Hook Up (8 page)

“Loosen up, sweetie,” Bonita whispered. “You’re stiff as a board.”

Crystal tried, but Bonita’s soft body against hers felt strange. She groaned through gritted teeth. So far today Ryan had ruined her work with a client and made kissing a girl feel wrong.

A deep voice rose from the shadows below them. “Mind if I cut in?”

The evening breeze lifted goosebumps on her bare arms, and she shivered. Like champagne bubbles, the desire to feel his body pressed up against hers rose from her center. She clutched Bonita. “No, thanks—”

“You promised to save me a dance.” His voice brooked no argument.

Bonita shook her off gently. “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about hitting the buffet.” A swift arrow of emotion encouraged her, even as Bonita kissed her cheek and whispered, “Three’s a crowd, sweetie. You’ll thank me some day. Don’t forget your baseball bat, just in case.” The sound of her high heels was loud on the stamped concrete as she left the patio.

Crystal eyed her back, already thinking about retribution.

“I can’t fault your taste in women. She’s lovely.” Ryan led her across the patio and into the ballroom. The dance floor was crowded, and Crystal was buffeted with wild thrusts of elated energy from the dancers. He pulled her stiff body into his arms. “Relax. It’s just a dance.”

Just a kiss. Just a dance. Just her sanity.

In spite of the music’s fast rhythm, he held her close. Every beat of his heart under her cheek put a dent in her shield, hitting her with hard-core, gut-shot lust. Champagne fizzed insistently through her veins.

The band introduced a familiar song. Ryan chuckled, remembering, as she did. Crystal felt eighteen again, drunk on freedom and tequila, pressed up against a stranger in the middle of a dance floor. A light sweat broke out all over her body.

Ryan’s voice hummed under her ear, but she had no idea what he was saying. Her brain couldn’t process his words, but she hoped he would keep talking. Then he might not notice that she was falling apart under his hands like an overcooked roast, shredding to the bone. He throbbed against her, and she closed her eyes.

Pure. Raw. Returned.

It wasn’t just him—it was her too.

On the surface this was innocent—just a dance. Dig deeper and the embers were burning red-hot, banked below the soft, gray ashes of ten years. All it would take was one stiff breeze and they would both go up in flames, right in the middle of the dance floor.

It didn’t matter what was good for her. She wanted him, and she needed to figure out what to do about it before they drifted any closer to the point of no return. Denial was as dangerous as ignorance.

Crystal snapped to attention in time to hear him say, “I did call, you know.”

She stopped moving, stunned into immobility.

“I lost my cell phone on the plane back to school, but I called the frat house as soon as I got home. You were…very busy.” A flash, an image. She buried her face in his chest, filled with horror. His arms tightened around her. “Goddamn it, I still want you, Crystal.”

She wanted to apologize, but pride kept her silent. She felt his pain, but it was nothing compared to what she had felt. It had taken her a long time to stop feeling ashamed, even longer to stop blaming herself. The frat house fiasco wasn’t her fault. She had been vulnerable, torn wide open, exposed and unable to protect herself. Since then, she had learned to build walls to keep her safe from emotion. No one got to her without her permission. No one, it seemed, except him.

Ryan slid right in through her cracks, maybe because he’d been there the night it all started. She didn’t really blame him for making her psychic—that would be silly. But she had wanted him to call her. She had wondered for years how the connection they had made that night could have only felt special to her.

Now she knew he had felt it too. He’d called—and found her smack in the middle of a frat house orgy. Sorrow made her want to fall to her knees and press her forehead to the floor, to grieve for the girl who had felt so alone. It was tragic, ironic, too much to regret.

And too late.

Desire. Resentment. Hurt
.

Tears closed her throat and she clung to Ryan as he led her around the dance floor, expertly avoiding the other couples swirling around them. She wanted to explain what had happened to her the night they made love. Her life had exploded. But she stayed silent. What would that accomplish? They couldn’t change the past and if he knew the truth, he might think they had a second chance together. She wasn’t that girl anymore, naive, embracing life and the gifts it brought her. She had nearly lost her mind learning to control her emotions, and being near him drove her crazy again. He made it difficult for her to think, to work—hell, to exist. Telling him what had happened to her would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

But she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if he hadn’t lost her phone number. Would they have had a chance? Would she be wearing silk instead of leather, pearls instead of chains? If she hadn’t felt abandoned, would she have learned to share instead of block? Her laugh sounded hollow to the ear pressed against his chest.

His arms tightened around her. “What’s so funny?”

“Shh.” She shook her head, lost in the fantasy, feeling boneless, languid, lulled by the Southern rock music and the rhythmic swaying of their bodies. Pleasure coursed along her skin, connecting their shared breath, and she wanted to enjoy it, just for a minute. It was all she would ever have of him.

“Spend the night with me, Crystal.”

Out of nowhere, bodies slammed into them hard enough to knock her off her feet. The air whooshed out of her lungs as Ryan caught her firmly to his chest to stop her fall. Alisa’s bustled white gown wrapped around their legs.

“Mark!” Alisa’s eyes were sparkling like the huge diamond on her hand and her cheeks were flushed. “This isn’t a mosh pit!”

“I had a college flashback there for a minute. Sorry, it’s gone now.” Mark’s grin was not at all apologetic. “You two were looking very cozy,” he observed.

The band switched to a fast tune. Crystal got her balance and stepped away from Ryan, grateful for the interruption.

Alisa leaned in for a hug and Crystal embraced her, shamelessly dipping into her joyful emotions. Crystal gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “She’s all yours now, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Mark said. He raised his eyebrows at the two girls, and his grin spoke volumes. “I just want you to know that I’m a generous man. And open-minded.
Very
open-minded. In fact, if you two ever get the urge to fool around again, I’d be more than happy to watch.”

