“You dance like that with a lot of men?”
I shook my head quickly. His eyes grew hot, smothering me, and I had the feeling that we were an instant away from something I couldn’t handle. Puck stepped forward. I shifted back, bumping into the wall. His body wasn’t touching mine, but I felt him all the same, a pressure washing up against me and pinning me until I couldn’t breathe.
“You could dance with me.”
I nearly stroked out, eyes darting to either side. Hadn’t Joe and Blake missed me by now? Why wasn’t anyone saving me? Puck leaned closer until his nose all but touched my cheek, and inhaled, scenting me. I clenched between my legs and then gasped, because even that tiny movement was enough to make it so much worse.
Holy shit, I wanted this man.
“I’m going to start working here tomorrow,” I managed to whisper. “I got fired from the Breakfast Table, remember?”
“Busy, aren’t we?” he whispered, reaching up to catch a chunk of my hair, wrapping it around his hand. “Saw you on the roof earlier. Thought you weren’t that kind of girl.”
I tried to breathe.
“What kind of girl?”
“My kind.”
Holy shit. He was too close, way too in my face and I could smell him all around me, a faint mixture of alcohol, sweat, and the hint of exhaust from his bike. It shouldn’t have worked for me but it did. He’d smelled like that five years ago, too, and my traitorous bitch of a body recognized him. Recognized him and wanted him.
Closing my eyes, I tried to think.
“I’m just me,” I told him, swallowing. His hand rose, cradling my throat for a second, fingers stroking my jaw. I felt tears welling up in my eyes and my voice broke when I continued. “I don’t know what that means, but tonight I’m just trying to have some fun with my friends. Please don’t ruin it.”
He flinched and pulled back.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“Had no fucking clue you were that young, or that you didn’t want to be there.”
“I know that, too.”
Puck looked away, the strained guilt on his face almost more than I could stand. I had to do something, even though I didn’t feel strong enough. Reaching up, I cradled the side of his face with my hand, turning it toward me so I could meet his eyes. Then I spoke, putting everything I had into the words, willing him to believe me.
“Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, Puck. Things were fucked up and wrong, but you saved my life. Do you have any idea where I’d be right now if you hadn’t come to that party?”
“Becca, you okay?” Joe asked, his voice cutting through the tension. Puck stepped back, although he still kept himself between me and the other man, his stance weirdly protective like always.
So sexy . . .
“I’m fine. Puck is an old friend. We were just talking.”
“Danielle and Blake want to go swim down at the river,” Joe said slowly, taking in our body language. “Was thinking we’d head out. Unless you want to stay?”
Yeah, I wanted to stay. I wanted to drop to my knees, suck Puck off in front of everyone, and then ride away into the night on his bike. I’d do whatever twisted, fucked-up things he asked me, too, because I was my mother’s daughter.
Slut . . .
“No. I want to go with you, Joe.”
Puck stiffened, but he stepped to the side, letting me pass as I walked over to Joe. He tugged me into his side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Puck didn’t move as he and Blake’s friend stared each other down, wordlessly sharing an entire conversation I couldn’t begin to follow.
“Let’s go,” I said, turning into Joe and spreading a hand on his chest. He nodded, and we walked out of the bar.
—
Later that night I lay back on an old blanket under the stars. We’d settled on the river bar just past the bridge, and a small campfire glowed not far away. Danielle and Blake were off in the bushes laughing and wrestling around, which should’ve been awkward but wasn’t somehow.
Joe was great. Super. Exactly the kind of man I needed.
We’d made out for a while, and while he didn’t gross me out, he didn’t do much for me, either. But when I asked him to stop, he agreed easily enough. Not that he wasn’t interested—I’d felt enough action down below to know he was definitely into me—but I liked the way he respected my boundaries.
“It’s gorgeous out here,” I murmured, one of the greatest understatements of the century. The stars were a million jewels painted across the sky and the burble of the shallow river over the rocks could’ve soothed Charles Manson, it was so ridiculously peaceful.
“I love this place,” Joe said. “Been coming out here since I was a kid.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. Born just a couple miles down the valley. I know a lot of people can’t wait to get out of here, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. What about you?”
God, I hated that question.
“I’m from California,” I said slowly. “Moved up here about five years ago.”
“We didn’t go to high school together,” he said. “I would’ve remembered. You’re kind of a mystery girl, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, not liking the idea of being “mysterious.” I wanted to be normal. Boring. Under the radar . . .
“Not really. Family life wasn’t so good down south, so when I got the chance to leave, I took it. Regina and Earl Murray took me in, helped me get on my feet. Now I wait tables and go to beauty school.”