Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced) (35 page)

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Authors: Michelle Lynn

BOOK: Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced)

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As he throws me on the bed, our eyes never leave one another. Pulling on my legs, he yanks me to the edge of the bed, grabbing my leg to carefully remove my shoe. His hands inch up my legs until his fingers are tucked around each side of my black thong. Sliding the strings of fabric down my legs, he tosses the tiny piece of silk onto the floor before returning to push my dress up, exposing me to him. His breath hitches in his throat when he caresses me with his eyes. He starts unzipping his dress slacks, and they disappear to the floor. After he shuffles to the nightstand, he’s on top of me, and all I care about is that for the next five minutes, if I’m lucky, all the pain will be gone.

“I’ve been waiting so long to have you,” he whispers, entering me hard and rushed. Once he’s in, he stills. “Oh . . . so worth the wait.”

I remain quiet, pushing all memories out of my head. When his hands reach my ass, pushing him deeper inside of me, the pleasure increases and all the shame disappears. He thrusts forcefully into me, whispering how good I feel. He may not have as many moves as others, and he talks too much for my liking, but he’s definitely gifted in other departments—as he thrusts into me again, he stretches me to my limits.

The ecstasy builds inside of me; my eyes roll back into my head. All I feel is his touch while he pumps into me. As sweat starts slicking between us, I flip him over to his back, straddling his body, unable to wait for him. He’s going way too slow, and I crave my release. Isn’t this what it’s all about?

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he says and smirks as I slide him back inside me. I refrain from sticking a sock in his throat because his talking distracts me from finding my relief.

He grabs my hips, trying to manipulate my movements to his rhythm, but I grab his hands and slide them up to my breasts; I need to be in control. Five minutes later, after finding my groove, my body shudders and I sink down on top of him. The release calms me for a second.

“Fuck, Sadie. You’re awesome.” His face turns to kiss me, but I climb off his body, pushing my dress back down to cover myself.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, I begin placing my heels back on, but he grabs me from behind, pulling my back against his chest. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispers in my ear.

“Okay,” I agree without a fight, crawling back on the bed. Although there’s nothing more to what happened just now, it’s better than being alone. I hate being alone. The silence haunts me, making me re-live my mistakes.

As I am wrapped in his arms, I realize how strongly his breath smells of alcohol when it wafts to my nose. Regardless of how I feel about him, a safety envelops me, and I drift off to sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING
the light wakes me up, streaming into the small room and I find myself alone in a strange bed. Beginning to investigate my surroundings, I try to remember where I am, and what I did last night. The dirty clothes overflowing in the hamper and the sports team paraphernalia on the wall tell me that I’m most likely in a frat house . . . again.

I tiptoe to get my shoes, hooking them in my hands. Slowly opening the door, I peer right and left down the hall. After spotting no one, I quietly tread down the stairs. The front door appears a mile away, and I can’t get through it fast enough. How many times will I do this “walk of shame”? Just as my hand reaches the knob, I overhear talking in the next room, and I freeze.

“I wouldn’t brag, Soren, I had her last week.” A deep voice laughs, and my shoulders sink. “Actually, you might be the last to have her.” The truth sears me in the chest.

“She’s a great lay though,” Jeff Soren says in return.

“I told you she was,” the other male agrees. “Ever since . . . she earned the label of the college slut.”

“I know. It’s kind of sad though.” Jeff’s voice actually sounds concerned. “I wish . . .”

“Dude. Don’t even think it. You can’t save girls like that. You just enjoy what they give you and move on,” the other voice replies back.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. A glimpse of myself emerges in the mirror in the foyer. Mascara is stained in long lines down my face, and my honey-colored hair looks like a bird made its home there. My lips are swollen and red, and I can’t help but think I resemble a hooker on the corner waiting for her next trick. It shames me that I’ve turned myself from a normal college student to an absolute disgrace. Not just to my family, or to myself, but to his memory.

I turn the doorknob slowly, hoping Jeff and his buddy don’t hear me. The thought of having to face my mistake from last night sickens me. I sneak out, walking across the street to my sorority house. I’m thankful to find that everyone is either still asleep or out. When I crash into my bed, I take the picture out of my drawer that’s been untouched since last year. Clutching the picture hard against my chest, fresh tears resurface, and my knees curl into my chest. Sobs escape my mouth knowing I’ve disappointed him. Instead of falling asleep, an urge to fight seeds inside of me he would hate what I’ve become, and it kills me.

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First I need to thank all the readers that fell in love with Brad and Taylor in Love Surfaced. I had an idea his own book would come, but it was your messages and inquiries that brought their story to me. Thank you for being faithful and loyal readers of my work.

Sommer Stein from Perfect Pear Creative Covers. You never cease to amaze me. Thank you for another breathtaking cover.

To my betas, Karrie Puskas, Heather Davenport and Zsuzsi Teleki. Your words of wisdom helped make Brad and Taylor’s story stronger. Thank you.

Heather Davenport, Book Plug Promotions, you get two thanks. For not only doing my promotions but being a great friend. I’d be lost without you.

To my editor, Hot Tree Editing, thank you for being understanding and efficient.

To my proofreader, Ultra Editing, I cannot thank you enough for polishing and glittering up Love Rekindled. You’re a sweetheart and I’m so happy I met you.

Perfectly Publishable, you are timely, concise, and amazing. Thank you for the beautiful files.

To all the blogs who have supported me, not only with Love Rekindled, but also throughout the years. No one would find me without you helping me spread the word. I cannot thank you enough.

Mia Kayla, my Friday night date at Starbucks, and the girl that keeps me sane. Thank you for listening to my rambles, for brainstorming endlessly, and talking me off the ledge on more than one occasion.

Lastly, my family, the ones who understand why I’m holed up at my desk until late hours at night. I owe you a movie night, a date night, and a game night. Love you more than I’d ever be able to express.