Chaos & Love, page 8
part #1 of Blood and Iron Warriors Series
Again.
Hip, chest, pop, hip, hip.
Rock together. Grind.
Only someone like Rayne could follow the tight moves, body to body, as I put my hands all over her. I’m hard again and she can feel it when she grinds. And she does grind back, her chest rising with mine, falling with mine.
Begin again.
I spin and jerk her back and up onto my waist, and she wraps her legs around me like only a dancer can. Pushing my hand up her body from where we connect, I let her roll down, then slowly drag her up.
Tipping her chin toward me, I focus on her closed eyes. She’s breathing so hard I feel the hot air roll over my forearm, but she stuns me when her lips part and she bites the tip of my thumb, making me want to throw her against a wall. Her lips kiss the bite and her head falls, her chest heaving.
Fuck!
I pop her off and spin her behind me. Leaning back, I feel her do the same, her nails grabbing my thighs and digging in as she rocks, rocks her hips with mine.
I know how hot this looks, which isn’t half as intense and hot as it feels.
When she spins in front of me, manhandling her becomes necessary, and she lets me. It feels so good when she collapses against me.
When she whispers in my ear, that if I’m gonna play at controlling her, I better really do it, I’m done.
I’m gonna explode.
She struggles against my grip, grinding against my cock, igniting the base instinct in the back of my brain. I want to chain her down and do filthy things to her. Holding both her wrists in one hand, I grab her hair and force her to look at me.
It’s so hard not to kiss you.
One gorgeous leg stretches up to her ear in a split, and I take the opportunity to stroke her calf and thigh. A long, silky expanse of bare skin is open to my hands, and I explore until she drops it.
Our eyes connect in the dark, and I grab her waist and lift her up, pressing my nose to her lower belly. Slowly sliding her down my body, I inhale every inch of her as we glide across each other just as the song ends.
Even in the dark, her eyes are too bright for me to see anything else, our breathing too loud to hear anything but us. When I finally notice everyone else, the room is silent. They’re gawking, and when I look back at her, she’s biting her lip and looking at the floor. We got carried away and forgot everyone else, but fuck ’em.
I want to throw you against a wall and keep you there.
Instead of the wall, I pull her into a hug. Guiding her over to Wyatt and Bay, Wyatt punches me, complaining I showed him up. And I did, because her hot eyes stay on me. I catch her eyes a few more times. It’s too hot for either of us, and I only lose her because Bay hugs her.
Fuck if I don’t want her, and I don’t want him touching her, so I walk away. It’s either that or hit him.
An hour later I see her with Tate on the main floor, dancing like a crazy person. Available women everywhere, and she’s all I see.
I’m mauled by the jersey chasers and dick surfers, the ones who track me across campus, but I’m drawn to the constant energy that is Rayne, who stays on or near the dance floor, swinging her long, gold hair, singing to the lyrics and dancing with whoever wants to have fun.
She lights up the room, and she’s just my friend, I repeat to myself again and again each time my eyes are drawn back to her. I’m not allowed to have her.
An hour later, she runs up to me. “One more song, Ty? Please!”
She looks alive and I need to touch her. I’m allowed to touch her when we dance.
We start a sleek rock version of swing, complete with lifts, flips, and her kicking like a damn Rockette. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had dancing. At the end, my gut clenches when she kisses my cheek and hugs me, and I hold on an extra moment.
“You’re a phenomenal dancer, Rayne. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” she says, her smile luminescent. “I’m in the dance program and almost no one can do lifts like that cold. You were holding out on me!”
I kiss the top of her head and inhale oranges and her. “Thanks, baby doll. I’m a machine though, so don’t judge your sissy boys too harshly. Cyborg, remember?”
She squeezes again, shaking her head. I have to force myself to let her go, then watch her walk away, fighting the urge to go after her. She won’t come home with me. She’s my friend. Just my friend.
Fuck.
It takes a few moments to let go of the best part of my night and head over to Miranda, who’s with girls from her team. She’s still pissed at me, and I can’t blame her. I’m not normally so indifferent. I’m not into relationships, but I’m always friendly with the girls I hook up with.
