Perfect Regret (Bad Rep #2)(29)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

I had always thought it beautiful, the way it was supposed to be. But right now, with Garrett fitted between my legs, his mouth sucking, biting, loving every bit of skin he could reach, I knew the real beauty was in the surrender. Both of us giving up control to the other. It was a perfect expression of trust. Woah, when had I decided to trust Garrett? And when had he laid his at my feet?

Garrett sat down on my bed and I straddled his lap, rocking into him, wanting to appease the ache that threatened to blow me a part. I pulled my mouth away from his swollen lips and I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling it back away from his face. I gazed down at his heavy lidded eyes blurred this time by lust rather than drugs. The straight length of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, the tiny freckle under his left ear. Just a few months ago I would have told you that Garrett Bellows may be attractive in his own way but most definitely not my type.

But now…well…now was another story.

I was feeling entirely too mushy. I wasn’t looking for some sort of Titanic moment here. I was no f**king Rose and Garrett was most certainly not my Jack Dawson!

I had been excited for the change. Ready to do something reckless, something dangerous. But this was bordering on too much. And when things got hard, it was in my nature to shut them down. Decisively.

So I leaned down and bit his lip a bit more aggressively than Garrett was expecting.

“Ouch!” he yelped, pulling back with a jerk, his finger going to his mouth. Shit, I had drawn blood. That’s right! I’m one mean ass chick!

“What the hell, Riley?” he asked in genuine bewilderment.

“If I wanted soft and gentle, I sure as hell wouldn’t have asked you to come home with me,” I said harshly. I couldn’t get a handle on the conflicting emotions bubbling just under the surface. So what do I do? I pulled out the bitch card. When in doubt resort to what you’re good at.

Garrett’s eyes, which moments ago had been smoldering and capable of causing a level ten combustion, became so cold I thought I’d suffer from some serious frostbite.

“Are we back to this then?” he asked, his voice breaking just enough to know he was feeling a lot more than anger.

I tried to get off his lap but his hands clamped down on my hips, holding me in place. His fingers dug into my skin and I wondered whether I’d have tiny little bruises to remind me of how once again I was treating this guy like crap.

But try as I might I couldn’t stop. “I thought this is what you wanted,” I said icily, reaching down between us to squeeze the part of him that was still hard and ready for me. Garrett moved his hand to wrap around my wrist and yanked me away.

“No, what I wanted was a girl who could set aside her f**ked up perceptions for just one night. The girl who could let go and be something she wanted to be rather than who she thought she needed to be,” Garrett snarled, his jaw clenched and angry.

He lifted me off his lap and set me down on the bed. He picked his jeans up off the floor and shoved his legs through them, his rage barely suppressed. So perfect time to throw some gasoline on the fire, right?

“I would think a guy like you would be used to a girl just wanting him for a f**k,” I taunted. God, what was wrong with me? Why was I saying this stuff?

Garrett’s back went ramrod straight, he was still turned away as he put his shirt on. I watched in lavicious interest as it fell down and molded to his back and narrow shoulders. I was some sick kind of messed up. Here I was, stomping all over his fragile male ego yet again, but I couldn’t stop ogling him like a piece of meat.

Garrett put his hands through his hair and he seemed to be getting it together. He had to be experiencing a major case of blue balls. If he felt half the ache that I did between my legs than he was in some serious discomfort.

Garrett pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned his head so I could just make out his profile. “Bye, Riley,” he said and then he left my room, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the door. And for once, I didn’t have a way to justify my actions. Not when they had been completely and totally wrong. And wrong was not a good color on me.

11

“So Garrett came back to the apartment last night,” Vivian was saying, causing me to choke on my bagel. Maysie leaned over and thumped me on the back, dislodging the bread from my windpipe. No sense in throwing up all over the table, even if my friend’s out of the blue statement had me wanting to spew chunks Exorcist style.

The name Garrett Bellows had given my upchuck reflex a serious workout the last few weeks. I hadn’t seen him since sex disaster number two. Generation Rejects had played at Barton’s a few times, but thankfully my shifts hadn’t coincided with any of their gigs.

Maysie had invited me to the dozens of parties that had been thrown but I turned down each and every one. My need to walk on the wild side was definitely over.

The morning after Garrett’s dramatic exit I had woken up pissed. At Garrett of course. Because it was easy to find fault in his behavior and much harder to place blame on myself. Why did he have to make it into something that it wasn’t? Hadn’t I made my intentions perfectly clear? What was the problem? When had we ever pretended to be good for each other? When had we decided to make sex into something more than lust?

Because I missed that meeting. Last I had checked, Garrett was still a boy who barely tolerated me. Who couldn’t function on the same level as the rest of us. This was the guy who didn’t give a toss about anything unless it was a pair of boobs or a bowl pack of weed.

So when did he become the whiny girl in this scenario? I didn’t like feeling guilty. It irritated me. So I refused to feel that way.

Ah hell, I still felt guilty. Even if it was laced with a healthy dose of mortified anger at having been rejected with such finality.

Who cares about Garrett Bellows? I sure didn’t. Nope, not Riley Walker.

Riley Walker had bigger and better things to worry about. Like my internship. I was finally shadowing a reporter and was being allowed my very own byline.

That was cause for celebration.

Right?

So why wasn’t I happier about it?

“Really? Did you guys all hang out or something?” Maysie asked, shoving a cream puff in her mouth. My best friend had a serious addiction to the Cup and Crumb’s cream puffs. I think half of the coffee shop’s profit margin lay in Maysie Ardin’s frequent purchase of those chocolate covered pastries.

Vivian shook her head. “No, you’re missing my point here. Garrett came back to the apartment,” she paused for dramatic affect, making sure we were paying attention. I rolled my eyes.