Faster We Burn (Fall and Rise, Book Two) Page 7

  “I wouldn’t really call it that. It’s just something I do in the car. And the shower. And sometimes when I’m alone.” He held my face in both hands and did that deep eye stare thing that made me want to slam my body up against him and kiss him until we couldn’t breathe.

  “Sweetheart. You. Can. Sing.” We slammed against the door as he attacked me with his mouth.

  Chapter Seven

  Stryker

  Not that her talking voice wasn’t sexy, but when she opened her mouth and vocalized those awful lyrics, I almost fell off the couch. Somehow she’d been hiding the sexiest, sweetest, lilting singing voice. Most girls would spend hours trying to get their voice to yodel at the end like that. She probably wasn’t even aware that she was doing it, which made me want her all the more.

  I wanted to fuck her singing voice, but I settled for kissing her instead, plunging my tongue inside her mouth.

  Her back crashed against my door as we frantically tried to get our clothes off. I didn’t mind doing it with clothes on, but I liked seeing her body and tasting her skin if she let me.

  “Slow down,” I said as she went for my belt. “Slow down, sweetheart.”

  “You attacked me first,” she gasped as I kissed her neck, pulling her cardigan aside.

  “True,” I said, blowing on her skin until goosebumps formed. “But I changed my mind. Let’s do this slow.” I started with the cardigan, slowly unbuttoning it as her hands moved under my shirt and up and down my back.

  “No angry revenge sex?” I could tell she was having a hard time standing still.

  I got to the last button and pulled the fabric off one shoulder, kissing the skin it revealed. “No. Just you and me sex.”

  She smiled and laughed as I used the hem of her t-shirt to drag her back to the couch. I pushed aside cups and bottles and lay her down.

  “If we’re going to take this slow, I think we need some music. Be right back.” I went to my stereo and plugged in my iPod, switching to a playlist I’d made before I met her. Ed Sheeran’s “Give Me Love” was the first song.

  I glanced at her and walked back to the couch with the slow beat of the music. I kissed her mouth softly, brushing back her hair with both hands. She kissed me easily and it gave me some time to tease her, to try some things and learn if she liked them based on her response. It was like it was our first time.

  Our clothes came off, layer by layer, piece by piece. She kissed my tattoos, and I kissed her freckles. I made my way down her stomach and paused with my face between her thighs.

  “You don’t have to. Zack always said no.”

  “I’m. Not. Zack,” I said planting a kiss with every word on the inside of her left thigh. “So I’m going to kiss you here. And here. And here.”

  “Fuuuuccckkk,” she moaned, grabbing onto my ears.

  “Easy, girl.” I backed off a little and started slower. Clearly, she hadn’t had a lot of oral experience, which was a damn shame. It didn’t take too much to get her off, so I decided to go for round two, and then round three. I added my fingers and absolutely wrecked her until her entire body convulsed and she cried out. I wished she could see what she looked like, lost in ecstasy.

  I kissed my way back up her body and reached for the condom I’d stuffed behind the couch cushion before she’d come over.

  “You really didn’t have to do that, but I’m so glad you did. I owe you at least two blow jobs for that. Would you like the first one now?” Her hand wrapped around my dick and moved up and down.

  “Maybe later,” I said. “I want to be inside you.” I handed her the condom and she got it on with her usual swiftness.

  “There’s something crazy sexy about a girl who can roll a condom like you.” I moved and then thrust into her so fast she wasn’t expecting it. She gasped and then pulled me close.

  “I thought we were taking it slow?” She wrapped her legs around me and waited for me to go again.

  “We are.” As slow as I could I pulled almost all the way out and then pounded into her again. We set a syncopated rhythm that drove us both over the edge.

  I looked down at her to find her looking at me. Usually she turned her head, but finally, I got to stare into those wide brown eyes. I thrust into her again and held still, kissing her hard. I was shaking with the effort of doing it, but she was shaking too.

  I finally couldn’t hold out any longer and I came, saying her name.

  We were both still shaking as I lay my head on her chest.

  “That was anything but slow,” she said, her fingers threading through my hair. I lifted my head up and propped my chin between her breasts.

  “That was nice. Not angry or revenge-y at all.”

  “Nope. Just you and me.”

  ***

  “So what’s the deal with you and Ric?” she said as we lay on the couch. She was wearing my shirt and I just had my boxers on and we were sharing a bottle of beer, passing it back and forth.

  I shrugged and handed the bottle back to her.

  “I’ve known her for a couple of years. We met at a concert and she’s been a little obsessed with me ever since.”

  “Obsessed? Don’t we think highly of ourselves.” She took a swig and handed it back to me.

  “You have no idea. She’s showed up here in the middle of the night before. I’m actually scared of her.” Katie kissed my shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  “I bet you will.” I kissed her nose and she giggled. “So my friends aren’t scary, are they?”

  “Not really. As long as Ric keeps her paws off you, we’ll be good.”

  “And as long as you keep your paws on me, we’ll be good.”

  She rolled her eyes and drained the rest of the bottle.

