Unchecked (New York Unraveled #2)

Chapter Three.

RAYNE.

I was still huddled up in the same blanket that Evan had wrapped around me the night before. I didn't have any energy to get up and do anything. The little energy I had had, it had gotten used up in taking a bath and trying to stuff my mouth with the fruits Karen had left for me in a bowl.
It was eight at night and I was staring at the card Evan had given me, debating on whether I was ready to recite the horrible events or not. Ultimately, my desire to see him won out my fear of going to the past and I thought, "What the hell. Here goes," and dialled his number.
He picked up on the third ring. "Evan Saunders," came his professional voice.
"Hi, Evan. It's Rayne," I said hesitantly. Wow, Rayne, what's next? Wearing an apron and baking cookies?
"Oh, hey," his voice instantly changed to the soft one I'd heard whispered in my ear last night. "How're you doing?"
"I'm okay. Thanks," I said.
"That's great," he said, bringing a big smile on my face.
"Umm, I think I'm ready to answer whatever questions you have. You can come to my place whenever you're free," I said. Why did I say my place? Why? Oh God.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am," I said more confidently.
"Great. I'll drop by in-" A pause. -"half an hour maybe. Is that okay?"
"Yes, sure," I said, trying not to let my excitement show in my voice.
A little voice at the back of my head screamed at me, demanding why I was writing a cheque my drug-addicted ass wouldn't be able to cash. I mean, that man was possibly the hottest man in New York. He had a respectable job and, I reckoned, a shitload of money. He was, as far as I'd seen, a caring and diligent person. Why would he go for a chick that had to dress up like a pornstar to get decent tips at bars?
Then there was the hopeful voice in the forefront, telling me to go for it. If he liked me, then yay. If he didn't, well there's nothing to lose. No harm in asking him out.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Exactly thirty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I took small steps, taking deep breaths. This was only reverse savior complex. I mean, the dude practically saved me from being raped. I was bound to have knight-in-a-shining-armor kind of thoughts of him.
I took another deep breath and opened the door. "Hey," I said with a smile that hopefully didn't look like one the Joker from the Dark Knight had painted on.
"Hi," he said. His hands were in his pockets and he was casually standing at the threshold like looking that hot in a sweatshirt and blazer was legal.
"Come in," I said, stepping aside to let him in.
His broad frame made my little abode look tinier than it was. I admired his shapely ass from behind as he made his way inside and then stopped myself with a huff because admiring admittedly great tushies was not the night's agenda. Once I had him sit on the couch, I asked him, "Water or beer? That's all I have."
One corner of his lips lifted up. "None, thank you."
"Are you sure? I'm not good at the hospitality shit. I won't ask again," I warned him.
He grinned at me. "I'm sure."
I was serious but he found me so incessantly amusing that I didn't say anything more. I shrugged and sat down beside him.
"You seem much better. I was a little skeptical when you told me on call," he said.
"So sweet," I said sarcastically, "Your girlfriend must be such a lucky woman."
"Thank you," he said with the same sarcasm. "And she would be if she existed."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you ready for the cliché line?"
"What?" he chuckled.
"Either you're gay or you're lying. Why would someone like you be single?" Great move, Rayne, let's also add in some Shakespeare. How do I compare thee to some summer spring thing whilst I whack my head with a broom?
"Depends on what you mean by someone like me," he said like the smartass that he was.
I smiled mysteriously. "I thought you had some questions, detective."
Without breaking eye contact, he took out a small black device from his pocket which he kept on the coffee table. I hadn't realized how close we had shifted to each other until I lifted my hand to push my hair back and my knuckles brushed his thighs.
"I will be recording our conversation. Is that fine?" he asked.
"Sure. No problem," I said.
He pushed a button on top of the recorder and a little static sound came through. After saying a couple of introductory lines including our names, date and time, etcetera, he turned his piercing blue eyes back to me.
"Please take us through the events that took place last night in succession," he said formally.
I recited everything, proud of myself for stammering only a little this time and not breaking down again and again like last night. Somewhere along my fumbling, he had taken my hand and the way he rubbed his thumb on my knuckles had a calming effect on me.
