I reach down for Sydney anyway, offering a hand. "Come on. Let's get you inside."
But she's staring past me at something-or someone, I realize when I hear footsteps behind me.
Then a familiar female voice says, "What in the world just happened here?"
It hadn't occurred to me what Sydney's presence meant until now- that where this Sydney is, Gigi follows.
I turn unsteadily around, and sure enough, there she is, like a vision from a dream-a fucking wet dream, in a short black dress and tall boots, her cleavage dipping to show the swells of her tits, her white-blond hair caught in a tall ponytail that's still swinging, even if she's now standing still in front of me.
I blink. Jesus fuck.
She's always been hot, but seeing her for the first time in the bright light of the lanterns is a revelation. The grungy girl I knew has turned into a woman, all sexy curves and a full mouth made for kissing, and I'm gaping like an idiot, my brain blank and my dick hard.
"Jarett?" she whispers, sounding incredulous. Her brows draw together. "What's going on, I … Syd?"
Suddenly she's in motion again, and my addled brain can't follow quickly enough. Fuck, I need to sit down somewhere, and right now even sitting down on my ass on the wet grass with Gigi's bestie sounds good.
But Gigi is dragging Sydney back on her feet and back toward the house, hissing questions at her-asking what happened, I guess, and why I'm here.
They get inside, and the door closes behind them.
The fuck?
It takes me a long moment to start moving again, I'm that fucking pissed-and that fucking dizzy, but whatever.
She just left.
Without saying a word to me.
"Dammit, Gigi." I drag my feet toward the frat house, limping as my knee protests the weight I'm putting on it, and feeling like I'm a hundred years old.
I pull the door open and enter, back into the noise and chaos I'd escaped only to land in worse trouble.
"Yeah, don't worry about me," I mutter, wiping a hand over my mouth and finding it bleeding. Maybe from that punch? "I'm perfectly fine, thanks for asking. And you're fucking welcome."
Talking to myself is probably not a good sign. I just need to find a new bottle of vodka-to ease the pain in my knee, and quiet my churning mind.
See, I don't wanna admit that it hurt to have Gigi ignore me, get her friend and go-but seriously, after the way I treated her last time, what did I expect? Asking her to blow me in exchange for helping her friend. Of course she's pissed with me.
And that had been the purpose of it all along, to get her to stay away from me. Well, it worked.
Be careful what you wish for, and all that jazz.
There's a crash, and I slam into the wall before my brain catches up, my heart going a thousand miles an hour. "Whoa. Fuck." All I see is blood, and darkness, and I smell burning flesh and blood.
Fucking shit.
It takes me a long minute to realize someone's standing in front of me, not moving. A dress. A ponytail.
"Jarett." It's Gigi, staring at me like I grew a second head. "You okay?"
"Yeah, peachy. Just … warn a man, will ya?"
"Sorry." She cocks her head to the side, and that damn long ponytail swings, getting me hard all over again. "I was coming back out to find you."
"You were?" I grin, relieved.
"What happened out there? What was Sydney doing?" She steps closer, and I groan quietly, her sweet scent seeping into me, making my mouth water. My jeans are getting tighter by the minute.
"You know what she was doing." I have to swallow to clear my throat, force my eyes up from her tits to meet her gaze. "You need to talk to her, Gigi. This is dangerous shit."
"You're hurt," she says, lifting a hand to my face, and I flinch when she touches my swelling jaw.
"I'll live."
"You protected Sydney like I asked you to."
I didn't do it for you, I wanna say. I'm not an asshole. I don't let innocent girls get punched by motherfuckers in the night if I can help it. Isn't it what anyone would do in my place?
But I keep my mouth shut, because what is the truth? I also did it for Gigi, I looked out for her friend because she fucking asked me to.
Damn.
"Just keep your friend out of trouble," I mutter, my eyes back on her mouth, because Christ, the need to taste it, to touch her, push her against the wall and fuck her right here is driving me insane. "Got it?"
