19. Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Bexley
"I don't understand why negotiations need to happen outside," I grumble, following Rylan as we exit the warehouse.
After Tai and Hunter left, he took one quick glance at the broken cage before declaring we should step outside. How on earth he intends to figure out costs without properly assessing the damage, I'll never know.
"Inside is where we fight," he answers simply. "We're not going to do that—though maybe we should considering what you just said about my father in there."
I roll my eyes in a useless attempt at masking my guilt, wrapping my arms around my body as the night chill hits me. It's not a cold evening by any means, but after being in a stuffy warehouse with lots of warm bodies, it takes a moment to adjust.
I hate that I feel guilty—and I hate it more that it's only due to the fact that Rylan has managed to get under my skin recently. Despite my better instincts, I care about hurting him with my words.
"Maybe Hunter shouldn't have said what he did," I shoot back softly.
As I glance over to Rylan for his reaction, I'm surprised to see him nod in agreement.
"We should save the personal taunts for the school grounds."
And yep—there it is. For a second, I thought he might actually have a heart or conscience. That would have been a bizarre plot twist.
My eyes scan the empty parking lot, my response forgotten. "Ah, shit," I whisper to myself.
"What is it?" Rylan asks, pausing to look at me.
There's only one car left—and it's not mine. I clearly didn't think this through.
"I rode with Archie," I murmur, reaching into my pocket for my cell. "I'm just going to give him a quick call to come back for me and then we'll settle the cage issue."
"No need," Rylan says without missing a beat. "I'll give you a ride. I owe you one anyway."
Opening Archie's contact information, I shake my head with a laugh. "No, it's okay. If we get into an accident, it's better if our bodies aren't discovered together."
"Suit yourself," he shrugs, digging his hands into his pocket as he gives me a wonky grin. "But the offer is there. God—are you always this uptight when someone tries to do something nice for you? Just say thank you like the other day and accept the help."
Pausing over the dial button, I glance over at him with a witty smile. "Only when there's likely an ulterior motive. Don't pretend the offer is out of the goodness of your heart—you don't have one when it comes to negotiations."
"I keep the goodness limited to other body parts to make up for my lack of cardiovascular organs," he replies swiftly.
My cheeks heat up, mind drifting as I try not to figure out what body parts he's referring to. "I'm not budging on negotiations just because you are giving me a ride."
His eyes light up in amusement. "So, I am giving you a ride now?"
Fuck me. Remain focused, Bex. Just because this asshole insists on making sexual jokes constantly, it doesn't mean I need to fall down that rabbit hole too—I'm not Alice in Wonderland.
"Consider it your consolation prize. You lost the fights tonight, so you get my amazing company for a few minutes. How is your car even still here?" I ask, changing the subject. "Didn't you give your keys to Tai?"
"I gave Tai's keys to Tai. We came in two separate cars—the smart method for situations like this."
I lock my cell screen and slip it into my pocket. "A perk to having to share your kingdom," I snort. "Options."
"There's nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone," he says softly, surprising me. My body stills as I tilt my head up, frowning slightly.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, immediately going on the offensive. "Another daddy joke coming in the punchline?"
Rylan's face falls flat. "I just mean there's nothing wrong with sharing strength and having trust in others. You might think that we are weak for being a team, but you'd be wrong."
I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion as the long day finally starts to get to me. I stopped at the hospital after school and promised Mom I'd go back to visit her after the fights were done and I'd stopped at the beach to check on everyone. I'm wasting time and bed is calling my name. Visiting hours will be over soon and now that the electric energy from the fights has departed, I'm crashing fast.
"Let's just get this over with," I murmur, walking toward his truck.
The sound of keys jingling reaches my ears before the lights flash orange as the vehicle unlocks. Rylan walks next to me as I step up to the passenger door, and for a moment, I almost think he's going to open the door for me, but he quickly pivots and heads to the driver's side.
