Foolproof Page 7

  I wiggled my toes in the sand, my legs aching to get up and move. “It’s so nice out, wanna go for a walk?”

  Payton and Blake looked at each other, using their silent couple eye-squinting-speak to decide if they wanted to stay parked in front of the fire or not.

  She scooted out of her chair and grabbed his hand. “Sounds good.” She turned to Ryan. “You coming, Ry?”

  His gaze wandered down my body, and I fought back a shiver. Just his eyes on me made me want to climb on him in that stupid chair and find out just what he was packing under those jeans. God, what did that say about me? I thought I was over jerks, but here I was getting all hot and bothered by the thought of his underwear.

  Blake and Payton fell behind as we made our way down the beach, most likely making out—I wasn’t willing to turn around and look. Ryan fell into step with me, both of us walking in comfortable silence. He was much easier to handle when he didn’t talk.

  I breathed in deeply, enjoying the mixture of salt, warm sand, and a hint of sunscreen. My life was not so suffocating outside of Spring Hill. I didn’t have to worry about the classes I didn’t want to take or the parents who never quit being disappointed. Or my brother who used to be my go-to confidante, but turned out to be a total loser.

  Up ahead, I saw a large stick and sand that had recently been washed over by the tide. The driftwood called to me like a beacon, a reminder of all the good times I had with my family at the beach. Racing ahead of Ryan, I grabbed the stick, turning back to him and giving him a flirty smile to mask the tremble in my bottom lip as I thought back to the last time Eric and I had gone to the beach and skimboarded. He’d wiped out after trying to do a backflip on a wave near the shore and cut open his chin on a jagged rock. Stupid Eric. Always reckless, always pushing the limits.

  Ryan chuckled. “What are you doing?”

  “Declaring our love to people at Farmington Beach.” I started spelling out my name in the wet sand, dragging the driftwood deeper than I usually did. Teasing him felt much better than sulking about my careless brother. I spelled out his name under mine and surrounded both our names with a heart.

  Jules & Ryan 4eva

  His mouth tipped up in one corner. “Cute.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” I don’t know what it was about Ryan that made me want to tease him. He seemed like the kind of guy who liked a girl who could dish it, and my body and subconscious were more than willing to oblige. I was a blank slate in his eyes. The fresh sand with no scars. He didn’t know me like everyone else, the mistakes I’d made.

  A rush of tingles bubbled through my veins at the thought of having a fresh start, giving me that high, an endless supply of energy, the one thing I really missed when I took Adderall. There was nothing wrong with a little flirting. I gripped the stick harder in my hand and did something that probably went ten steps past innocent banter. Winding back, I hit Ryan’s ass, the contact making a loud thwap.

  He straightened and his voice cracked a little when he said, “You did not just go there.”

  I grinned and raised my brow. “I just went there.”

  “You’re asking for it.”

  Before I could respond, Ryan scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder. I squealed, my hair flying in my face. His warm hands cupped the backs of my thighs, his fingers firmly gripping my skin.

  “Quit screaming or you’re going in the ocean.”

  “Let me down.” I kicked my legs in a half-assed attempt to wriggle free. I’d rather have the opposite, to be closer, pressed against his solid body.

  “You lost that chance as soon as you tapped my ass with that stupid stick. Payback’s a bitch.”

  Uh oh.

  Ryan went crashing through the water. He was knee-deep before he whipped my body around, his arms now cradling me to his chest.

  I shrieked again, gripping tightly around his neck, not wanting any part of me in the cool Pacific water. Even in June, the water remained frigid three hundred and sixty-five days a year. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. Just don’t drop me in.”

  “Now you’re begging for forgiveness?” He dipped lower, my butt coming way too close to the waves.

  “Yes!” The crashing waves swallowed my scream.

  “And what’s in it for me?”

  If my Sevens touched the saltwater, I might have a conniption. They were one of my last nice pairs of shorts, and it’d be years before I could splurge on outfits again. “Anything you want, DeShane,” I whispered in his ear.

