you’ve been with?”
“Fuck, Six,” Rourke grumbled, rubbing a hand across his face. “Are we really going to talk about this?”
“I want to know,” I admitted, jutting my chin out.
“Fine.” Rourke threw his hands up in defeat. “Yes. Britt is the only girl I’ve ever slept with. I’ve kissed other girls since we broke up and done some other stuff, but Britt?” He paused, nostrils flaring. “She’s the only one.”
Fuck.
He really did belong to her.
“Did you love her?” I blurted out. What was I saying? Of course he loved her…
Rourke nodded once, the movement stiff and almost reluctant like it was painful for him to admit this to me.
My heart sank. “Do you still love her?”
Rourke’s jaw clenched and he stared out the window for the longest time before turning his attention back to my face. “I’m not in love with her anymore.”
His answer bothered me. Because he didn’t say he didn’t love her. He said he wasn’t in love with her anymore.
Maybe I was reading too much into his words, but I wanted him so badly to tell me that he hated her guts. It would have made me feel a million times better. Even if I was only his friend with benefits.
“What happened?” I forced myself to ask.
“I got tired of being second best.” Rourke’s voice was low and gruff, his blue eyes locked intently on mine. “That’s what I’ve always been in Britt’s eyes; her backup plan.” He shook his head and sighed. “I was never gonna be her endgame, Six. Not like I should have been. So, we broke up. Junior year.”
“Second best?” I asked, confused, wondering how on earth anyone could look at Rourke and consider him second best. Rourke Owens was second to none. Even when I hated him, I knew that. This boy was nobody’s backup plan.
“Yeah.” He laughed harshly and it was a pained sound. It hurt my heart. His blue eyes narrowed when he said, “After the ninth or tenth time I caught her cheating on me, I’d had enough.” He shrugged helplessly. “Figured I’d rather be alone than with a liar.”
“Was she your endgame, Rourke?” I dared to ask.
“At the time, yeah,” he admitted hoarsely. “She was.”
“And now?” I paused before asking, “What’s your endgame?”
“Now?” He exhaled heavily. “My endgame is to get the hell out of this town as soon as I graduate.”
He had a plan just like mine.
How ironic.
“But you continued to sleep with her?” My voice sounded far more accusatory than I had intended. “Why do that to yourself?” I added in a softer tone of voice. “When you knew she was doing you wrong like that?”
“Because I couldn’t forgive her and I couldn’t move on from her,” he shot back honestly. “I was stuck and Britt was…familiar.”
“Rourke…”
“I know it sounds bad, Six,” Rourke interrupted, running a hand roughly through his hair. “But it’s the only answer I have.”
“Thank you for telling me.” If Rourke was expecting me to judge him then he had me totally wrong. “And FYI? Britt’s a fucking idiot for letting you go.”
His gaze softened. “You think so?”
Reaching across the console, I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “I know so.”
“What about you?” Rourke asked, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, obviously keen to veer the subject away from him. “Don’t try to tell me you didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts back in Kansas”
I scoffed. “Doubtful.”
Rourke raised a brow in disbelief. “I find that hard to believe, Six.”
“Yeah, well it’s the truth,” I shot back. “My last boyfriend gave up on me when after six months of dating, the furthest he’d managed to get was a hand job.”
Rourke looked at me in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shook my head. “I kid you not. Peter called me ‘high-maintenance’ because I wouldn’t put out.” I forced back a shudder at the thought. “He broke up with me right before junior prom and went with Sarah Landes instead.” I leaned my head back and grimaced at the memory. “Of course, I have no doubt he got what he wanted from Sarah that night, though I don’t know for sure, since I blew off the dance and took a shift at work instead.”
“What douche nozzle,” Rourke said in a tone laced with disgust.
“Uh-huh.” I nodded in total agreement. “He was a mistake.”
“A should have been swallowed kind of mistake?” he asked with a teasing wink.
“Yes,” I laughed. “Definitely one of those.”
“Before him?”
“Um…” I paused as I thought back. “There was Michael Dauntez. We dated for a couple of months when Mom and I lived in Nevada.” I smiled fondly at the memory. “He had worse luck than Peter,” I laughed. “He didn’t even manage to slip the tongue when he kissed me. But then again, we were in the seventh grade, so what did he really expect from me?”
Rourke grinned. “You make guys work for it?”
“Absolutely,” I replied with a smile. “I wasn’t going to let some hormonal teenage boy climb into my pants just because he paid me a slither of attention – I’m not my mother.”