"As far as I understand, two of your harassers got away. Do you think you would be able to recognize them if shown a picture or a sketch perhaps?" he asked.
"Yes, definitely. There's no way I'll forget any of their faces," I said darkly.
There was a question that had been swimming in my head since a long time. It just didn't fit the puzzle right. So I asked him, "You had driven away after you dropped me. How did you get to know I'm in trouble?"
He pressed his lips into a straight line. "Yes, I had driven away. But I remembered I needed to ask you something so I came back."
"Ask me what?" I cocked my head to one side.
He clucked his tongue against his teeth. "You'll laugh."
"I will if it's funny. Tell me," I insisted.
"Okay." He glanced down at our hands and then met my eyes again. "I wanted to ask if you'd go out with me."
"And you remembered that five minutes later?" I asked, ignoring the singsong voice in my head chanting, 'He wanted to ask me out, he wanted to ask me out!'
"I'm working on this new 'no regrets' theory. I kept thinking of how pretty and hilarious you were and I knew I'd regret it if I didn't ask. So I manned up and came back," he explained.
"Wow, lucky me," I mumbled. The singsong voice now continued, 'He thinks I'm pretty and hilarious, he thinks I'm pretty and hilarious!'
"So." He licked his lips nervously. "Do I get to take you out?"
I tried very hard not to blush which was increasingly difficult because of how intensely he was gazing at me. Let me tell you, black hair and blue eyes is a lethal combination. "Maybe," I said.
"Maybe this weekend?" he said softly.
"Maybe," I repeated.
"Maybe Saturday?" It had started to sound more like statements but he kept the pretense up.
"Maybe," I said again, breathlessly. We had leaned so close to each other that I could feel his hot breath on my lips.
"Maybe for a movie?" he whispered.
"Maybe," I breathed.
And then, against all reasons, his lips were on mine and my fingers were in his hair and his hands were on my waist and my eyelashes were brushing against his closed eyelids. I sighed as he nibbled on my lower lip and pressed me closer to his well-built form. I pushed my hands under his sweatshirt, feeling the washboard abs sculpted on his abdomen.
Putting one hand behind my neck to support it, he laid me down on the couch, our legs tangled messily. I pushed back the blazer off his shoulders and pulled his sweatshirt over his head.
He had a body to die for. I mean, there's fainting every time that one hot guy walks by, and then there's not able to breathe because his perfection blinds you. He was way beyond the second one. He was better than perfect. Every muscle in his body was ripped to the extent that I could see each sharp and soft edge clearly. His broad shoulders were connected to a buff pair of arms that his clothes didn't do a good job of hiding anyway. A thin trail of hair disappeared down in the waistband of his jeans.
His hands wandered under my top and I groaned when his fingertips brushed my nipples through my bra. I tugged his long hair ending at the nape of his neck as he removed my top with quick movements and resumed his sweet torture on my lips.
Suddenly, he pulled back and sat up. "Oh God, I'm sorry," he said, flustered.
"Really?" I rolled my eyes. "Shut up, you son of a bitch," I said and straddled his lap. Before he could protest or admit to some more guilt, I tilted his head back and pushed my tongue inside his mouth. He twined his arms around my neck and after an initial bout of hesitation, he fervently responded to my kisses.
His hands had moved up my back to unclasp my bra. He left a trail of kisses down my shoulders as the bra slipped away slowly. He cupped my ass and picked me up so that he was standing with my legs wrapped around his waist. Slowly, I slid down his body till I was on my feet.
In a frenzy, we took out the rest of each other's clothes which was much easier for me because I was almost a foot shorter than him. Entangled in each other, we fell down on the couch and he maneuvered us in such a way that he was lying on top of me.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his lips fluttering against my temple.
"Don't make me smack you across the face," I growled. He was probably the only man who would deny a girl lying underneath him, completely at his mercy, naked and panting.
God, he was so pretty with his big innocent eyes and his worried expression.