  He straightened, my body moving farther away from the water. For a second I thought he was going to safely deposit me back on shore. “Sorry, too bad.” And then his hands disappeared from underneath me and my legs plunged knee-deep into the chilly water.

  I screamed, still hanging on to his neck, goose bumps snaking from my legs to every inch of my skin. “You’re so gonna pay for that!”

  “Oh yeah?” He unhooked my hands from his neck, ducked down quickly, and splashed water on the remainder of my legs—and my shorts.

  Lord give me strength not to smite him. “Make me.” He grinned and then took off toward the shore. I might have been freezing my ass off, but this was the most fun I’d had in a long time.

  I rushed toward him, water splashing every which way as my feet trudged through the ocean, laughing, my whole body tingling, wanting to be near him.

  Racing up behind him, I jumped, trying to tackle him to the sand. Instead, I planted myself on his back without him moving an inch. Not even rattled that another human body made impact with his. Time to play dirty. Ten years of watching my brother play soccer paid off; I knew just how to take down a player. I pushed my foot into the soft spot right behind Ryan’s knee as he ran up the beach with me clinging like a barnacle to his back. His leg buckled and he went down. My foot stung as it hit something on the beach, but I laughed it off, still giddy.

  I let go of his back, lying on my side in the sand, as he rolled over. “You fight dirty,” he said, brushing sand from his arms.

  “You love it.”

  His baby blues bore into me, melting away any last bit of ocean chill that nestled in my body. “Maybe.” His gaze flicked down to my legs and his brows knit together. Did I miss a spot shaving? Did he see that one spot of cellulite that I just couldn’t seem to get rid of no matter how many squats I did? “Shit. Are you okay?”

  I looked down at my foot, which was spewing blood onto the sand, like something out of a horror movie. From the amount of blood, I couldn’t tell where the gash began or ended, but I knew it needed to be cleaned out. Pronto. “I’m okay.” My scalp prickled, my vision wavering.

  In the second grade I raced Tommy Brooks on my pink bike, streamers fluttering through the air as I totally trashed his ass, putting an end to his boys rule girls drool view on life. I was too busy celebrating my victory to notice a pothole in the pavement. My bike dipped, and I went sailing through the air, rocketing straight to Neverland. Unfortunately I didn’t see Peter Pan, but I did break my arm in three places, my blood staining the asphalt. I rocked that pink cast, but was squicked out by my own blood from thereon out.

  Taking a deep breath through my nose, I closed my eyes and willed away the urge to upchuck. I just needed to get it cleaned up and I’d be okay.

  “C’mon. Blake always has a first aid kit in his truck. I once got a fishing hook caught in my ear, and he stitched me up since we were four hours from the nearest hospital.” He stood and, without so much as a struggle, hooked his arms around my waist and under my knees and lifted me off the ground. We were a good half-mile from the parking lot, and my mind went through all the meds I should take just in case it got infected. Would I need an antibiotic?

  His brows knit together, the skin between forming a crease. I wanted to smooth the line with my thumb. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you cleaned up in no time.”

  I liked this side of Ryan—Ocean Injury Savior suited him.

  “Thanks. It’ll be fine.” My shaky voice contradicted me. “I c
an walk by myself. I don’t need you to carry me.”

  “And get more sand in the wound? Not happening.”

  “Fine.” I took one last glance at my foot and groaned, hiding my face in Ryan’s solid chest. This moment would be so much better if I wasn’t spewing blood.

  “Figures future doctor would be scared of blood.”

  “Just my own.”

  A few minutes later, Ryan propped me in the bed of the truck and reached under the back wheel well and fished out a key. He unlocked the truck, rummaged around in the back, and emerged with a first aid kit. “I may not be a future M.D., but I think I can manage cleaning up your cut.”

  I breathed in deeply through my nose, looking anywhere but my foot. “Thanks.”

