Julie Kenner - Tame Me

Then I remind myself about The Plan.

But you know what? Screw The Plan. The Plan is for Texas, after all. I mean, I’ve pretty much already established that when in California, Jamie Archer is a hot mess. So why not be a mess one last time with this incredibly sexy guy who is making me tingle?

Except that doesn’t seem to be an option.

Because Ryan isn’t making a move. I consider making a pass myself. After all, I’ve never once been shy about going after a guy I wanted in my bed. With Ryan, though, I can’t seem to take that first step, and it’s weird. I’m feeling shy and awkward, and I am never shy or awkward.

Maybe it’s the lingering effect of The Plan. Residual guilt. Pre-justification. My subconscious telling me that if he pursues me, then a California fuck is okay. But me going after him is totally against the rules.

All of which is a load of twisted and convoluted bullshit, but I never said my subconscious was a linear thinker.

Just go for it.

Holy crap, this shouldn’t be that difficult. I mean, honestly. When I decided to bang Kevin in 2H, I cornered him in the laundry room, put my hand on his crotch, and asked him if he wanted to fuck. So why the hell am I all sixth-grade girl with a crush where Ryan Hunter is concerned?

Right. Okay. Diving in now...

I clear my throat. “So here’s the thing,” I say, and I don’t get any further. Maybe, I think, he’ll pick up the thread.

He doesn’t. He just looks at me, all innocent interest and calm curiosity. His expression is bland, and yet I have the distinct impression that he’s amused.

“It’s just that I can’t figure you out,” I blurt.

“Can’t you?”

“We’ve had some good times, right? And I’ve seen you look at me.” I lick my lips, hating how nervous I feel. “And I know I’ve looked at you. So what’s the deal?”

“The deal?”

I tilt my head a little and give him my best seductive smile. “You’ve never made a pass at me,” I say in the kind of voice that makes clear I would be very receptive to one right now.

“No,” he says, “I haven’t.”

“Oh.” I mentally backpedal. That wasn’t the response I was expecting. “Okay. So, why not? You’re just not interested?”

“On the contrary. Maybe I assumed you weren’t interested.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, Ms. Archer. And as far as I’ve seen, you’re not the least bit shy about making a move on a man you want.”

I hear the raw heat in his voice, but I can’t tell if he is serious or if he’s playing me. All I know is that the more he looks at me with those fathomless blue eyes and the more he speaks to me in that musically sexy voice, the more I melt, until I fear that I’ll dissolve right there and be washed away when the tide comes in.

“Oh,” I say stupidly. Dear god I want him to touch me. I’ve slept with a lot of guys, but right now, I don’t think I’ve ever been more desperate for a man’s touch.

I think about The Plan. I think about my loophole.

I think about the fact that the loophole calls for him to make a move on me.

And then I think, what the hell. Just go for it.

“All right,” I say as I quash those damn nerves, then fist my hand in his shirt and move in close. He smells like musk and desire and I breathe deep, letting the scent of him fill me, warm me. We’re not even inches apart, and the air between us seems to shimmer, thick with passion.

I press my other hand to his thigh and stroke slowly up, up, up, until I brush against the hard length of his erection. My thighs quiver, and my sex tightens with need. I’m aware of every inch of my body, as if I’m a live wire, sparking and popping.

We’re well-matched in height, and I only have to rise up a little on my toes in order to claim his mouth with mine. I close my hand over the steel of his cock and feel it twitch under my touch. I hear his moan, and it only makes me wetter.

His hands twine in my hair, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss, fucking me with his mouth, going deep, making me wet, so incredibly wet, so that all I want is to slide my hand into his trousers and free him, then fall onto the sand, yank my dress up, and scream as he fucks me harder than I’ve ever been fucked in my life.

I am gasping when he breaks the kiss. I’m alive with need, my breasts aching for his touch, my cunt throbbing with demand. I’m wild, desperate, and when I see the matching wildness in his eyes, I know that this is going to be one hell of an amazing morning.

“All right,” I say again, my voice breathless and heavy with longing. “That was me, making a move.”

“And this,” he says gently as he takes a single step away from me, “is me, saying no.”

“No,” I say into the phone. “The bastard actually said no.”

I’m in the guest suite that has become my temporary home. I have my headphones in, and am spread out on the bed, idly petting Lady Meow Meow as I stare out through the French doors toward the pristine beach upon which I was so soundly spurned. “I mean, can you believe it? He turned me down flat.”

From somewhere in Mexico, Nikki’s voice filters over the line. “Actually, I can’t believe it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and there is some serious lust happening. But, James, what the hell were you doing coming on to him in the first place? I thought you were doing a moratorium on sex.”

Since I really don’t want to get in to my convoluted logic with my best friend, I fall back on reason and rationality. “You know what? I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I dumped all that on you. And what the hell are you doing calling me anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be banging Damien’s brains out?”

“Did that,” she says with the kind of sigh that makes me jealous. “And I expect a repeat performance very soon. But right now he’s on the phone, too. We’re flying to Paris tonight and he’s checking in with the pilot. And since I didn’t have the chance to tell you good-bye before the honeymoon, I wanted to call. I love you, you know. And I’m so glad you were my maid of honor. Also, Damien wanted me to remind you that the gas gauge on the Ferrari isn’t working. He’s going to e-mail you where to take it when you get to Dallas, but in the meantime, pay attention to the odometer and get gas when you’ve burned about half a tank, okay?”

