Authors: Nauti,wild (Riding The Edge)
open, sat up, and searched the room.
He wasn’t there. Neither were his clothes. She got up and
looked in the bathroom, and he wasn’t in there, either.
Wel , fine. She pul ed on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then
flopped onto the bed, forcing herself not to pout.
Maybe he had something important to do this morning. Her
gaze slid over to the clock on the nightstand—seven-thirty. It
was stil early. They hadn’t gotten more than four hours of
sleep last night. What could he possibly have to do this early
in the morning, besides hightail it out of her room so he could
get away from her?
Guys did that. A lot didn’t care for the “morning after.” Sex
was fine, but they didn’t stay the night. Rick had at least
stayed the night—or a few hours, anyway. They’d had sex
again, and promptly passed out in each other’s arms. Maybe
he’d only needed a few hours to rest, then wanted to get out of
there before he had to—gasp—talk to her.
Guys did that, too—left before they had to have the
morning-after conversation. The few guys she’d had sex with
hadn’t been the “cuddle and talk after sex” type. Hel , they
hadn’t been the “stay in the room after sex” type. Which was
probably why sex hadn’t been high on her priority list the past
few years. Being used wasn’t fun.
But for some reason she’d thought Rick was different. How
stupid of her. He was just like the others. Get off and get out of
there before the woman wants to talk.
It wasn’t like she was going to rehash the sex from the night
before.
She stretched, raised her arms above her head and
pointed her toes, smiling at the soreness in her muscles. No,
she was pretty certain the sex spoke for itself and needed no
further conversation.
But Rick didn’t know that, and he was probably used to
clingy women who thought one night of sex equaled a
relationship.
She wasn’t that kind of woman. She knew where they stood
—nowhere. He was a biker who traveled al over, was part of
a gang. She was a graduate student trying to decide which
col ege to attend for her Ph.D. She was nowhere near looking
for a relationship, and she doubted he was, either.
But if she was . . . oh, wow, it had been incredible last night.
Rick knew his way around her body without instruction or a
road map. He’d done it entirely by feel and by reading her
responses.
He was real y damn good at it.
Her body swel ed with heat remembering his touch, his
kisses, how he felt inside her. She slid her hand inside her
sweatpants and cupped her sex, let her fingers dance around
her clit, recal ing how his mouth and tongue felt there last night.
What an incredible orgasm he’d brought her to.
When she heard a click in the door lock, she removed her
hands from her pants and slid her feet over the side of the
bed. Rick pushed the door open. He had two cups of coffee in
a cardboard container.
“Oh, hey, you’re up.”
Ava couldn’t resist a wide smile. He hadn’t left her. He’d
gone for coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, suddenly feeling giddy, and then
felt stupid for feeling that way. It was just coffee.
But he hadn’t run like hel to escape.
“I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep, but I hate in-room
coffee, so thought you’d want the good stuff.”
“You’re right. Thank you.”
He handed her a cup and cream and sugar. “I wasn’t sure
how you took it.”
“With cream and sugar.” She added both, then put the lid
back on, slid back against the pil ows, and took a sip of the
hot brew. “Oh, this is real y good.”
Rick shrugged his jacket off and lifted the lid off his cup,
took a swal ow and sat in the chair across from the bed.
“Sleep wel ?”
“What little sleep I got was fine. You were gone when I got
up. I thought maybe you wanted to avoid seeing me.”
Why had she blurted that out? She sounded needy.
Way to be mature, Ava.
He quirked a brow and propped his feet up on the edge of
the bed. “Why would I want to do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Avoid the morning after?”
“The morning aft—oh.” He laughed, then pinned her with a
direct stare. “I’m not the type to fuck and run, Ava.”
She liked hearing that. She didn’t know why she cared,
dammit, but she did.
“You must have dated some miserable assholes.”
She lifted her gaze from her coffee to him. “Not real y. Just
none that were memorable enough to keep around.”
“Yeah? Tel me about them.”
She shifted and made herself more comfortable against the
pil ows. “My first was in col ege.”
“Late bloomer, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that. My parents overprotected me,
kept me busy with school and social activities.”
He grinned. “Al to preserve the sanctity of your virginity, no
doubt.”
She sipped her coffee and nodded, remembering having to
account for every second of her time back then. “No doubt.
But once I hit col ege and wasn’t under their thumb every
minute of every day, I had more freedom to go wild.”
“And did you?”
“Go wild?” She let out a soft laugh. “No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t know how. I was tentative. I’d been
sheltered. Having al that freedom scared the hel out of me.”
“And you had guys beating down the door to get at you, I’d
bet.”
She laughed. “Not real y. I was painful y shy. Pretty much a
wal flower.”
“I can’t see that.”
“Thanks. But I was. Fortunately, I had my best friend, Lacey,
as my roommate and we stuck close together and weathered
the first couple awkward years of col ege. And boys. And then
men.”
“So your sexual awakening was in col ege, with the frat
boys?”
“Yes.”
“Did they treat you good?”
What an odd question. Why would he even care about that?
“I suppose. I wasn’t mistreated. I didn’t end up on a website or
in a
Girls Gone Wild
video. But then again I was never a big
drinker, so I always knew what I was doing. And I was
selective in who I went out with.”
“Sounds practical.”