"She won't talk to me," Gigi says, tucking her bottom lip between her small white teeth-and fucking hell, did she set out to kill me? "Look, Jarett … "
Shit, I'm reaching for her even as I know in the back of my mind that it's a bad, bad idea. "What, you came to pay the price for my protection?"
I'm shitting her. She never accepted my douchey deal, and I was never serious about it. But she nods gravely.
"If that's what it takes for you to look out for my friend," she whispers, grabs my hand and starts dragging me away from the storeroom, to a set of stairs.
What the hell?
"Come on," she says. "Fewer people upstairs."
I wish I'd thought about that earlier. The steps are hell on my knee, though, and I tug on her hand.
"Slow down, girl."
She doesn't. "Aren't you in a hurry to collect your fee?" she asks sweetly, a bite in her voice.
"About that … " I grunt as we reach the top step, hot needles going through my knee, and she pulls me down a hallway without a pause. "Would you just wait a fucking minute?"
"I can't." She draws me inside a room-a bathroom I belatedly realize when she switches on the light-and tugs impatiently until I'm inside, so she can close the door. "I'll lose my nerve."
Damn, I still haven't managed to sit down after the flashback, I feel sick and my whole damn body hurts. And I'm hard, harder than I've been in what feels like years, my brain a jumble of memories, thoughts and need.
Still, I try. "Look-"
"You do remember who I am, right?"
Ah fuck. "Yeah, Gigi, of course I do. But-"
"Why did your brother call you that other name, the first night? Fen?"
Holy shit, we're doing this now?
"Fenris," I mutter. "That was the family name of my adopted father. I kept it."
Her eyes narrow. "Fenris?"
I stare back at her defiantly. I'm drunk-on adrenaline, booze and her smell, and have no intention of talking more about the topic.
"Fen," she whispers.
"Don't call me that."
"Sure, Rett." She pushes me lightly back until the wall stops me, and puts her hands on my belt buckle. "This what you wanted?"
Her fingers brush over my hard-on, trapped inside the denim, and I hiss, sparks of pleasure shooting through my dick, jolting me.
She unbuckles my belt, unbuttons my jeans, and I try to find words, to tell her to stop, but they don't come. Her fingers skim over my bare stomach, under my sweater, and I swear. Every little touch brands my skin, sends heat pooling in my gut.
Her long lashes are lowered, her attention on undoing the last of the buttons, her cheekbones are rosy, the valley between her tits dark and inviting. Sweet, she's all I can smell, all I can sense, all I fucking want.
She glances up, the color on her cheeks deepening, and takes a deep breath, like a diver about to plunge into the sea, and starts to go down on her knees.
I grab her under her arms, pull her up and crush my mouth to hers.
Her lips taste of strawberry lipstick and soda, and they part on a gasp when my tongue traces them. My hands tighten on her sides as I really taste her for the first time, stroking her tongue with mine, sucking her lower lip between my teeth.
Still sweet, but also hot, subtly spicy like, I dunno, white pepper and cinnamon and sexy girl. Her taste goes straight to my dick, and I haul her against me, desperate for more.
Her hands come up to my shoulders, holding on tight as I eat up her mouth, licking inside it, needing to feel more of her, needing her naked, rubbing all along my body.
Needing to be inside her, deep, mark her so that she's mine for everyone to see.
Fuck.
She draws back a little, breaking the kiss, her blue eyes wide, and I stifle a groan. "You said … You wanted me to blow you."
The thought of her mouth on my dick sends a bolt of heat straight through me. It'd be so fucking hot, but I can't stop kissing her right now. Not sure I can ever fucking stop. Her mouth's addictive. Everything about her is addictive.
"Jarett," she whispers against my lips, and her voice is a little hoarse, her breathing uneven. Her tits rise and fall, threatening to spill from her cleavage. She moans softly when I press my hard-on against her.
She's turned on.
It makes me fucking burn.
"Touch me," I whisper.
Her small hand slips under my sweater, under my T-shirt, warm against my skin, tracing my abs, stroking my pecs. Never cared much about having my chest stroked, but damn, every light touch of her fingers sends shivers through me, making me impossibly hard.