Debauched (Undone Book 3) (8 page)

He continues on, only giving my large sip a passing glance. “It wasn’t personal. I have a lot going on right now, I was recently promoted at work, and I have two buildings I’m trying to get ready to sell. I want easy and uncomplicated.” He gives me a smile. “You’re neither. So I was as eager as you were to walk away, willing to dismiss what happened between us as a one off.”

“I can still walk away.” It would take care of this, put it to bed, and that can only be a good thing.

“You can, but you won’t, and neither will I.” He meets my eyes with a direct, steady gaze. “That was decided as soon as I touched you last night.”

“Why?” Heat rises to my cheeks, I clear my throat. “Did you touch me then?”

“Because I meant what I said, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His eyes skim over my face, lingering on my lips. “I went out with three girls since Valentine’s, and I didn’t want any of them.”

This fills me with such pleasure I’m almost embarrassed. A smile I want to hide tugs at my lips. I look down at my plate.

He laughs. “You can be happy about it, Ruby.”

The smile grows and I shrug. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m sure as fuck happy that guy you brought didn’t touch you.” He points to my plate. “We should eat.”

I pick up my fork again and spear a bite of pasta. “I only brought Tommy because of you.”

“I know.”

I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything Chad Fellows doesn’t know. I almost take a bite but then I pause, and ask, “Did Ashley offer to sleep with you?”

“Yes.” The word is direct, without any hesitation.

I raise my eyes to his. “I’m still afraid.”

I don’t know why I say this, but I do. I want to admit it.

“That’s okay.” Chad reaches for my hand and squeezes my fingers. “All you need to do is trust that I’ve got you.”

With those words, something inside me eases, because I believe him.

Chad

I kept the rest of dinner a light affair. I made sure Ruby had plenty of wine, and I steered the discussion to casual first-date conversation. We discussed our favorite books, movies, and music. I discovered we had more in common than I thought. How we both liked foreign art films that nobody else wants to see. That we both liked to think looking at the lake, and both hated the same best seller everyone else loved.

It had taken a while, but she’d finally unwound and now she sat on my couch, tucked into the corner, a glass of wine in her hand. We were well into our third bottle and everything had become easy between us, except for the sexual tension that hummed like an electric wire.

She took another sip and settled into the cushions. “I can’t believe you know how to cook.”

I put my hand on the back of the couch, taking a long look at her body. She’s built lean, almost slight, but she has a full chest that’s out of proportion to the rest of her body. On another girl I’d suspect they were fake, but Ruby wasn’t a boob-job type. Sitting there, her black hair pulled back, her blue eyes glassy but happy; I have to work not to think of all the things I want to do to her.

All things that will have to wait. I never break my promise and I’m not about to start with this fragile, scared girl.

I smile at her. “Why’s that?”

She shakes her head and her ponytail swings. “In my house, that’s women’s work.”

I know Ruby grew up in a small town in Southern Indiana where her mom and dad, brother and sister and their families still live, but that’s as much as she’s told me. “Women’s work, huh?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “When I go home to visit it’s like I’ve stepped back into another era. The women cook and clean and take care of their men. The men sit around with their feet up.”

Another piece of the Ruby puzzle clicks into place. But I’m not going to call attention to how growing up like that colors her perception of domination. Those conversations are for much farther down the line. “Well, in my house, my mom was a diehard feminist. My dad is more traditional, but she put the kibosh on that—as she says—five minutes into the marriage. I have two brothers, one older, one younger. As the only female in the house she was determined to make sure we knew how to treat women.” I smile, thinking of my fierce mother. “She refused to raise helpless men.”

Ruby’s expression is sheer delight. “She sounds like someone I’d like.”

“You would, and my mom would love you.” I laugh and take another sip of wine, a pleasant, leisurely buzz sliding gently through my bloodstream. “I think my dad is continuously confused how he ended up married to her.”

“Do they have a good marriage?”

I nod. “They do. As my mom says, he’d go mad with a normal woman.”

Ruby chuckles, cocking her head to the side. “I thought you’d said on Valentine’s they were a family of doctors and you were a disappointment.”

I rub my hand on the back of my neck. “You remember that, huh?”

“I do.” She bites her lower lip. “It’s how I felt in my house growing up.”

I want to follow the thread, but know it’s smart to be open with her to get the answers I desire. “My mom is a neurosurgeon, my dad and oldest brother are heart surgeons, and my youngest brother is an orthopedic surgeon resident.” I smile. “And then there’s me.”

“Does it bother you?”

I answer honestly. “I try not to let it, but sometimes it does. I have their same work ethic and drive, but coding software doesn’t quite live up to saving lives.”

Her expression softens. “It does if saving lives doesn’t make you happy.”