Slipping into the car, I silently curse him for his cab being nicer than mine. I'm thankful to even have a vehicle that gets me around but damn it—these seats are comfy as fuck after a long day.
Rylan leans back, dropping the keys onto the dash. "We doing this here or on the drive?"
"Here, I guess," I answer. It's already embarrassing that he has to give me a lift. At least if we talk now, I can jump out of the truck as soon as we arrive at the beach. If I linger to chat, everyone will ask questions. Best to save that for text messages, away from prying eyes and ears. And where I can hide behind a screen.
"Alright," he says, twisting his body more towards me. "How much damage do we think there is?"
An exhausted laugh escapes from my throat. "You didn't give me time to check. But to be fair, it depends on how we want to rebuild it. I could probably source some second-hand material."
Rylan nods, contemplating my offer. "Personally, I think it would be better if we rebuilt the entire cage with new material. Otherwise, we'll just be back here again in a month of two."
"I know," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "But it would cost a small fortune. We're not the UFC. I can ask around if anyone is willing to donate, but truthfully, we're hard pressed with our current situation. Students are already out of pocket at Willowbrook with having to buy new textbooks and supplies for stuff we didn't already have because of the fire."
"How about this?" he straightens up, like he's in a professional corporate meeting. "Willowbrook will cover the cost of a new cage, but you have to offer us something in return."
I raise an eyebrow. "And what would that be?" I ask, warily. "What could we possibly have that you want?"
"The beach," he suggests. "You let us use the beach every weekend for the next month or so until the cage is fixed. And," he pauses. "You have to tell everyone how nice I am."
Laughing at the stupid grin on his face, I shake my head. "Hard pass, Rylan. Beach I'll consider, but nice? I don't like lying."
"You wound me, Spencer."
"You'll survive," I smile. "You don't have a heart so I can only assume you're unkillable. Not that I haven't thought about it."
Rylan slaps his hand on the steering wheel with a chuckle, his silver rings reflecting the moonlight. "Fine," he concedes. "But you have to give us a proportion of your votes at the next town election."
The smile wipes off my face faster than a speeding bullet. "You're kidding."
"Just a percentage," he says. "I'll even let you pick it. If you're confident in your numbers, then it should be a sure thing."
"Zero is a percentage," I argue back.
"Has to have value otherwise the deal is worthless. Whole numbers too—don't be trying to pull a fast one on me with some bullshit decimal crap."
I run through my numbers again, like I have done a hundred times, counting all the new voters and weighing them up against the margin from last time. If I factor in a percentage of new voters for them too, I'm fairly confident we have the numbers. For some reason, we had a Cedar baby boom eighteen years ago—probably from all the giddiness of kicking Willowbrook's ass that year.
Dad used to love boasting about it, often telling me stories of his earlier days. You know, before he became a coward and took off without even saying goodbye.
"One percent of the new voters," I finally answer. "And you can't take your sweet time with the cage. It has to be done reasonably quick—we have a reputation to uphold. Plus, everyone will be antsy at having to wait to fight again."
Rylan runs his tongue over the back of his teeth, seemingly biting back a remark about his loss tonight. "Fine. No more than a month, beach is ours every Saturday until then, one percent of votes, and you don't have to tell people I'm nice. But I would appreciate it if you didn't tell them that I started at some ridiculous number like fifty percent of votes. I can't have them thinking I'm a pushover."
I laugh, holding out my hand. "Alright, deal. But you can't tell people I'm a pushover either. I might be alone, but I got here for a reason."
It's not a lie. I did get here because of a very good reason. But they can't ever know my pain, not to that level. Everyone might know I have daddy issues, but at the end of the day, I earned my place. I worked hard, fought with my life, and survived. My father doesn't get to steal that from me. He doesn't get to take my moment and diminish my credit.
"Deal," Rylan replies, shaking my hand.
Our joined palms stay connected, neither of us moving. That niggling feeling returns, the one that I've been trying to fight the past week.
