Fade Out (The Morganville Vampires #7)(8)
As he drops his hand, his teeth bite into the corner of his bottom lip, his eyes now wide and animated. His blue gaze drills into me, studying, marveling, like he’s trying to unravel some kind of mystery. Or challenge, maybe. But no… Oh, no. I take a sip of beer, needing to moisten my suddenly dry throat. That’s not at all how I intended him to take it.
“You should feel very flattered,” he finally says. “In fact, feel free to make an offer of thanks at your earliest convenience.”
And that does it. All reason returns to my distracted brain, and my eyes go wide. Why did I think I could be civil with this guy? I so knew better.
He must catch the connotation of his words, and realize that I’m offended, because he says, “Wait. No…”
But it’s too late for backpedaling. I got his message, loud and clear.
I fan my hand, as if that will help hurry the beer down my throat. My eyes tear up, and I choke out my words. “Listen,” I say around a cough. “Can we like, not?”
His expression morphs into one of confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. His smile hardens into a tight line. “Not what, carrot cake?”
Vee kicks my foot, but I ignore her. “This whole…high school routine. You know.” I nod, hoping he’ll catch on and I won’t have to spell it out. But of course, jock, with only one thing on his mind, so I have to. “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I blurt.
There’s a sputter, and cold beer sprays the side of my face. Gavin bursts out with a deep boom of laughter.
Icked out, I use the hem of my hoodie to wipe away his beer spittle.
“Bro!” Gavin laughs between his words. “Burn!”
Ryder still hasn’t responded, and I glance up to catch his gaze. Hard on me. His forehead is creased, and he’s just staring. Then he shakes his head, as if he’s pulling himself out of some deep thought.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put out that vibe.” He laces his leanly muscled arms over his chest, water bottle held out to the side. “This ride is only reserved for fun chicks. Not socially inept, stuck up bitches.”
My heart kicks my ribs. The air sticks to my lungs, my throat thick. My face blazes, and it has nothing to do with the bonfire’s proximity. I have never been called a bitch. At least, not to my face. I’ve never been around anything like this guy. So crass, so cocky. Outrage fuels my next words before I can think twice.
I step into his personal space and angle my head back uncomfortably to look into his eyes. “What ride? You mean, The Ryde?” I watch his features shift into realization as he connects the nickname I’ve heard around campus in only a day’s time. Vee, for one, having clued me in on his sexual status. “If it’s anything like that lame lick down you gave your own finger—by the way, not something a guy should do—I think I’ll take a pass, anyway. I prefer a guy who knows how to make me come, not clumsily lap around my vagina just waiting for his turn to ‘get off’.” I make air quotes.
Again, I have no idea where these heated words are coming from. I must be channeling every romance novel I’ve ever read, every sordid Internet tidbit—because I’m a far cry from experienced. Not a virgin, but still—I have no clue what makes a guy good at going down on a girl; couldn’t tell the difference, really.
Only as I glance back at Vee, I see her mouth agape. Her eyes bulging. Then I notice we’ve attracted the attention of some of the others around the bonfire. Oh, my God. There goes my low profile. I’m so mortified, so irked with Ryder now, I could scream. I just wanted to go to class, get good grades, get my parents off my case, and go on with my life. My very boring, but sturdy life.
The strain of the past few months must have finally caught up. I’ve been a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the right detonator to set me off. And it came in the form of one Ryder Nash.
4
Ryder
Yeah, this girl has got a mouth on her.
I still don’t have a clue as to what her name is, but she can spew some serious venom. She’s snotty as hell, too. Whatever link there was to Alyssa has officially been severed. With the firelight dancing over her face, casting her features in alternating light and darkness, I can easily distinguish the two. The scowl marring her pretty face is helping, also.
What’s more, I’m not sure I have a comeback to the insult she just spouted off. I’m not sure I fully understood it… Was she shaming my technique? The whole time, I was checking her out, loving how—as she got more and more riled—her tiny frame reacted. Her chest bowed out, swelling her tits. Her face screwed up, pissed off as hell, but she looked so stunning. Like that inner fire could keep her going for hours…
I pull my wandering thoughts away from my cock—he doesn’t get a say in this—and focus on her snarling presence before me. People standing near are looking between us, waiting to see my reaction. A pressure builds between my shoulder blades.
I haven’t been this humiliated since high school. With a rush of adrenaline, my anger spikes. Warning lights are flashing in my mental peripheral—but I shut them down. I should walk away. Right now, I should just blow this off and leave. But I can’t. Some twisted need to finally get what’s coming to me battles an overpowering urge to defend myself.