The Closer You Get (25 page)

She ended up downing her beer and dancing with the guy who had brought it. The next hour passed like that, bouncing from guy to guy, all of whom seemed to have eight hands that she had to swat away constantly. But the attention was invigorating. She’d gone to college. She’d never once been to a party like this. She’d certainly never dirty danced with one guy, let alone half a dozen.
 

The last guy she danced with held onto her hand and led her into another room, this one quieter. There was a pool table and nothing but guys and beer. This, she could handle. Though she was more accustomed to being one of the guys than to being the hot girl in a room full of guys.

“Hey, guys, this is Cora,” her erstwhile dance partner said.

The college guys all jerked their chins up in greeting. One of them was racking the balls for another game. “Can I play?” Cora asked, shocked at how girly her voice sounded.

The guys exchanged looks with one another. Her dance partner chuckled. “Sure you can, baby. You want me to show you how?”

“I can handle—”

“Here, take this.” The guy pressed a cue into her hands and stood behind her, took her shoulders, and guided her to the table. “What you wanna do, is lean over like this…”

It was all so reminiscent of the time Rye had awakened her to the many sexual innuendos inherent in the language of pool. She fought back laughter as the guy pressed his crotch against her backside and attempted to teach her how to play. Then she blew their minds by beating their asses three games in a row.
 

The beer flowed freely and abundantly through the evening. Cora hadn’t gotten that drunk in…ever. She was losing track of the hands, not quite swatting them away fast enough.

“Having fun, boss?”

She turned from the pool table to see Rye swaying in the doorway. Or maybe she was swaying, and he was standing still. She forgot all about the kid who was trying, quite successfully, to grope her ass. She ran to Rye and threw her arms around his neck, jumped up, and wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m having so much fun!” she squealed.
 

“Christ, how much did you drink?”

She laughed maniacally and took his lips with her own. She kissed along his jaw, sucked his earlobe, and ground her hips against him.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. He sat her on her feet, took her hand, and led her back through the party. They stumbled up some stairs, past some closed doors, and into a room that was just being vacated by a pair of students. Rye led her in, closed the door, and locked it.
 

Now the music was a dull, steady thumping that vibrated the floor. Cora giggled. “I think I drank a little too much.”

“Oh, you definitely drank too much. Looked like you were having fun, though.”

Cora sat on the bed and started scooting backward. “Boys asked me to dance.”

Rye moved forward.

“They kept wanting to touch me.”

“Can’t blame them. Take your top off, Cora.”

She grinned and obeyed. Rye knelt on the bed and leaned over her. She lay back while he hovered over her, his eyes raking her body and sending waves of heat through her. He pulled the straps of her bra down, one by one, and freed her breasts from the hot pink lace. When he lowered his lips to her nipples, she stopped giggling and started panting.

“Oh, Rye,” she whispered. “I’m ready for everything. Give me everything.”

He sucked at her breasts, licking and teasing until she thought she was going to die from the tension.

When he pulled away, she sobbed, “Don’t stop!”

“Patience.” He pushed her skirt up, pulled her panties off, and began kissing his way up her inner thigh.

His mouth consumed her, and she went blind with pleasure, crying out and thrusting against his face. Through the haze of alcohol came a voice that reminded her who she was with. Rye. The man who was falling in love with her. The man she was falling in love with, licking her, sucking, driving her closer and closer…

The orgasm hit her hard and fast. She clutched at his hand that had reached up to hold onto her breast.

When she came back down, it was to a frenzy of need. A new kind of need. She pushed away from him. “Come inside of me.”

He grinned. “Slow down, Cora.”

“I want you inside of me, now. Fuck me, Rye, now. Please. Please!” She fumbled at the button of his jeans, faintly wondering why he was pushing her hands away.

“Music to my ears, believe me. But you’re drunk as a skunk.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she said. Her voice sounded frantic and slurred even to her, but she didn’t care. She wanted him so badly.
 

“Easy.”

