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  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 5:

  SYDNEY

  Manwhore. I knew what the word meant, and knowing Rhett’s reputation, I would definitely label him as one. Kimberly said she’d heard rumors of at least ten different girls he’d been with in high school, and those were just the ones she’d heard about; and in the years since I had to assume he’d tripled or possibly even quadrupled that number. The thought of sleeping around with that many people was unfathomable to me, repulsive even.

  And yet, experiencing Rhett’s charm and his power firsthand…was something entirely different. Because he was sweet, dammit, as well as flirty and kind. He’d complimented me on the things I was most insecure about. I hated my freckles. Absolutely loathed them. I had too many of them, kids used to tease me about them when I was little, and I didn’t even have beautiful red hair to go along with them. Only recently I’d found the right kind of makeup that could completely cover them while still looking natural. And like he was fileting me wide open, he’d not only remembered them, he had brought them up to me as a compliment. He’d made me, for a moment, almost love my freckles.

  His charm went beyond the compliments though. He had to be, without doubt, the most relaxed person I’d ever met, so comfortable in his own skin. Which was the opposite of myself. I’d have given anything to be that outgoing and fearless.

  So I found myself, if anything, with a small crush. That feeling I’d been desperately chasing—he gave it to me. And like any good drug, I wanted more. The number of women that had come before me and would surely come after me…well, that number was irrelevant.

  “My car is parked on the street,” he told me, his hand firmly holding mine, as he led me through the parking lot and toward the road. “I’ll drive if that’s cool with you. Then I can bring you back in the morning to get your car. I mean...I’m not trying to imply that you have to stay the night. When my roommate Noah gets off work later tonight, we can do the whole car dance thing then. Whichever, I just—”

  “I plan on staying the night,” I admitted flat out. “So you can drive.”

  The look he gave me—cocky, a little smug, smiley—was exceptionally cute. “Good answer. I like a girl who knows what she wants. I’ll shut up and stop rambling now.”

  “I kind of like your rambling.”

  “You might be the only one.”

  We didn’t speak after that, but the electric tether that seemed to be linking us only grew stronger. We reached his car, and he opened the door for me. He drove a 1967 Chevy Impala. I knew the exact year and model because my grandfather, who happened to be a collector, had this same car—like, literally the same car was sitting untouched in our garage at home. John would have disapproved, since he hated anything that came from that garage and anything that wasn’t ‘environmentally friendly.’ But the car lover in me was squealing with delight. My grandfather’s Impala in our fancy untouched garage was off limits, so getting a chance to ride in this one was like a mini dream come true. But I didn’t let my excitement show. The last thing I wanted was to start up a conversation about cars. Everything needed to stay superficial. Because tonight was about sex, not about figuring out how much I had in common with North Carolina’s Walking One-Night Stand.

  Rhett lived only a few miles from the restaurant, and the short drive was rather…intense. The front seat in the Impala had no middle console, just one joined leather seat that stretched from door to door. Once we were both in the car, he tugged at my waist and yanked me in close against his lean, rather muscular, side. The shifter was located where my feet ought to be, so I had to tuck one leg up under the other to make room for it. Which, wearing this dress, wasn’t exactly ladylike. As he drove, his forearm rested across my legs. The rev of the engine and the way he purposely brushed against me every time he needed to shift gears, was hot, like melt-my-ovaries hot. My skin and whole body tingled in anticipation of whatever was going to happen as soon as we reached wherever we were going.

  John would have killed me for this. If he knew whose car I was sitting in, and whose hand was shifting gears between my legs, right this moment, he would have died. Literally died. And somehow, that only made me want Rhett more.

  Like I said…intense.