I hate seeing this side of Rylan—because I can't hate it, no matter how much I try. I've spent my entire life being trained to hate them all, swearing to uphold our rivalry and believing they were nothing but assholes in flashier uniforms. We're not supposed to humanize them—not like this.
He pulls his hand back slightly but doesn't let go. My skin tingles when his finger caresses over my palm, our eyes locked. Neither of us move and before I realize I'm doing it, my palm curls inwards, our hands holding one another.
I need to let go; to remind him I've got places to be and to start the truck. But it's as if I'm having an out of body experience, frozen in place.
Rylan squeezes my hand, warmth spreading through me as he runs his thumb over the tops of my knuckles. "You know I still hate you, right?" he asks softly.
The words should jolt me back to reality, but his tone overwhelms my senses, and all I can do is nod once in response.
"I hate you too," I murmur, matching his timbre.
"Good," he breathes out in relief.
Before I can question the sudden change of topic, he slides forward across the seats, cupping the back of my neck and yanking me forward. I barely have time to register the movement before he presses his lips to mine. And instantly, my mind shatters into a thousand tiny pieces.
Sparks fly through my body as our lips touch, and I can no longer find a sensible reason to run. I'm sure it's there, lurking with my rationality and sanity, but the way our lips feel together, it's indescribable. I've kissed my fair share of men, but it's never felt like this .
It's saccharine and deadly. I can taste a hint of beer on his tongue while traces of wood and citrus linger around, overpowering me. And worst of all, probably the most dangerous part, is I feel wanted .
There's something about your enemy crumbling, abandoning his feelings and beliefs, that shatters my world and everything I know.
Rylan's tongue moves against mine, my body pressing snugly against his. His arm snakes around my body and he pulls me off the seat, hoisting me into his lap. My knees crush the soft seat underneath us as I straddle him. A moan frees itself from my body when his lips move to my jawline, finding a new home on my neck. He sucks and kisses my skin as his hand disappears under my shirt, stroking the small of my back.
I cup his head, holding it firmly enough in my grasp but not enough that he can't change direction. And he does just that, hot kisses moving to my clavicle as he pulls my jersey to the side to expose my skin.
"Rylan," I moan his name, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue traces my collarbone.
"Fuck," he whispers against my shoulder. "Say it again. Say my fucking name ."
My pussy clenches at his demand, his name slipping from my lips again without protest. He growls under his breath, hastily removing his hand from my back to slide it over our thighs.
Pushing his fingers against the front of my ruffled beach shorts, I gasp as an electric charge shoots up my body. Rylan massages my clit through the black flowy material while my head falls back.
Purple locks of hair cascade down my back and he scrunches them in his fist, yanking my head back once in warning before jerking me back upright. "Look at me, Bex. I need to see your eyes."
As soon as our gazes meet, he slips his hand under and up the loose leg of the shorts and shoves my hipsters to the side. I get all of a second to prepare before his thumb directly connects with my clit. His eyes flare at the same time as I let out a soft moan.
"Don't you dare look away from me," he breathes, sliding his fingers lower until they are pressing against my entrance. "I want to remember the expression on your face when I feel you for the first time."
First time…
The way it sounds, it's as if he intends to do this again. He could have just left it at feel you , but he didn't.
The thoughts are cut short when he slips his finger into my warmth. There's barely any light in the parking lot, but I swear his baby blue eyes suddenly look darker again. The cool metal of his rings do nothing to alleviate the hypersensitivity I'm feeling as he pumps his finger in and out slowly.
"Was it exactly as you had hoped?" I ask breathlessly, keeping my eyes on him.
Rylan smiles coquettishly. "Everything and more. But there's still a few more I need to see before I'll be satisfied."
"Oh, yeah?"
"I need to eternally memorize your face when I'm inside you and when you clench my cock as you come."
He lets out a groan when I give him a part-preview, my body tensing around his finger at his words.
