by Shandi Boyes
Brax stops dead in his tracks. “Who the fuck said anything about a relationship?” he asks, mortified.
A bunch of college students skirt past us on the sidewalk before continuing their trek to Justine’s family home. With Justine’s party being hosted by her older brothers, the guest list is in the hundreds, meaning I not only had to park four blocks over, but the chances of getting Savannah alone for a minute will be virtually impossible. Justine’s house is impressive but will still have a hard time handling the stream of teens heading its way.
“The shaved chin, slicked-back hair. You’ve got relationship written all over your face,” Chris stirs, messing Brax’s hair with his knuckles.
Chris isn’t even five feet away from us when Brax jumps on his back to return the favor. “The only relationship I’m looking for is one that gets my dick nice and hard.”
“Don’t mention cocks while yours is rubbing my back. Get the fuck off me,” Chris demands, his horrified tone causing me to laugh.
By the time Brax finishes teasing his hair, Chris looks like he stuck his finger in a power socket. His mousy brown hair shoots in all directions, adding to the wild gleam in his eyes.
“Do you really think Justine is the type of girl to put out without a ring on her finger?” I ask Brax while Chris works on flattening his hair with his hand.
Brax continues strolling down the sidewalk. “Who knows? But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try.” His eyes drift to me. “Someone ought to get some benefit from all the effort you’ve been putting in the past three weeks.”
“I’m not spending time with Savannah just to get in her panties.” I grit my teeth, loathing that my voice dipped at the mentioning of Savannah’s undergarments. “I like her.” A lot.
Chris glares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “So if given the chance to get into her panties tonight, you’d knock her back?”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t see it being a possibility.” Not while she's with him.
I grow concerned I said my last sentence out loud when I’m subjected to worried looks from both Brax and Chris. With their focus on me instead of where they’re walking, they stumble into a group of giggling seniors taking selfies in the driveway of Justine’s house.
Instead of the accidental collision being handled with angry sneers and inappropriate words, it's an opener for batting eyelashes and flirty smiles. Anyone would swear they were members of a famous pop group from the girls’ excited response to their arrival.
Happy to leave them with the impressive ratio of four females to one male, I head for the front door of Justine’s residence. “I’m going to find Savannah. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
Brax raises his hand in the air, acknowledging he heard me. Chris is too busy sucking face with a random blonde to reply.
I’m granted access to the already swinging party by a jerk of Landon’s chin. Landon is one of Justine’s many brothers. I think he's brother number three, but don’t quote me on it. Although they are well-known around our parts, the Walsh boys are a few years older than me, so I’ve never paid much attention to their birth order.
“Have you seen Savannah?” I ask Landon after greeting him with a man hug. I keep my tone disinterested, confident his protectiveness of Savannah hasn’t waned over the years.
Savannah doesn’t have a drop of Walsh blood in her veins, but that hasn’t stopped Justine’s brothers from treating her like their little sister. Although annoyed at their line of questioning when I picked up Savannah for our primary school prom years ago, I took their interrogation in my stride.
I’m more than capable of taking care of Savannah without their help. I’m just glad their big brother vibe is so strong, I don’t see them as competition. They look at Savannah the same way they look at Justine—thank fuck. Savannah already has a boyfriend—I don’t need more competition.
“Last time I saw her she was in Justine’s room getting ready.”
I don’t know if Landon is making his voice extra deep for me, or if it’s grown huskier since the last time I heard it, but it's knee-quaking enough for a group of freshmen on his right to take notice.
He slaps my back three times before giving my shoulder a firm squeeze. “If you aren’t downstairs in ten minutes, I’ll come find you.” He tightens his grip, wordlessly warning me his next set of threats won’t be issued with words.
“Ten minutes. Right.” I roll my eyes when I fake setting my watch, mortified by the idiot I’m portraying.