  Practically sitting in his lap, I got an up close and personal view of this man. Rhett had very toned thighs. I knew because one of my hands now rested on his right leg. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt that hugged the lines of his abs, arms, and shoulders so delectably. He needed to shave, but the scruff looked good on him. Lord help me, he was an attractive man with an impressive body, but my absolute favorite feature about him had to be his lips. Not that I could really see his lips at that moment, in the dark. But as he drove and I blindly stared at the road ahead of us, those lips of his—so full, so suggestive, X-rated even—were all I could think about.

  The nickname ‘scruff-muffin’ popped into my mind. Rhett had told me how he gave everyone nicknames, and so I figured he deserved one also, even if my nickname for him was too embarrassing to say out loud. Between his five o’clock shadow, the jeans, and his very kissable lips—‘scuff-muffin’ seemed fitting.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, shifting into second and turning down a side street.

  “Nothing,” I muttered.

  He let his hand rest on my leg, right underneath the hem of my dress. “You’re a bad liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “A bad liar and a cute liar. This is my house.”

  He turned into a driveway and stopped the car. But I wasn’t paying attention to where we were or whether or not we were moving. The only thing my brain could focus on was his hand and the fact that it was still on my leg. Gently he stroked his fingers down toward my knee, around my knee, and then back up the inside of my leg. A shiver shot through me. At this point my dress was riding up, not even much of a hindrance for him and his exploring hand. Whatever I’d been smiling about before, instantly went forgotten.

  “Do you like that?’ he murmured.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Then spread your legs a little wider for me, sweetheart,” he instructed. His voice went from low to gritty. The air in the car changed from pleasantly warm to hot and humid. And the tingly buzz I’d been feeling with him all evening turned into a full forced screaming ache.

  This just got very real, very fast.

  My heart begun to slam even harder inside my chest. I could have told him to stop. I could have told him no. But I did neither. On the contrary, I inched my legs apart, exactly as he’d asked, inviting him to do more.

  “Good girl,” he breathed, his eyes locked on mine. With the gentlest of touches, his fingers again traced down my leg and then back up. But this time as he moved higher, brushing past the edge of my lace panties. The need and excitement that had built up inside reached an unbearable level. And I might have screamed at him to stop torturing me and touch me already…except…he touched me. In a spot no one ever had before. In a way no one ever had before. Just like that, another one of my ‘firsts’ was lost to Rhett. One of his fingers slid over the spot that was practically screaming for him, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact.

  “Rhett,” I whispered.

  It felt really good, like really, really, surprisingly good.

  I closed my eyes, let my head fall back against the seat, and gave in to his touch. He moved in a pattern—up, down, then back up to where he would swirl his finger around my most sensitive part in the most incredible way, then repeat. He’d obviously had years of practice at this sort of thing. Which almost annoyed me, but my body didn’t care where or how he’d learned this. It only started responding. It built toward something very powerful, very rapidly. My breathing increased and my mouth fell open and—

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes and his face came back into focus.

  “Hi,” he whispered, smil
ing.

  “Hi,” I repeated, heat creeping over my cheeks. His hand still moved against me.

  Then, almost as if he couldn’t resist another second longer, he kissed me. He hadn’t earlier, outside the restaurant entrance, when I remember wanting him to so desperately. Actually, ever since we’d kissed two years ago, a part of me had always longed to try it again. Relief and a bit of familiarity poured through me as our second kiss ever finally happened.

  His lips were warm, soft, and gentle. His hand still played under my panties with a certain confidence, but his kiss was tentative—testing, even. One more slow press, then he pulled back to gauge my reaction. The corners of his mouth turned upward, as something must have made him smile. I couldn’t help it as I reacted the same, smiling for a small second before he pressed his mouth to mine once more. Now his kiss became anything but cautious.

  Holy shit. Seriously, holy shit. He knew how to kiss. He held nothing back. There was tongue and there was heat and there was passion. The tingling, kind of desperate feeling that his hand had been inducing down below increased tenfold with this kiss. Dammit, it felt good. Too good and I moaned against his mouth because the combination had to be the sweetest, most powerful thing on earth.