She gave up on the button and shoved her hand down his pants, wrapping it around his erection. He groaned in pleasure. “Cora,” he said, his voice full of an annoying tone of warning. He pulled her hand away and held her at arm’s length. “Let’s go back to your place. The drive home will sober you up a little. We’ll do whatever you want after that.”

She was convinced if she could just get him to focus, she could talk him into this. She grabbed his face between her hands and held tight. “Listen,” she said slowly, forcing him to look in her eyes. For some reason, he looked amused, even though this was serious business. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since you first walked into my office.”

“Is that so?” he asked. Was he laughing? This wasn’t funny.

“That’s so,” she barked indignantly. “And now you’ve got my panties off, you’re going to lie down with me and give me what I want. Understand?”

“Oh, honey, I’d love to comply, believe me.”

“Okay. Come on. Let’s do this.” She pulled at his shirt, trying to get him to fall back onto the bed with her.
 

But he was stronger. He pulled completely away, taking her with him to the edge of the bed. He fixed her bra and helped her into her shirt. Then he stuffed her panties into his pocket and pulled her toward the door. She dug her heels in and managed to wrench her arm free. “What are you doing?” she cried.

“Taking you home.”

She backed away, filled with frustration and anger. “That’s not what I want!” She was talking too loudly. Her emotions, rather than being controlled and directed, seemed to be controlling and directing her. She shoved him away when he came toward her, and she fell back against the bed again.

Rye laughed, the bastard. Then he brought her into his arms, pressed her to his chest, and spoke into her ear. “Hear me, Cora. I’m gonna give you what you want. But I want you sober when I do it. Okay?”

This seemed to finally make sense, so she nodded.

He hooked an arm around her waist and practically carried her down the stairs, out of the house, and to the truck. The drive home was a series of hazy flashes. City lights. Country darkness. Her house. Her bed. Her clothes being pulled off. Cool sheets on her naked body. Darkness.

R
YE
HAD
HAD
two beers and then quit as soon as he saw how hard Cora was partying. He’d sent the first few guys her direction, but after that, they just sort of flocked to her. As though he’d redirected the flow of male hormones in her general direction. After that, he simply kept an eye on her to make sure she was safe.
 

That was why he woke up on her couch perfectly clear-headed and refreshed. After putting her to bed—which had been pure pleasure, since he’d thoroughly enjoyed peeling her clothes off of her—he’d showered and thrown his clothes in the wash. He wrapped his blanket around his waist and made his way to the laundry room off the side of the kitchen. After dressing, he made coffee and searched Cora’s fridge for something he could feed her for breakfast.

There was a knock at the front door. Rye opened it to find Franny standing there with a box of pastries in her hands. Her eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “It honestly never occurred to me she’d be far enough along to sleep with you.”

Rye laughed and stepped aside. “Come on in. I slept on the couch. She drank a lot last night.”

Franny stepped past him and into the kitchen. “Poor thing. Is she still sleeping?”

“Yup. The longer the better, I’d say.”

“Well, I came to get all the details from her, but you can talk just as well. How’d it go? Did you have fun?”

Rye poured them each a cup of coffee, and they sat at Cora’s small, dining table in a little bay window nook. “I’m pretty sure she had a good time. We’ll see when she wakes up if it was worth the hangover.”

Just then, there was a loud thunk as a door was slammed open and crashed against a wall. Rye jumped up and hurried to the back of the house. By the time he arrived, Cora was done vomiting, but still leaning over the toilet she’d just flushed. Rye grabbed two cloths and wet them, handing one to her for her mouth, and applying the other to the back of her neck. He held her hair aside and tried not to laugh at her make-up smeared face and blood shot eyes.
 

Slowly, she turned to look at him. “My head,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “Am I bleeding out my ears?”

Rye knelt and used the cloth to dab away some of her makeup. “You up for a shower?”

“I don’t think I can stand just yet.”

“Water?”

“God, yes. And aspirin.”

He got both for her, and then she asked him to leave. He returned to Franny and chatted while Cora recovered. A half hour later, she came into the kitchen, showered but still looking utterly exhausted. She took a cup of coffee to the table and, to Rye’s delight, pulled a chair around next to his before sitting. He rested his arm on the back of her chair and watched Cora’s every move.