He made it sound like she was boring. Maybe she had
been. She certainly couldn’t pinpoint anyone or anything
remarkable from her undergrad days.
“So how many?”
“How many what?”
“How many guys?”
She lifted her chin. “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”
“Okay. You don’t have to tel me.”
“Four.”
“That’s it? Four? You’ve only been with four guys? How old
are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
Rick dragged his fingers through his hair. “Damn.”
“How about you?”
“Uh . . .”
“That many, huh?” And why did it irritate her so much that he
couldn’t just pul a number out of his head right then? “Go
ahead. Give it some thought. I’l wait.”
And she did. Drank her coffee, twiddled her toes, glanced
over at the clock, then back at him while he stared up at the
ceiling and did mental math.
“Are you kidding me? It’s that hard to count a few sex
partners?”
“Uh . . .”
Oh, for God’s sake. “Never mind.”
“Thirty-three.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Are you serious? Thirty-three?”
“Give or take.”
“Jesus. Am I thirty-four, or thirty-three?”
His lips curled. “I didn’t count you.”
“Why the hel not? Because you only counted the
memorable ones?” Which meant she’d been utterly
forgettable. Great. Just great.
“No, that’s not what I meant at al .”
And he was laughing. Asshole. She put down her coffee
and stood. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out.”
“You’re serious.”
She pointed to the door. “Get. Out.”
“You are serious.” He stood. “You’re real y going to toss me
out of here because of the number of women I’ve had sex with.
”
Men were so clueless sometimes. “I need to take a shower.
And I need some time alone.”
“I could wash your back.” He lifted his brows.
“Oh,” she muttered a sound of disgust. “Just get out, Rick.”
“Okay. Jesus. Sorry.” He went to the door, turned, and
looked at her. “Cal me when you’re over being grumpy.”
She slammed the door in his face, double locked it, and
flopped back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.
Her heart was pounding and her face was hot, flushed with
the heat of anger and embarrassment.
Thirty-three. What a man whore. Damn good thing he’d
worn a condom, since his cock had been so wel used before
he’d been with her.
But as the minutes ticked by and she continued to gaze up
at the monotonous white ceiling, she didn’t know what she
was more upset about—that Rick had had so much sex, or
she’d had so little.
Maybe it was the combination of Rick’s experience and
what she’d seen with Lacey last night. It seemed like everyone
was so adept at broadening their horizons—except her.
Though she’d certainly gotten a good start last night with
Rick, as wel as the night before. Phone sex, and a night of
awesome in-person sex. She couldn’t recal ever climaxing
like she had with Rick. He brought out a wild, uninhibited side
to her she never knew existed, and she had a feeling they’d
only scratched the surface of what she was capable of—what
they were capable of doing together.
So what the hel was she doing throwing a tantrum and
tossing him out of her room, when instead she could be
tapping into his wealth of experience while she had the
chance?
Dumbass.
If she’d spent less time holed up with books and more time
with men, she’d have known how to handle this—how to
handle him. Instead, she’d acted like a fourteen-year-old with
a bruised ego when, real y, his prior sex partners had nothing
to do with her—with them.
She jumped up and took a shower, dried her hair, and got
dressed, then grabbed her jacket and bag and marched down
to Rick’s room, raised her hand, then paused before
knocking, feeling every bit of two inches tal for her ridiculous
outburst earlier.
She knocked, her pulse pounding, not sure what she was
going to say when he opened the door.
If he was even stil in there.
He pul ed open the door and her breath caught.
He was wearing jeans, unbuttoned. No shirt. Bare feet. His
hair was stil wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower and
pul ed on the jeans to answer the door.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. I was just getting out of the shower. Come on in.”
She did. He closed the door and she stepped into his room.
He was a typical guy—clothes tossed everywhere. She
resisted the urge to straighten up.
“Sorry. I just toss shit around. Let me move that.”
“It’s fine.” She moved his discarded shirt so she could sit in
the chair.
“You want some coffee? I brewed the in-room stuff. It tastes
rank, but it’s better than nothing.”
“No. Thank you.”
“Okay.” He turned around and reached into his bag to grab
a white T-shirt and lifted his arms to put it on. While his back
was turned, Ava had an unrestricted view of the way his
muscles stretched across his back and shoulders.
So much she hadn’t seen last night, hadn’t touched. He had
a few scars, too, white lines that stood out against his darkly
tanned torso. She itched to run her fingers, her tongue, across
those scars, and ask how and where he’d gotten them.
Too personal, too intimate. She didn’t want to know. She’d
already told him too much about herself and look where that
conversation had led. It was best to keep things impersonal
between them. What they had wasn’t going anywhere beyond
this week, anyway.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I behaved badly and I had no
reason.”
He turned around and smiled at her. “It’s not your fault,
darlin’. I was a dick.”
“No you weren’t.”
He squatted down in front of her and laid his hands on her
knees. “Yeah, I was. I was teasing you and you hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it. Much.” She looked down.
He tipped her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet
his gaze. “You hated it. I’m sorry.”
He spread her knees apart and moved between her thighs,
cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. It was soft, the
touch of his lips so light she could barely feel it. And because
of that, she held her breath, absorbed the utter sweetness of
his apology. For a man who looked and acted so hard, the
lightness of this kiss rocked her.
When he pul ed back, she felt shaken, disoriented, like she