Wreck Me: An Older Man, Younger Woman Standalone Romance Page 8

  “Time to wake up,” he whispers. His voice deep and rumbly with his lips next to my ear, causing cold chill bumps down my arms.

  “Someone’s definitely up,” I point out, squirming against Brody’s cock.

  Groaning, he says, “Don’t make it worse.”

  I roll over so that I’m facing him, and ask, “Should I make it better?”

  Chuckling softly, he says, “No, sweetheart. You better get back to bed.” Hugging me tightly to him with his chin resting on top of my head, he adds, “Besides, I want something to remember you by today when I have to pretend that I’m not looking at you or missing you.”

  Grinning even wider because of his sweet words, I press a kiss to his chest and ask, “So does that mean I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Fuck, yes,” he replies without delay. “Try and talk the girls into staying here so they’ll go to bed earlier.”

  “I’ll try,” I assure him. “But negotiating with terrorists is probably easier than negotiating with Sara.”

  “She’s that bad, huh?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I answer with a nod, followed by a sigh, knowing I have to go. Sitting up, I tell him, “All right. I’m off to bed. You may not see me again until noon.”

  “Sleep well,” Brody says, reaching for my hand and kissing my knuckles tenderly.

  As if he wasn’t hot enough, he has to go and be all sweet too.

  …

  Brody

  I sleep in later than usual after Riley left my bed, and then I get up and go for a run on the beach, followed by an hour of weight lifting in my home gym down in the garage. Each mile my legs carry me and each rep I lift with my arms is not just for me, like usual. I’m thinking about Riley and how I want to keep my body in great shape for her.

  Which I realize is idiotic.

  Today’s Tuesday, so that leaves just four more days and four nights with her. After that, she’ll leave with Sara, and I doubt I’ll ever see her again.

  Fucking hell, do I hate that.

  I don’t want Riley to leave, not just because she’s gorgeous with amazing curves that I love to kiss and caress when I’m inside of her. She has a way of making me feel…wanted and needed. I had forgotten that sensation, having someone eager to spend time with me, to talk to me. While I have many friends, I’ve missed the close companionship of sharing all my days and nights with a woman I care for.

  Over the past twenty years, I’ve dated and even had a few short, committed relationships, but nothing serious – like having someone live with me – since Holly. And it’s not that I haven’t wanted to settle down, because I’ve tried. I hate the loneliness, yet I haven’t had any luck so far.

  The women I’ve gone out with usually develop deeper feelings for me than I can honestly return. I would never lie and be with someone I wasn’t in love with just for the sake of not being alone.

  For whatever reason, in my heart, I know that there could be more than just great sex between Riley and me, if I only gave her the chance.

  Later, while Riley sleeps in and I enjoy the beach with Sara, Allison, and Cheryl, I try to figure out a way that Riley and I could actually be together. But there’s not one, unless I want to lose my daughter. And having Sara stay here this week makes me so damn happy.

  I let Holly take her away from me years ago and I’m still trying to make amends. The guilt continues to eat away at me for not being part of her childhood, and I’ll be damned if I push her further away.

  Even if it costs me what could be my last chance at happiness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riley

  “Clint wants us to come over for dinner with them tonight,” Sara says to the group after we all wander in from the beach and get our showers. Now we’re sitting around the living room, trying to figure out the plan for tonight. Of course, she wants to go out.

  “What are they cooking?” I ask.

  Giving a shrug without even glancing at me, Sara says, “I think they’re gonna order a pizza or something, and want us to stay over to watch a movie.”

  “Sounds fun,” Allison chimes in. Grinning excitedly, she adds, “I call dibs on Bryan.”

  “I’ve got dibs on Clint,” Sara replies, glaring at me in warning.

  “Hmm,” Cheryl mutters, tapping her fingernail to her lips in thought. “That leaves, who for me? Walker, Mark, and Jim?”

  “Yes,” Sara answers.

  “Fine, then. I’ll take them all,” Cheryl teases with a smile. She’s the shyest out of all of us, so she’s probably barely said a word to any of the guys down the beach.

  “I’ll go too, but I’m not really into any of them,” I say, admitting defeat. It’s not like I can tell them I don’t want to go and that I’ll just hang around here with Brody, in his bed.

  “Yay!” Allison says, jumping up from her seat and starting down the hallway. “I’ve got to finish straightening my hair and I’ll be ready!”

  “I think I’m gonna change again,” Cheryl says with a frown as she looks down at her brown, sleeveless dress.

  “You look fine,” I assure her.

  “Nah, let me try to find something better,” she grumbles, then she gets up and disappears, leaving me alone with…Susie Sunshine.

  For all of thirty seconds the room is silent, before Sara says, “I’m surprised you haven’t slept with all five guys in Clint’s house yet. It has been four days. Is that a new record for you?”

  God, she’s such a little bitch.

  “What is your problem?” I ask her, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. I’m so sick and tired of her bullshit. What was once passive aggressive comments are now just flat out mean and hostile.

  “You are my problem,” she mutters, making me wince.

  Uh-oh. Does she know about me and Brody? Oh, God. If so, Brody will lose his shit! There’s nothing I can do but keep my mouth shut and prepare for her to ream me out.

