Do you want me to stop?
“I THINK WE SHOULD GO,” MYA ANNOUNCES ON FRIDAY NIGHT. SHE has her
bare legs up on the coffee table and is wiggling her feet to help her toenails dry. She just finished painting them a light pink that looks incredible with her skin tone. I’m too pale to pull off that shade. I look best in darker colors, like my mom.
“To the enemy party,” I say dubiously.
“Well, they’re your enemy, not mine. And I’m in the mood for a party.
I’m bored silly. And you’re horny. Let’s go.” “I am not horny,” I bluster.
“Liar. You were telling me and Diana all about it the other day when she came over. I have to assume your sex-drought agony has only gotten worse since then.”
I glare at her.
She raises a perfectly sculpted brow. “Fine, it’s gotten worse,” I grumble.
Bad enough that I actually got turned on two nights ago when Beckett Dunne was teasing me about condoms and threesomes. I feel a tingle between my legs at the memory.
“Have you ever had a threesome?” I ask Mya.
She starts to laugh. “Oh wow, someone is hard up for sex. Now you need two dicks? One isn’t good enough?”
“Oh my God, no. Ryder’s friend was teasing me about threesomes the other night. I’m just wondering.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Have you?”
“No, I haven’t,” she answers. “Do you remember that girl I was dating freshman year? Laura? She was into that kind of shit. Group stuff, threesomes. She kept trying to convince me to create a profile for us on this app called Kink. But I don’t know, I’m a one-on-one girl. I need the intimacy. I can’t see how there could possibly be any level of intimacy with more than two people involved.”
“I don’t see it either.”
“All right. I’ve made an executive decision. We’re going to the party.” She stands up. “I need to do my hair. Go put on something sexy to seduce the enemy with.”
I snicker as I duck into my bedroom. I’m not planning on seducing anyone, but I do choose an outfit that’s…racier than usual. A black skirt that barely covers my lower thighs and a ribbed gray crop top with no bra. I debate how I feel about everyone being able to see the outline of my nipples all night, then decide to live a little.
On the drive to Hastings, our loud singalong to a very cheesy eighties song is interrupted by a call from my dad.
“Hey, Dad,” I greet him. “You’re on speakerphone, so don’t say anything to embarrass me in front of Mya.”
“I’ll do my best,” he promises. “Hi, Mr. G,” she chirps.
“Hey, Mya.” To me, he says, “Just returning your call from earlier, Stan.”
“Oh, it was nothing important. I just wanted to catch up.” “You been working hard this week?”
“God, you don’t even know. Uncle Logan’s letting me use his rink after hours so I can fix my issues behind the net.” I pause, adopting a nonchalant tone. “Ryder’s been a big help.”
Mya is grinning at me. She knows about my arrangement with Ryder.
Dad is understandably suspicious. “I still don’t get why you asked him instead of Case.”
It’s the same thing he said earlier in the week when I first dropped Ryder’s name. So far, Operation Good Impression is not a smashing
success.
“Because he’s a better player than Case,” I reply.
And I’m being honest. Case is an excellent hockey player, no doubt. He and Ryder have similar stats; they were both drafted by the NHL. But Ryder has an innate feel for the game that Case lacks.
“His instincts are incredible,” I say. “He’s amazing to watch.”
In the passenger side, Mya signals for me to dial it down a notch.
Good call. I was going to throw in a line about what a great asset he’d make to the Hockey Kings camp, but I decide to save that for our next chat. Can’t come on too strong.
“Anyway, what kind of trouble are you girls getting into tonight?” Dad asks.
“Just going to see some friends,” I say, keeping it vague.
We say goodbye just as I pull up in front of Ryder’s house. I park at the curb and uneasily glance toward the end of the street. Hopefully this isn’t a repeat of last weekend, but with Briar crashing the party this time.
The music is blasting so loud, we can hear it from the street. On the porch, I ring the doorbell, but I already know it’s a futile exercise. No one can hear it. But then the front door opens, and a pair of laughing girls tumble out. They greet us with that sheer unbridled joy only inebriated people can feel.
“Hi!” the first girl exclaims. “Oh my gosh, you two look so beautiful!” “Stunning,” the other gushes.
Drunk girls give the best compliments. “You’re sweet,” I tell the total strangers.
They bound down the porch steps and stumble off to a waiting Uber, throwing themselves into the back seat.
Mya and I shrug and enter the house without an invitation. The music is even more deafening now, a hip-hop track that makes you move your hips whether you want to or not. I poke my head into the living room and spot Beckett. He’s laughing with a bunch of Eastwood guys I recognize from Miller’s party. I still can’t remember a lot of their names. Rounding out the group are a few sorority girls wearing short skirts and Delta Nu sweaters.
