Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(15)

What if it hadn’t been him who’d picked her up?

What if it had been Bucket or Dirty or ZZ?

Would she have f*cked them instead?

Did he care?

No. * was *. He didn’t give a f*ck whose * was giving his dick a temporary home as long as it was wet, warm, and tight.

Neither did he give a f*ck who else was dipping inside that shit.

But Danny… And suddenly he was giving a f*ck about *?

No. No, he did not care.

But yeah, he sort of did.

What the motherf*ck was wrong with him?

Nothing was wrong with him.

He didn’t give a f*ck. Nikki, the club bitch standing across the lawn, the brunette in a bar bathroom a few weeks back, none of them mattered because * was *.

Ripper, make my prom night perfect.

He wasn’t sure how perfect he’d made her night, but she sure as f*ck made his pretty f*cking spectacular.

Spectacular. When was the last time he’d used a word like spectacular to describe sex?

The blonde slut he’d lost his virginity to? Tiffany something or other?

No. That had consisted of “holy f*ck, this feels awesome” and a minute later it was over.

Ten years ago when Eva and Kami had shown up out of nowhere and he and Cox had spent three days locked in a room with that skinny rich bitch?

No. That mess could only be considered just that. A mess. A hard-core f*ck fest, yeah, but still a mess considering Cox was married to the bitch now and Kami loved using Ripper to make Cox jealous when she was mad at the guy. Which was every five seconds and so goddamned annoying that he’d begun wishing the three-day f*ck fest had never happened.

So, no. He’d never had spectacular sex before.

Until now.

Holy shit, what was wrong with him?

He was going insane, that’s what was wrong with him.

He’d finally lost his mind.

CHAPTER SEVEN
“You’re acting weird,” Anabeth said, not bothering to look up from painting her toenails. “Weirder than usual, I mean.”

Ellie glanced up from her book. “She’s right. You’ve been acting weird since prom.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to my vanity mirror and applied a light coating of peach lip gloss, just enough to give some shine and a boost of natural color. Then I smoothed my long blonde curls, reapplied my eyeliner, double-checked the zipper on my jeans skirt, straightened and re-straightened my pink T-shirt. Maybe my hair would look better straight today?

“Seriously, Danny, what is wrong with you? And why are you putting so much makeup on? You look like a hooker.”

What was wrong with me? I was a mess. All I could think about was Ripper and what had happened at the lake.

Since Dorothy’s birthday party nearly two weeks ago, I’d avoided the club like the plague. I didn’t care that no one was home to hang out with me; I was terrified of running into Ripper again.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

“Danny, what is wrong—”

I whirled around. “I slept with Ripper,” I blurted out, then immediately slapped my hand over my mouth.

Ellie’s mouth fell open, a starkly different reaction from Anabeth’s grin.

“Ripper,” Ellie said slowly. “As in Ripper, Ripper? Your dad’s sergeant-whatever guy?”

I nodded.

Anabeth let out an excited shriek. “Finally!” she yelled. “I thought you were going to die a virgin!”

I glared at her. “I wasn’t a virgin.”

She made a face. “Shawn O’Brian does not count. That was like, what? Five minutes of horrible in the woods? So doesn’t count.”

“Oh god, Anabeth,” Ellie muttered. “Your whole life is based around sex.”

“So?” she shot back. “It’s better than having sex with fictional characters!”

Ellie shot up out of my desk chair. “I do not have sex with fictional characters!”

“Oh puh-lease, I’ve seen the books you read, all big muscley men and virginal women and steamy sex. Why else would you read that crap if not to get off?”

Ellie was about to blow. Her eyes were bugging out of her head, her nostrils flaring.

Ignoring her, Anabeth turned to me. “Was it good?” she asked.

I buried my face in my hands and peeked out at my friends through my fingers. “Yes.”

Anabeth’s smile turned sly.

Ellie turned her bug eyes on me. “Do you actually like him? He’s so…old.”

Like him? Um, I didn’t like him, like him…did I?

Anabeth laughed. “Oh, who cares. He’s only what, like, thirty?”

“Thirty-two, I think,” I said, wincing as Ellie’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Ignore her,” Anabeth said dismissively. “Ripper is hot. All big and bad and scarred up. And speaking of big, how big is he?”

“Scarred up?” Ellie gaped at Anabeth. “The man has half a face!”

I dropped my hands and glared at both of them.

“What? It’s a legitimate question!”

“It’s none of your business! And he doesn’t have half a face!”

Anabeth’s grin turned positively evil. “Oh. My. God. You do like him!”