Page 16 of One Mistake

“Fuck, Reese.”

And by fuck I meant, holy fuck. I remembered the night we’d met—watching her in the back of my Escalade—for just a second before I lost all thought whatsoever and every muscle went tight. “Oh, God, Reese.” I tried to pull her away, but she hung on, sucked harder, took me deeper until I exploded in her throat, and still, she worked me until she had every last drop and I couldn’t do more than breathe.

I unfisted the sheet and knew it was going to be a few minutes before I could bounce back—I wasn’t twenty-three anymore—and she deserved…everything. “My turn.”

“You don’t have to.”

I chuckled and nodded, kissing her nipple, swirling my tongue in a way that made her moan and bite her lip. When I moved down and nipped her stomach, she gasped. When I did it a second time, she moaned. And when I nipped lower, she whimpered until I finally swiped my tongue over her clit and slid a finger inside her. She writhed and I held her.

She was tight and wet and ready and I wanted everything she had to give but first I wanted this. To hear all those little sounds of ecstasy.

“Ryder, God. Please.” And to hear her say my name.

Every sound she made, every muscle she flexed, every twist of her body made me want her all over again, but when her body went rigid and her legs tightened around me, she cried out.

I lifted my head and moved to lie beside her, to circle her nipple with my finger and to kiss a line along her collar bone. “Please, what, Reese?”

“Please, fuck me.”

Enough said.

One Decade Ago

Reese

“Where are we going?” Never mind I was blindfolded in a car whose destination I didn’t know. Also, never mind we’d already had two bottles—maybe two and a half—of champagne, and I was a little too tipsy for a late night jaunt across campus without more than his hand and a few words of encouragement to guide me.

“Almost there.” He slowed our stroll and leaned in to kiss me.

And it was enough to shut me up and convince me to walk on. At least, until we stopped at our destination. A backyard. Not just any backyard, but one with a blanket spread on the ground, a pile of pillows, and more wine behind a house big enough my family home would’ve fit in three times with room to spare. Three stories of brick and mortar broken by three stories of floor to ceiling windows and all of them looking out at us. At least in the part I could see. Four sets of glass double doors opened onto a stone patio with thick-cushioned furniture. Our blanket shared space with a swimming pool, a tennis court down a big hill, and a putting green.

“What are we doing?”

He pulled me down beside him on the blanket, took my face in his hands, and kissed me so softly I thought I might melt. “This is where I live when we’re not at school.” And my mind turned this very romantic thing into something bad. I was good enough to be introduced to his backyard, but not to his family. I stood and yanked my hand out of his. “What’s wrong?” His forehead narrowed toward his scalp and he frowned, tried to take my hand again, and tilted his head when I pulled away.

“I don’t know.” Oh, but I did know. I could feel how wrong it was in every fiber of my being. But I started walking back as if I had any clue how to get around the monstrosity of flowerbeds and giant pool house, stone privacy fence—I chose the wrong way. Every step, every second, my guts twisted more, and the anger seeped through. He was using me. Obviously, I wasn’t the normal college co-ed. I didn’t wear make-up. Or spew my school spirit on any passerby. But I was a person he hung out with, sometimes fully clothed. But I wasn’t good enough to introduce to his family. He was ashamed of me.

I didn’t realize I was muttering until he took my arm. When I jerked hard enough I punched myself in the chest, I shot him a glare and gritted my teeth. “I want to go home.” And that part of me was at war with the part that wanted the white-hot, melt steel minutes I was passing up with my temper tantrum.

He held up his hands. “Okay.” I walked a few steps because being so near him broke the spot inside of me I was holding together. “Reese, it’s this way.” I turned and stared for a second before walking back.

We hadn’t made it around the side of the yard when security lights flipped on and a woman, one who spent a lot on hair and makeup because even the slight wind didn’t move her perfect coif and I doubted she’d been primping inside waiting to catch us in the yard, walked out from the patio doors. “William! I don’t know how many times I’ve told you not to bring your whores…” She stopped short when she saw us. “Ryder.”

No apology. Just steel. Ice. Venom. Her voice had it all. In one word. That was some admirable power. And it didn’t let up when whoever William was turned out to be Ryder.

“Mom. This is Reese.”

She barely spared me a glance. Not that I wanted the eye of Sauron on me without a hobbit for protection. Instead, she glared at Ryder. “Your father has your grades. Lucky for you, he hasn’t shown them to me yet.” Her tone wasn’t angry. More disappointed. At least wanting him to think she was disappointed. It was a tone my mom used when she tried to trick me into telling her the truth. I was immune. Ryder, not so much.

He looked down at his shoes. “They’re good this semester, Mom. I’ve been studying. Reese and I—”

Her scoff was as loud as the sound of Ryder swallowing. “And now you’re bringing your little…” She gave me an up-and-down look that burned me with her distaste. “Friends home.” She shot me a glare. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but he has nothing, not a dime until he graduates from college and passes the bar exam. And should this relationship last…” she cocked an eyebrow that said she had her doubts, and I didn’t speak because I felt Ryder dying beside me, and I didn’t want to make it worse for him. “You’ll be expected to sign a prenup.” Before I could tell her to kiss my ass, she turned and stormed into her house.

“I’m so sorry, Reese.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept his chin down.

My heart broke for a brand new reason, and all I wanted was to see his smile. And if it made me pathetic, then I was pathetic. “I think your mom and I made a real connection.”

He smiled and pulled me close. “It’s not you I’m ashamed of.” Then he lowered his head and kissed me. Soft and slow. Then hard and deep. Consuming. One hand in my hair the other on my hip. Tongue sliding against mine as he pushed me against the side of the house. The brick was rough and cold, but heat burned inside of me, and I loved the way his body pressed into mine, aligned in the best spots. I could feel all the ridges and planes of his stomach and legs and every single space in between.