Rayne just throws me.
I don’t like her and Shay glaring at Rayne, though. That’s something I need to fix. Now.
“Hey, you sexy mermaids, anyone need a refill? I’m heading to the kitchen.”
Miranda snarls, following as I head to the back.
“Who’s your little friend, Ty?” The tone is malicious, setting off the static in the back of my brain that had disappeared.
“Which one?”
“The dancer. Don’t be cute.”
Jealousy looks ugly and won’t fly with me.
“She’s my friend. She’s friends with just about everyone here. Half the team runs with her in the morning.” I turn to her, fresh beer in hand.
She looks more thoughtful than before, but I’m turned off.
“But, even if she were more, it wouldn’t be your business. I told you this was casual, and you said fine. I’ve got lots of friends just like you and I didn’t see you glaring at them. If you can’t handle that, I think we’re done.”
Her face flares red by the time I’m done. Garret was right.
“Ty, I’m sorry but you were dismissive last night and rude today.”
Excuses…True, but excuses.
“What’s that got to do with her? If that’s why you’re mad or hurt, then you’d be attacking me, glaring at me, not her.”
“Ty—”
“Listen, I don’t care if you sleep with the entire football team. Not because I can’t be your friend if you do, I will. It’s because I don’t care. But if I hook up with your teammates, are you gonna be okay?” Her horrified face means I’m done.
“Miranda, you’re a nice girl. Not every great girl is cut out for quick fun. Hell, it’s why Rayne won’t do it. Why don’t you and I stick with being just friends?”
She looks ready to blow a gasket or cry, so I’m happy as hell when she flies out of the kitchen and grateful it’s McVey who walks in, glancing back in her wake.
“What did you do, man?”
“Besides let her know she’d be better off like Rayne, not doing the casual hookup thing?”
“Ouch! One down and a few to go.”
“Not a few! A couple, asshole!” I punch his shoulder as I practically slam my beer and grab a water. “She wasn’t too happy. She was getting jealous and I can’t have that. I’m not ready for commitments, other than to the team.”
“Well, what was that out there with Lil’?” he asks, sounding suspicious.
“We’re friends, man.” His face doesn’t improve, and I’m annoyed I have to explain myself. “She and I know the score, Dylan. We hang out and have a good time, nothing nefarious. I feel like I’m on repeat with you guys tonight. Me, Wyatt, Bay, and her are getting tight. It’s all cool.”
“Okay. But, we all give a shit. I didn’t realize you were hanging out.”
“Yeah. It’s all good.” I clap his back as I walk past, making my way out to the front, where I see Rayne wave goodbye, taking my air with her.
Shit, I can’t have that.
I make sure I head home with a tall volleyball player who lives just off campus. She has a couple roommates who aren’t around when we get there, and she isn’t interested in talking. I don’t want to think about what I’m doing, what I want, and what I can’t have.
I let my body wipe away the sad. Wipe away everything.
September
Chapter Eleven
Rayne Mathews
Labor Day morning, my music’s up, and I’m running, with a major sweat going when Ty walks in.
“You’re late, slacker,” I tease when he starts his treadmill. He is, too. It’s six in the morning. Early for the rest of the world, but not for us, and I get a snap in the ass for my comment.
I stick out my tongue at him. “Pout all you want.” I pause, grinning at him. “Slacker!”
Ty’s face cracks open with a smile as he starts his warmup, shaking his head. He’s entirely too beautiful in the morning and it messes with me.
“You do know it’s a holiday?”
“Yes, but fucking up a finely-tuned machine’s schedule is a bad idea.”
“I am that,” he gloats as he waggles his brows and strokes his abs.
Cheeky bastard.
“We are!”
He nods around the empty room. “We may be the only ones. Hell, Wyatt wouldn’t open an eye. He threw a shoe at me!”
“They’re losers,” I admit, but can’t help but take another shot. “But you’re still a slacker!”
I’m snapped in the ass again.
