Fading Out (16 page)

Hollers rise around us, the guys cheering Ari on.

“I came here to dance, Ryder,” she says again. “And I’m not asking for your permission. I’m not asking for
anyone’s
permission.”

Tension thrums through my body. A shout sounds out about me finally “getting some,” and I snap. Just like that first night, I swoop down and haul Ari into my arms, but this time, I grab her around her back and legs. Not wanting the guys to stare at her bikini-clad ass.

The whistles and shouts grow louder as I cart Ari off to a secluded section far in the corner, enclosed by curtains running ceiling-to-floor. Then I set her on her high-heels. “Dance all you want,” I say. She sends me a slitted glare that could flay me, but I only shrug. “When you’re sober tomorrow, you’ll thank me.”

Before, I smelled alcohol on her breath. I’m sure a lot of this is coming from a need to rebel, lash out at her conservative, controlling parents—and to prove something to me. I’m not exactly sure what, but I must have hit a nerve with her the other night. And I’m sure her mock bravery stems from a good bit of alcohol. I can’t see Ari getting
this
loose, otherwise.

“You want a bottle of water?” I ask.

She laughs. Then she’s lunging up against me, backing me toward the bench seat. The back of my legs hit the cushion and I fall backward. “Is this what you wanted, Ryder?” she asks, trapping one of my knees between her thighs. “Did you bring me here for a private dance? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the point, though? I mean, no one will be able to see. But then, I guess they can assume what will happen, right? That works just as well.”

I grit my teeth. “I thought… Didn’t I prove that I wasn’t out for anything like that?”

She lifts her hair off her shoulders as she rolls her hips. I avert my eyes. “Still,” she says, “you like that it will get around. That you won’t technically be the bad guy. And I know you like this…” She slides a knee along the seat, bringing her body above me, and my gaze is drawn right to her spread thighs.

As she strokes one hand across my chest, she moves fully above me, caging me in with both knees on either side of my thighs. My heart leaps to my throat, the ache beating in time with the music pumping out of the speakers. Some Korn song, the lyrics drumming their way into my skull—talking about never having to justify…run and hide.

It’s so fucking fitting for this moment.

My voice isn’t as sure when I speak next. “I need you to stop.”

She smiles down at me. “As long as I’m giving you a dance, I’m not giving any of them one.” She cocks her head to the side. “Isn’t that what you want? Why you brought me here?”

Shit. No, it’s not… But I can’t argue with her logic. I’m already thinking of a million ways I’m going to hurt Beck tomorrow just for looking at her. And if I witness Ari straddling anyone else…I would lose my shit and start dropping fists.

But I can’t sit here and let her degrade herself like this. Not when I know that she really doesn’t want to be here. She’s angry with me, and from the way she’s behaving, I assume also angry with herself.

I clasp my hands around her wrists and look up into her face. “Let me take you home. You can slash me with as many insults as you want, but let’s get out of here first.”

I am not prepared for what happens. Ari dips forward, pushing her chest right up against mine, her lips just brushing my ear. A hard shiver racks my body, and I close my eyes. Trying, and failing, not to be fucking turned on. I’m a shit.

“I can feel how badly you want me,” she whispers. She frees her wrists from my hold. With a sultry ease the exact opposite of Vee, Ari lowers herself fully atop me, riding my crotch with expert moves of seduction.

I can’t help myself; my body reacts. I catch fire, the throbbing pulse in my throat dropping right to my dick. As her tits brush against my chin, I inhale deeply, sucking in the sweet scent of her. Her soft skin surrounds me, her tight ass grinds against my cock, and I’m gripping the cushions on either side to keep from touching her.

And when her mouth dips to my neck, I fear I’m about to lose all rational thought. Her tongue delves out to caress my throat, and I swallow hard, every muscle in my body aching, vibrating, with tension.

Only when she reaches behind her to untie her top does the blood rush back to my brain.

I reach around her back. Closing my hands around her wrists, I inadvertently pull her to me. Our chests are pressed so tightly together, I can feel her heart pounding against me. “If your plan was to torture me,” I say, forcing the words out around my tight jaw, “it’s working. I’m effectively tortured. But please spare me my last shred of dignity.”

And I truly mean this. All control over myself will be lost if she loses that top. I do not want to be that bastard. Not with her.

My words must register, cutting through the haze of lust and alcohol, because she grimaces and pushes her hands between us. Then, as her eyes flick over my face, she licks her lips. I brace myself to taste those lips…just for a second. Just long enough to sate the ramped desire burning through me.

Before I meet her there, she turns her head to the side and loses her stomach.

“Oh, shit…” I’m suddenly bent over with her, trying to pull her hair aside as she wretches.

Damn, I think, combing her soft curls back from her face, that’s even better than a cold shower.

O
h
, holy hell, somebody kill me.

My stomach obviously didn’t appreciate the two shots of vodka Jessica fed me in the back room. I’d already downed a beer before we left the dorm, needing some liquid courage to settle my climbing nerves. That probably didn’t mix too well.

When Vee and I realized just what was expected of us at Gavin’s party, I told her no. Actually, I told her
hell no
. But the pleading look she gave me completely deflated my resolve. She was going through with it, regardless of whether or not I came. And how could I not? How could I let her go off with these crazy chicks and dance—no,
strip
—in front of the whole college football team?

It sounded so cliché; like some awful hazing initiation.

But it was really happening. And Vee was really going for it. I chugged back the beer, then told her I wouldn’t let her go on her own. She argued, knowing that this was way out of my comfort zone. But I could not, in good conscience, let my friend debase herself alone.

I hadn’t actually planned to strip myself—just tag along to watch out for Vee. But then Jessica had to hit a nerve. A very sore one. “You always do what’s expected of you, don’t you?” she said. Ugh. My stomach roils just remembering those words, and how they tipped my already fragile sense of self over the freaking edge.

With my father pressuring me with an engagement to Lucas…and Ryder’s harsh argument having devastated me so thoroughly…I had to prove to myself that I could let go and make my own choices. Just act on impulse.

Oh
, I so did. I threw back two shots of vodka with animated force and suited up in little more than a G-string and bikini top and found the first a-hole to prove it to.

Beck was not my first choice, but he was there. And he was close enough to Ryder. I needed Ryder to see that I can, in fact, take control of my own life. Only I guess I’m not strong enough to take control over my damn stomach yet. I felt the hot bile coating my throat. I knew it was coming, but no way was I going to let my stomach rule.

I lost, obviously. My stomach always wins. Years of training myself to purge on command has worked against me in a horribly embarrassing outcome. I didn’t even drink that much, really.

As I hunker over, saliva filling my mouth, I feel Ryder smooth back my hair. He’s actually holding it. It’s like some bad rom-com movie. I feel like a total cliché. I probably look like one, too. His other hand is massaging my back, and my stomach burns as the bile begins to worm its way back up my throat.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I manage to say, my throat closing up.

“Come on. I’ll carry you,” Ryder says, and I groan.

“Please don’t.” I chance a look at him. His eyes are clear and concerned. I can’t bring myself to beg, but I cannot allow Ryder to carry me out in front of those guys once more; it’s getting stupid.

He nods once, sits back to pull his jacket off, then wraps it around my shoulders. The sentiment hits me in my chest with a fierce ache. I’m awful for how I was just behaving, and I don’t even fully understand why I was being such a bitch. The mix of liquor and rage over my father’s demands is like setting a flame to a fuse. The explosion was inevitable.

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.