  ***

  Katie stayed the night after texting Lottie and saying that she was sleeping over. I dragged her to my bedroom and we both passed out, her head on my chest, her hair all around me.

  Her eyes were open when I woke up the next morning.

  “Are you watching me sleep?” I said, admiring the way her hair was all over the place. That girl knew how to rock sex hair.

  “Maybe.”

  I gave her a quick kiss that turned into something more before she pulled away.

  “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she said.

  The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but I could tell she’d been thinking about it.

  “I usually just spend it with Trish, or go to Allan’s house. His mom always invites me and sends him to come get me if I try to bail. Why?”

  “Do you want to come home with me?”

  I leaned back so I could see her face better. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I mean, if you want to. You’ll have to deal with my family, and my sister won’t be there, but I want you to come.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t stand being around all my relatives without wanting to kill myself and I need someone to take the fork out of my hand if I try.”

  I gave her a look.

  “Oh shit. That was meant to be a joke and I –”

  I put my finger on her lips.

  “It’s okay. I actually enjoy a little suicide humor now and then. If you can’t laugh about death, then you end up worrying about it all the time and that can consume you. Trust me.”

  She pressed her lips against my finger and I moved it away so she could talk.

  “It’s okay if you have plans.”

  “Katie. I would be happy to come to your Thanksgiving with you.”

  Her face lit up. “Really?”

  “Really. I’m just not sure if your parents are going to like it. Have you ever brought anyone like me home before?”

  She tapped her chin and squinted at the ceiling as if she was thinking really hard about it.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Have you asked your parents if you can do this yet? Your dad doesn’t have a lot of firearms, does he?”

  “No, and just
a few hunting rifles. He likes to go moose hunting.” Like nearly every man in Maine.

  Fantastic, that was just what I needed. “Jesus, Katie.”

  She patted my cheek and then got up. “Oh come on. You’re a big boy. You can handle it. Breakfast?”

  “Yeah, sure. Be right there.” She skipped out of the room and I heard the fridge opening a second later.

  I shook my head at myself. What the hell was I thinking? I knew what would happen if Katie brought me home. I’d been down that road before. It never led anywhere good. I was about to tell her no way when I heard her singing as she cracked some eggs into a pan.

  I leaned out of the doorway and watched her in the kitchen. She was singing the Taylor Swift song again and dancing a little as she minded the eggs. My shirt just barely covered her ass, but she didn’t seem aware.

  I couldn’t say no to her. At least not about this.

  “What about Trish?” I said. She looked up and stopped singing.

  “She can come too, if you want. The more the merrier.”

  I walked until I was standing behind her. “I really feel like you should check with your parents first.” I put my arms around her waist and rested my chin on her shoulder.

  “It’s fine. Trust me. They love having people join. They’re always telling me to invite people. My mom always cooks too much and we end up foisting it off on the neighbors.” She flipped the eggs over gently and turned in the circle of my arms.

  “It’ll be great. I swear. I hope you like pie.”

  “Who doesn’t like pie?” I said.

  “No one.”

  Katie

  “Are you seriously taking him home?” Audrey said as we rested our eyes for a moment after a marathon study session. It was just the two of us since Lottie was out with Zan and Trish had to work and the guys always studied in their room. In my opinion, it was just an excuse for them to say they were going to study and then play video games instead.

  “Yes, I am. He doesn’t have anyplace to go,” I said, stretching my neck. I was still a little haunted about what Stryker had told me about his past. I knew it was worse than he let on, but he glossed over it. I wasn’t sure if that was for me or for him, so I didn’t push.

  “What are your parents going to say about that?” she said.

  “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s going to be interesting.” Understatement.

  “And you’re bringing Trish, too?” She put the cap on her highlighter, setting it back beside her pen. That girl had studying down to a science. I wished I could emulate her, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  I shook my head. “I was going to, but she’s actually going home with Lottie. We’re all going to rendezvous the day after and have dinner together.”

  “Well, I want a phone call, or at least text updates. Things are going to be really dull at my place.”

  “What about Will?”

  She sighed and blushed at the same time. If my relationship with Stryker was complicated, I knew that Audrey’s and Will’s was, too, only I couldn’t figure out why. Obviously they liked each other and I didn’t think either of them had massive baggage, but I couldn’t see the hold-up.

  Audrey rolled the highlighter back and forth on the fake mahogany table. DU was a state school, so everything was meant to look real, but it was only a painted or varnished façade. “He asked me to come home with him, but I felt weird about it. My parents are big on family and all that, so there’s no way I can miss my family thing. He was so sweet when he asked, though.”

  “He’s a really great guy.”

  “I know.” She looked down at her book.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  She looked like she was going to say something and then shook her head.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hey, you want to get some coffee or something?” It was classic deflection, but I let it go. Maybe she did have something dark in her past, although she hid it much better than I did. Audrey was one of those beautiful girls who looked like they had all their shit together, but maybe not. Huh.

