The Graham Effect: Chapter 26

National Dessert Day

THE COMMITTEE FOR THE ATHLETIC DEPARTMENT’S DECEMBER fundraiser meets in the Briar library on Monday afternoon, after my teammates and I wrap up practice.

It’s an interesting group. From the women’s team, it’s me, Camila, and Whitney. For the men, it’s Ryder, Shane, and Beckett representing the former Eastwood side, while Will Larsen and David Demaine represent Briar. Must have been strategic on Jensen’s part, who he assigned—or rather, forced into this. A loudmouth like Trager or that Rand guy would only derail all the plans. But I am surprised Case isn’t here. As the other captain, he probably should be.

That’s cleared up when Demaine takes his seat and says, “Colson got stuck in a meeting with his professor. He said to text him the details. He’ll be here next time, though.”

I try not to meet Ryder’s gaze. It’s been a full week since we had sex, and we haven’t spoken.

Not one single word. Not one single text message. I haven’t even passed him in the halls of the training facility, which makes me wonder if he’s actively avoiding me.

After the first few days of radio silence, I started to get pissed. Because, come on, I don’t even deserve a Hey, how are ya? after a literal sex marathon?

But then the relief started trickling in, because…the truth is, I didn’t know what to say to him either.

We had sex for hours that night. So many hours that I was sore for three days afterward. I even got my period four days early, as if my body was forcing a reboot after that wild night with Luke Ryder.

And the worst part is, I want him again. It scares me how badly I want him. So I’ve been keeping my distance.

Clearly, he and I are on the same page in that regard. He’s barely looked my way since we sat down.

At the head of the table, Whitney opens her notebook and uncaps her pen. “Let’s get this going,” she says. “I have dinner plans.”

Beside me, Camila is making eyes across the table at Beckett. He’s making eyes right back. Yeah, those two make sense. They ooze sensuality.

“I printed out the email from the charity head.” Whitney pulls it out and gives it a scan. “We’re in charge of getting the items for the silent auction.”

“Sounds exciting,” Beckett says, still eyeing Camila.

She winks at him.

“So let’s make a list of ideas, items we think would be good for the auction. We’ll have to reach out to businesses and high-profile individuals for donations. How about this? Each of us will contact, let’s say, ten businesses or people?”

“I’ll create an online form where we can all input the information we gather,” Will offers. “Like names, numbers, what they’re offering, that sort of thing.”

Whitney thanks him. “For bigger organizations, we can send a form email asking for a donation. But I always find there’s better success when you ask in person. So for any local businesses, either go in yourself, or at least make a phone call.” She glances at David. “Do you remember what kind of shit was up for auction last year?”

I think the two of them were involved in the previous year’s fundraiser. Luckily, I managed to escape that assignment.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, his French-Canadian accent so subtle you can barely hear it sometimes. “I think there was, like, a skydiving package? A B&B in New Hampshire donated a weekend getaway. There was an all-inclusive vacation too.”

“Oh, right. And we had that sick Bruins prize—the winner got to watch their morning skate,” Whitney recalls, lighting up.

“Yeah, but that was because of G’s dad,” Demaine points out. “He arranged for it. I doubt we’ll be able to get something like that on our own.”

As expected, Whitney’s shrewd gaze lands on me. “Can you work your magic and see if your dad or any of his famous friends will donate something cool?”

I nod. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure he can hook us up.”

“Must be nice,” Ryder drawls.

I bristle. Really? First time we’ve spoken in a week, and that’s what he comes up with?

I narrow my eyes at him. “Would you rather I didn’t use my connections for the charity auction that we’re all forced to plan?”

That shuts him up. I glimpse a hint of a smile on his lips before he ducks his head.

Camila says, “My stepfather owns a bunch of gyms in Boston. I’ll ask him if he’ll donate a gym package.”

“Excellent,” Whitney says, jotting it down.

An idea comes to me. “My cousin is launching a makeup line. Maybe I can ask her to put together, I don’t know, a gift basket of products?”

Camila gives me a knowing look. “Hey, someone ask Gigi what her cousin’s name is.”

Beckett grins. “I’ll bite. What’s her name?”

I scowl at Cami. To Beckett, I say, “Her name is Alex, and it’s really not a big deal—”

“Her name is Alexandra Tucker,” Camila corrects. “Yes, that’s right. The supermodel. So, you know, totally not a big deal.”