“This guy is so smitten,” Franny said.

Rye glanced at her, confused as to what she was seeing, but in no position to argue. He was smitten, after all.

Cora said, “Shh. Whispers only.”

“Pastry?” Franny offered, shoving the open, pink box toward her.

“I’m not quite there yet.”

Franny shrugged. “So what do you remember?”

“Not much. Um…dancing. Drinking. Playing pool.”

“Sounds like a regular Friday night at Darcy’s.”

“It wasn’t. Trust me. It wasn’t.”

“What else do you remember?” Rye asked.

Cora turned her world-weary eyes toward him. “I remember being rejected, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

He laughed and kissed her. “You remember me being a gentleman. That’s how you should interpret my actions last night.”

“You were absolutely not a gentleman.”

He supposed she was right about that. He would never forget the taste of her as long as he lived.

Cora turned to Franny. “He talked me up or something. Because I was standing back, waiting for the night to be over and college guys kept asking me to dance. They kept saying the ‘guy at the bar’ told them about me. So I wound up getting a lifetime’s worth of invitations to dance.”

“Oh, my God, that’s awesome!” Franny squealed. “Was it fun?”

“I have to admit, it made me feel really good about myself.”

“Well, I only sent the first few,” Rye said. “The rest you got on your own.”

Cora turned to him again, smiling this time, looking at him in a way that made him want to pound his chest and roar with pride. “It was amazing. Thank you, Rye.”

He might have had something to say in response, but there was a lump of emotion in his throat. It was time to take her to bed. Time to show her that they belonged to one another. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

There was another knock on the front door, followed by the door opening. “Hello, hello?”

Rye leaned back in his seat and slumped. A moment later, Adam strolled in, pulled up a chair, and plopped down between Franny and Cora. “I was gonna take you to breakfast, but I see you’re already set,” Adam said to Cora. He grabbed a pastry from the box and took a bite.

“Cora’s hungover,” Franny said.

“What?” Adam snapped with the concern of an overprotective parent. Then he turned his angry gaze to Rye. “What did you do to her?”

“Adam, stop,” Cora moaned.

“You’ve never been hungover in your life.”

“That’s not true—”

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Adam said to Rye.

“Fuck you,” Rye said, the words escaping on a wave of anger before he could stop them.

Adam turned to Cora. “You hear that? Real nice how he treats your friends.”

“Adam, please—”

“Maybe you should go,” Adam said to Rye. “She’s obviously exhausted from whatever hell you put her through. Just go on and leave her alone.”

Rye had half a mind to grab the boy by his collar, drag him outside, and show him who was boss. But the rational voice in his mind reminded him that this situation called for diplomacy. It was Cora’s house. He would let her make the rules.
 

Only Franny was the one who spoke up. “Jeez, Adam, what crawled up your ass and died?”

Adam slammed his fist on the table, making coffee slosh out of the mugs resting on it. “We always have breakfast together on Saturday mornings. We always go out to Ruby’s or Lyssa’s. But all of a sudden, this guy shows up and everything’s different.”

“I’m the one who brought breakfast,” Franny said. “I wanted to hear about their date.”

“Fuck their date. Can’t you see what he’s doing to her? He’s changing her. She was fine the way she was and I don’t like it.”

“Adam, get out,” Cora said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Adam gawped at her, the most betrayed man in the world at that moment. “You’re choosing this dick-head over me?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m doing. I’m implementing a policy my daddy taught me, which is to only surround yourself with people who uplift you. People who enrich your life. In this moment, Adam, you’re not one of those people. Now go.”

Adam surged to his feet, the chair scraping the floor behind him. “I love you, Cora, and that’s why it kills me watching you do this to yourself. When he breaks your spirit, just know you can come to me. And you,” he said, pointing at Rye, “when you hurt her like I know you will, I swear I’m going to make your life such hell you won’t be able to show your face in this town anymore.”