Текст книги "Hothouse Flower"

Автор книги: Becca Ritchie

Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 29 страниц)

< 28 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

Pain medication conks me out. It’s been a new type of sleep. Not exactly better. I always feel lethargic, drowsy, and I still ache for that perfect sleep that I used to have before the media. Luckily Ryke supplies me with an energy drink on my last day in the hospital.

I sip the Lightning Bolt! while I dig through my suitcase that he brought. The guys have already checked out of the hotel for me and gathered our stuff.

“Did you call your agency?” Ryke asks.

“Yeah, I quit last night.” The final day of Fashion Week, I called Revolution Modeling Inc. and said, “I don’t want to model anymore. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else for the runway tonight. And I won’t be working for the next three weeks or in the future.” My voice wasn’t as confident or ballsy as maybe Rose’s would have been. But I look at it as a trial run for the phone call to my mom.

They asked why.

I said the biggest truth of all: “I don’t love modeling.”

No cop outs. I’ve had two days in the hospital—of quiet nights left with my endless thoughts—to come to this conclusion. My career has ended because of my face, but it should have ended so much sooner because of my health, my emotions, my happiness. It has taken a near-death experience and the end-all of modeling for me to realize this. Blaming it on the scar—it seems like the easy way to deal. I know I won’t feel better unless I do it the way I was always meant to.

I find a pair of jean shorts and a shirt that says: I’m a fucking mermaid. “How’s this?” I ask Ryke, flashing the V-neck at him.

He almost smiles, which sells it for me.

I zip up my bag. “Can you close the curtains while I change?” I give him a single look like you don’t have to leave.

His features are hard to gauge. I can’t read much behind his brooding eyes. I’ve tried not to question if he’s going to break up with me over my face. He did say, We’re going to get through this. I just wonder if he’ll be helping me as a friend or as something more.

These thoughts tear holes inside my stomach.

I guess I’m about to find out where his head is at. Connor and Lo are waiting in the rental car for us. So we’re alone for the first time since I initially woke up. I don’t think Lo is worried about leaving us together. I can tell he’s trying to trust his brother, especially after screwing up and drinking.

I also talked to Rose and Lily, stopping them before they flew out to Paris. I don’t want Lily to miss college or Rose to cancel meetings for her fashion business just to see me. It took some convincing and a two-hour argument, but I won out this time. Although, Rose made me Skype her, but I refused to show the wound beneath my bandage. I told her that she’d have a good look at it every time she saw me for the rest of my life. So she can wait a few more weeks.

I watch Ryke whip the curtain around the ceiling track, enclosing us in the room for extra privacy. I set my jeans and shirt on the end of the bed, the hospital gown hanging on my body like a thin sack. The silence speeds my heart. Luckily I’m no longer hooked to any machines, but my shallow breath replaces the beep beep beep.

I can’t tell what he’s going to do, and that mystery instantly draws me to him. I take a couple steps forward and then stop halfway, a few feet separating us. He stands tall, his masculinity so apparent in his build and hard jawline. I think I could live underneath Ryke Meadows, under his weight and protection, and be satisfied for life.

The thought pulls my lips upward. I ignore the pinch in my cheek, the slight pain of the motion. I want to smile, dammit. So I’m gonna smile.

He watches me closely, all my small movements under scrutiny, and then he steps forward. One foot near. I inhale strongly, smelling his woodsy scent, like water and earth. I’m too curious about his thoughts and actions to touch him first.

His eyes meet mine and then fall to the collar of my hospital gown. He never looks at me like I’m half of myself, too beaten to love, too fragile to handle. Instead, his gaze rakes me like it’s our first time being this close again.

One more step and his chest brushes against mine with each deep breath. He leans forward, and I go rigid. His lips tickle my ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

I smile wide. Those words mean so much more now than they ever did before. “Say that again.”

“How about I just fucking show you?” His hot breath warms my neck, and then he kisses that very spot, deeply right away. Just like that, my body responds by curving towards him. He holds the back of my head, sucking the nape of my neck with such diligence that every nerve lights.

