More Than Once (13 page)

His head snapped toward me, but I couldn’t read his expression in the dark. “What, just like that? From fighting to fucking in an instant?”

“That’s what we both want, isn’t it? Sex with no strings attached?” I rested my hand on his thigh and trailed it higher and higher, until I found the growing bulge in his slacks. “And we’ve always been so good at using each other to take out our frustrations on.”

Andrew hesitated for an instant, his entire body tense, but then he said, “Fine.”

He reached across the car and slid his hand behind the back of my head, pulling me into a hot, fierce kiss. I climbed across the seat to get on top of him, pressing frantic kisses along his jaw, his neck, anything. His hands were all over me and his mouth touched every inch of bare skin he could find, but when I started to unzip his slacks, he stopped me.

“Inside,” he said. “Now.”

He led me up the stairs and into his apartment. We were kissing again the second we got inside, before he could turn on the lights. We banged against the wall, lips locked, while he slammed the door shut behind us. Our movements were rushed, like we needed to burn off the anger from the fight as fast as we could. Or like we were trying to prove something to one another.

The moon peeking through the windows gave us just enough light to tear off our clothes. He dragged my panties off first. His shirt went next. Shoes were kicked away. His slacks dropped to the floor. Our bodies moved in tandem, and our tongues slid against each other as we kissed with an urgent hunger we both felt. I ran my hands across his deliciously male body, feeling the smooth, hard muscles in his chest. I didn’t want to think about anything we’d said in the car or what it meant for us. I just wanted him inside me.

He urged me toward the bookshelf that covered an entire wall. My back pressed against it as he pushed my dress up to my hips, his fingers sliding along the bare skin of my thighs.

“Hands above your head,” he growled.

I complied, crossing my wrists, gazing up at him as I waited, breathless, for the next command. I’d never felt this kind of feverish desire for anyone else. Only Andrew had ever made me feel this way, like I would fall apart if he stopped touching me for even a second.

He dragged the dress higher, caressing each new bit of skin revealed. His hands slipped under the fabric to fondle my breasts, while his mouth claimed mine in a fierce kiss. He was rough and demanding with his fingers and his tongue, and I arched against him, my body straining for more.

He released my wrists and picked me up by the waist, wrapping my legs around him, pinning me against the bookshelf. Then his mouth was on me again, his lips hungry, his teeth on my lower lip like he wanted to devour me. His erection was right at my entrance, so close all I needed was to adjust a little and he’d slip inside. I grabbed onto the shelf above my head for support as he nudged against me, sending a cascade of warmth throughout my body.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he said. “I could fuck you right here.”

“Do it,” I said, feeling reckless and wild, wanting him inside me with nothing between us. I was so desperate to be one with him again I couldn’t think straight.

“Condom,” he said, his voice rough.

“I’m on the pill and clean,” I said. He hesitated, but I tightened my legs around him and felt the tip of him slide inside a little. “Please, Andrew. Be bad with me again tonight.”

Something in my words made his face darken. He put me down and spun me around, pressing his hard body against my back. I was so turned on from his rough treatment I was sure I would come the second he was inside me.

“Is this what you want?” Andrew asked, nipping at my ear. He moved us toward a desk against the wall, and with one sweep of his arm, he shoved everything off of it onto the floor. He pushed me over the edge, my breasts pressed against the smooth wood, my palms flat on the surface. With my ass pointed up at him, he nudged my legs apart and bent over me from behind. “You want me to be bad?”

I started to reply, but then Andrew gripped my hair and tugged my head back and all those words were lost. I managed to get out a quick, “Yes, yes, yes,” before he thrust inside me. No warning, but I was already so wet and ready for him, it didn’t matter. I let out a sigh, so relieved to finally have him again, and this time with nothing between us.

Andrew was already big, but from behind he felt huge and I was completely at his mercy. My dress was pushed up against my waist, and he fisted it as he began to move with long, deep strokes that hit me in exactly the right spot. We were skin to skin, as close as we could get to each other, and he pounded into me faster and faster.