Ha ha, so touchy.
• • • •
After my errands, I’m faced with the uncomfortable shit I have to do today.
I didn’t talk to Kinnerk on Friday about Gabe’s false report, but I did on Saturday. He walked me to campus police to report everything. They took my statement, but it was obvious they didn’t see it as important. He was pissed and didn’t let it go, pulling our floor together, stressing not to give information away about floormates, and warning everyone to buddy up.
In addition, dorm rules are posted more prominently now. Kinnerk’s making sure the whole building is watching out for each other, and for people who aren’t supposed to be here.
We have a reception desk at the entrance to the building, but he’s worried enough he sat down with Tate and me to run through extra measures and told me to find another person besides Tate from our dorm to have as a check-in.
Bay’s my best choice, since he’s already keeping an eye on me and he’s easy to talk to. So, I get to ask him today.
Fun times.
I’m meeting him in his room for lunch and when his door opens, I recognize his roommate. He’s one of the wrestlers, and he goes to the weight room every morning.
He’s a giant, but his face says he’s twelve. He’s six foot six and over three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He’s fair-to-ghost, with baby-fine, whitish-blond hair, buzz-cut tight, and pale blue eyes. He’s an albino-looking, cherubic mountain with a neck, unlike Mike, who lacks one.
“Hey, you’re Rayne, right?” He waves me inside. “Bay’ll be out in sec.”
“Yeah. You’re a wrestler, right?” I ask, perching on a standard-issue chair sitting against one of the dull off-white walls. I think back to Bay’s jealousy about my room upgrades, and giggle.
“Damn right. Why’re you laughin’?”
“I’m laughin’ ’cause Bay was right. You guys didn’t do shit to this room. I’m not laughing at you.” I smile and tip my head to the side. “You could sit on me and squish me.”
He pauses for a moment and looks around, and when he turns back to me, his face lights up.
“All of those things are true. Very true. The bedrooms are the worst. Us big dudes are gonna break these damn beds. One extra-tiny girl on my chubby and crack! You are extra tiny, and you may get squished, but even you’d crack the beds!”
The devil in his childish face is disturbing and cracks me up. I have a stitch by the time Bay walks his slow ass out of his room.
His shaggy hair is wet and he’s dressed in slouchy Warrior-wear. “So, I see you’ve met Tegan?”
“Where you been hiding the mini?” Tegan waves in my direction.
“In my well-appointed dorm room with real furniture and a real TV.” I flick my wrist at the dinky thing in the corner and grin. “Bay, why you been hiding the big dude?”
“The big dude?” Incredulity frosts his tone.
Linemen are so touchy.
“Yes, big dude, giant, behemoth…” I wink at Tegan.
“Yeah, man, I already explained my problem with the bed breaking because my chubby’s too big.” Tegan smirks at him behind his back.
“You’re surrounded by me and a bunch of big fucking dudes every damn day!”
“Just saying. There’s Brick, Tank, Mike, and then there’s him.” Bay’s male ego is priceless as the octave of his scoff rises.
Bay wants to be huge and cut, poor big boy. He can’t lose too much mass and do his job. It’s pissing him off.
It’s great.
“I’m gonna let everyone know you were—You’re our team’s Lil’ damn it!”
Seeing Tegan winking, he glares at both of us. “You are mocking me! I’m being mocked! You know I’ll get even?”
“I know you won’t, ’cause I won’t let you chill in the den,” I say sweetly as I hug him. He squints for a moment then hugs me back.
He points at my head. “That shit matters ’cause her room’s awesome. It smells like classy girl, there’s always food, and the furniture’s tough enough for big men.”
“Oh, yeah! Bitch, you didn’t take me with for the movie!” Tegan pouts, looking even more like the kid on the soup can.
“Wasn’t my room, chubby dick.’”
“Okay!” I drawl, tugging on Bay. “On that note, I have a personal favor I need from Bay. Until next time, Tegan, you big, beautiful boy. Keep those extra-tiny girls on the wall. A little extra lifting won’t hurt you.”