With a hand on my hip, he adjusted me under him so that he could enter me easily. I groaned as he pushed his body roughly against mine, his tongue exploring every corner of my mouth. I moaned into his mouth as he bucked his hips faster. The heady aroma of expensive cologne and masculine musk was making me dizzy.
He alternated between painful thrusts that drove me to the edge every time and had me whimpering in the aphrodisiac ecstasy, and then he would take his sweet time sliding inside me so that every fibre of my being felt the whole length of him. I ran my hands up and down his buff back, my fingernails brushing into every crevice of his sculpted body.
His beard was bristling against the underside of my jaw as he placed his lips on my throat, holding my hips to maintain his balance.
We accidentally lost balance and rolled off the couch. With a thud, he landed on his back and I fell on top of him. He caught me easily. He cupped my face in his hands and the sincere predilection in his baby blue eyes made me want to cry. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I breathed. "You?"
"Perfect," he said and kissed my forehead so tenderly, it made me wonder how this chocolate-filled pastry could ever punch with the same hands that were caressing me.
He kissed me like I was vodka and he was an addict. His touch purified the parts where the five bastards had touched me. I didn't feel pain anymore. Even the throb in my knees seemed like a past memory. The reverent attention he paid to every inch of my skin made me feel like a person who could deserve it, who could deserve to be fallen for.
My lips moved frantically against his, matching his pace inside me. I started to giggle against his lips at the absurdity of our position; we had literally rolled onto the floor. There's the sheriff, here's the damsel in distress. All we needed was some hay and cowboy boots and we would be fit to go.
He pulled back. "What's so funny?" He was deliciously breathless.
I bit my lip and rotated my hips slowly, letting him in deeper in a tantalizing agony, and he threw his head back with a groan. "Ignore me. My mind works in bewildering ways," I said.
He clasped the back of my neck and pulled me down. My hair jerked forward and pooled over his cheeks. "Am I not distracting you enough that your mind is still wandering?" he said huskily and pushed my hair back but they fell down again.
I flipped them back like they do in one of those fancy advertisements and totally pulled it off. The glazed over look in my eyes helped. "Who'll distract me from you?" I whispered.
He smashed my lips with his again as my words sent him over the edge and we both exploded around each other with a muffled scream. I could see stars behind my eyelids that were colliding with each other and combusting like multiple big bangs at once. I could have formed a million galaxies from the explosions inside me.
I collapsed on top of him and for a whole minute, neither of us said anything. I didn't know what he was thinking but I was too exhausted to do anything except breathe.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked, breaking the silence. Out of all the things he could have said, he asked me if I was comfortable. Like hell yes, human. You could put a pacifier in my mouth and sing me to sleep and I would happily let you.
"I'm on top of you and you're comfortable as fuck. You're the one on the floor. Worry about yourself," I said.
He tightened his arms around me and pushed one hand through my hair, weaving his fingers delicately through the strands. His wrist felt hot against the back of my neck. "What were you laughing about earlier?" he asked.
"I wasn't laughing at you. Stop being a little girl," I said dryly, wondering how a person like him could be insecure.
"I didn't say you were laughing at me. I just asked you why," he said.
"That's why you asked again," I said.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, truly bewildered.
I lifted my head up to look at him. "You're easier to read than you think you are."
"Or maybe you're just smart," he said with a raised eyebrow.
I mimicked his expression. "Or maybe I was just paying attention."
"Not good at taking complements?" he asked wittily.
"You're good at changing topics though," I pointed out.
His soft laughter caressed me in its ingenuity. He thought I was hilarious, not oversmart. That was something.
After some more time passed by in silence, with me contently listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat and feeling the rise and fall of his chest when he breathed, he sighed. "I have to go home."
"Now?" I asked, hiding the pathetic whine in my tone.
"Yeah. It's pretty late." He showed me his watch and sure enough, the hour hand was pressed as close to eleven as I was to Evan.
"Damn. I didn't even realize..." I got off from my perch on top of him and crawled around to find my clothes.