  His warm hands lightly gripped my leg, and he twisted it from side to side as he examined the cut. I yanked my foot back as he applied some hydrogen peroxide. “Sorry. I just want to make sure everything gets cleaned out.”

  I winced and bit the inside of my cheek. “Mm-hmm.”

  A few minutes later, he applied a bandage and his fingers lingered on my calf. “The good news is the cut’s not deep.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  He gave a small grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling in the corners. “I suck at putting on bandages, so you’ll need to reapply one when you get home.”

  I looked down at my foot, which looked like someone had done a bad Christmas wrap job. This guy definitely wasn’t dainty, and I suddenly became more aware of his rough hand that lightly squeezed my ankle and then released it.

  “I need to go get the lawn chairs and other supplies. Be right back.”

  A few minutes later, he returned with the chairs and shoved them in the back of the truck. He stood in front of me, again putting his hand on my leg. “Hope you’re not in too much pain.”

  “I’m good. Barely hurts now.”

  Ryan cleared his throat and backed up a step, looking unsure of what to do next. What was there to do? Payton and Blake would probably head back to the truck soon, and walking on the beach with this doozy of a bandage was out of the question. Guess we’d just have to park it here until they returned.

  “Thanks for fixing me up, doc.” I plucked the hat off his head and shoved it over my hair. It was big, warm, and smelled like coconut. Something about him turned me into a sixth grade girl. Pretty sure next I’d be hiding his binder or carving Mrs. Jules DeShane in my notebook.

  “You’re pretty damn cute in that.” He smoothed his thumb across the corner of my lip, his gaze pinning me to the truck bed. For a split second I thought he might lean in and kiss me, but something in his expression changed. Maybe I’d imagined it, hoping for something that wasn’t there. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and hopped up in the truck bed next to me. Leaning back on his elbows, he stared up at the cloudless sky, millions of stars dotting the darkness. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  Oh-kay. Clearly, I was misreading these signs if he’d resorted to talking about the weather. Dating drought at an all-time high. Sound the emergency sirens. How was I supposed to flirt properly if he wasn’t interested?

  “I used to go stargazing a lot when I was younger.” Eric and I used to make forts in the backyard and pore over the astronomy book my mom had gotten us. He was always into all the stories that went behind the constellations while I was more interested in the designs.

  I leaned my head on the crook of Ryan’s shoulder, enjoying the moment with this one guy who had no clue about my past.

  Ryan lifted my hand and traced across the freckles on the inside of my arm. “Have you ever heard of the constellation Cassiopeia?”

  I shook my head, burying deeper into his shoulder. “No.”

  He traced the freckles again. “See how your freckles spell out a W? That’s the same shape as Cassiopeia. She was considered one of the most beautiful women, the queen of Aethiopia. Very fitting on you.”

  It clicked. My high school astronomy instructor had once given a lesson on this constellation. The queen who got in a heap of trouble and was banished to her throne in the stars.

  I knew that I’d wanted him to flirt back with me, but this had my player alert siren blaring. I’d met a bunch of smooth talkers, most of them not able to back up what they were saying, always playing the good guy until they got what they wanted. Then I’d be discarded like beer cans after a night of partying. Was Ryan different?

  “Is that something you use to woo all potential conquests?”

  He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling as my ear was pressed to his chest. “Did it work? Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow with my next date,” he teased.

  He seemed to be joking about the date, but I couldn’t help the tiny thread of jealousy of the potential mystery girl that knotted in my stomach. I shoved his chest, his taut muscles flexing beneath my hand.

  “Any other constellations on me? Need to make sure you’re sufficiently prepared for your hot date tomorrow.”

  His thumb tracked down my arm, over my shoulder, and swept a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He shifted, my head cradled in his bicep as he hovered over me. His blue eyes blazed as he said, “I’d have to do a thorough inspection.” He tugged at my sweater. “Right now, there are too many clothes in the way. Wouldn’t want to miss any. Purely for the sake of research.”

  Please, research me, my body screamed.

