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NOT UNTIL YOU
Part II
NOT UNTIL YOU RISK
Roni Loren
Contents
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Buy Not Until You Crave
Special Excerpt from Crash Into You
About the Author
Also by Roni Loren
Copyright
About the Publisher
I was in a cab on the way to a hotel with Foster and Pike. Foster and Pike. I kept blinking, staring out at the road in front of me, wondering if the whole scene was going to fade before my eyes. Maybe I’d passed out drunk in my apartment and was hallucinating. Could you hallucinate from alcohol? Because surely this couldn’t be me—Cela, the high school valedictorian, the no-I-can’t-go-out-tonight-because-I-have-to-study good girl. Nice girls like that didn’t get in a car with two sexy, older guys for a one-night stand—a one-night threesome. Shit. This was crazy.
Cuh-razy.
I’d never been so simultaneously excited and nervous in my entire life. But despite all the implications about what kind of girl this made me, I found myself desperately hoping that this wasn’t some dream, that it truly was real.
“You okay?” Foster asked me after giving the driver instructions.
I nodded, though the move felt stiff and jerky. “You bet.”
He chuckled quietly and settled in, his hand resting casually on my knee. His mouth dipped close to my ear. “Breathe, Cela.”
“Trying,” I whispered, my heart stuttering at the warm feel of his skin on mine. Pike stretched his arm over the back of the seat and sent me a reassuring smile.
I closed my eyes and inhaled a long, deep breath before opening them again. Surprisingly, it seemed to help a bit. Well, that and the fact that the guys seemed to refuse to let me be anxious for long. I expected the cab ride to be tense, the question—Am I really going to do this?—on thunderous repeat in my head. But with Foster’s hand caressing my thigh and Pike’s fingers teasing the hair at my nape, I was losing myself in the rising tide of hormones. The nerves were siphoning off with each gentle touch, each caress. And the question of Am I going to do this? transformed into if not now, why not? It wasn’t like I could find guys I was more attracted to. And they weren’t going to pressure me. If I didn’t like something or changed my mind, they would stop. I knew that in my gut. This was my chance to have a fantasy night, and I’d be stupid not to take advantage of it.
Internal pep talk complete, I relaxed against the seat, Foster’s and Pike’s body heat bookending me, their combined scents like bottled sex and man. Mmm.
Foster smiled down at me. “Feeling better?”
“Getting there,” I said as I closed my eyes, my voice taking on a dreamlike quality even to my own ears. No longer was I thinking of the past, my lack of experience, or what kind of girl this supposedly made me. All I was thinking about was twisted hotel sheets, naked skin, and feeling these two guys against me, on top of me… inside me. Even thinking those last two words gave me a hard shiver, a heady cocktail of desire and fear filtering through my blood.
Foster’s hand drifted higher, the strokes against my thigh deceptively light. If the cabbie turned and peeked back, Foster’s touch would look like an afterthought, casual. But the soft, circular glides were a silent, relentless assault on my starved libido. I ached for more, for the intensity I sensed lurking in this man. Foster’s touch moved even higher, and as if acting on their own volition, my knees parted a bit further than was appropriate.
I opened my eyes, surprised by my own involuntary response, and caught the hint of Foster’s smile in my peripheral vision. He kept his eyes forward as he asked the cab driver a question, but his pinky snuck beneath my dress and grazed my satin panties.
Oh, Lord. A hot ripple of heat sizzled up and outward. I bit my lip to keep from gasping. This was not happening. Couldn’t be.
Pike joined in the conversation with the driver—something about the basketball finals maybe—but I couldn’t be sure. My brain was in reboot.
Foster’s hand disappeared beneath my dress again, this time more boldly. If the driver really looked back now, he’d know something was up. I set my purse on my knees, blocking the view. Foster’s fingertip dragged across the damp satin, finding my hot button through the thin fabric and circling around it.
My muscles tensed like I’d been Tasered, and my fingernails curled into the leather of my purse. Pike’s hand cupped my neck and squeezed, letting me know that even if he was carrying on a mundane conversation, he knew exactly what Foster was doing to me and how my body was responding.
Foster stroked me through the fabric once, twice—knowing exactly where to touch. I tried not to squirm in the seat. My body was near detonation already after what had happened on the dance floor. I hadn’t been touched like this by anyone other than myself in years. And, God, how many times had I fantasized about this very guy being the one to do it? I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together.
And apparently he didn’t want me to, because before I could even catch another breath, he was moving aside the fabric. The pad of his finger brushed embarrassingly slippery skin and dipped lower, finding my entrance. He slipped one long finger inside. I did gasp this time, unable to hold it back, but Pike conveniently coughed over the sound.
Foster moved his finger back to my clitoris, gliding over me with the exact amount of pressure that offered pleasure but not release. I had to fight hard not to make a sound, while Foster continued his calm conversation. “Can you take a left? It’s the longer way, but I don’t want to get caught in that overnight construction.”
“No problem,” the cabbie said.
“And do you mind turning up this song?” Pike asked. “I love this band.”
The music filled the cab, and Foster’s teasing touches turned purposeful. I curled my lips inward, a moan building in my throat. Oh, God. If he didn’t stop, I was going to climax right here in