Three weeks ago, I was a participant in an underground fight organized by the leading men in the mafia. Yet this week I’m acting like I’ll break if someone flicks me. I blame Savannah—this is all her fault. If her attention didn’t force all the blood in my body to my lower extremities, I’d have half a brain to work with.
After giving myself a lecture on manning up, I make my way to the stairs Landon gestured to. I take them two at a time, my eagerness to see Savannah again inspiring my fast pace. Just as Landon said, Savannah is in Justine’s bedroom getting ready. Well, she appears to be getting ready. In reality, she’s staring at her reflection in the mirror, deep in thought.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Really, Ryan? That’s the best you could come up with? Will somebody please shoot me? Put me out of my misery before I look more pathetic.
My wish to die weakens when the biggest smile I’ve ever seen stretches across Savannah’s face. “Ryan,” she whispers before slipping off the chair and spinning around to face me.
Whoa! Did I die?
Savannah looks like she just breezed off the catwalk. Her golden locks are pinned back, exposing her delicate neck and shoulders bared by her strapless dress, and her makeup has been done in a flirty palette with bright red lips and eccentric black eyeliner. She looks sexy and innocent at the same time.
“Savannah, you look—”
“Like you have five seconds to get downstairs before I send Landon up here,” interrupts a gruff male voice from behind my shoulder.
I don’t need to spin around to know whose eyes are burning a hole in the back of my head. It's bound to be one of Justine’s brothers. I swear they walk these halls like watchmen on death row even when Justine isn’t hosting a party. They are as protective of her as I am of Savannah.
“You walked past this room five minutes ago, Maddox. How much trouble can I achieve in five minutes?” Savannah asks with her narrowed eyes glaring past my shoulder.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Maddox asks, his deep tone barely conceals his laughter. “From what I’ve heard, your boy doesn’t even last a minute.”
I’m tempted to laugh at his snide remark...until the entirety of his statement crashes into me. Now I feel ill and in need of a stiff drink.
Rolling her eyes at Maddox’s interruption, Savannah curls her arm around my elbow and drags me out of Justine’s room. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing up here, Maddox,” she warns as we skirt past him. “Or should I say who you're doing.”
Maddox’s terminator mask falters when he grins at Savannah’s mumbled comment but snaps back into place the instant he notices my stare. He doesn’t scare me. I’m too twisted up in knots over his statement on Axel’s sexual capabilities to worry about being beaten to death. Just the thought of Savannah with Axel killed my chipper mood faster than discovering my dad’s change in shift.
As Savannah weaves us through a mass of drunken teens on the lower level of Justine’s home, I seek a place to have a quiet word with her. Although I had intended to enjoy the festivities before drilling her on her relationship status, Maddox’s remark altered my mindset. I’m not going to enjoy anything until I get this heaviness off my chest, so I may as well get it over and done with.
In the corner of my eye, I locate an ideal spot. Two giggling college students have just exited the coat closet tucked into the side of the stairwell.
“Ryan?” Savannah asks when I change our course.
Remaining quie
t, I pick up my pace, wanting to ensure we reach the closet before any other horny teens. My breaths quicken with every step I take, but not entirely from my speed. It's from memories of the first time I kissed Savannah filtering through my mind. It happened in the very closet I’m rocketing toward like a jet. Savannah’s eyes are as wide as mine, her lips just as gaped. Although the apprehension crossing her face is as strong as ever, she meets my steps stride for stride.
When we enter the dimly lit space, her rose scent triggers even more memories. God what I wouldn’t give to go back to that day. I was the typical stupid, naïve boy who thought he’d be fending off women with a stick by the time I reached adulthood. I had no clue I’d be using the stick to protect the girl I want from men undeserving of her attention.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ugly. After several private rejections and a handful of public ones, most girls at my school got the hint I’m not interested in anything they’re offering, so they quit trying a few months ago. I can’t say I blame them.