  I wanted more. I needed more. My heart exploded in my chest and a frantic urge for something I didn’t understand took over. Not breaking the connection from his mouth, I moved to climb on top of him, to straddle him. He helped guide me with his one free hand until I was where I wanted to be.

  And I could feel him—how hard he was—through his jeans.

  Oh. Damn.

  My legs were open wide against the spot. He slowed us down for a moment so that he could get rid of my panties. To do this, he pushed me back on his lap, the steering wheel uncomfortably digging into my spin, and he bent over. With his teeth and his hot breath against me, he created a small tear in the fabric. And then I swear to God, he ripped them, completely ruining my underwear, right off me. Giving me a cocky smile, like he was proud of himself, he flung what was left of my panties into his backseat.

  “That’s better,” he said. “They were in my way anyway.” Gripping the sides of my hips, he yanked me forward and back into place against his waist. I couldn’t help it when I squealed in laughter at his rough movement. That laughter quickly died as his mouth returned to my mouth and his hand continued where it had left off. Only this time, he pressed a finger inside me. He pumped slowly in and out as the heel of his hand dug against me.

  This was too much.

  I was going to come. I didn’t understand fully what that meant, as it had never happened to me before, but I couldn’t stop the overwhelming sensation that took hold of me. Warmth rushed over my whole body, had me screaming out loud against Rhett’s mouth, digging my nails into his shoulders, grinding against his hand, and then ultimately melting under his touch. If I’d thought he’d filleted me wide open earlier with his backward compliments, I’d thought wrong. Coming for Rhett, essentially on his hand, with my forehead pressed to his forehead, our eyes locked on one another’s—was the rawest, most ripped-open feeling. I think I’d just exposed myself bare to him. It was terrifying, or possibly wonderful, and I couldn’t decide which. Either way, for a moment I couldn’t breathe or think—only feel.

  These little shocks of absolute pleasure pulsed through me as the feeling reached its crescendo and then began to subside. When it ended, I realized that we’d both stopped moving. Or maybe, more accurately, I had.

  Embarrassment flooded me.

  Oh God.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face and off my neck. It had to be a zillion degrees in his car. I felt so ridiculous, acting like some sex-crazed, desperate maniac there for a moment, practically humping his hand. Not to mention, I knew he hadn’t reached an orgasm of his own. What was I supposed to do now? Pull his pants off and return the favor? Oh my God.. I was so clueless.

  Rhett hardly seemed concerned though. He cupped my face, planted a big kiss on my lips, and then smacked my ass. My dress had worked its way up around my stomach, basically exposing my whole naked bottom half, and he literally smacked the side of my ass. Kind of hard too. “C’mon baby, let’s go inside. It’s a sauna in this car.”

  Opening his door, he scooted me off his lap and got out of the car. My mind spun. I had no idea what to say. I did the only thing I could do, and I yanked my dress back into place. Still, Rhett seemed unfazed, as if he did this sort of thing all the time. No big deal.

  “C’mon,” he repeated, grabbing my hand and helping me out of the car. My knees gave. I think all of that had turned my muscles into mush because I felt dizzy. I’d had only one drink earlier, but I wobbled like I was drunk. Rhett, with this smug look, bent down and hoisted me over his shoulder.

  “Put me down,” I yelped.

  “Nope,” he objected. “I did this to you. I’m taking care of you. Don’t argue with me, green eyes.”

  I didn’t argue, a part of me was relieved he was helping me, and I stayed still as he carried me up a flight of steps and to his front door. He fumbled with the keys, finally opened the door, and then brought me inside. The air conditioning hit me and it felt heavenly. The lights were off and it took him a moment to find them and flip them on. Once he did, he moved to the kitchen and set me down on the counter. All too aware that I didn’t have my underwear, I crossed my legs tightly together.

  “Damn,” he sighed, shaking his head and shooting a grin my way. “You want a beer?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  He moved for the fridge, hanging on the door and dipped his head inside. “We’ve got lots of choices. Um…cherry wheat?” He held up something that looked vaguely girly. “They’re my roommate’s. She won’t mind.”