“Are you a virgin, Six?” Rourke asked, surprising me with his bluntness. His eyes were heated and focused solely on my mine.
“Do I look like a virgin to you?” I shot back defensively, folding my arms across my chest.
I had nothing to be ashamed of. Being a virgin at my age should have been a heck of lot more common than it was, but admitting it to Rourke was not easy.
“I think that’s a question I’d be a fool to answer,” he shot back, tone gruff. “I’d ra
ther you tell me then to make assumptions.”
I didn’t want to scare him off by telling him that I’d never had sex with another guy. I wasn’t a prude and knew all about the messy aftermath of a girl’s first-time.
What if he was grossed out by the blood and pain?
Would it be painful for him, too?
I knew it would hurt me.
Rourke had obviously been through this with Britt before.
What if he wasn’t interested in a virgin?
“I’ve done it before,” I blurted out, cheeks flushed, as I struggled to maintain my composure. “Loads of times.”
“Loads of times?”
“That’s right.”
Rourke stared at me for the longest moment with an expression I didn’t recognize before reaching out and catching ahold of my chin.
My heart stopped in my chest and I exhaled a shaky breath.
Was he mad?
He didn’t look mad.
He looked…strangely possessive.
Pulling my face to his, Rourke pressed a hard kiss to my lips before pulling back and saying, “Don’t ever lie to me again.” With his heated blue eyes on mine, he continued to hold my chin with his hand. “You got it?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling lightheaded and strangely buzzed. “I’ve got it.”
Rourke
I DROVE BACK TO the house with Six’s hand enveloped in mine. I had no fucking clue how we’d ended up like this, and I didn’t want to tempt fate by trying to figure it out. All I knew was Six wanted me, and I felt more contented than I had in weeks. Maybe I said too much tonight, let Six in a little bit too far, but I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t feel good to get it all off my chest.
I never really talked about what went down between me and Britt. I just brushed it under the rug and kept going, never stopping long enough to analyze what a fucking idiot I had been. It was embarrassing for me. It would be for any guy. I didn’t want a pity party. My girlfriend broke my heart. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.
Six didn’t judge me or make me feel like a dumbass for sticking around. She was protective and angry and hurt on my behalf. I liked it. Having someone who cared. I had a feeling she did. Or maybe I just wanted to believe she did?
Christ, why had I waited so long for this?
Why the hell had I fought so hard to deny the connection between us?
I’d always known it was there; I had felt it the moment I laid my eyes on her at our parent’s wedding.
Six sat in the passenger seat of my truck, looking all cute and sexy in her school uniform, and it took every ounce of my self- control to keep my eyes on the road ahead of us and not on her bare thighs where her skirt rode up.
When we got home and I walked her to her bedroom door, she turned and looked at me with a confused expression etched on her pretty face. I knew Six wanted more from me tonight – she was expecting more.
One look in those big grey eyes and I could see the desire. Fuck, I wanted it, too, but her vulnerability had taken ahold of something inside of me and I was hell bent on making her comfortable. She wasn’t just vulnerable; she was innocent.
A virgin.
Six was fucking perfect and untouched.
Oh, I was having her alright, but when she was really ready. The fact that she so willingly offered herself to me sparked something inside of me. Something possessive and dominant. Knowing Six wanted me to be the first one inside her was one hell of an ego boost.
“Night, Six,” I whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before stepping away from temptation. I wasn’t going to rush this – her.
“Yeah, um, goodnight, Rourke,” she replied with a blush as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
Nodding, I turned around while I still had the strength to and walked down the hallway to my room.
When I was halfway inside, Six called out, “Rourke?”
I swung back around to face her. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for dinner tonight.” She grinned at me with this huge, megawatt smile before saying, “It is customary to thank someone when they buy you dinner, remember?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “No problem.”
Six smiled once more before waving me off, and I stood in the doorway of my room watching her every move as she disappeared.
When I heard the door click behind her, I shook my head and released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Oh yeah, I was so fucked.
Mercedes
IT WAS PAST four in the morning and I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was assaulted by the memory of the last couple of days with Rourke. Frustrated was an understatement for the way I was feeling right now.
Burning with anxiety and driven by lust, I threw my covers off and climbed out of bed. Padding to my bedroom door, I quietly pulled it open and slipped onto the landing.
Yeah, I had feelings for Rourke. Big, angry, swallowing-me-whole feelings. I had no clue what to do with those feelings, but they were there.