“Is this bad enough for you?” he asked.

I couldn’t respond. I was so wrapped up in the way he rammed into me over and over and the waves of pleasure pulsing through me. But then he stopped and slapped my ass, hard. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” I gasped, as the lingering pain seemed to make all my nerve endings tingle. “I love it when you’re bad.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He started moving again, and I grabbed onto the edge of the desk, pressing back against him, wanting him deeper, wanting every inch buried inside me. It felt so good it was almost too much, and I nearly begged him to stop. When he reached around to rub between my legs, I was completely lost. He already knew my body so well and he quickly brought me right to the edge.

“Andrew, please,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“Not yet,” he said.

I whimpered, but from this angle, all I could do was take what he gave me. He claimed me as his own with every touch, and I offered myself up completely to him. Under his skilled fingers, the tingling pressure built and built and built, until his teeth grazed my shoulder and he said, “Now, Becca. Come for me.”

I exploded, the climax taking me hard and fast, just like he did. Little gasps escaped me as we became powerless to do anything except let our bodies take over. I tightened up around him as he pumped deep within me, and with one, last hard thrust, his body folded over mine.

He collapsed against my back and pressed a kiss to my neck as the tremors continued to shudder through us both. His hands reached up across the desk and found mine. Our fingers tangled together, gripping each other tightly.

For a while we remained that way, my chest against the desk, his face buried into my shoulder, our bodies still connected. Then he pulled himself out of me and tugged down my dress, covering me up again.

We stood in the dark in his living room, with nothing but moonlight and unsaid words. I straightened up, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. His naked body gleamed with sweat and sex, but he wouldn’t look at me.

He went into the kitchen and a minute later returned with a glass of water, which he handed me. “I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. The fight earlier? The amazing sex? Or the fact that what we had was nothing more than a few frenzied, delicious moments?

His phone buzzed from inside his slacks, which were in a puddle on the floor. Andrew visibly tensed, and even in the shadows I could tell his face was tortured. We both stared at the dark pool of fabric until it finally stopped vibrating. He didn’t check the phone, but we both knew who was texting him again. It always came back to her, in the end.

I drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re not over her, are you?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. “I thought I was. I really did.”

My chest felt like something was crushing it. I waited for him to say more, to change his mind or deny it, to tell me I was the one he wanted to be with now. When he never did, I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling naked and exposed, even though I was the only one dressed in the room.

“You should take me home.”

“Becca, please—”

“Look, we tried the one date thing, and it obviously didn’t work out,” I snapped. “So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go home now.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then his jaw tightened and he nodded.

I
’d screwed this date up so bad I didn’t think it was possible to ever recover it. Things had been going so well, and then
she
had texted me and ruined everything.

When Becca asked me to take her home, I wanted to protest more, to somehow make everything right between us again, but after all that had happened tonight, I didn’t blame her for wanting to leave.

The drive to her sister’s place wasn’t long, but it seemed to take an eternity. The silence felt like an invisible wall between us, and I couldn’t figure out how to tear it down.

When I pulled up in front of the house, Becca hesitated with her hand on the car door. I didn’t want her to get out, but I didn’t know what else to say. I had to try, though. I couldn’t let it end this way between us.

“Wait.”

She turned toward me, her eyes gleaming like she was on the verge of tears. My heart clenched painfully at the sight.

“Becca, I
am
trying. That’s why I invited you on this date. After that, I hoped we could take it one day at a time and see how it goes.”

“I’m fine with going slow. And I’m not asking for a long-term commitment or anything, god no. But…” She bit her lip, not meeting my eyes.

“What is it?”