The lust brewing in Savannah’s eyes like an out-of-control wildfire makes what I am about to say ten times harder. “We need to talk—”
My words ram into the back of my throat when Savannah balances on the balls of her feet to seal her mouth over mine. I freeze when her tongue lashes my lips, but the sweet taste of her mouth soon becomes too intense to ignore.
She moans into my mouth when I pin her to the wall with my body before returning her kiss with equal intensity. Encouraged by her husky response, I scrape my tongue along the roof of her mouth before dueling with hers. Our kiss is nothing like the first kiss we shared. It's violent, needy, and five long, torturous years in the making.
Any concerns on Savannah not enjoying our kiss as much as me are thrown out the window when she grabs a fistful of my hair to yank my head closer to her. She deepens our kiss, freeing me from the worry that my aggressiveness is too much for her.
“Fuck, you taste good. As sweet as cotton candy and as sinful as vodka,” I murmur against her mouth before dropping my lips to ravish her neck.
She smiles against my skin before stroking her tongue along the throb in my throat. “You taste as good as I remember too, if not ten times better.” She suckles on my neck, marking my skin with an ownership she has no right to claim.
I should be pulling away. I should be walking away. I shouldn’t be kissing her like I can’t breathe without her lips on mine. But, fuck if I can stop this. I can’t breathe without her mouth on mine, and I’m done pretending I can.
Taking Savannah’s ass in my hands, I guide her legs around my waist. A pleasurable moan hums off her tongue when she feels the rock sitting behind the zipper of my jeans. While meeting my greedy licks stroke for stroke, she rocks against my stiffened shaft. Her skirt rides higher on her luscious thighs with every frantic grind, as does the heat between her legs.
My movements are just as frenzied as hers. I slide my tongue around her mouth at the same pace she's rocking against my dick. I sample her mouth while silently wishing we weren’t surrounded by hundreds of teens. I want to taste every inch of her intoxicating palate, but I want to do it without the fear of being caught.
The closet doesn’t have a lock. Believe me, I checked three times before our first Seven Minutes in Heaven years ago, and another half a dozen in the years that followed. After nipping at her lips another three times, I reluctantly pull away. Although Savannah groans in protest, her eyes reveal she understands my hesitation.
“No lock?” she intuits as she continues her exploration of my mouth. “I doubt we’ll get in trouble. We’re only kissing.” She drags her sex along my rod, making a liar out of both of us.
I return her kiss until the throb in my pants grows too great to overlook.
“We need to stop, or this is going to become more than kissing,” I warn between husky breaths. “I have no restraint around you.”
The ache in my dick grows tenfold when Savannah replies, “You have no restraint? Puh-leeze. The past three weeks leaves no doubt of your superpowers. If I didn’t kiss you, I’d still be waiting for you to make the first move.”
I chuckle, void of a better reply. Savannah was always the instigator in our exchanges. She invited herself into my room to “inspect the damage” after I broke my arm. She requested a change in classes when we were separated in the third grade, and she adjusted the bottle when her spin landed on Chris instead of me. She's a little bossy, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t one of the many things I love about her.
My chest swells with smugness when Savannah pulls back far enough the flicking bulb above our head reveals her flaming red cheeks and swollen lips. I did that. I put the look of pleasure on her face and the gleam of lust in her eyes. Me. Not douchebag Axel. Me.
Proving she still has the ability to read my thoughts, Savannah pleads, “Can we not talk about him tonight? It’s my best friend’s eighteenth birthday. I don’t want anything ruining her night—especially him. That’s why Justine didn’t invite him. She wants a drama-free night.”
I remain quiet, unsure how to reply. Justine invited me so I could voice my concerns on Savannah’s relationship with Axel. And if I know Justine as well as I used to, I’m confident she’d rather have Savannah out of Axel’s clutch than a drama-free night.
“Please, Ryan,” Savannah pleads, recognizing my moral compass is swinging in Justine’s favor. “One night, that’s all I am asking for. Give me one night, and I’ll talk about anything you want. Please.”