“I know. He already told me at least a dozen times.” The car that Damien and Nikki gave me is the same sleek, sexy Ferrari that I accidentally totaled in San Bernardino. At least, I’d thought I’d totaled it. Apparently Damien called in the best car surgeons in the world and got her up and running again. And then—to my shock and amazement—he and Nikki gave the Ferrari to me. “I still can’t believe that you guys—”

“Will you shut up about it, already? You love the car. We love you. End of story.”

“Right. Thanks.” I can practically hear Nikki rolling her eyes, and the thought makes me grin. “Right,” I say again, then clear my throat. “So what should I do about Ryan?”

She sighs. “Hell, James, I wish I knew what to tell you. I like Ryan—I like him a lot, actually. And if you weren’t—” She cuts herself off. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Oh, no,” I say. “You are so not getting away with that. Whatever you were going to say, just say it. I already know I’m a head case, so it’s not like you’ll be telling me something I don’t already know.”

“Jamie.” Her voice is soft and a little sad. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

I shift my position on the bed, feeling vaguely uncomfortable. “I know you do,” I say as the cat gets up, yawns, and then pads out of the room, apparently uninterested in my drama. “Just like I worry about you. But you’ve got Damien for that now.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t need my best friend,” she says, and I must be more fragile than I thought because a tear escapes and trickles down my cheek.

“Listen,” she says gently. “We both know what a mess I am, but I’m not the only one with scars, and I worry about you. I like Ryan,” she says again. “But I don’t want you getting hurt. For that matter, I don’t want you hurting him.”

“Not a problem on either count,” I say. “In case you missed the major talking point of this conversation, he blew me off.”

“Just don’t push it, okay. Go home. Get your head on straight. Don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t go after him like sex is a weapon or something. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” I say. “It’s not.” I’m not lying—I’ve never used sex as a weapon, not really. Instead, I’ve used it as a shield. Keep the control, keep the guys on a leash. Keep it fun, keep it play. Never serious. Never deep.

Because if you don’t let them past the barrier, they can’t break your heart.

“I love you,” Nikki says, and in those three little words, I hear perfect understanding.

“I know,” I say. “And I swear I’m not going to do anything except go home to Dallas. So I don’t need the lecture or the reminder or whatever you want to call it. Really. Now go be married or something.”

“That,” she says, “is a great idea.” I laugh, then give her a quick rundown on what happened on the beach after she and Damien left, and she promises to text me from Paris so I’ll know they arrived safe and sound. I tell her not to bother. I’ve already seen their wedding photos on Twitter. I’m sure the paparazzi in Paris will be tweeting, too.

And then the call is over and I’m left lying on the bed looking out at that damn beach and wondering why the hell Ryan walked way.

Yes, I am just that pathetic.

I sit up, annoyed with myself. It’s over. It’s done. Ryan’s long gone—I’d stood on the beach and watched as he walked back to the house. I hadn’t wanted to follow. Call it embarrassment or pride, but I hung out for at least an hour before I finally dragged my ass back to the house, every step requiring a major effort.

Funny, despite working so hard yesterday to pull the party together—and then dancing and partying and drinking through the night—I hadn’t felt tired before. Certainly not when Ryan had showed up and walked me down the beach, or when he’d leaned in close, or when he’d set my body to tingle.

On the contrary, just being near him was like sucking down an energy drink, leaving me breathless and recharged and just a little edgy.

Or it had felt that way until he’d gone. Now I want to crash. I’m bone tired and lost and, although I was so glad to have heard from Nikki, I’m now feeling more than a little melancholy. And very much alone.

When I’d first returned to the house, I’d thought I would see him. But the house was empty and silent, and though I checked the front drive, there was no sign of a car, and I’d gone back inside and stomped my way to my guest suite feeling both relieved and annoyed. Relieved, because I apparently made a fool of myself earlier. Annoyed because as far as the wedding went, Ryan and I had the joint responsibility of dealing with the reception and the house guests. We’d been working closely for almost forty-eight hours now, and at the very least he should have checked with me before leaving to make sure there wasn’t anything still to do.

There isn’t. But he should have checked.

I tell myself I don’t care, and I’m just feeling touchy because I’m exhausted. I need a nap. Some R&R. I’ll lay out by the pool, then take a swim. Maybe this afternoon I’ll go into town and prowl the little shops. I should take something fun back to my parents—maybe a painting for the entryway or something cute for the kitchen.

Then I’ll grab some takeout and crash for the night. I’ll get a good night’s sleep, get in the car, and get my ass back to Texas. Away from California, temptation, and Ryan Fucking Hunter.

It’s a good plan, and I go to change into my bathing suit and find something to read. I recently started to reread Rebecca, but right now I’m not in the mood. Instead I grab a copy of Cosmopolitan. I smile wryly. Maybe this month’s article on how to make a man feel awesome in bed will come in handy if I ever see Ryan again.

As with everything in this house that Damien built, the backyard pool area is a little slice of heaven. The pool itself is huge, falling off to an infinity edge that gives the illusion that it extends into the Pacific. There’s a hot tub, of course, as well as a waterfall and a swim-up bar.

The water is warm—and it feels nice to walk in until it hits my shoulders. Then I close my eyes and sink under, losing myself to the eerie quiet of this empty pool.