“I hooked up with Jared, and he didn’t want anything more with me after that. I wasted months wishing it would turn into something real between us, and it never did. And you did the exact same thing when you never called. I seem to be the girl everyone wants to fuck, and no one wants to date.” Her voice cracked, her bottom lip trembled, and I saw how much it cost her to admit that, to show me she was vulnerable and not the fierce, bad girl who looked like a pinup girl and screwed like a porn star. “I know I said I was fine with nothing serious, but I can’t just be your quick fuck now and then. I need to know there’s the possibility for more someday.”

I reached across and took her hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles. “I’m not like Jared or any of those other guys you were with before. What you and I have…it’s more than just a hook-up. It always has been.”

“But if you’re still in love with Tara, then what’s the point?”

“I’m not. I swear it.” I squeezed her hand, wishing she would look at me. “Becca, I need to do this at my own speed, but I’m not giving up completely. And…” I hesitated, but if this was our last conversation, I had to say the next few words. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you shouldn’t give up on your dream either.”

She snatched her hand back, and her eyes found mine in the darkness, fierce and angry. “I can’t believe you’re bringing that up again.”

I was only shooting myself in the foot even more, but if I didn’t try to convince her to do the show, I would hate myself. I cared about her too much to let her give up on what I knew she really wanted, deep down. “Tara says if you’re going to join the band for the New Year’s Eve show, they need to know by tomorrow. Otherwise, they’re finding someone else. For what it’s worth, I think you should do it.”

“And I think you should follow my example and move on from the past for good. Until you’re truly over Tara, don’t even think about calling me again.”

She got out of the car and slammed the door shut. A minute later, she was inside the house.

I let my head fall forward on the steering wheel and swore under my breath.
Nice job, Andy
. Now she’d probably never speak to me again.

I should have said yes when Becca asked me if I was over Tara, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t in love with Tara, not anymore, but seeing her name on my phone had felt like a bullet slamming straight into my chest. I didn’t want to get back together with her or anything, god no, but I’d once planned to spend my entire life with her and she’d said no. Could I ever truly recover from that?

If I wasn’t ready to move on, then I had no business getting involved with Becca. It wouldn’t be fair to her. She had big plans for her future, and she needed a boyfriend who would love her without the shadow of his past hanging over him. A guy who could give her everything she needed.

I wanted to be that guy, but I didn’t know if I could be.

I watched the light go on in what I thought was her bedroom and tried to work up the courage to go to the door and beg her to give me another chance.

When the light went out, I drove away.

My phone buzzed as soon as I got home, and I eagerly reached for it, hoping it was Becca. But it was Tara. Again.

Any luck?
she asked.

No. I tried. I’m sorry.

Thanks anyway.

I didn’t respond and figured that would be the end of it. I had nothing more to say to her anyway. But after I stripped off my clothes and got ready for bed, another text came.

I hope you’re doing okay. I miss having you as a friend.

My hands trembled as I tried to reply, but then I gave up and threw my phone across the room. It slammed against the wall and hit the floor with a clatter. Dammit!

I ran a hand over my face, forcing myself to breathe and calm down, and then I picked up the scattered pieces of my phone. Luckily it wasn’t broken, just dented on one corner. The battery had popped out and I fixed it up, then read Tara’s text again.

I miss having you as a friend.

I was tempted to write back,
Too fucking bad
.

Tara had ripped out my heart. She didn’t get to be friends with me now, no matter what I’d said to her before. I just. Couldn’t. Do it.

Instead of replying, I closed out the message and shut my eyes, gripping my phone tightly until my heartbeat slowed to normal again. Becca was right. I had to get over my past—because no matter how much it hurt to hear from Tara, the idea of never hearing from Becca again hurt even more.

I opened my closet and eyed the cardboard box tucked in the back corner. The one box I’d never unpacked after I moved to Dallas.

Five months later, it was time.

I dragged it out and sat on the bed, carefully setting it down in front of me like it contained a nuclear bomb. It was just a simple, brown box that had been taped shut, yet the thought of opening it filled me with dread.