He was much faster at getting dressed up which wasn't exactly reassuring because that meant I was still merely in my panties and a slip, jumping around like crazy motherfucking jack.
I huffed. "Gah, chuck it. I can go till the door like this."
He chuckled and shook his head, still amused at my state. "Till the door is fine. Don't venture out in that stuff."
"I'm stupid but I'm not that stupid, ya know?" I smiled sweetly, opening the door for him. His arm brushed my shoulder as he went past me.
"Thank you," we both said simultaneously, our words stumbling over each other's. We chuckled awkwardly, started to say something together again and then stopped.
I matched his intense gaze even though some shy part of me had suddenly taken over. "Let's just skip the formalities," I suggested which made him chuckle again and no matter how many times he chuckled at my attitude or words, I still felt the same amount of surprise every time he found me amusing.
He gave me a chaste hug and a not-so-chaste kiss, took my personal cell number and left.
My mind was still reeling from the events of the night. So like every other healthy person out there, I ignored the part of my brain that wanted to think about it and went to sleep.
It wasn't tough to drift off after I'd spent so much energy. But unlike the night before, I felt calmer, more balanced, like the disturbed equilibrium of my thoughts and emotions was finally starting to return to its original state of harmony. I wasn't on cloud nine by any means, but I did have the hope that I would recover from whatever dark hole I had hidden myself in.
With a warm laughter ringing in my ears, I fell asleep, only to wake to the sound of my landline ringing loudly from the other side of the room. Perks of having a studio apartment- you can't even put your phone in another room and ignore it. The crazy ass kept ringing, drilling holes in my skull through the sleepy haze.
"Oh my god, stop shouting!" I screamed, "I'm coming to get you." I cursed loudly at the phone like it would lower down its volume if I glared hard enough.
"Why do you never pick up your cell phone, woman?" grumbled Karen from the other end when I finally shut the damn thing off by picking up the receiver.
"Oh." I pondered over why I didn't when I realized I didn't care much about people who called me because hardly anyone called me. "It must be on silent." Sure enough, it was.
"Whatever." I could almost see her rolling her eyes. "What's up?"
"Hmm, let's see. There was this really comfy bed and I was, get this-" I raised my voice in sarcastic excitement, "-sleeping! And then you called and now my bed is missing me because we were having a really romantic cuddle time." I put the receiver a few inches away from my mouth and called out, "It's okay, baby. I'll come back to you. Don't cry."
"Now your bed is more important than me?" she gasped dramatically. "I knew it. I knew you would let it take my place."
I kept up the pretense. "Because you never value me enough! You always take me for granted. What did I not give you, Karen? Where did I fall short in my love?"
"Short? Your love is divided in all places. The bed. The detective dude. What's up with that, by the way?" she asked and I could hear her wiggling her eyebrows.
"Excuse me?" I said haughtily. "Where did you get that idea from?"
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Nathan and I both saw the dewy eyed looks you were giving each other like you couldn't decide whether to jump on each other or cuddle under the stars."
"Wait, he gave me the look too?" I sat up straight.
"Hell yes. Or are you blind? Oh wait, yes, you probably are. Love does that, right?" she teased me.
"C'mon. Black hair, blue eyes. Is it really my fault?" I thought I sounded reasonable but the sigh was apparent in my voice.
"Okay, he's cute. I'll give you that," she conceded. "But you were looking at him like, I don't know, if somebody got you candles and stuff, you would put him on an altar and worship him."
"Okay, Ms. Exaggeration. Although I did get a lot of worshipping done today," I said smugly with a silly smile on my face. I realized I was twirling a lock of hair on my index finger and smacked myself for it.
Damn it. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Ooh. What did you do, minx?" she asked. "Details."
I giggled like an excited five year old on Christmas and began telling her. Halfway through, I stopped when I realized something that I bet neither of us had.
"What happened, Rayne? You okay?" asked Karen.
"Oh fuck. We forgot about the recorder. It is still on," I said with growing dread.

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Author's note: Thanks for reading, guys! Please vote, comment and leave your feedback. It is so damn appreciated.