Debauched (Undone Book 3) (5 page)

I want Ruby and at some point she’s going to be under me. Despite her protests and her disbelief, she will come for me. I’ve already started and there’s no stopping us.

I just have to be very conscious of getting her consent on every single thing I do to her. So that when she comes face-to-face with her nature, with what she fears the most, I can remind her it had been her choice all along.

Ruby

I’m sitting across from Layla and Jillian in a crowded Sunday brunch spot in Lakeview. Layla called me this morning and asked me to come, and since I was about to jump out of my skin at my restlessness, I agreed.

Luckily, since they are both getting married, they are talking about wedding plans and I don’t have to pay close attention. While Layla has just gotten engaged, Jillian’s wedding is only a couple of months from now. She’s going to be a classic June bride.

I love both of them—and over the months Jillian has become an actual friend to me instead of Michael’s sister—but wedding mania is alive and well. Sometimes it bothers me, sometimes I feel jealous and petty, but today their preoccupation suits me quite well.

I have not stopped obsessing about Chad since our encounter in the hallway. All I can think about is how his mouth felt on mine, how my body had tingled, how much I wanted him, and how I wanted more.

Over the course of the evening, Chad had disproved any preconceived notions I had about him being a “nice” guy.

While we hadn’t been alone for the rest of the night, he’d been like a magnet, drawing me to him over and over, preoccupying me. I’d wanted to be close to him. Wanted Tommy to be gone, which was bad enough, but I found myself wishing that I was
with
Chad.

He hadn’t helped matters.

When we were together in a group, he’d catch my eye before putting his hand in his pocket where I knew my panties were. Then he’d stand there, a smirk on his face, making it clear to me he was touching my underwear, only to talk as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. As though I wasn’t bare under my skirt because of him.

It was like a train wreck, one I couldn’t look away from. He’d held me captive. Breathless and wanting. I don’t want it to be so, but I can’t deny, it made me ridiculously wet. Like embarrassingly so. Every time I’d walk I’d be reminded of my slippery thighs and how swollen I was. There were a few times I was tempted to go into the bathroom and take care of the ache, but I convinced myself he’d somehow know and didn’t want to risk it.

The whole thing was bizarre and strange. I’ve never been tempted like that, been so preoccupied with lust I contemplated taking the edge off. I barely knew what to do with it.

I have a complicated relationship with sex that, in my mind, bordered on dysfunctional. An unfortunate byproduct of growing up a minister’s daughter. The sad thing is my parents are loving and affectionate and didn’t push a negative agenda, but all that church sank into my brain and wouldn’t leave. I want to be above it all, because I consider myself a modern, feminist woman, but my upbringing did a number on me I haven’t figured out how to fix.

Somewhere along the way, in a quest for empowerment, I taught myself how to masturbate and give myself an orgasm; it was tension release versus being turned on. And, despite my best efforts, I have never been able to translate it to my relationships with men.

I’ve never experienced what I had last night, where it was literally all I could think about. Made all the worse by the friction of my enflamed flesh and press of my thighs. By my bare, slick skin. By Chad watching me in that way he had, knowing and confident.

I chose not to think about the fact that I’d done exactly what he’d asked of me and told Tommy it was over. I didn’t even look back as he sped away. I’d already forgotten him.

I’d practically run to my apartment. I’d barely gotten in the door I’d been so crazy. I’d collapsed on my couch, and rubbed my fingers over my clit, thinking about Chad and the hallway, his words, the squeeze of his fingers on my throat. I came harder than I ever have, even arching a little and biting my lip. After, all I could think was I wanted more.

That it wasn’t enough.

Just thinking about it now creates an unfamiliar kick of lust low in my belly. I blow out a long, slow breath and force myself to stop thinking about him and return to reality.

The din of the restaurant comes rushing back, suddenly too loud.

I look across the table and find Layla and Jillian staring at me, both wearing expressions that are a mixture of concern and speculation.

Layla raises a brow. “What exactly were you thinking about?”

Jillian grins. “And why are your cheeks so pink?”

My face heats even more and I pick up my mimosa. “Nothing.”

“Did something happen last night?” Layla asks.

My mind fills with images of Chad, his teasing mouth and wicked words. I’ve never had a man talk to me like that. Most guys’ idea of dirty talk is pretty cringe worthy, but Chad, the things he said—my skin flushes even deeper. I shake my head. “No, nothing happened.”

Layla and Jillian look at each other.

“She’s lying,” Jillian says.

I want to tell them, because this is the kind of thing you tell your girlfriends, spend hours analyzing and dissecting, but I can’t. One, what exactly was I supposed to tell them? Because what exactly happened? I have no idea. And two, which is the most important, they love Chad. I don’t want them to get excited about something that will turn into nothing. How could it not? We are nothing alike.

So I put on my game face. “I’m not. Nothing happened.”

“Did you sleep with the guitar guy?” Layla asks, the corners of her mouth turning down.

“No.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and take a sip of mimosa, letting the cool bubbling tang soothe my throat. “You’ll be very proud of me. I broke up with him.”

Layla blew out a sigh. “Whew. Good. I didn’t know how to tell you I saw him making out with Shelly last night.”