“Ryke,” I breathe softly, a high-pitched moan following.

My arms slip underneath his, holding his back like he belongs to me. I can’t believe I’m turned on after being cooped up in a hospital. But my sore limbs loosen like jelly at his possessive touch.

He unties my hair, slipping the band on his wrist. Then he messes the long locks with a rough hand, as he’s done so many times before. It dizzies me, and my heart palpitates.

His lips return, trailing my collar. He fingers the ties on the back of my gown. I only wear panties, having put them on as I started dressing earlier. The hospital fabric slips off me, the cool air nipping my skin. Goose bumps run along my bruised arms and legs. I stiffen, thinking he’s going to pull away at the sight of all the purple blemishes, but he only gently kisses around them, being careful with me but not so much that he’d let me go.

I wish I could kiss him back. Even if it didn’t hurt, Ryke would never allow my lips to near him, not wanting to cause me pain. But his kind of TLC is the best kind. His hands slide along my hips, edging towards my yellow cotton panties, daises printed on the backside.

My mouth opens as I watch his kisses descend to my boobs, already exposed for him, no bra to unclip or fling off. His head lowers to the top of my right breast, and as he nears my nipple, I have a flash of what happened with Ian. The sharp pain. Biting. Blood.

I jerk back in fright, and Ryke says nothing about the panicked flinch. He just lifts me up to his waist, my legs wrapping around him, and then he brings me to the bed. I lie on the soft blue blanket, and Ryke hardly misses a beat. He splits my legs open, kneeling between them before he kisses the same spot beside my nipple.

Only this time, he watches my expression as he sucks the sensitive skin, his eyes on me the whole time, studying my response. So that’s why he moved me. I like this position better. His pelvis is right up against my pelvis, and I hook my ankle around his to secure me to him.

I hold my breath as he kisses my nipple, his tongue skimming the hard bud with only a desire to light my body. It works as soon as his other hand kneads my left breast, and a sharp cry entangles with my gasp.

He sucks a little harder, and I tense, so he slows, which feels… “Ahh,” I cry again. Wow. His forceful passion stays, pulsing the spot between my legs with new need and want. I ache for something harder. An ache I’ve never experienced to this degree.

“I want you so badly,” I say with another gasp. I claw at his back, his shirt riding up. My hips are thrust upwards against him with so much pressure that he groans, the noise deep in his throat.

He strokes the sweaty hair off my forehead, and then he sits up, his hands running along my long slender legs. He stares at the length of them with a newfound hot and heavy lust. “I love so many fucking parts of you,” he says huskily.

I clutch the blanket on either side of my hips, grinding harder into him. “Take off your jeans,” I practically whimper. Usually I want the guy to keep them on, for the uncomfortable moment to end faster. This is so foreign. And I adore every single second.

“We’re not having sex yet, so store that fantasy for later, sweetheart.” Sweetheart.

I smile. No pain. It’s drowned beneath my arousal.

Ryke says sweetheart with so much force that it conflicts with the mildness of the word. I wonder if that’s us. Soft to his hard. Sweet to his rough. Wild to his stone.

I like it.

He grabs my ankles, unhooking them from him, and he bends my legs. He pauses once, listening for the silence, hearing my breath, and I think he’s discerning how much time we have before someone catches us. We are in a hospital. A public place. But he has a way of making it feel like the most private, safe place on Earth. Thankfully he looks satisfied to continue.

He kisses the top of my knee, and then his intense gaze meets mine. He takes two of his fingers and slips them in his mouth for a short moment. Just watching that—my hands dig harder into the bed. With my head on the pillow, he’s too far away to clutch.

His hand glides underneath my panties, and his two warm fingers enter the pulsing spot, I clench around him almost immediately. I moan, my mouth permanently open. The corners of his lips rise, and he unlatches one of my hands from the bed.

“Have you been this wet before?” he asks me. He presses my fingers to the same spot that he’s inside, and my cold touch feels worse than his warm. I am not just wet. I am soaked. And I feel so swollen with need.