  “Why did you have to sleep with every guy in the entire school?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask in confusion when she doesn’t mention her dad.

  “Everyone knows you fucked half the baseball team, maybe more,” she huffs while examining her fingernails. “Dalton Michaels and I were talking, when you had to throw yourself at him and have your little gang bang or whatever.”

  “You shouldn’t believe all the rumors you hear,” I tell her, hoping she’ll drop it. “And I had no clue you liked him or whatever.”

  “Well, you should have. Cheryl knew.”

  “Cheryl didn’t tell me,” I reply. “But just so you know, Dalton’s a worthless piece of shit, and you should stay away from him.”

  “Yeah, you say that now because he didn’t want anything to do with you afterward…”

  “I didn’t want anything to do with him before!” I exclaim in anger, getting to my feet. “Go for Dalton if you want, Sara, I honestly don’t give a damn. Just make sure you don’t let him buy you a drink, or you’ll end up getting ‘gang banged’ by him and his friends too,” I warn her before I storm away.

  Back in my room, I stand at the window, looking out at the ocean, to try and lower my racing heart. I guess I should be thankful that Sara doesn’t know about Brody and me. Instead, her words just cause all the shit that happened in the spring to come roaring back again, making me feel so fucking disgusting and worthless.

  It was dark on the baseball field and my memories are all hazy, but I know Dalton was there, along with a few others, taking turns, and then two at the same time. When they were finished, they left me lying there on home plate; naked, dirty, and used up, just like the condoms littering the ground.

  One of the groundskeepers found me, covered me up with an old blanket, and took me to the hospital. The nurses told me I had likely been drugged with Rohypnol and asked if I remembered anything. I lied and told them no, too ashamed of myself because I was drunk and flirting with Dalton at the bar where he was celebrating a win with some of his teammates.

  I never said no or put up a
fight, so it wasn’t rape, right? The roofie may have prevented either, but it was my stupid decisions that put me in that situation to begin with. Having my body used over and over again was the punishment I thought I deserved. So, I told the ER doctor to give me all the STD blood tests, and the Plan B pill to prevent pregnancy, then I kept my mouth shut.

  Besides, other than waking up naked and sore on the baseball field, my memories are so fuzzy that I’m not even sure if I could identify who was there other than Dalton.

  Even if I could recall everything, no one would ever believe a slut like me over several of Madison’s fine, upstanding athletes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brody

  Tuesday night, I make fajitas for the girls, and they all eat them up before they head out, even Sara, without a single protest because the girls said they smelled too good to resist.

  Then, I found out their plans for the night.

  They were supposed to have pizza with the guys in the house down the beach before staying over to watch a movie. All of my protective instincts go off, along with a little jealousy where Riley is concerned.

  “Are you sure you can trust those boys?” I ask the girls as they sit around the table and finish eating. “You barely know them.”

  “They’re all still in college. Juniors at UNC-Wilmington,” Sara replies between bites of her fajita. “So, I guess that means that we’re the old, pervy women robbing the cradle,” she says with a laugh.

  Riley starts coughing behind her napkin, choking on her food at Sara’s comment.

  “You okay down there?” I ask, from the other end of the table.

  “Yeah, fine,” she croaks with a grin before she reaches to take a sip of her bottled water.

  “It’s only one or two years age difference, which is nothing,” Allison remarks, regarding the college boys.

  “Yeah, and I mean, I’ve dated men who were five or six years older than me,” Sara replies.

  “You have?” I ask in concern, not liking the idea of her with an older man. How ironic, right?

  “Most college boys are immature,” Sara says with a shrug of her shoulders. “Or only go for the girls who give it up on the first date.” She looks pointedly at Riley, apparently putting her in that category.

  “College boys are also known for lying and exaggerating,” Cheryl grumbles, without looking up from her plate.

  “Then the entire baseball team must be full of exaggerators,” Sara says, pushing her chair back from the table and getting to her feet. “Anyway, I’m going to touch up my makeup then we can go.”

  When Sara leaves the room, Allison follows right behind her. That’s when I hear Cheryl whisper to Riley, “You should tell her what happened.”

  “No,” Riley snaps at her friend. “She’ll just say I’m full of shit.”

  “Tell her what?” I ask the girls.

  “Sara thinks Riley stole her guy, a University baseball player, but that’s not exactly what happened,” Cheryl starts.

  “What happened?” I prompt, wanting to know more, even if I can’t stand the thought of Riley with another man.

  “Nothing,” Riley mutters.

  “It’s not nothing!” Cheryl argues. “Dalton Michaels is scum and everyone should know what he did to you!”

  “Who is Dalton Michaels?” I ask, but both girls remain silent. Riley shakes her head at Cheryl. “Riley, Cheryl, what did he do?”

  “A few months ago, the bastard roofied Riley’s drink at a bar, and…”

  “Chery!” Riley shouts before her friend can finish that sentence.

  The churning in my stomach and bile rising up my throat knows exactly what happened after he drugged her.