Mya recognizes one of them. “Kate?” she shouts excitedly.
“Mya.” The pretty dark-haired girl breaks away from the group and bounds over.
“What are you doing here?” Mya exclaims. “I thought you transferred to LSU.”
“I did. I’m just home for the weekend.”
From the heated look that passes between them, I deduce they’re very familiar with each other.
“I was about to get a refill,” Kate says, holding up an empty red cup. “You want a drink?”
“Absolutely.”
Kate takes her hand, and Mya’s free hand tugs on mine. But I’m intercepted by Beckett, who strides toward me in a tight T-shirt and cargo pants. Blond hair artfully tousled.
“Go. I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” I tell the girls.
“You came,” Beckett says when he reaches me. He nods in approval. “Yep. Here I am.”
“You look…really good.” I have no doubt he’s noticed the beaded tips of my nipples, but his gaze doesn’t linger there. It fixes on my abdomen instead.
“Fuck,” he groans, eyes glazing over. “What?”
“Those abs.”
“Jealous?” I say smugly.
“Nah.” He lifts the bottom corner of his T-shirt to flash his own set of chiseled abs. Not a six-pack, but a solid twelve. Jesus. “I don’t know. Mine are pretty sick too.”
“They’re all right.”
Shane Lindley wanders into the hall holding a can of beer. He looks surprised but pleased to see me. “Hey,” he says, flinging his arm around my shoulder. “How’d they manage to lure you into enemy territory?”
“There was no luring involved. I was bored and decided to do you all a favor by gracing you with my presence.”
He snorts. “We’re honored.”
Beckett lightly touches my shoulder. “Want a drink?”
“Beck, how do I change this playlist?” someone shouts from the living room.
“Hold that thought,” he tells me. He winks, the tip of his tongue briefly touching his top lip. It’s kind of hot.
Speaking of hot, my peripheral vision catches Ryder descending the staircase to our right. His mouth quirks, only slightly, at the sight of me.
“Gisele,” he says. “Ryder,” I say.
He closes the distance between us, towering over me as always. I’m average height for a woman, yet standing next to Luke Ryder makes me feel positively tiny.
“How tall are you?” I ask curiously, craning my neck to peer up at him. “Six-five.”
Damn, he’s a monster. Even has a couple of inches on my dad.
A little shiver runs through me, although I suppose I’m not the first girl to have a thing for tall strapping guys. Wait. Not that I have a thing for this one. Just, you know, the body type in general.
Right, this one does nothing for you, a voice in my head taunts. As usual, Ryder doesn’t try to fill the silence.
I shift my feet and say, “Dude, would it kill you to pull your conversational weight?”
He cocks a brow. “Says the person who got the ball rolling with the thought-provoking question of how tall I was.”
“I’m just saying, you could make an effort over here. You know, Hey, Gigi, how was your day? Do you have big plans for this weekend?”
“How was your day? Do you have big plans this weekend?” “Wow. Could you sound less enthused?”
“You fed me the lines. How excited can I really be about them when they’re not my own?”
“Fine. Then give me your own.”
He looks at me. Hot gaze raking over my body before his dark-blue eyes return to my face. “I like that top.”
I don’t expect the compliment, so I’m genuinely startled. “Oh,” I squeak. “Thanks.”
“So,” Shane pipes up, and I realize I’ve completely forgotten his presence. “This is”—His head moves between us—“fascinating.”
“What is?” I’m puzzled.
Shane nods toward Ryder. “I’ve never heard him speak so many words at one time. And then to punctuate it with a compliment? Did you drug him?”
“Fuck off,” Ryder grumbles.
Suddenly his attention shifts. An emotion I can’t discern flickers through his eyes. Then he says, “Excuse me.” His voice is tight.
He walks toward the front door. The crowd parts slightly and that’s when I catch a glimpse of the woman who just walked in. She’s pretty. Tall and willowy, wearing skinny jeans and a corset top with her ample cleavage spilling out. Black curls tumble down her shoulders.
A desperate gleam lights her eyes before she rises on her tiptoes to whisper frantically in Ryder’s ear. Next thing I know, he has his hand on the small of her back while guiding her onto the front porch where it’s quieter.
Okay, then.
Beckett returns. “Hey, sorry about that. Let’s grab you that drink now.
Where did Ryder go?”
Grinning, Shane points toward the porch. Through the open door, I glimpse Ryder and the girl talking.
Beckett looks over and rolls his eyes.
“Who’s that with Ryder?” I ask, trying not to sound overly eager for an answer.
Shane’s knowing smirk tells me he knows how badly I want that answer. “That’s Carma.”
My brow furrows. “I don’t get it. He did something to deserve something?”
“No, that’s her name.”