I wink at him as I head out the door to both guys howling.
• • • •
Bay and I talk about class, practice, and are halfway through lunch when he points his fork at me.
“What’s the favor?”
I swallow hard. I’ve never had anyone to talk to about this, but it’s what I need to do if I want backup with Gabe’s kind of crazy. And I do; I need it.
“So, have you noticed the dorm rules that went up Saturday?” I don’t look up as I ask, trying to get what remains of my chicken salad down.
“Yeah, we got them slipped under our doors.”
“You got them because of me.” When I look up, his jade eyes lock on mine.
“Your ex. The asshole?”
Bay isn’t dumb. When I say yes, I slowly tell him Kinnerk wants me to have a check-in buddy, someone besides Tate to notice if something goes wrong.
He immediately says yes, but also says if I ever get stuck somewhere at night, he’ll come get me. When I try to thank him, he rolls his eyes. Apparently, I’m paying with help in Western Civ.
I relax, thinking it’s over, when he grabs my hand.
“Rayne, how bad is this? You made Gabe seem like just a bad breakup. If you’re going to campus police, it’s more than that. What’d he do?” Waving for more coffee, his grip holds me still.
My heart races, and I need to force the air in and out a few times, before telling him the same thing I told Director Marshall. No details, but it’s enough, and he has the look I hate by the time I finish. Horror and pity, but then…rage.
“That big—He put his hands on you?” he hisses, trying not to raise his voice. I nod, my eyes turning to the window.
“How bad?”
“Hospital. Three days.” No elaboration. I refuse to. Even thinking about it feels like giving him more power than he deserves.
“Rayne, I’m gonna…”
“You’re gonna have my back and nothing more,” I say, finally looking at him. “You aren’t gonna say a word to him, because it. Will. Not. Help. Me. You won’t tell anyone else, because no one else needs to know I was stupid enough to believe some lying bastard when he said he cared about me. I could tell you why, but it doesn’t matter. I fucked up when I believed him, and I paid for it.”
Watching him struggle with it, I push my point. “I’m trusting you, Bay. You said I could. My work knows, Kinnerk knows, admin knows. Campus police…Tate. That’s enough. Please?”
I know he’s unhappy, but he shakes it off, his brow tight, eyes dark. “Fine. Fine…But he does one more thing, then the team knows.”
When I shake my head, he points his fork at me again. “Not the whole story, but that he’s a stalker who’s hurt you. You’ll have security like the Pope or something.”
“Thank you.” I lean across the table and kiss his cheek. These guys caring is something new for me.
“You’re welcome. Now…” He throws some fries in his mouth. “What the hell was with the sex with Cyborg on Saturday?”
I stare at him.
What the fuck are you talking about?
“Don’t give me that look. You danced with Wyatt, that was hot. Then you fucked Ty on the dance floor. You danced amazing with him later, but first, you fucked him.”
He waves more fries at me. “You two eye-fuck each other all the time, but you’re too sweet for any of the guys on the team. So, WTF?”
I can’t deny what he’s saying. Saturday was more fun than I can remember ever having. Being treating like a football was stupid fun, and Ty…
I wasn’t expecting him to move like that. He’s big, everywhere. I’d felt him earlier in the night, but when his hands were all over me in the dark, with his thighs, hips grinding into me…
I could feel his breath, hear him groan against my ear, and a burst of white fired behind my eyelids when he ran that big hand up my body to my mouth.
“He’s a great dancer. So’s Wyatt. You’d be surprised to find a lot of modern dance looks like that.” I shrug it off as nonchalantly as possible. I’d bit him! But I don’t feel bad.
He started it.
“Yeah, when choreographed, practiced, and performed by dancers.” Bay shakes the last of his fries, then grabs my pickle. “You, dancer. Ty, not a dancer. Dance, not choreographed, not practiced. That was fucking.” He eats my pickle in two bites.
“I didn’t want that or anything.” I grit my teeth as it disappears into his pie hole.
Asshat.
“You didn’t.” He smirks. “Now back to the fucking.”
