Perfect Regret
Page 14

His tongue swept along the bottom curve of my lip and I shuddered with the intensity of this moment. His hands gripped the bottom hem of my shirt and swept it up and over my head. He then discarded it on the floor as he touched my now na**d skin almost reverently. His fingers glided up the side of my rib cage, taking in the soft contours of my body in the barest breath of a touch.
Our lips moved together in tandem, our tongues a tangled throbbing mass of need as we struggled to breathe through the heat of our kiss. He hooked his fingers underneath the straps of my bra and brought them down my shoulders. He broke off our kiss suddenly and dropped his mouth to my shoulder, tasting my flesh as he expertly traced my collarbone. He had done this many times before. But I couldn’t focus on that; I just had to reap the benefits.
Pulling away, Garrett looked down at me. I could barely see him in the shadow and that somehow made the whole thing that much more intimate. But I didn’t want intimate.
Did I?
He lifted my hair and swept it over my shoulder. His lips burned my skin as he kissed the sensitive skin of my neck. I felt suddenly panicked.
“We can’t do this! I can’t even stand you!” I said in a thready voice as I felt the tip of his tongue glide along the outside of my ear.
Garrett’s eyes smoldered as he scrutinized my heightened anxiety. He moved his hands to the button of my jeans and deftly opened them, slowly lowering the zipper. He shoved the resisting fabric down past my hips, his fingers grazing my legs as he knelt in front of me. He pulled my pants off my feet and dropped them to the side. He wrapped his hands around calves and gave them a tug, so that I was spread above him. He looked up at me as he slowly brought his lips to the inside of my thigh, less than inches away from my hot, molten center.
My legs began to shake when he turned his attention to the other leg, placing his soft lips just above my knee. He rose to his feet and cupped the side of my face in a manner that was more loving than lustful.
It confused me. It bewildered me. It left me wanting so much…more…
“I can’t stand you either,” he said and I knew without a doubt he was lying.
“Your mouth just doesn’t know when to stop. The shit that you say makes me want to strangle you,” his voice was low and rough as he cupped my breasts. His thumbs rubbing my aching nipples.
Garrett leaned down so that his lips brushed against mine again. Our breath was coming in short, erratic bursts. “I don’t particularly like you, Riley. But right now I want to f**k you,” he growled. The soft lover from moments before was gone and in his place was a ferocity that unfurled a wet heat deep in my belly.
My fingers curled into his hair and I pulled with enough force to make him wince. “You’re an asshole,” I whispered, not trusting my voice at the moment. Garrett emitted a low groan as I yanked on his hair again. I bit his bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth.
“And I want you to f**k me. I want to remember it this time,” I said raggedly. Garrett gripped the back of my head, holding me in place as his mouth slammed down on mine. Any pretense at gentleness was lost in the unbridled fury of our need. I hated him. I told myself this over and over as our mouths assaulted each other, bruising and tearing as we ate each other alive.
He made me want to rip my hair out. But goddamn it, I wanted to taste every single inch of him. And I knew by the frantic way he touched me that he felt the same way.
There was no more talking. No more excuses to stop. There was only Garrett and me and the sounds of flesh pressing together and noisy, desperate breathing. In a matter of seconds, I had Garrett’s shirt joining mine on the floor, followed by his jeans. Our mouths were fused together and our hands sought to explore every part of each other.
Garrett palmed my butt cheeks and hoisted me up so that I had to wrap my legs around his waist. The barrier of his thin boxer briefs was all that separated two very important parts of our anatomy. I wiggled, just slightly and he groaned low and deep in the back of his throat.
I wiggled my h*ps again, grinning against his mouth, feeling powerful in the way I affected him. Damien had never made me feel like I was the one with all the power. Our lovemaking was always calm and controlled and done with the intent of one, never both, of us getting off.
I had always thought it beautiful, the way it was supposed to be. But right now, with Garrett fitted between my legs, his mouth sucking, biting, loving every bit of skin he could reach, I knew the real beauty was in the surrender. Both of us giving up control to the other. It was a perfect expression of trust. Woah, when had I decided to trust Garrett? And when had he laid his at my feet?