I agreed. I gave in to this stupid ‘friends with benefits’ deal and he had taken a sudden step back from me, slamming the brakes on our impending affair. Could you even call it an affair at seventeen? Rourke definitely wasn’t my boyfriend, but I hated the word fling. It reminded me too much of my mother. And although the word affair wasn’t much better, it seemed much more appropriate.
This is temporary.
Growing attached to Rourke was not a sensible thing for me to do. In fact, it was downright crazy. He couldn’t give me what I needed. He’d told me exactly that. A boy like Rourke Owens wasn’t one a girl walked away from unscathed. Just look at Britt for Christ’s sake. She was a black hearted mess over the guy. And I was nowhere close to being as tough as her. This was my first time...
I hovered outside his bedroom for what felt like forever before forcing myself to turn the handle of his door and creep inside.
Rourke’s bedroom was in complete darkness, illuminated only by the full moon shining in from the floor to ceiling window; identical to the one in my room.
The full moon glowing through the glass allowed me to see him, and the moment my eyes landed on his sleeping frame, something tight knotted inside of me.
He was lying face down on his bed with the pillow his head was resting on tucked in the crook of his right arm.
Long, lush lashes framed his high cheekbones; lashes that any girl would die to have. His dark hair was sexily disheveled and, to my utter disappointment, he was wearing both a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.
Holding my breath, I padded over to his bed and just stood there for a moment, plotting. I debated retreating to my bedroom for a brief moment before shutting that notion down. I wasn’t going back to my room to toss and turn until the sun came up.
No freaking way…
“Rourke?” I whispered into the darkness, desperate to hear his voice and have him comfort me. “Are you awake?”
What a dumb thing to ask.
I knew he wasn’t awake.
Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I leaned over him and gently touched his shoulder with trembling fingers. “Rourke?”
He didn’t budge.
My eyes flickered to the black traveler’s notebook laying open and face down on the mattress. Curiosity burned inside me at the sight of the familiar notebook. I’d seen Rourke with this tattered old thing on many occasions since coming to live here. What did he keep in there? Was it his journal or something? Did boys keep journals? None I’d ever met.
Don’t do it, Mercy!
Don’t touch it…
“Six?” Rourke’s voice caught me by surprise and I gasped before quickly snatching my hand away. “What’s wrong?” he asked, tone sleepy as he rolled onto his back and looked up at me, accidentally knocking the notebook on the floor.
“I, um…” How did I answer this without sounding completely pathetic, not to mention desperate? “I can’t sleep,” I finally offered. It was a lame excuse to be in
his room in the middle of the night, but it was mostly the truth. Of course, I left out the part where I wanted to spend the rest of the night having him kiss me senseless.
A slow smile crept across his face. “Is that so?” His voice was gruff and thick from sleep, and yet held an undeniable hint of humor.
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling like a dope. I moved to fold my arms in front of my stomach, but Rourke reached out and grabbed my hand.
Tugging hard, Rourke pulled me onto his bed and sat me on his lap, straddling his hips. “How can I help?” His hands automatically moved to my hips, his fingertips pressing into my skin. “Six?” He rocked his hips upwards at the same time as pulling my body down hard on him.
Exhaling heavily, I dropped my hands to his chest and sagged forward. “This isn’t helping,” I breathed, feeling his erection press between my legs. The feeling of him grinding so close to where no other had been before made it hard for me to focus. “Like…really isn’t helping.”
“No?” Rourke whispered, repeating the movement, and this time I moaned loudly. He chuckled softly, tightening and then retightening his hold on my hips. “What about this?” he asked seconds before reaching under the hem of my tank top and whipping it over my head.
I watched, stunned, as Rourke flung my tank on his bedroom floor and sat forward. “Better?” he quipped, his lips inches from mine.
“I don’t know,” I replied breathily. “I think I’m, uh, still a little over dressed.”
Smirking, Rourke took a slow appraisal of my body. “I think you’re right,” he whispered huskily when his gaze landed on my lacy black bra.
I had to close my eyes when he trailed his fingers up my sides, moving ever so slowly to my bra. When his fingers found the fabric covering my breasts, Rourke reached up and slipped each strap down my shoulders before trailing his hands behind my back and freeing my bra clasp with an efficiency that should have worried me.
It didn’t.
I was too turned on to care how many bras Rourke had taken off. I only cared that it was my bra he was removing right now.
The low growl Rourke released when my breasts sprang free caused a pool of wetness between my legs. My clit throbbed, desperate for attention, my nipples puckered and strained.