Shane looks impressed. “Damn, you really do have friends in high places, don’t you, Gisele?”

“She’s my cousin,” I grumble. “I can’t help that she’s famous.”

From the corner of my eye, I notice Ryder is on his phone. Texting, I think. Which activates a jolt of suspicion. It suddenly occurs to me that maybe the reason he hasn’t contacted me all week isn’t because, like me, he was overwhelmed by how mind-blowing the sex was.

Maybe he’s sleeping with other people.

The notion weakens my pulse, and not in a good way. For some reason, the thought of him in bed with another girl makes me feel—

My phone buzzes in my purse.

I wait a few seconds, trying to remain nonchalant, then fish it out of my bag. My breath promptly gets stuck in my lungs.

RYDER:

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I did not expect that.

Slowly, I lift my head to find him watching me. Completely expressionless. Then he turns his head away, but not before I spot the gleam of heat.

“Okay,” Whitney says, “everyone start googling local businesses and pick some to contact. We can’t leave here today without a solid list, so let’s nail it down because I don’t want to do this again. I have a life.”

Beckett chuckles.

“I’m going to call my dad,” I tell the group, scraping my chair back. “See what he might be able to offer. Maybe he’ll be able to do a meet-and-greet or a private skate. I’ll find out.”

I grab my phone and leave the table. I walk down the European history stacks toward the back wall, heart drumming against my ribs.

Rather than call my dad, I text Ryder.

ME:

Study Room B

Because I can see into Study Room B and it’s empty. Beyond the narrow stack, I hear my group chattering quietly amongst themselves. They can’t see me, though. I slip past two more rows and then duck into the study room.

I pull down all the blinds. And then I wait.

I don’t know if he’ll come. I don’t know if I even want him to. This is crazy. All our friends are sitting right there.

Including Will, who’s best friends with Case.

The reminder hits me, the realization of how bad an idea this is, just as the door opens and Ryder slides inside. He closes the door behind him at the same time he flicks the light switch, bathing the small space in darkness.

“This is dangerous,” he says in a soft voice, speaking my own thoughts.

I bite my lip and search his expression in the shadows. “You can’t stop thinking about me, huh?”

“Yes.” He sounds perturbed. “It’s a problem.”

“I’m not sure I even believe you. I’m on your mind, yet it’s been more than a week since I heard from you.”

“Haven’t heard from you either.”

He’s got me there.

Silence ripples between us, along with a ribbon of awareness that begins to uncurl, traveling through the room until I’m painfully aware of his proximity. The spice of his scent. His body heat.

“Why are we in here, Gisele?” His voice becomes low. Smoky.

“I don’t know. We hadn’t spoken since I came over that night, so I thought…”

“So you thought we would discuss it right now. In the library. In a dark enclosed space. With our teammates about twenty feet away.”

“I mean, I didn’t say I thought it through.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and moves closer.

I tilt my head to meet his eyes. I can’t see their vivid blueness in the darkness, but I can sure feel the heat of them on me.

“Do you regret what happened?” I ask him.

His hand finds my waist, lightly curling around it. My heart beats faster when his thumb dips beneath the hem of my loose long-sleeve shirt in search of bare skin. He finds it and I shiver at the rough pad of his thumb scraping over my hip.

“I don’t,” he answers. “Do you?”

There’s something about the lazy way he’s touching me. Almost indifferent, but I know every caress is deliberate.

“Should we do it again?” I find myself whispering.

That gets me a slight smile. “Yes, but not now. I can’t fuck you here.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no way you’ll be able to stay quiet. They’ll hear every sound you make when I’m moving inside you.”

The dirty visual summons an involuntary moan, and Ryder’s mouth crashes down on mine to swallow the throaty sound.

I melt into him and welcome his kiss, gasping when he suddenly lifts me off the ground. I wrap my legs around him to stop from tumbling over. We stumble backward toward the wall. There’s a slight crashing sound when the blinds hit my knee.

We both freeze.

The voices beyond the door carry on normally. Nobody comes barreling through the stacks of books to barge into the study room and demand answers.

With a rough groan, Ryder starts kissing me again. I love the taste of him. It’s addictive. And every time I inhale, I experience a dizzying rush, as if some airborne drug is being injected into my system. I’ve heard about pheromones, but never quite believed in their power before now. Whenever I breathe Ryder in, it destroys me.

My legs slide down his muscular body, finding solid footing again. My back remains pressed to the door, while Ryder’s hand seeks out the waistband of my jeans. He deftly undoes the button.