I shake my head. “You’ve done what I have trouble doing to myself.”

“It’s time for that to fucking change, don’t you think?”

I smile wider.

“Don’t smile,” he says. “I don’t want to fucking hurt you.”

“There’s no way you can.” He’s only ever been the opposite in my life. The most positive force there ever was. He’s like that to everyone he meets. I’m sure of it.

“Still,” he retorts.

I bite my lip to keep from grinning, and he lets my hand go as soon as he begins moving his two fingers inside me, finding a sensitive place that I’ve been searching for, for years. I wish I could see his hand beneath my panties, his fingers so deep in me. That’s a visual I’d keep planted near the front of my brain.

I don’t want him so far away. I slowly sit up while he fucks me with his fingers, and he gives me a stern look like you can’t fucking kiss me.

I rest my forehead on his chest and stare down at the way his hand moves beneath the cotton. He has to adjust a little inside me, but he finds the right place again. He holds the back of my head with his other hand. Out of need and instinct, I rock my hips, driving him deeper. I cry at the new sensations.

“Easy,” he whispers, but now that I’m so close, he pulls my panties down to my thighs, showing me what he’s doing.

Just seeing Ryke, his hand, right between my legs, his fingers all the way inside me, it nearly sends me over. “Ryke,” I gasp. “RykeRykeRyke.” I clutch onto his back and keep rocking my hips in sync with the movement of his fingers. I am climbing a gorgeous mountain that I have never even neared before. And he’s the one taking me there.

He leans my back on the blanket again, but he doesn’t pry me off him, so in result, I’ve taken Ryke with me. He hovers over my body, so close to me. Even if he’s fully clothed and I lie naked, I feel safe in his possession.

“Don’t stop,” I cry. “Ryke.” I grab his bicep for support.

I meet his wanting gaze once before my toes curl, my spine arches, and my eyes roll back. Every part of me explodes like a thousand fireworks inside my head and body.

I go off.

And I come for the very first time.

Finally.

He keeps me full while my breath slows and I clench a few more times.

I laugh because that was one of the best things I’ve ever felt. Period. And he hasn’t even pushed his cock inside of me yet.

“Better than chocolate?” he asks, wiping my lips that stay parted. His forearm rests beside my head, propping up his body as he stares down at me.

“I don’t know,” I pant. “I think I need to test this out five or six more times to make a definitive answer.” I smile playfully.

“I have a strong fucking feeling that we’ll hear your answer quickly.”

“I love your strong feelings,” I tell him.

“I love watching you come,” he says like it’s a simple fact. But it’s not simple at all.

“How much?”

He kisses my good cheek and then whispers, “More than you’ll ever fucking know.”

Damn. He slips his fingers out of me, wiping them on the blanket, and then he slides my soaked panties off my legs at an extremely slow rate. So slow that my body clenches all over again. When they’re off my feet, I turn on my stomach and moan into the covers. “Just take me now,” I say into the muffled blankets.

He’s on his knees, and he lifts me by the hips so I’m on mine too. “That’s not how I take women,” he says, squeezing my ass.

“You torture them,” I say, turning my head. “I can’t come twice before we have sex.”

“Want to fucking bet?” he says with narrowed eyes.

I grin. “Yes, I do. Let’s test it out now.”

“We don’t have time,” he says, shutting it down. It was worth a shot. He wipes between my legs with the blanket, and then he swiftly grabs me around the waist and sets my feet on the floor. Completely naked. I watch as he grabs a clean pair of panties from my bag.

He dresses me, helping me step into them. And once the soft cotton touches my hips, he puts the shirt on over my head and lets me step into my shorts. He’s taking care of me to a new degree. It makes me feel more than just loved. I feel like I’m truly his.

I hold onto the back of his neck while he zips my shorts, his body so close to mine again. He fishes the button through the hole, tension constricting his muscles. My breath is ragged. How is this possible? I just orgasmed.

I look up at him as he finishes. “I guess that answers my question.”

“What question?”

