The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

I’m not sure I care. I’m more interested in the fact that we’re here in the first place.

Ryder pulls up the tickets he purchased and passes his phone to the ticket taker at the door. The suit-clad man scans the barcodes and lets us into the theater. We walk down the empty red-carpeted lobby, following the signs to our seats. I’m startled to realize we’re not sitting in the mezzanine, but on the second level in one of the opera boxes.

“How the hell did you swing a box?” I whisper.

“Baby. We’re in a tiny theater in Maine. These seats cost like fifty bucks and almost every box was available.”

He called me baby.

It happens very rarely, but when it does, my heart turns into a pile of goo in my chest. I think it might be time to start examining what this means. But not tonight. Right now, I’m too focused on this completely unexpected outing.

We have the box all to ourselves and are provided with a perfect unobstructed view of the stage. As we settle in the plush seats, I lean closer to Ryder and whisper, “I’ve never actually been to the opera.”

“Me neither.”

Since we’re so late, I have no context for what’s happening on the stage. A woman in a beautiful gown and a man dressed as a priest sing a duet, her high voice blending perfectly with his rich tenor. There’s a frenetic feel to it, as if they’re outraged about something.

“I wish we had a program,” I murmur. I would search the details on my phone, but despite Ryder mocking it, the theater is at least at eighty percent capacity, and I don’t want to disturb any of the other operagoers. “Do you know the story of Samson and Delilah well?”

“Sort of? If memory serves, Delilah is a total cocktease and spends all her time trying to figure out the source of Samson’s power.” Ryder speaks in a low voice, his gaze fixed on the action below.

“This is actually kind of incredible,” I marvel, as Delilah releases a series of high, perfectly tuned lilting notes that bring actual goose pimples to my bare arms. “I regret missing the beginning.”

“Me too.” He sounds sincere.

As we watch, he reaches for my hand, interlacing our fingers.

“I think this guy is the one who bribes her to seduce Samson.” Ryder brings his mouth close to my ear so I can hear him over the woman’s haunting wails. “And then at some point, Samson falls asleep and she cuts his hair. And then he gets his eyes gouged out, which is pretty punk rock for a Bible story.”

I laugh quietly.

Down below, the tone shifts as a new set is revealed onstage. It’s a bedchamber. Delilah now wears a white nightgown that, at some angles, appears almost sheer beneath the stage lights. A new character joins her. A beautiful man who I presume is Samson because he’s sporting a long luscious wig with golden waves cascading down his back. Either that, or it’s his real hair and I’m jealous.

Delilah starts singing to Samson in a sweet soprano that is belied by the sensual movements of her body. I assume this is the seduction. Something about the way she’s rolling her hips and blatantly attempting to bang the beautiful man elicits an odd tug between my legs. Never thought I’d be turned on by an opera, but here we are.

“What kind of pornography have you lured me into?” I whisper to Ryder.

“Like you’re not into it.” His voice is a soft, teasing whisper.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

Before I have a chance to react, he slips his hand beneath the hem of my dress.

My heart stops.

“Not into it, huh?”

“Nope.”

His fingers dance along my thigh before he curls them to rub the knuckles over my suddenly damp core.

“Really?” One teasing finger skims under the crotch of my thin panties. I gasp when the tip pushes inside me. “Then why are you so wet?”

All the oxygen has left my body. And all the blood has pooled between my legs, throbbing in my clit.

“I’m not,” I croak out the lie.

“My finger disagrees.”

He eases it out, and I squawk when he lifts it to his lips and sucks.

“Manners!” I hiss.

“What? I’m not the one who’s dripping all over the seat.”

“I am not,” I say weakly. “I’m wearing underwear.”

“Yeah, speaking of those. They’re a problem. Take them off.”

I can’t stop the thrill that shoots through me. “People will see.”

“It’s too dark and their eyes are on the stage, anyway. Take them off.”

Something has possessed me. Maybe it’s the unfiltered lust burning in his eyes. Maybe it’s his deep, commanding voice. Maybe it’s the excitement surging in my veins.

Drawing a deep breath, I discreetly slide my hand under my dress. I hesitate when I reach the waistband of my skimpy underwear.

Ryder watches my every move. Waiting.

I grip the material with trembling fingers, lift my ass off the seat, and then slide the panties down my thighs. The entire time, I keep my gaze straight ahead in case anyone in the opposite boxes is paying attention to us. But the other patrons’ gazes are rapturously focused on the sensual spectacle below and not the one above.

I drag the panties down my legs, then step out of them, one high heel at a time.

Ryder holds out his hand.

Without a word, I place the scrap of lace in his palm. His lips curve as he tucks it in his pocket.

“So obedient,” he murmurs. “I like this new Gigi.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Nah.” He shifts closer. “Luck has nothing to do with this.”

Then his hand is under my dress again, seeking out the warm, aching spot between my thighs. He rubs me with the pads of his index and middle finger. The first contact makes me gasp.

“Quiet,” he warns. “Or I’ll stop.”

“Stop now, and I’ll rip your head off.”

“You’re so violent. I love it. Spread your legs a little.”

I can hardly hear the command over the sudden wailing below. Delilah’s voice rises in pitch, the music gathering, building to a crescendo. Meanwhile, Ryder strokes my pussy until I’m quivering in my chair, a live wire about to explode. He pushes his fingers inside me, hitting spots that make me impossibly wetter. Bringing me closer and closer toward orgasm.

His lips are at my ear again. “Say my name when you come.”

“What—”

Then the heel of his palm applies pressure on my clit, and I shatter, reflexively giving him what he ordered.

“Ryder.”

The sound of his name is drowned out by the aria below and the thunder of my pulse in my ears. I come hard enough my vision wavers.

When I crash back to earth, I find him grinning at me. Satisfied with himself.

“Should we bail on this and go back to the hotel?”

I finally manage to find my voice. “Yes.”



Later, we lie tangled together in his sheets, sated and sleepy after the best sex of my life. Because every time with Ryder is the best sex of my life. I’ve stopped trying to figure that out. I just know I’m addicted to it.

I tell him about running into Al Dustin, trying to not be too hopeful, to curb my excitement. Though I can’t fight my happy grin as I say, “It’s not a done deal yet, but he sounded pretty confident Fairlee was going to pick me.”

“Told you he would.” He strokes my lower back, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Olympic gold, here we come.”

His words remind me of something, triggering a confession that’s been nagging at me for a while now. A flash of reluctant comprehension I hadn’t wanted to put into words yet. Because it still feels like…betrayal, I guess.

“Do you remember the last time we talked about the Olympics?” I run my fingers over the defined muscles of his chest. “You asked me why I’m so desperate to make the team. Whether it’s for me or my dad.”

“I remember.”

“Well, it’s been bothering me ever since. I thought about it. A lot.” I lick my dry lips, still hesitant. But I’ve already come this far, so I force the rest out. “I want something he doesn’t have.”