  I mentally side-eyed my all-too-eager body. Play it cool, Horny Jules. “Such a shame.”

  His hand skimmed down my side, his warm skin burning a trail to my hip. “A travesty.”

  “I don’t think that line will work on your date tomorrow.”

  “What about you?”

  Stick a fork in me. Totally done. If words counted as foreplay, I was sufficiently ready to move past this base, on to the next. He seemed to like the straightforward type, so I went for that. “Yes.” I ran my finger along his muscular forearm. “All that big talkin’s gonna get you in trouble with the ladies.”

  “I can show you just how much trouble my mouth can get into.” He quirked a brow and gave a wry smile.

  Totally smug. And yet it worked for him. Because, heck, my body was willing and ready for his mouth in any capacity. His Adam’s apple slid down his throat as he swallowed. Guys like Ryan needed to be taken down a peg—that much confidence on anyone would surely go to their heads, but I couldn’t bring myself to deflate his ego. Not when that ego directly correlated with potential relief from my dry spell.

  I drew in a breath, enjoying the scent of his shampoo. My lips were inches from the soft flesh of his neck, his hair a shaggy mess over his ears. Something magnetic pulled me into his orbit. What would his skin taste like? My mouth was close enough that I could get one lick in, just a quick taste. No harm in that, right? Any resolve that held me back wafted away with the slight breeze that ruffled his waves.

  So what if I kissed this guy on a first non-date? Maybe the kiss would be so bad that I’d lose all interest in him. Or maybe it’d be great, and then I’d be in even bigger shit. Either way, I had to find out for sure.

  I closed the distance and lightly flicked my tongue over his skin, planting a soft kiss below his ear, his sweet skin mixed with saltwater. An intoxicating groan came from his throat, vibrating against my lips. My center throbbed. God, if he sounded this sexy with just a kiss, how would he sound doing other things?

  He shifted his head down, his rough stubble grazing across my cheek. We stayed there a moment, neither of us moving, our universe at the tipping point. This kiss would either send me into a tailspin on a blazing crash course into the hard earth, or have me rocketing to space.

  Either way, I’d pushed us to the point of no return.

  He pulled away, as if he could sense my hesitation. His eyes searched mine, asking silent permission as his tongue ran across his lips.

  Screw it. I’d mold the universe into what I wanted.

  I shifted out from underneath him and, in one swift movement, I rolled to straddle
his legs and shoved his shoulders until his back slammed against the bed of the truck.

  Lowering my face within an inch of his, I said, “Hit me with your best shot.”

  His breath rushed out, a swirl of mint and graham cracker caressing my face. He knocked the cap off my head, grabbing the back of my hair, and pulled me into a kiss.

  Our lips met, tongues pushing, fighting for control. My fingers tugged through his curls, our fevered tempo had me fighting for breath as the world around me fell away. He nipped at my bottom lip, and a shudder wracked through my bones. I was lost in his warm lips, his tongue, falling, falling, falling, until I was sure if we stopped I would collide with the ground at earth-shattering speed. His hands cupped my ass, his erection pressing into my stomach, and as I ground my hips into him, he groaned, the sound vibrating against my lips.

  His hands worked their way up my shirt, skimming across every curve, cupping my breasts. I arched my back, my nipples hardening as I pushed farther into his palms, wanting more than anything for his hands, his mouth, to be on the other side of the fabric.

  As my hands slid from his hair down his body, gripping his biceps, a giggle rang out from the distance.

  Payton.

  The Ryan-induced haze lifted momentarily, warning bells rattling against my skull. No guy had ever made me feel this way, so willing to give up everything with the flick of a tongue. I moved off him and sat on the edge of the tailgate, legs dangling over the edge, still a little breathless.

  “Was that enough of a demonstration?” he said as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Or do you need more?”

  God, I needed more. Which was exactly why I should debate this when I didn’t have his taste biasing my opinion. Just one kiss sent a tsunami of endorphins flooding my arteries. If I wasn’t careful, I’d drown in the wake.