Garrett sat down on my bed and I straddled his lap, rocking into him, wanting to appease the ache that threatened to blow me a part. I pulled my mouth away from his swollen lips and I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling it back away from his face. I gazed down at his heavy lidded eyes blurred this time by lust rather than drugs. The straight length of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, the tiny freckle under his left ear. Just a few months ago I would have told you that Garrett Bellows may be attractive in his own way but most definitely not my type.
But now…well…now was another story.
I was feeling entirely too mushy. I wasn’t looking for some sort of Titanic moment here. I was no f**king Rose and Garrett was most certainly not my Jack Dawson!
I had been excited for the change. Ready to do something reckless, something dangerous. But this was bordering on too much. And when things got hard, it was in my nature to shut them down. Decisively.
So I leaned down and bit his lip a bit more aggressively than Garrett was expecting.
“Ouch!” he yelped, pulling back with a jerk, his finger going to his mouth. Shit, I had drawn blood. That’s right! I’m one mean ass chick!
“What the hell, Riley?” he asked in genuine bewilderment.
“If I wanted soft and gentle, I sure as hell wouldn’t have asked you to come home with me,” I said harshly. I couldn’t get a handle on the conflicting emotions bubbling just under the surface. So what do I do? I pulled out the bitch card. When in doubt resort to what you’re good at.
Garrett’s eyes, which moments ago had been smoldering and capable of causing a level ten combustion, became so cold I thought I’d suffer from some serious frostbite.
“Are we back to this then?” he asked, his voice breaking just enough to know he was feeling a lot more than anger.
I tried to get off his lap but his hands clamped down on my hips, holding me in place. His fingers dug into my skin and I wondered whether I’d have tiny little bruises to remind me of how once again I was treating this guy like crap.
But try as I might I couldn’t stop. “I thought this is what you wanted,” I said icily, reaching down between us to squeeze the part of him that was still hard and ready for me. Garrett moved his hand to wrap around my wrist and yanked me away.
“No, what I wanted was a girl who could set aside her f**ked up perceptions for just one night. The girl who could let go and be something she wanted to be rather than who she thought she needed to be,” Garrett snarled, his jaw clenched and angry.
He lifted me off his lap and set me down on the bed. He picked his jeans up off the floor and shoved his legs through them, his rage barely suppressed. So perfect time to throw some gasoline on the fire, right?
“I would think a guy like you would be used to a girl just wanting him for a fuck,” I taunted. God, what was wrong with me? Why was I saying this stuff?
Garrett’s back went ramrod straight, he was still turned away as he put his shirt on. I watched in lavicious interest as it fell down and molded to his back and narrow shoulders. I was some sick kind of messed up. Here I was, stomping all over his fragile male ego yet again, but I couldn’t stop ogling him like a piece of meat.
Garrett put his hands through his hair and he seemed to be getting it together. He had to be experiencing a major case of blue balls. If he felt half the ache that I did between my legs than he was in some serious discomfort.
Garrett pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned his head so I could just make out his profile. “Bye, Riley,” he said and then he left my room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the door. And for once, I didn’t have a way to justify my actions. Not when they had been completely and totally wrong. And wrong was not a good color on me.
“So Garrett came back to the apartment last night,” Vivian was saying, causing me to choke on my bagel. Maysie leaned over and thumped me on the back, dislodging the bread from my windpipe. No sense in throwing up all over the table, even if my friend’s out of the blue statement had me wanting to spew chunks Exorcist style.
The name Garrett Bellows had given my upchuck reflex a serious workout the last few weeks. I hadn’t seen him since sex disaster number two. Generation Rejects had played at Barton’s a few times, but thankfully my shifts hadn’t coincided with any of their gigs.
Maysie had invited me to the dozens of parties that had been thrown but I turned down each and every one. My need to walk on the wild side was definitely over.