  “That’s fine,” I muttered.

  He found a bottle opener in a drawer, cracked mine open, and handed it over. He grabbed some fancy IPA beer for himself and popped the top on his as well.

  “Always a bartender,” I commented, clinking the neck of my bottle to his.

  “If the shoe fits,” was his response.

  I took a sip of the beer and glanced around his house. The beer actually tasted really good. I didn’t even know I liked beer. I’d always thought I was a mixed drink kind of girl, but maybe that was more of my mother’s influence on my taste buds from the time I’d spent with her in New York.

  The house was immaculately clean. Nothing out of place, not even a stray shoe or book. The entire kitchen sparkled. I lived with my bachelor brother. Except on Tuesdays, when the maid visited to do damage control, our place was a disaster. How did a guy like Rhett have such a clean house?

  “So,” Rhett said, drawing my attention back to him. “What do you say we order a pizza and watch a movie…hell, maybe even snuggle a little? Make a night of this.”

  “Snuggle?” I questioned. “Did you just say snuggle?”

  “Yes, I did. I am a big snuggler. The biggest. You okay with that?”

  For the first time since our little incident in the car, I felt myself relax. “I’m okay with that. But I’m pretty sure I got off in the car and you didn’t. I…um…” Well, so much for relaxing. Why the hell did I just say that? The words just came out. Bringing this up made me shy all over again. I was surprised I’d even had the courage to ask him at all, but I really wanted to know why we’d stopped when we did. “Don’t you need to…um, finish or something?”

  He took a long pull of his beer. Those X-rated lips of his formed the perfect, smiley ‘O’ around the opening of his bottle. “Look at you, all worried about my wellbeing,” he joked before taking another drink. “No,” he said after a moment, turning rather serious. “I’m good.”

  Taking my hand, he helped me hop down from the counter.

  “Come with me. Let me show you my room.”

  I followed him through his perfectly clean house, down a long, dark hallway, and into his room. I had no idea where the rest of this night would lead us. But I had a fee
ling pizza, a movie, and snuggling weren’t exactly the way he treated all his guests.

  He was making an exception for me.

  CHAPTER 6:

  RHETT

  Fuck snuggling. I was not a snuggler. Seriously, I would rather die than spend pointless time holding some stranger, while counting the seconds until we could either get to round two or I could just put my clothes on and go home. So when I suggested snuggling to this girl, there wasn’t a person in the room more surprised than myself. Another cardinal sin broken—or at least it would be, if we did actually snuggle later.

  In my room, I gave my girl the grand tour. There wasn’t much space for all my junk. There was my bed, my guitars, my movies, some of my old baseball stuff, and a few piles of books, on the occasion that I did read. My room wasn’t God-awful messy, I’d actually straightened it earlier, but it was a disaster compared to the rest of the house. My roommate Noah had OCD and kept the shared spaces in our rental sparkling clean. Just his thing. Only…his thing kind of made me look bad when you compared my room to the rest of the house.

  Green Eyes didn’t comment on the clutter. Nor did she comment on the guitars—which usually were the first thing girls questioned. Could I play? Was I in a band? Would I sing something for them? What was it about women and musicians? Females love that shit. If a guy could sing, that automatically made him more attractive. Yes, I was in a band. Yes, I could sing. It didn’t even matter that my band sucked. For the One-Night Stand Guy, being in a band only made me more mysterious and allusive.

  Then there was my baseball stuff. For a split second she almost seemed interested. She ran her fingers over an old wooden bat from way back in the day. My short-lived glory days were long over. These days, I played softball—with old men and lesbians. Not that I didn’t love the softball team Noah, Ellie, and I were part of—but it wasn’t the same thing as playing for the Daredevils. Or, as I’d always dreamed of as a kid, playing for the Majors.