“Good point. Growing up I thought being a doctor was the only profession available. I had no idea people did other things.” I laugh, as I continue the story, remembering. “I used to sneak off into my room and take computers apart as stress relief. When I went to college I tried, I majored in premed, like I was supposed to. I hated it, but kept trying to ignore how much I hated it. On break my mom decided it would be fun to let me watch a surgery, hoping to inspire me to follow in her footsteps.”

I shake my head, thinking back to the embarrassment.

Ruby’s eyes are wide. “What happened?”

I blow out a breath, prepared to humiliate myself for her benefit. “I fainted.”

Ruby bursts out laughing and covers her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

I squeeze her foot and she tenses under me. I grin. “Brat.”

“Then what happened?” She’s still giggling and it makes me happy. Makes it worth it.

“My mom figured out this probably wasn’t a good sign for my medical career. She sat me down and I confessed my dirty little secret: that I hated all things medicine, couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and I was miserable.” I drink down the rest of my wine, picking up the bottle and pouring the rest into our glasses. “She broke the news to my dad and I changed my major to computer science after the break. He’s forgiven me, and tries not to be too disappointed that he doesn’t have the trifecta of surgeon sons.” I have a decent relationship with my dad but he doesn’t quite understand me. My mom is the nucleolus of our family and everything revolves around her. “I tend not to have a lot to contribute at family dinners.”

“I can relate to that,” Ruby says, her voice soft.

“Tell me.” I keep the demand out of my voice.

She takes in a deep breath and blows it out. “I’m a minister’s daughter.”

And another piece of the Ruby puzzle falls into place.

Ruby

Surprise flashes across Chad’s features before the light of understanding dawns in his eyes. As though everything about me suddenly makes sense. And I suppose that’s not far from the truth. I normally don’t talk about my family, especially with guys, but Chad makes me want to tell him things.

I don’t know why, maybe because he’s so forthcoming, but I want to tell him all the things that makes me, me. All the things I keep hidden. I feel safe, because there’s no coyness about Chad, he has no artistic sensibilities that make the guys I’m usually with so invested in being tortured.

I blow out a long breath. “They’re great people and I had a normal, loving childhood. They’re not fire-and-brimstone types, preaching hell and damnation. They are just deeply religious and conservative. My dad is the minister in our small town. My mom’s a stay-at-home wife. We went to the Christian school, church on Sunday, choir on Mondays, bible study on Wednesdays, and church socials on Friday.”

He wraps his long fingers around my ankle and I jump a little, repressing my desire to jerk away. It’s not that I don’t want his hands on me, because the truth is, I’ve thought of little else since he kissed me in the foyer. It’s the strength of my desire that scares me, that makes me want to distance myself.

He doesn’t say anything about my sudden tension, instead he nods. “That’s a lot of church.”

“It is. My brother and sister are eight and six years older than me. They live in the same town we grew up in, within two miles of my parents’ house, and are just as devout. I’ve never asked, but I think I was a surprise baby.”

He smiles and squeezes me a little. “In more ways than one, I’m sure.”

The wine has gone to my head and I hold out my hands. “This is what you get for not using birth control.”

He laughs, a rich hearty sound. He tilts his head. “So we’re both rebels.” His fingers work under my jeans leg.

I rest my head on my open palm. “Can a software developer be a rebel?”

“Oh yes.” He strokes over my skin and heat sears up my leg.

Our eyes meet and I blurt, “I guess you think that explains my sex problems.”

He cocks a brow. “Do you think it explains your sex problems?”

I break the contact to stare into my glass, the dark red liquid a gentle sway. “I don’t think it helps. All that godliness, even though I’m not like that, seeped into my brain.”

“I can understand that.”

I frown; the alcohol has made my tongue loose. “It’s not like they even said sex was bad, but I was required to be upstanding, a proper minister’s daughter. They preached abstinence in school, and the dangers of sin. I didn’t buy a word of it, but somehow it made its way into my subconscious.”

“So is there a part of you that thinks sex is bad?” His voice is gentle when he speaks, his words followed by another stroke of his fingers over my ankle.

I swallow, thinking about the question. “Not exactly.” I bite my lip. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t relax.”

He shifts on the couch, puts his glass on the table, and then takes mine and puts it down as well. I watch him with wary eyes, unsure of what he’s going to do and on guard.

“Do you feel relaxed with me?” He moves and pats my hip. “Scooch over.”

I slide to the edge of the couch, that’s deeper than most I’ve been on, and he squeezes in next to me, putting his hand on my stomach.

I suck in my breath. “Sometimes?”

A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “I know you’re not now.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?” His thumb traces over my ribs and I barely breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

His hand skims up my body, trailing between the valley of my breasts before he cups my jaw. “We’re going to talk. I’m going to kiss you. And at some point I’ll send you home.”

I don’t want to go home. The notion surprises me. I’ve always reveled in my own space. But there’s something about Chad’s home that invites me in and makes me want to stay. I nod. “Okay.”