When she locks her eyes with mine, I know there's no chance in hell I will deny her request. Just like the first day I laid my eyes on her, her soul-stealing green irises have me over a barrel.
Stick me with a fork, ladies and gentlemen, I am fucking done.
“One night, then you're going to tell me everything,” I propose while struggling to ignore the bile scorching my throat from my demand. I want to know every aspect of Savannah’s life, but there are some things I’ll never be ready to hear. The most obvious: the depths of her relationship with Axel.
“Thank you!” Savannah squeals, slapping her hands on each side of my cheek. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Each praise concludes with her lips landing on the edge of my mouth.
Unfortunately, my agreement to give her a free pass also corresponds with our exit from the coat closet.
“I’ve got so many people I can’t wait to introduce you to,” Savannah explains, interlocking our fingers. “Marlana and Rhapsody can be a little overfriendly, but don’t let them bother you. They’ll only grope your ass a handful of times before they move on to their next suitor.”
I quirk my brow, certain I heard her wrong.
I didn’t.
Within five seconds of being introduced to Marlana, my backside is being felt up by a pair of overzealous hands.
“You’re right, Savannah. The best buns in the county,” Marlana compliments before suggesting Rhapsody join in.
If I were a guy who hated being manhandled, I’d tell them to back off. But since I’m being awarded knowledge of how many times Savannah has mentioned my ass, I let them feel me up without protest.
Furthermore, every playful tease spilling from their lips narrows the width of Savannah’s eyes, revealing a side to her I haven’t seen in years: her equally attractive jealous side.
18
Ryan
“If you could throw them in the garage, that would be great.”
Landon’s eyes stray from the stack of chairs I’m holding to a six car garage on our left.
“Anywhere in particular, or just throw them in?” I ask.
Landon laughs, amused by my apparent humor. I’m glad he took the bit of envy in my voice as playful. I knew Justine’s family was better off than mine, but I didn’t realize it extended this far. Not only did they add a left wing to their already substantial house, but a six car garage and inground pool are also new additions.
“As long as they don’t touch my 57 Chevy, you can put them an
ywhere you like,” Landon advises.
My jealousy doubles. “You have a 57 Chevy?”
A look crosses Landon’s face. Although I’ve never witnessed it on a man’s face before, I swear he's moments away from creaming his pants. “Sure do. Just finished refurbishing her last week. She’s a real beauty.” He dumps a bag of red cups he collected from the outside patio into the bin on our right before gesturing his head to the garage. “Wanna take a look?”
I shift my eyes to the people mingling in the living room, noticing the number of attendees has dwindled from hundreds to less than a handful before answering, “Fuck, yes!”
Landon smirks at my excitement before ambling in the direction his head just nudged. I follow after him, lugging the ten stacks of chairs with me.
Tonight has been ... fucking awesome. Up until twenty minutes ago when Savannah went to console Justine after she got in an argument with her brother—don’t ask me which one as I wouldn’t be able to tell you—Savannah never left my side. She introduced me to her friends as “my Ryan,” and our conversation flowed as freely as the numerous bottles of alcohol consumed by the people surrounding me.
Although tempted to accept one of the many offers of a drink bestowed upon me tonight, I’ve remained sober. It isn’t that I don’t like alcohol; I just don’t trust drunk people.
Luckily for me, alcohol isn’t required for me to have fun. Chris got smashed during our game of beer pong, and Brax and I dominated the pool when we played water volleyball. I’m going to be honest: I was shocked Brax wanted to play. He generally refuses to do anything athletic. My surprise was curtailed the instant he suggested that Justine hop on his shoulders for leverage against our competitors. It was a smooth move on his behalf—one I followed two seconds later.
After discarding the stack of chairs in the first garage, I follow Landon to a covered car parked in the middle of the greasy-smelling space. The grin Landon is wearing replicates one a gameshow model would use while revealing the top prize for the night. He's in love with three thousand pounds of steel.