“I thought you said not here, not now,” I say breathlessly.

“No, I said I wasn’t going to fuck you. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything else.”

He eases my jeans down, along with my panties, which are soaking wet. On a smile, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness, he slides to his knees.

The second his lips brush over my clit, I moan again.

Ryder’s mouth promptly disappears. He looks up at me, his handsome features creased in the shadows.

“You have to be quiet. Otherwise I’ll stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No,” I manage to shudder out. My eyelids flutter shut when his mouth finds me again.

I’m shameless as I grind against his face. His hiss of appreciation is barely audible. So much quieter than the noises he made last weekend. Those guttural groans when he was licking me. The rough moans when he was filling me so thoroughly.

But silence is almost an aphrodisiac in itself. I’m painfully aware of every twitch in my body. Every quivering muscle. The trembling of my thigh when one warm palm strokes over it. Just when I think I’ve gotten a handle on this silence thing, he starts licking in earnest, and I can’t help but moan again.

“Yeah, no. Definitely,” a familiar male voice says behind the door.

We instantly stop, Ryder’s hand digging into my thigh to quiet me.

“It’s great to catch up. I’m glad you called.”

I realize it’s Shane. Who for some reason has decided to take a phone call right in front of Study Room B.

Ryder looks amused. I like it when he smiles. I like it more when he’s licking my pussy until I can’t see straight. Which is exactly what he proceeds to do, completely unbothered by the presence of his best friend behind the door. I want to worry that Shane is out there, but Ryder’s tongue makes it hard to focus. He swirls it over the swollen bud between my legs, and the pleasure builds and builds. A deep ache.

The warmth of his mouth leaves me as he tilts his head back.

“I want you to come all over my face,” he whispers. “Can you do that for me?”

I nod weakly.

He pushes one finger inside me, and my inner walls close around it so tightly that he groans too.

Now I hear a soft curse on the other side of the wall. Shane knows we’re in here, I realize. Maybe he knew the entire time and the phone call was meant as a cover. Either way, I’m too turned on to care that he’s standing out there. That he can likely hear every soft whimper exiting my throat. What Ryder is doing to me feels too incredible.

I want to come so bad. My core is on fire, breasts tight and achy, as I ride Ryder’s more-than-welcoming face. He holds my hips to keep me steady. His tongue tends to my throbbing clit while his finger continues to work its magic. Then he adds a second finger and I cry out.

Shane’s voice addresses the closed door. “Better come now, Gisele. They’re starting to talk.”

Ryder chuckles against my thighs.

I should be embarrassed. Mortified that not only is Shane listening to everything, he’s invested in my impending orgasm.

But his presence has the opposite effect. I become impossibly wetter as I picture him standing out there. I wonder if he’s hard, and a bolt of desire travels directly to my core. Ryder feels my inner muscles spasm around his finger, and his answering laugh sends vibrations through my swollen clit. I’m desperate for him to finish me off. My entire body burns for release.

I don’t care that we’re in the library, that our teammates are there, that Shane can hear us. All I know is this orgasm is coming and there’s no stopping it.

I almost fall over, but Ryder holds me upright. I’m gasping by the time the waves of bliss subside. He releases me, looking mighty pleased with himself as he slowly pulls my panties up my legs. Secures them around my waist. He does the same with my jeans. Zips them up for me. I try to button them, but my fingers are shaking too hard. He takes pity on me and does that too.

There’s a soft knock on the door. Then I hear, “Coast is clear,” and I’m not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful that Shane was doing us a solid. To my relief, he’s not out there when I slip out. I don’t think I could have looked him in the eye.

My fingers tremble as I unlock my phone. I bring up my dad’s number because I need to show something for my disappearance.

Ryder lightly smacks my ass as he passes me in the stacks. It should be sleazy, but it only makes my thighs clench again. I stare at him in wonder until he disappears around the corner. How is he this good at making me forget my name, my surroundings?

Instead of calling my dad, I shoot him a text telling him we’re doing a charity auction and could he get us any cool hockey shit? Then I wind my way back to the table where Ryder’s already seated, ostensibly googling local businesses on his phone.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get in touch with him, so I sent him a text. I was on the phone with my mom,” I lie to the group.

Cami glances up at my approach, her dark eyes taking on that familiar gossipy gleam she always sports when discussing something particularly juicy.

