Page 13 of Fall From Grace
“Are you sure you want to be bad tonight?” I ask her as I lick my lower lip. Those lips of hers were soft. I’m dying to kiss her again. For some reason, this girl I know next to nothing about is driving me batshit crazy.
She doesn’t respond right away. It’s like she’s really taking her time in thinking about it, and her silence makes me doubt. But, eventually, she whispers a soft reply, “Yes.” Just one word, and it’s really the only word I need to hear.
No sooner is the word out of her mouth when I bring my lips to hers once again, kissing her harder than I did in the club—and because we aren’t surrounded by music so loud it pounds in your bones, I’m able to hear the soft moan that escapes her when I run my tongue over her bottom lip. A soft sound that goes straight to my cock. If I wasn’t already hard as steel, that sound alone would be enough to set me off.
Fuck. Better stop kissing her here, or I’m liable to fuck her here and now.
Though it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, I pull my mouth off hers and growl out the words, “Then let’s get the hell out of here.” I help her into my car before heading to the driver’s side. When I start the car, I notice she’s messaging someone. I can’t see the name. “Don’t tell me little miss goody-goody has a boyfriend.”
“Oh… no. I’m just messaging my roomie. I came to the club with her and her boyfriend.”
I can’t deny the relief that floods me. Listen, I’m not a good guy. I’m absolutely sure I’ve fucked some girls who’ve been in relationships before, but for some God forsaken reason, I think I would’ve gone nuts if Wren would’ve told me she has a boyfriend.
No. Tonight she’s all mine, and I plan on making the most of it. Whatever she’s trying to forget or move on from, I’ll play my part like a master. I’ll help her. I’ll help her so hard she’ll forget her own damn name.
I don’t live far. I’m renting a small house by myself a good five minutes away from campus—like hell would I ever share a fucking house with strangers. It might be a waste of money, butit isn’t like I’m poor after all those years in Black Sacrament. We were doing pretty well there for a while, and I’m still getting royalties from all the songs I’m in.
I can practically feel Wren’s nerves the entire drive. She doesn’t say a word. She’s nervous. Anxious. I bet she’s the kind of person who overthinks everything, basically the opposite of myself. I’d rather not spend hours thinking about something when I can just do the damn thing.
Pulling into the driveway, the girl beside me sucks in a hard breath. “Do you… do you live with anyone?”
“Nope.” As I say it, we both get out of the car. She walks around it and joins me as we head to the side door. “It’s just me, myself, and I.”
“You rent this house all by yourself?” She sounds impressed.
“Yeah. Believe it or not—” I unlock the door and step inside, holding it open for her. “—I don’t like most people, and they don’t like me.”
Wren wrinkles her nose as she glances around the dark house, and then turns those brown eyes to me. “That’s not surprising. You, um, don’t seem like a people person.” The way she says it makes it sound almost like an insult, but I only chuckle.
She can insult me all she wants. She’s still here, so what does that say about her?
After I shut the door, I slip off my shoes, and she does the same as she says, “Are you a senior or something?” Trying to make small talk, get to know me, before we get down and nasty. She’s got a lot to learn.
“Are you here to talk, or are you ready to be bad with me, Wren?”
She swallows so hard I can hear it, and she must gather her courage enough to say, “I’m ready to be bad.”
My chest rumbles with a sound that’s damn close to a growl, and I grab her, picking her up and holding her against my chest. She gasps, clearly not expecting it, but after a moment she relaxes and wraps her arms around my neck. I kiss her once, twice, three times before I carry her through the house, up the stairs, to my room. We pass the room that’s become my own little studio.
Guitars, mainly. Acoustic and electric.
Turns out, you can kick the singer out of the band, but you can’t kick the band out of the singer.Haven’t really touched any of that stuff, but… I still needed to bring it. It’s a part of me I can’t let go of, not yet.
I carry Wren to my bedroom, where I drop her on the bed. She lets out a cuteoofwhen I drop her, and she sits on the edge of my bed, suddenly looking worried. “Do you have protection? I’m not… I’m not on anything.”
I tug off my shirt in one fluid motion. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
Though it’s dark in the room, my blinds are open, and the moon is damn near close to full. The moonlight shining in gives enough light for me to notice the way her eyes dip to my stomach, how she takes in every inch of my torso.
“Like what you see?” I ask with a smirk as I lean down over her.
I know what I look like. I’ve got all the muscles the girls go crazy over. A sleek six-pack. Well-defined arms and pectorals. I might put a lot of shit in my body sometimes, but I also take care of it to make sure it stays looking good.
She doesn’t say a word. Instead, she raises a hand and touches me. She moves her hand along my body, running those fingers over my chest, down to my stomach, along my abs. The way she touches me sets my skin on fire—it’s like she’s exploring, taking her time. Like she’s never done this before.
But that’s a ridiculous thought. A girl doesn’t lose her virginity to someone she met at the club, right?
I’m not sure how I feel about that possibility. On one hand, it’s kind of hot to know you’re the first. On the other, it’s a lot of pressure. Granted, I’m the type of guy who rises and never lets the pressure bring him down.