“Before, I was going to ask you if this was it for us.”

He frowns. “What are you fucking talking about?”

I don’t back down to the darkness in his features. I cling to every dangerous quality he possesses. “I just thought you’d want to go back to being just friends after what happened with my face.”

His confusion turns into a hard glare. “I’m not with you because you’re a fucking model.”

“I know.”

“Clearly you didn’t.”

“I do now.”

He’s not happy with that answer. “I didn’t think I was going to have to spell it out for you, Calloway.”

“Now I’m confused.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve never met a fucking girl that I wanted to stick around for longer than a month, and then I became friends with you—”

I cut him off, “And I thought that you could go back to being my friend.”

“No, you thought that I’d want to. You think I’m with you just because you’re fucking gorgeous? Daisy, I could have been with you the moment you turned eighteen. Having sex with a hot fucking girl that gets me hard isn’t worth risking the relationship I have with my brother.”

I breathe heavily. “What’s worth the risk then?”

“What we fucking have,” he says. “I love you beyond physical attraction.” He cups my smooth cheek, looking deep into my eyes. “I love you, Dais, because you’re the wildest fucking girl with the biggest fucking heart. And without you in my life”—he shakes his head like it’s an inconceivable picture—“I’d be the unhappiest fucking guy.”

His words flood me with so much emotion. For however ineloquent they are, they sound perfect off his lips—because they’re one-hundred percent Ryke Meadows. I focus on the three most important ones of the bunch.

“You love me,” I breathe.

He lets out a short laugh. “You’re such a fucking girl.”

“Say it again.”

He smiles, a full blown one that tingles my body all over. “I fucking love you, sweetheart.”

I lean in to kiss him, forgetting I’m hurt, but he holds my jaw, controlling the touch of our lips that desperately wants to be something more. Before it turns wild, he kisses my forehead and murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

I never knew that a relationship could be so mental, so emotional before all the physical. I wonder if we’re doing this backwards or if this has been the right way all along.

Right. I’ve found the one person who makes me the happiest, but I just wonder how long I’ll be able to keep him. I wonder if there are too many outside forces pulling us apart for this to last.

I’ll take each day as they come.

Live in the moment with Ryke Meadows.

If I ever die, I want that across my headstone.

< 29 >

DAISY CALLOWAY

Janet hands me a plastic bag with all my valuables and the bloodied maroon turtleneck I was wearing that night. I slip the gold ring on my thumb while Ryke heads down the hall, talking on the phone and waiting for me to leave.

“You need to go over to that cashier’s window and they’ll give you the hospital bill.”

I nod. “Will the ambulance fee be added with that?” I don’t know how the French medical system works.

Janet frowns. “There is no ambulance fee. Didn’t you know that?”

I shake my head. “No, but I…” I blink as I wrack my brain. The pub isn’t even close to this hospital, so how…

“He carried you,” Janet says, a hand to her chest, like that night was emotional, even for her. “You were in his arms when he reached the hospital doors. He arrived about ten minutes before anyone else from the riot.”

Tears well, and I suppress them as best I can. My voice trembles. “He ran here?”

She nods and reaches out to touch my wrist in comfort. I glance down the hallway at Ryke who speaks with force into the phone, like he wants the person on the other end to fully listen to him. He’s the hero of my story, but he refuses to claim any of those moments, as if they don’t matter.

They do matter. Everyone sees partial sides to Ryke, and he lets them think he’s just an athlete with no brains, an aggressive asshole. It’s like he’s been alone for so long that he’s lost any interest in showing off his worth.

I think I’ve hit the lottery—to have him in my life.

To me, he’s worth every loud moment, every peaceful silence, the crazy and the sad, the restless and the quiet. I would trade it all to be with him, but I have a feeling there will be no price for my mom. She’ll keep us apart at any cost.

I feel it in my bones like a bad, bad omen.

< 30 >

RYKE MEADOWS

“What the fuck is Rose hiding?” I snap at Lily on the phone. I decided to call her while I wait for Daisy to finish sorting through her belongings.