"If we're doing it in that order," I murmur, sliding my hand next to his as I firmly massage his erection through his shorts. "Then you better hurry up and fuck me."
Rylan rips his finger out of me as his other hand moves up my pantleg to grasp the material between my thighs. The sound of fabric tearing renders me momentarily speechless as he turns my shorts into a skirt. The two of us suddenly turn simultaneously feral, a flurry of hands between our bodies working together to free the other from the confines of fabric prison. In the back of my mind, I vaguely recognize the sound of my cell slipping out of my pocket and onto the floor, but I don't care.
I tug down his zipper and pull his cock out of his shorts, only briefly acknowledging that he's bare under his shorts—just like him . I run my fingers over the smooth skin at the base before gripping his length firmly in my hand.
Rylan lets out a groan and when his head falls back, I grab his jaw, angling his face toward me. "Look at me, Rylan," I command, repeating his words. Blue eyes sizzle back at me with astonishment, and he crashes his lips into mine, blatantly ignoring my request. But I let it slide because his hand perches itself on the small of my back again, holding me upright as his other palm covers mine. He guides my hand up his length twice before positioning himself against my wet core as he pushes my hipsters aside.
"We can go back to hating each other tomorrow," he says with a gravelly voice, pressing the tip inside and making me bite back a moan. "But for right now, you're mine, Bex."
"You wish, Astor," I manage to mumble, tongue-in-cheek as I roll my hips.
He gives me an impish grin, and I start to slide down his length slowly with the mission to torture him. But Rylan has other ideas, thrusting up into me and burying himself until I'm sat back in his lap.
"Fuck," he drawls out, hands digging into my waist.
It's an instant wave of euphoric pressure as my body quickly adjusts to accommodate him. He's thick—like his ego—and just as generous in length. But he feels perfect, even if I need a moment to breathe through the way he stretches me.
I grab his face, bringing his soft, pink lips to mine as I start to lift myself up. His hands stay put on my waist, but he lets me have this moment of control as I set the tempo.
I'm falling apart inch by inch and when his fingers press harder into my skin, strong enough to leave bruises, I know he's fighting the same losing battle too.
"Fuck me, Rylan," I breathe into his mouth. "I'm yours."
I've never said anything like that before to anyone, my sense of self control vanishing in the cab. But he doesn't allow time for regret to sink in, his resolve snapping at my words. His hips spear up hard with precision.
I cry out against him, his tongue pushing into my mouth and silencing me. It takes all my strength to battle his tongue with my own as his cock plunges into me, over and over.
We're in a fog—in every sense—as my mind becomes a daze and the windows and windshield mist over.
My body starts to pulse around him and suddenly, he pulls back from the kiss, grabbing my face with his hands.
"Come for me, Bex," he demands. "Keep those pretty green eyes on me."
Our hips are molded together, his smooth skin rubbing mercilessly against my clit. I fall over the edge a few seconds later, screaming his name as my eyes roll into the back of my head, cunt clenching him so tight we might be stuck as one from this moment on.
"Fuck," he breathes out quietly before his tone does a sudden one-eighty. "FUCK!"
His hips slap against mine violently, jolting my body off his by a good few inches as he lets out a loud, guttural groan as he finds his release. I fall against his chest as his body shudders.
Exhaling unsteadily, Rylan runs his hand through his hair, trying to catch his breath. I'm entranced by the look of contentment on his face. His eyes are closed as he takes a moment to recover, before finally, I'm staring back into clear blue eyes.
Rylan scans my face for a few seconds, searching for something before he cracks a small smile. "Dammit," he says under his breath, leaning forward to kiss me again.
I kiss him back, mumbling against his lips. "I really hate to be this girl…" I trail off.
"Yeah, I know," he responds defeatedly, pulling back. "I better get you to the beach before Cedar sends out a search party."
"Actually," I say hesitantly, hoping I don't regret my words. "Think you can give me a lift to the hospital?"