  “Riley?” I ask, but she doesn’t say anything. When she starts to get up and leave the room, I jump out of my chair and block the door, needing to know what happened to her, even if I don’t want to.

  Only inches away from her, I lift my hand to cup her face, trying to avert her downcast eyes, hesitating a moment before I can touch her.

  “Did he hurt you?” I ask her softly.

  A nod is her response.

  “Did you go to the police?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” I ask through clenched teeth, my anger at this unknown asshole making me see red. When she doesn’t reply, I lift her chin to force her watery blue eyes to mine. “Why not, Riley?”

  “Because…because I don’t remember much of what happened before I woke up on the baseball field,” she answers. “And even if I did…who would believe me?”

  “I believe you,” I tell her adamantly, placing a soft kiss on her lips before Cheryl clears her throat in warning, confirming my suspicions that she knows about us.

  Lowering my hand from her face, I take a step back from Riley just before Sara’s voice rings out from the living room, telling the girls she’s ready to go.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Riley.

  “We should help you clean up the table,” she says, changing the topic as she goes into motions, stacking up all the dishes.

  “It’s fine. I can get them,” I tell her as I watch her, my heart breaking while, at the same time, I’m so angry, I want to find the asshole who hurt her and make him bleed.

  Riley doesn’t listen to me, so Cheryl and I both silently help her clean up.

  She may have ended the conversation, but I’m not fooled. Even if she doesn’t want to talk about it, or tell Sara the truth about the little shithead, the memories are still there, likely haunting her every minute of the day.

  Is that the reason she wasn’t sleeping much those first few nights when she got here?

  God, I had no idea Riley was dealing with something this damn awful. And I can’t believe how strong and resilient she is despite whatever nightmares she experienced. I wish I could punch myself in the face for calling her a slut.

  Once we’ve dumped all the plates and silverware into the sink, I tell them, “You girls go on and have fun tonight. I’ll see you later.”

  “Thanks for dinner,” Riley says, and then she’s out the door with the others.

  I’m left behind feeling like a sailboat in the middle of the choppy ocean, trying to survive the hurricane raging on around me.

  How could anyone hurt someone so sweet and beautiful like Riley? And even worse, the bastard correctly assumed that she wouldn’t turn him in.

  What if he had done that to my daughter and gotten away with it because Sara was too scared to tell anyone?

  Riley may not want to go to the police but the motherfucker still deserves to be punished, or he’ll just do it again and again.

  And if I have to stay here in this house another second, I’m pretty sure I’ll drown in my rage.

  …

  Riley

  It’s almost midnight before Cheryl and I return back to the beach house. Sara and Allison insisted they wanted to stay with the guys, so we left them behind. They’re big girls who will stick together and have their phones if they need us.

  “You gonna sneak up to your man’s room?” Cheryl asks when we step into the quiet, still house.

  “Yeah, I can’t wait up for them to come home tonight because they may not even come back here,” I reply.

  “Have fun and see you in the morning,” she says, heading for her bedroom while I veer off toward the stairs.

  At the top of the landing, I find Brody’s bedroom door wide open. Inside is so dark that I have to flip on the switch to even find my way around. And when I hit it, I find his bed empty and unmade.

  Where the hell is he?

  I go over and look out on the balcony, jog down the stairs in search of him, and finally check the garage. His SUV is gone, so he obviously went out, but where the heck would he go this late at night?

  Could something be wrong? What if he had an accident?

  Then I start to wonder if maybe he’s staying away tonight on purpose. After the shit Cheryl blabbed to him about me earlier, it’s very possible that he’s decided he d
oesn’t want to be with me. And I can’t say I blame him.

  What man would want a woman who’s recently been used and discarded by a group of baseball players?

  Back in the guest bedroom that I haven’t slept in much this week, I change into my pajamas and then lay in bed, tossing and turning, listening out for when Brody comes home.

  Before I finally drift off to sleep around four a.m., neither he or the other girls have returned.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Riley

  I wake up around nine a.m. to the sound of voices laughing and talking, so I give up on sleep even though I’m still tired, and join them in the kitchen, hoping to see if Brody is back.

  The kitchen island is full of plates of food. Piles of flaky biscuits, fluffy scrambled eggs, link sausages, a variety of sliced fruit, and a pitcher of orange juice.

  I fix myself a plate and join Cheryl, Allison, and Sara in the dining room, where they’re finishing up their breakfast.

  “Who cooked?” I ask as I take a seat.

  “My dad, of course,” Sara replies with a grin. “Cheryl just woke up, and Allison and I just got home.”

  “Oh,” I mutter as I spear my sausage and take a bite. So Brody is back? Where the hell was he last night?

  I’m glad to know he finally returned home, but I’m still hurt that he skipped out on me last night. There’s only three nights left before we have to go home, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be spending any of those with him or if he’s had enough of me now that he knows what happened.

  I eat a few bites of my breakfast and listen without commenting as Sara and Allison talk to Cheryl about their exciting night, and how the guys told them that they want to see them again back at home. It’s on the tip of my tongue to blurt out how they shouldn’t get their hopes up, just like I’ve done. Those boys probably have no intention of calling Sara or Allison again or coming to see them. All men are the same.