Daisy looks up at me with a plastic baggy in her hand and then points to a cashier’s window, standing in the line.

I nod to her and listen to Lily’s response. I’m not expecting much.

“Like I told Lo, I’ve made this pact with Rose not to talk about it, like a Ya-Ya Sisterhood thing, and I can’t go back on my word. And just so you know, Rose is scary. She took out a knife and was saying something about blood oaths, and before I knew it, she slit my palm.” Her voice lowers, almost comically that it’s hard to take her serious. But she is. “And this comes from a girl who cannot walk on the hardwood without shoes. You don’t have to say anything, it surprised me too.”

I roll my eyes. “Lily,” I say forcefully. “If it’s something serious, you need to tell my brother.”

“The pact,” Lily hisses. “What if Rose put a curse on me? I can’t say anything.”

“You can’t be that fucking superstitious.”

“Rose might as well be a supernatural force when she’s upset. You haven’t seen her truly angry, so you can’t say anything.”

“I’ve seen her so fucking pissed that she almost tased my brother, how’s that?”

“This is a different kind of upset,” Lily says. “We’re handling this, okay? I think it’s good that Lo is with you, and I’m here with Rose for a little bit.”

I frown, never thinking I’d hear Lily say that. She’s usually glued to my brother’s side and vice versa. “You’re really okay without him?”

Silence stretches before she says, “I mean, I miss him a lot more than I can articulate. It hurts without him here. But I’m better than I was when he first left for rehab. I’m at a better place.”

“I know you are,” I tell her. Back then, she was almost in tears every time I called her. It was kind of fucking pathetic, but I didn’t understand their relationship. I didn’t understand that kind of unconditional love. And then Daisy left, and I felt out of my fucking mind for three days. I yelled at Lily for bitching after only seven days without Lo, so who’s the hypocrite now?

“We’re meeting you in two weeks right?” Lily asks. “It won’t be too long.”

“You sure you want to keep it a fucking surprise from Daisy?” I ask. Rose has been calling me non-fucking-stop, trying to find ways to see Daisy without upsetting her. I told them that they should just meet us on the road, but to wait until her face heals a little. They agreed.

“She likes surprises,” Lily says. “Otherwise, we would have told her.”

She’s right about that. “Just don’t come early. I can’t spend thirty days in a car with all of you. Eighteen is already too fucking much.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to start the road trip in New York?”

I groan in agitation. “You’re annoying me, Calloway.”

“All I’m saying is that you could have picked a closer place to California, and then we wouldn’t have to be in a car for so long.”

“That defeats the fucking point of a road trip. If it was up to you and Rose, we would have started in California.”

She pauses and then says, “Now that sounds like a good idea.”

I roll my eyes again. I let out a deep sigh. “Can you promise me something?” I ask her.

“That depends. Does it involve breaking a promise to my sister that will unleash her diabolical wrath?”

“Promise me that whatever it is, you’ll be fucking safe. And be careful on your way out to us. My brother can’t live without you. I’m expendable, you aren’t.”

“You can’t honestly think that about yourself,” she says softly.

“Just promise me, Lily.”

“I promise, but Ryke—he needs you. You’re his brother.”

I shake my head. To Lo, I’m equal to Connor. We met Lo at nearly the same fucking time. In fact, Connor has some months on me. For fuck’s sake, Lo made us flip a coin to determine who would be his best man at his wedding. I didn’t get it by fucking default because I’m related to him. In less than a year, I’ll be standing by his side as he’s about to get married, all because of luck.

A flip of a coin.

He can so easily push me out of his life, and the only reason I’m still here is because I refuse to go, no matter how hard he shoves.

But Daisy…I know in my heart she’s something that can drive me away from him. I’m going to fight against the moment, but I also mentally prepare for it. “Sure,” I tell her. “Listen, do whatever Yada Sisterhood thing—”

“Ya-Ya,” she corrects me.

“Whatever,” I say. “Just don’t let Rose fucking cut you. Stick up for yourself.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling my little sister?” she asks, flipping the switch.