“Carma with a C,” Beckett explains. “Feel free to make a hilarious destiny joke.”
I force my gaze off Ryder. “Is she his girlfriend?”
Beckett shrugs. “She’s our neighbor. They hooked up once, but I thought that was over. Who the fuck knows.”
I try to ignore the knot in the pit of my stomach. I guess Ryder’s off- limits.
For some unpleasant reason I’m not willing to examine, I’m more disappointed in that than I ought to be.
In the kitchen, Mya and Kate are at the counter standing very close to each other. With her hand on Mya’s arm, Kate whispers something in her ear. Mya giggles in return.
When I introduce them to Beckett, I notice the approval in Mya’s eyes. Yeah. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, no denying it. And the kind of man who doesn’t need to put in much effort to look sexy. A white T-shirt and that face. That’s all it takes.
Beckett gestures to the row of liquor bottles on the kitchen table. “What are you in the mood for? I can mix you something sweet if you want a cocktail.”
“Honestly, I’m the most boring drinker ever.” “I can attest to that,” Mya confirms.
“Yeah? What’s your poison?” I sigh. “Scotch and soda.”
“Intriguing. Are you a fifty-year-old businessman in an airport bar?”
“I know, I know. But it was the first drink I ever had with my dad,” I admit. “And I kind of loved it. Either that, or a beer.”
“Well, I don’t think we have any scotch on hand, so beer will have to do.”
He wanders over to the large cooler on the table across the room, where he fishes out two longnecks. He passes one to me. We clink bottles.
“Cheers,” he says.
A few others drift toward us. Two sophomores named Patrick and Nazem. A guy named Nick who has one of those serious stay-the-fuck-
away-from-me faces. But his girlfriend, Darby, makes up for it with a contagious smile and by talking a mile a minute. She seems cool.
Patrick grabs a fresh beer and twists off the cap. “Okay,” he says, focusing on me. His eyes are bright, either from excitement or alcohol. He’s cute, though. “Are you ready, Graham?”
“For what?”
“A thought experiment that will blow your mind.” “Oh God,” sighs Darby.
I take a sip of my beer. “All right, I’ll bite. Hit me.”
Patrick hops up to sit on the counter, long legs dangling. “It’s a regular day. A normal sunny afternoon. You’re outdoors, running errands or whatever. How many owls would you need to see before you got worried?”
“Oh, that is an excellent question.”
Beckett chuckles, but Darby turns to me with pleading eyes. “Please don’t feed their insanity.”
“What? It’s an objectively great question.”
“I’m just saying. You do not want to encourage it, girl.” Nick nods gravely at me. “You really don’t.”
“Leave her alone,” Patrick grumbles at them. To me, he prompts, “So?
How many?”
“Am I in the city or a rural area out in the middle of nowhere?” “You’re here. In Hastings.”
I raise my bottle to my lips, giving the matter some serious consideration.
“Three,” I finally answer.
Nazem, who said to call him Naz or Nazzy, jabs a finger in the air. “Explain yourself.”
I take another sip first. “Okay, well, I see one owl, and I’m like, Hey cool, an owl during the day. Two owls, and I’m thinking, This is kinda weird; I never see owls around here, and now I’m seeing two? Odd. Then I see the third owl, and all my hackles are raised. At this point it’s an omen and I don’t fucking like it.”
Mya nods in agreement. “I would’ve said four, but similar reasoning.”
“What would you say?” I ask Patrick. “Seven.”
“Seven!” I exclaim. “If I saw seven owls in one day, I’d be packing up the car and driving to Mexico.”
We talk about stupid stuff some more, until someone gets a beer pong game going in the backyard and everyone but Beckett heads outside. I might be cavorting with the enemy, but I realize I’m actually having a good time. I’m glad Mya dragged me out tonight.
In the back of my mind, I wonder what Ryder is up to. It’s been a while since his “neighbor” showed up. Maybe they went upstairs. That doesn’t bother me at all. Why would it.
Through the wide doorway that spills into the living room, I spot Mya and Kate on the makeshift dance floor created when somebody pushed the coffee table and armchairs aside. The hip-hop that was playing before has been replaced by sultry R&B. Mya’s jam. She moves her body seductively to the beat, using Kate’s lithe frame as her own personal stripper pole. Those two are unquestionably ending up in bed again tonight.
Beckett follows my gaze. “Wanna dance?” “Nah, I’m good.”
“Thank God. I hate dancing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Then why’d you ask?”
“Seemed like the less sleazy way of saying I want your body pressed up against mine.”
He winks, and my heart skips a beat.
I’m not afraid of the way he makes my heart react. It’s a normal flip, not the entire group of gymnasts unleashed by Luke Ryder at the booster gala last week. Your heart isn’t supposed to do that much gymnastics for a man. Too much anxiety isn’t healthy.