“Holy shit, we were totally hearing sex noises coming from the European history stacks. Did you see anybody?”

“No. Oh my God.” I pretend to twist around in search of the sex culprit. “Who do you think it was?” I force myself not to look Ryder for fear of giving us away.

“I’m guessing Shane,” Cami replies, “’cause he’s been gone quite a while.”

As if on cue, Shane returns to the table with such nonchalance that I’d be questioning his absence if I didn’t know better.

“Dude, were you banging someone down there?” Demaine asks, looking kind of impressed.

“We heard sex noises,” Cami accuses.

“Oh. No.” Shane settles into his chair, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “I was, um, watching porn.”

“In the library?” Whitney sounds horrified.

“Yeah, but, uh, I wasn’t doing anything,” Shane says. He’s a terrible liar. And I feel guilty now because they have no idea what he’s really lying about. “Someone sent me a clip and I just… I was stupid. I opened it and there was this girl moaning on it. You know,” he finishes feebly, shrugging. “Porn stuff.”

“Porn stuff,” Whitney echoes in disbelief.

The meeting wraps up not long after, and everyone goes their separate ways. I walked to the library from the dorms, so I head outside prepared to make the trek back. As I button up my jean jacket, I hear my name. It’s Ryder. He appears on the path, hands in his pockets, Briar jacket unzipped.

I wait for him to reach me.

“This is unexpected. I assumed we would go back to ignoring each other for at least another week.”

Although he laughs, a flicker of guilt crosses his expression. “Yeah. About that, actually. I didn’t get a chance to give this to you before.” He reaches into his pocket. “I got distracted.”

I grin because I know exactly what the “distraction” was.

“Anyway. Here.”

An amazed laugh sputters out of my mouth when he holds out a crumpled daisy.

It must have been crammed in his jacket pocket this whole time. It’s not in great shape, this poor flower.

“Oh my God. You’re bringing me apology flowers again? Can’t you ever apologize without all the pageantry?”

He smirks at me. “It’s not an apology flower. It’s to celebrate National Dessert Day.”

“That is not a real day.”

“Yup. I looked it up.”

I think it over. “All right, I accept. I do love dessert.” I offer an overly lascivious grin. “Seems like you do too.”

“I mean, when the dessert is your pussy, I’ll eat it any day of the month.”

A hot jolt of lust tightens my core. Goddamn it. I know I started it, but he shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that. They do my head in.

His humor fades, replaced with a slight flush of sheepishness. “I shouldn’t have disappeared for a week.”

I sigh and take some responsibility. “I didn’t call either.”

“Yeah.” His lips curve mockingly. “What’s your excuse?”

“I was scared. That was really good sex. Like, scary good.”

He looks startled by my honesty.

“What about you? Why didn’t you call?”

He’s quiet for several beats. Then he bites his lip.

“Similar reasoning,” he finally says.

My pulse quickens. “So what’s next? Should we go back to being people who don’t do naked things together?”

“I just went down on you, Gisele.”

“I mean, starting now. Should we stop or keep going?”

Ryder searches my face. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I admit. “But I also don’t want to do this silent treatment thing again.”

“Neither do I.”

“And I don’t want you doing naked things with anyone else,” I find myself blurting out.

He startles again. “I’m not.”

“Oh. Okay. But let’s say you were wanting it to be an option, I don’t think I’m comfortable with it. I mean, there’s nothing wrong if you wanted that,” I add hurriedly. “Lots of people don’t want the exclusive label. They think it locks them into a relationship, which is not what I’m trying to do at all, I promise. I don’t want us to be in a relationship. But…” I realize I’m babbling and force myself to articulate. “What I’m saying is, I know some girls don’t care about not having exclusivity, and I don’t judge them. But it’s not for me.”

He looks amused. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“A lot of guys don’t want to be exclusive right away,” Ryder says roughly. “I’m not one of them.”

I blink in surprise. “Really?”

“I barely have time for one woman, let alone multiple ones.” Somewhat awkwardly, he moves closer and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “My dick belongs to you.”

There’s no way that could ever be considered a classically romantic line, but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless.

“Okay?” he prompts.

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

I’m still thinking about the exchange when I get ready later to meet Diana for dinner in Hastings. My resting heart rate is dangerously high as everything Ryder said to me this afternoon continues to run through my mind.

Eventually, I grab my phone, unable to stop my own feelings from spilling out.

ME:

I can’t stop thinking about you too.

ME:

And my pussy is yours.