“I tell her a lot of fucking things,” I say. “And yeah, that’s one of them.”

“Good,” Lily says. I can practically see her nod with resoluteness, in this goofy fucking way.

“Are you wearing an animal on your fucking head?” I ask her.

“You know what it’s called.”

“No I don’t.”

“It’s a Wampa cap.”

“That Star Trek shit?” I say, knowing that it’s Star Wars. I like to give her a hard time.

“Star Wars. Lo would kick you for that.”

“Good thing he’s not fucking around.” My brother, a fucking comic book geek with looks that could murder and simultaneously melt women. It’s so fucking weird. Who would have thought? Nine years ago, not me.

There’s a long pause before she asks, “How is she doing?”

I glance at Daisy who rocks on her feet, antsy as she stands in one place for so long. Her bandaged cheek is on the other side. The only marks visible are the bruises beneath her eyes. I remember her smile as she came, her laugh and the genuine happiness that blanketed over her. I wish this bad fucking thing didn’t have to happen for her to make these hard decisions about modeling, but I am glad she’s finally made them.

“She’s going to be okay,” I tell Lily. “She looks good.” She looks fucking beautiful.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Lily says. “We all appreciate it, you know.”

I don’t pick my words that carefully. I just fucking say them. “I’d do anything for her.”

“Is it different this time?” she asks me.

“What do you mean?”

“In Cancun a couple years ago, you kind of saved Daisy back then too. I just wondered if you feel differently now.” What is she getting at?

“Say it fucking bluntly or don’t say it at all.”

She sighs. “Why do you have to be so mean?”

“I didn’t think I was,” I snap.

“Do you like her more now than you did then?” she says straight out.

“She was only sixteen back then,” I tell her. “I didn’t hang out with her that much.” The truth is way more complicated than that.

“Just say it bluntly or don’t say it at all,” Lily rebuts, with ten times less force than me.

I almost smile. “She means a fucking lot to me, Calloway.” It’s still not much better but it seems to appease Lily.

“Have you told this to Lo?” she asks.

“What would it fucking matter? He sees what he wants to see.” I’m the intruder, the fucking guy he opened his arms to, the guy he let in his life. If I stick my cock anywhere near Daisy, he will be affronted as though I fucked with his family, his friends, his world.

“He sees what you give him,” Lily says softly, “and you’re not giving him a lot to work with, Ryke.”

I run my hand through my hair and sigh. I’m so fucking scared to open up about my history with my own brother. That’s the fucking truth. I did wrong by him for so long, and if I start talking about it, I feel like I’ll just push him away more. I’ll give him no reason to be close to me. I have years of hate underneath my belt, no fucking love.

So why express that? What fucking good will that do?

I just want to forget it all and move on.

Daisy reaches the front of the line.

“I have to go,” I tell Lily.

“Was she happy that she’s able to go with you guys to California?” she asks before we hang up.

“Yeah,” I say, my chest rising with the fucking fact. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“You be safe,” Lily emphasizes. “You’re the one climbing. I’m packing a first-aid kit, just in case you fall, so you know.”

“Your fucking Band-Aid isn’t going to save me.”

“Wolverine is printed on the front. He can save anyone.”

I roll my eyes for the fifth time it feels like. “Let’s just hope we all make it there in one piece.”

Daisy starts walking over to me.

“Gotta go.”

“Bye.” We hang up, and I slide my arm over Daisy’s shoulder and carry her duffel. Mikey is going to stay in France for another two weeks as vacation, hopefully distracting the paparazzi and leading them off our trail. For the first time in a while, we should be free of the media.

“You ready for a fucking adventure, sweetheart?” I ask her.

She hugs me close and says, “Does this adventure contain cupcakes, Ryke Meadows and motorcycles?”

“Substitute the last one for a fucking rental car.”

She smiles. “I’m ready for this awfully big adventure then.” She pauses and adds, “With you.”

I kiss her temple.

30 days until Yosemite.

The fucking countdown begins.