The morning after Garrett’s dramatic exit I had woken up pissed. At Garrett of course. Because it was easy to find fault in his behavior and much harder to place blame on myself. Why did he have to make it into something that it wasn’t? Hadn’t I made my intentions perfectly clear? What was the problem? When had we ever pretended to be good for each other? When had we decided to make sex into something more than lust?
Because I missed that meeting. Last I had checked, Garrett was still a boy who barely tolerated me. Who couldn’t function on the same level as the rest of us. This was the guy who didn’t give a toss about anything unless it was a pair of boobs or a bowl pack of weed.
So when did he become the whiny girl in this scenario? I didn’t like feeling guilty. It irritated me. So I refused to feel that way.
Ah hell, I still felt guilty. Even if it was laced with a healthy dose of mortified anger at having been rejected with such finality.
Who cares about Garrett Bellows? I sure didn’t. Nope, not Riley Walker.
Riley Walker had bigger and better things to worry about. Like my internship. I was finally shadowing a reporter and was being allowed my very own byline.
That was cause for celebration.
Right?
So why wasn’t I happier about it?
“Really? Did you guys all hang out or something?” Maysie asked, shoving a cream puff in her mouth. My best friend had a serious addiction to the Cup and Crumb’s cream puffs. I think half of the coffee shop’s profit margin lay in Maysie Ardin’s frequent purchase of those chocolate covered pastries.
Vivian shook her head. “No, you’re missing my point here. Garrett came back to the apartment,” she paused for dramatic affect, making sure we were paying attention. I rolled my eyes.
“With Gracie! Can you believe it? Miss ‘I will never hook up with a townie,’” Vivian giggled and bile tickled the back of my throat.
Maysie gasped. “Did they hook up?” she asked. Vivian waggled her eyebrows.
“Well, why else would he accompany a very drunk Gracie home and then disappear into her bedroom. He was still there this morning, his van was out front when I left!” Vivian exclaimed excitedly.
Shit, it had happened. Gracie and I had now both been biblically acquainted with the same penis. The thought was utterly horrible.
“He sure has a thing for drunk girls,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Huh?” Vivian asked, looking at me with confusion. Maysie’s eyes were sympathetic as she watched me hurry through my breakfast so I could get far away from this conversation.
“I’ve got to get to class,” I said in a rush, finishing off my coffee. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Wait, Riley,” Maysie called out, hurrying after me. I slowed down but didn’t stop. We had been tiptoeing around the Garrett shaped elephant in the room for a while now but I knew that my effective evasiveness was at an end.
“Are we ever going to talk about what happened? With you and Garrett I mean. Jordan has tried to find out but Garrett is pretty tight lipped about the whole thing. I had hoped for a bit more information from my best friend. When did we stop telling each other everything?” she asked and I knew my refusal to confide hurt her. I was doing a bang up job of making the people around me feel like crap lately.
I let out a deep sigh. “What’s there to talk about? We hooked up. It was a huge mistake. I feel like an idiot about it. Let’s just chalk it up to very bad decision making and leave it at that,” I said tiredly. Maysie looked unconvinced.
“That’s it? Really?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep, really,” I said firmly, thankful to see the English building in front of me that promised my sweet escape from this discussion.
“Bullshit. If that’s all there is to it than explain why that chip on your shoulder has grown into a crater. You’re almost bitchier than you were post Damien. What went down between you two after Benny’s? Garrett’s been beyond weird and you’re going apocalyptic every time I leave my shoes in the living room,” she said, eyeing me closely.
“Well, shoes belong in the closet, not in the middle of the floor. It’s a safety issue, Mays,” I remarked dryly. Maysie made a clucking noise that was a clear indicator she was ready to throttle me.
“And it doesn’t bother you that he quite possibly hooked up with our friend? Because if it were me, I’d be seeing red about now,” Maysie pushed. She was being relentless and I guess I deserved it. If the tables were turned I’d chip away until I got the information I wanted. Our friendship was merciless like that.