Passion, whispers a little voice in my brain. Not anxiety. Anxiety, I firmly tell myself.
And Beckett Dunne doesn’t make me anxious. “You’re thinking too hard,” he teases.
“It’s a bad habit.” I meet his eyes. They’re a shade of gray much lighter than my own. “Maybe you should help me stop thinking.”
His lips curve. “Mmm. How am I supposed to do that?”
“You seem like a creative guy. Come up with a creative solution.”
Those silvery eyes gleam half a second before he cups my cheek with one hand. I’m not drunk enough to be doing this. In fact, I’m sober enough to know it’s probably a terrible idea.
“Beck, toss us some more cups,” Shane calls from outside. “Dumbass over here just stepped on like four of them.”
“It was an accident,” I hear Patrick protest.
The interruption allows me to collect my hormones and my common sense.
Beckett drops his hand, a rueful smile on his lips. “I’ll be right back.” “Actually, perfect timing,” I say as I watch him pull some red cups off
the stack at the table. “I need to pee, anyway.” “Use the bathroom upstairs,” he offers. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. Turn left at the top of the stairs, end of the hall. That’s mine and Ryder’s.”
“Thanks.”
I set my empty bottle on the counter and dart upstairs. The music isn’t as loud up here. I welcome the muffled respite, needing to clear my head. I reach the bathroom door just as the one across from it swings open and a dark-haired girl slides out of the bedroom.
“Oh, sorry,” she exclaims after bumping into me. We jump apart with awkward laughs.
“All good,” I say.
I tense slightly when I realize it’s Carma. I was right. They did go upstairs. I resist the urge to peer into the bedroom to see if Ryder is still in there. I imagine him adjusting his shirt. Zipping up his pants.
She notes my wary expression and quickly adds, “Don’t worry, I’m allowed to be up here. I left my necklace in Ryder’s room last time I was
here, so I was just grabbing it.” She holds up a silver pendant with a tiny silver cross dangling off it. “Anyway…have a good night.”
“You too,” I murmur.
I watch her go, trying to ward off the prickly sensation pinching my gut as I duck into the bathroom to pee. While I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Wondering if I should have worn more makeup. I only dabbed on some concealer and lip gloss earlier. I look unnervingly plain compared to the woman I saw in the hall.
Then again, I can’t look that bad, considering Beckett has been eye- fucking me all night. I feel a tug between my legs at the idea of doing more than eye-fucking each other. God, some release would be nice. Going solo feels good, but sometimes a girl just needs a really good dicking.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Beckett leans against the wall waiting for me.
“Hey,” he says. “Thought maybe you’d gotten lost.”
“Nope.” I smooth out my hair before tucking it behind my ears. It’s rare that I wear my hair down. Usually I keep it in a braid.
Neither of us makes a move toward the stairs. Beckett’s gaze conducts a slow perusal of my body, this time lingering on my braless breasts rather than my midriff.
“You really do look incredible. Don’t think I can stress that enough.” “Are you hitting on me right now?”
“Yes. Do you want me to stop?” I slowly shake my head. “No.”
He moves closer to me. Those gray eyes dancing. He’s that type, I can tell. The guy who’s always down for a good time. For a laugh. A screw.
“There’s something about you,” he says, his voice low, husky. “Is that a line?”
“No. I don’t use lines. I say what’s on my mind. And there’s just something about you that makes a man…” He drifts off, thoughtful.
“Makes a man what?”
“All jumbled in the head.” He smiles. “I look in your eyes and kind of get lost in them.” He sounds a bit sheepish now. “I know that does sound
like a line, but I swear it’s the truth—”
Before he can finish, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.
He’s startled. Then I feel his lips curve against my mouth in another smile.
“Sorry,” I blurt out, blushing from a pang of embarrassment. “I should have asked if I could do that. Is it okay?”
He responds by kissing me again.
The next thing I know, I’m pressed up against the wall, my hands twined around his neck, his tongue in my mouth. He’s a good kisser.
A shiver dances through me when I realize he’s hard. I feel him against my leg. And I’m melting into him. Warming up to the idea of throwing caution to the wind and letting myself feel good. If I’m going to hook up with anyone tonight, Beckett seems like a perfect candidate. Like someone who’s not going to expect anything else or want more from me.
His tongue touches mine again, and suddenly I hear loud throat clearing.
We break apart. My pulse careens faster when I see Ryder standing at the top of the stairs.
“Sorry to interrupt.” He drawls the words, yet there’s a sharp edge to them. “Got a little problem.”
Beckett glances over his shoulder, but Ryder’s looking at me, not him. “Your boyfriend’s downstairs.”