Alisa smacked his arm and laughed.

Crystal raised her hand and trailed one teasing fingertip down the length of Mark’s strong jaw. “You couldn’t handle it, my friend,” she drawled, then gave him an accusing poke in his dimpled chin. “You’re awfully pleased with yourself.” She wasn’t talking about the wedding and he knew it.

“Turnabout’s fair play,” he reminded her.

“Not the same.”

Alisa’s brow puckered, and worry washed away a bit of her bridely glow. “Mark, what have you done?”

Crystal let her go. “Nothing you need to worry about, kiddo. You know I’ve got it all under control. Go forth and be happy. You’ll think of me on your honeymoon, I guarantee it.” Mark gave her a quizzical look, but shrugged, then claimed his bride by the hand and spun her off to join the gaggle of librarians queuing up for a conga line.

Alisa blew her a kiss over Mark’s shoulder.

Ryan stared from her to Alisa and back again with an arrested expression. “Seriously?”

“Mark didn’t tell you?”

Ryan slowly shook his head. Desire lit his eyes and he pulled her back into his arms.

Her brief respite was over, but it had been long enough to bring her to a decision. Bonita was right—she had been hiding, but there was no point in hiding anymore, and she couldn’t fight an emotional battle on two fronts, hers and his. Maybe her best option was surrender.

“One night,” she said.

“You spent one night with Alisa?”

“No, I dated Alisa for a month. One night for us,” she clarified.

That would keep it simple. He wouldn’t expect anything more from her, and she wouldn’t be left hoping he would call. Her pulse picked up speed as she remembered how good it had been between them. Experience would only make it better now. She wasn’t a shrinking violet virgin anymore. She had studied the male sexual response so that she could help her clients. Ryan wouldn’t know what hit him, and she wouldn’t have to go home to her vibrator tonight.

His hand smoothed the curve of her waist and hip. “Probably not going to be enough.”

“Take it or leave it.” She pressed into him, pliant and wet just from memory. Bare skin, shared breath, freedom.
Please take it.

“It goes against everything I believe in to accept the first offer.” His fingers slipped into the deep-backed V of her dress and caressed her spine. His leg slid in between hers. He pulled her close, too close for comfort.

A quiet gasp escaped her lips. Her thighs trembled from the effort of not grinding against his leg. They were in the middle of a dance floor. She may have agreed to have sex with him, but she wasn’t going to do it here. She lifted her head. His lips held a wicked curve and his eyes were alight with triumph and something incendiary. Oh, this man was dangerous.

She reached behind her waist to grasp his wrists and pull them away from her body. “That was a demand, not an offer—and I need to read you before we do anything.” She hadn’t completely lost her mind. Now, it was better for her to know everything.

“I have nothing to hide.”

“Good.” She put her hands on her hips. “Is that a yes on both counts?”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He grinned, as aware as she that he was hard too.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Were there surprises last time?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Crystal remained silent. He took her hand and tugged her off the dance floor. “Never mind. I don’t care. You’ve got a deal.”

She paused to scan the room, locating Bonita just a few tables away. A stunning blond was handing her a drink. A double, from the looks of it. She caught Bonita’s eye and raised her hand in farewell. They exchanged a look that would have required an entire conversation for most people.

“She doesn’t waste any time,” Ryan observed.

“It’s not what you think. Let’s go,” Crystal said. “Unless you’re hungry.” She waved an arm at the buffet.

“Not for food.” He urged her toward the door.

Chapter Six

His rental was a sleek red Porsche Cayman, and Crystal looked like an exotic black panther lazing in the leather seat.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Yours,” she responded without hesitation.

He wondered what her home looked like. Would it be an apartment or a house and did she decorate her surrounding as creatively as she decorated herself? He pulled out of the parking lot, shaking his head at his curiosity. Tonight wasn’t about her taste in furniture. It was about scratching an itch and putting the past where it belonged—behind him.

He’d left Come Again this afternoon with more questions. First and foremost, why was she denying the attraction between them? In spite of all evidence to the contrary, she said she didn’t want him. She was lying—but why? Because he hadn’t called ten years ago? Why did she care? She certainly hadn’t cared at the time or she wouldn’t have been naked on the ping-pong table when he called the frat house.

For a minute, just a split second, even though Mark had verified the rumor, he had hoped Crystal would deny she had participated, but her horrified expression confirmed what he already knew. She’d been there, which meant their night together hadn’t meant anything to her. It was nice that she didn’t want to hurt his feeling though—very empathetic of her.

He forced himself to let go of the bitterness that made his heart ache. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for anything other than her body in his bed tonight. He might have been a sucker then and he might be a sucker now, but denial always made him want something even more. If he wanted to lose a few pounds, dieting didn’t work for him. More exercise did. Using the same logic, he would gorge his craving for her. He didn’t see the point in denying himself when she was all he could think about. Instead, he would hold her, have her, and if he couldn’t forget her, then at least he would replace his college memories of her with memories that wouldn’t be tainted with promises, broken or otherwise.

He glanced over at her. The woman had a thing for corsets, obviously. Her black dress was a less formal version of the style she had worn in the wedding today. Her legs were bare and she wore some sort of strappy high-heeled sandal that tied around her ankles and displayed her glossy black-painted toenails.

His heart thudded in his chest, and he was glad he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He wouldn’t rush her clothes off this time. In fact, he’d probably leave the shoes on. What was she wearing under the dress? His hands tightened on the steering wheel and he took the turn into the parking garage too fast. Luckily, the Cayman had excellent brakes.