At the news, I feel absolutely nothing. Not even surprise. Guys like Tommy are invested in the rocker life fantasy, and fucking random girls while your date is occupied, goes with the territory. Besides, I wasn’t exactly innocent. I’d let Chad touch me more in that hallway than I’d let Tommy in three dates. I shrug. “I wish her good luck dealing with his aggressive tongue in her mouth.”

Layla and Jillian laugh.

Jillian wrinkles her nose. “God, I used to hate that.”

“He was the worst.” I make a jabbing motion with my finger. “Like hard, stabbing pokes.”

“Yuck!” Layla exclaims.

I take another sip of my drink, downing the rest and putting it on the table, glancing around for our waiter to get a refill. “But rest assured, he’s gone.”

I wait for the conversation to turn away from my dating life, but Jillian narrows her eyes. “Something happened. You’re preoccupied.”

I bite my lip, looking for a satisfactory answer, but my phone rings, saving me. I open my purse and see Chad’s name lighting up the screen.

My heart leaps in excitement, before starting a fast, steady pounding in my chest. I’d half expected last night to be a moment of insanity never to be spoken of again. I snatch the phone and say, “I’ve got to get this.” Then I’m springing from the table and weaving my way through the people toward the door, the phone already to my ear.

“Hello.” My tone is entirely too breathless.

“You sound like I caught you at a bad time.”

At the sound of his voice, I fear I might hyperventilate. “No, it’s okay. Just give me a second.”

I push my way outside. The sun is bright, and while the air is still cold, it’s going to be a nice day. I walk down a few shops before I stop. “Sorry, is that better?”

“Much. Where are you?”

“I’m at brunch with Layla and Jillian.”

There’s a quick pause on the line. I take the moment to calm my breathing and slow my galloping heart rate.

“Did you tell them about last night?” His tone is curious.

“No.” I lick my lips and the cool air makes them sting.

“Why not?”

“What was I supposed to say?”

He laughs. “I fooled around with Chad last night while my date was downstairs.”

I press my hand against the brick of the building. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Although it turns out he was busy with one of my friends, so I don’t think I was missed.”

“Good, he wasn’t ever going to give you what you need anyway.”

I want to ask what Chad thinks I need, but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. I clear my throat. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

When he speaks his voice is a low rumble. “Did you think I was going to leave you like that?”

I bite my lip; remember the sting of his teeth. “You walked away last night and didn’t say anything, so yes.”

“I walked away because you’re not ready for me to fuck you against a wall.”

I sharply inhale at his words, all the heat from last night rushing back.

“I can hear how you like that idea, Ruby.”

I press my hand against the brick even harder, using the scratch of the surface to focus, but don’t say anything. Was this what phone sex was like?

Several beats pass before he speaks. “I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to have time to think about what I’d done to you. About what I want to do to you. To give you a chance to decide what you want with a clear head.”

I blink down at the sidewalk. “What do you want to do to me?”

“The list is endless.” Another pause. “But dinner tonight is a good place to start.”

“Dinner?” I squeak, trying not to think about how excited I am to see him. How these last eight weeks have been a constant state of longing.

“Yes. I’ll be happy to take you someplace, but I’d rather cook you dinner at my place, if you’ll let me.”

“You cook?” I don’t know why this astounds me. “I thought men who cooked were mythical beings. Like unicorns.”

He laughs. “I cook. My mom taught me.”

I think of my own mom, giving me lessons about a woman’s place in the home and how to take care of a husband, like it was something to be proud of. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have offered. So seven tonight?”

I want to say yes so badly. I want to see him, but I can already feel myself getting tense at the prospect that he’ll want sex. Most guys I’ve slept with had no idea I couldn’t have orgasms. I’m a very good actress. But Chad knows. None of my normal distraction tricks are possible with him because I’d stupidly confessed all this to him in a drunken state of emotional upheaval on Valentine’s Day.

I shake my head. “What about…” I trail off, unable to say the words.

“Coming?” he supplies for me.

“Yes,” I whisper. “You know I can’t.”

There’s silence for several long moments, before he says, “I know this is hard for you to understand, but you don’t have to worry about that. Let
me
worry about that. We’re going to talk about it, but we’re a long way from orgasms even being on the table, okay?”

Something eases, but I am compelled to continue. He deserves something better. I clear my throat. “It’s just that I’ll be a disappointment that way. And I don’t want that for you.”

“It’s not your decision to make, Ruby.”

My heart gives a hard thump. “But—”

“This is a discussion best had tonight, curled up on my couch, instead of you alone on a street corner.”

“Okay.” My throat suddenly tightens. What is it about him that brings up all these hidden emotions? I hate it, but something inside me feels like it’s exactly what I need.

“Ruby?” His voice drops.

“Yes?” My tone is husky and unsure.

“Did you come for me last night?”

“Yes.” I don’t know why I don’t lie, or at least play coy.

“Good girl.”

My knees actually quiver.

“I’ll see you tonight at seven. Text me your address and I’ll send you an Uber.”

This is something the guys I date would never think of, they’d let me find my own way to their apartments. The consideration makes me…uncomfortable. “All right.”