  ***

  Simon decided to have another huge dinner the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving break started, and Stryker volunteered his apartment as a gathering place.

  “Does this mean you’re going to wear that lovely apron again?” I said as we dragged grocery bags full of food up the stairs.

  “The first rule of cooking is: Don’t speak of the apron. It is sacred and no one must know about it,” he said in a serious voice. “Never speak of it again.”

  “Okay, rule one: Don’t speak of the apron. Any other rules?”

  We set our bags down on the kitchen floor and I stretched my back.

  “Don’t mess with my spice rack. If you take something out, put it back.” He opened one of the cabinets and showed me an epic spice rack with everything alphabetically organized. I’d seen it once before, but hadn’t mentioned it to him. Stryker just didn’t seem like a spice rack kind of guy. I figured it was a gift from someone.

  “You’re a closet foodie. I knew it,” I said, pointing at the spice rack. “Nice try, Mr. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but you couldn’t fool me for long.”

  He shut the cupboard.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing me on the cheek. “Or I might have to kill you.”

  I moved to kiss his lips but someone knocked.

  “Damn,” he said, brushing the side of my face with his hand. “They have the worst timing.”

  “Knock, knock!” Simon yelled. “You’d better be decent.” Stryker gave me a look and went to open the door and everyone piled in, also carrying bags.

  We ended up making the most random, weird dinner ever. From pancakes to steak tips to pizza, with chocolate covered pretzels and white chocolate raspberry cookies for desert. There were way too many cooks in the kitchen, and Stryker tried to rein everyone in, shouting orders like a general and trying to organize the chaos that refused to let itself be organized. We didn’t even bother to take everything over to the couch and futon, we just stood around and piled our plates high, stuffing our faces until we’d had enough and we had to sit down.

  “I don’t think I can move,” Will said, putting his hands on his stomach.

  “Ditto,” Lottie said, her head lolling on Zan’s shoulder.

  “Who knew pancakes and pizza made such a good combination?” Simon said. Brady raised his hand.

  “I did.”

  “Sure you did,” Simon said, honking his nose.

  Stryker had found a pen and was busy drawing something on my arm as I sat in his lap. He wouldn’t let me look at it until it was done, so I was just watching everyone else as they debated about the best Thanksgiving side dishes.

  I’d told my parents I was bringing a guy home, but I hadn’t told them much more than that. Trish had accused me of being ashamed of Stryker, but it wasn’t true. I knew if I went into too much detail, they’d either tell me that he couldn’t come, or read too much into our relationship.

  Yes, I liked him. I could no longer deny that. Yes, I enjoyed spending time with him and yes, that included having sex with him.

  No, I did not want him to be my boyfriend. Things were fine the way they were, and besides, we weren’t headed for commitment. Boyfriend came before fiancé came before husband. I wasn’t going to marry Stryker, so why even go down that road?

  “You can look now,” he said, holding up my arm. He’d drawn a silhouette of my face with a frame around it, like a picture. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful.” I turned my arm to see it better. “Now I’ve got ink, too.”

  “Would you ever get a tattoo?”

  “I’ve thought about it, but I could never decide what I wanted.”

  “They say you should sit on a tattoo idea for two years before you get it.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s a good idea. At least for your first one.”

  “If I make up my
mind, I’ll let you know and you can go with me. Deal?” I held up my hand and he shook it.

  “Deal.” He capped the pen. “So I was thinking I should bring something.”

  “You don’t have to do that, I swear.”

  “Still, it is a tradition in polite society to bring the hostess gift at least.”

  “Well, I have the green bean casserole covered, and Mom always does potatoes, squash and sweet potatoes.”

  “How about a baked brie?”

  “A what?” I’d never heard of such a thing.

  “It’s cheese baked in a crust with jam. It’s delicious. I swear, you’ll love it.”

  “Brie? The boy with the banjo, tattoos and lip ring eats brie?” He leaned in and snuffled my neck, making me giggle.

  “Shhh, that’s the third rule of cooking: Don’t speak of the brie,” he whispered in my ear before biting my earlobe.

  “Okay, I won’t speak of it.” I slid my hand down and squeezed his dick once when no one was looking. He made a little sound of surprise and shifted under me.

  “Dirty. You play dirty, sweetheart.”

  ***

  Mom was in full panic mode when I got home on Wednesday night, and I could hear her fighting with Dad all the way from the front door. They’d put the turkey flag outside and I knew the house was going to be dripping in leaf cutouts and various other Thanksgiving memorabilia. My mother had an entire room in the house reserved for her various holiday decorations.

  “Gina, you need to calm down. You do this every year and it always turns out fine,” Dad said in a soothing voice. “Hey, Katiebug!” His face broke into a smile.

  “Hi, Dad.” I set my bags down in the doorway and headed into the warzone, otherwise known as the kitchen. The table was set with the maple leaf placemats and a Yankee Candle store’s worth of spice-scented candles were burning. And, of course, Mom had her traditional rust-colored turtleneck on. Dad leaned down from his towering height to give me a hug.

  “How is she?” I whispered.