by J. Saman
But I’m not the only one staring.
And though that shouldn’t piss me off, it does.
She’s wearing the smallest white bikini that struggles to hold in her gorgeous curves. Her golden skin is toned yet soft looking.
I’m in trouble.
I know this and I’ve officially admitted it to myself.
I should have known better before this whole trip even started. Screw that, I did know better and chose to do this anyway. I tried to resist. I had been fighting it, but those two nights in Charleston changed everything, and I don’t know what to do about it.
Ignore it.
Right.
That’s the only thing I can do.
But the truth is, I have no idea how I’m going to get through the next few weeks traveling in a car and being with her constantly. Last night we stopped somewhere in northern Florida and she asked if I wanted to go out and get dinner, but I declined saying I was tired and opted for room service.
So when I woke up this morning, I resolved myself to the fact that nothing can or will ever happen. That helped until I saw her in that damn bikini.
She’s fiddling with the pendant on her neck that I assume is a mindless habit or something, because she does it all the time.
“What are you up for tonight?” I ask, forcing my eyes back to the beautiful blue water of the pool in front of me.
The same shade as her eyes. Shit.
“Well,” she rolls on her side to face me. Fuck. Not helping me with that view, Katie. “I sort of made a reservation for dinner at a steak place.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
That was so thoughtful of her. We had talked about favorite foods the other day and I mentioned steak, though I did not mention my affinity for Thai—my other favorite—for some reason. We’d talked about so many things that day, and I can’t believe she actually remembered.
“That sounds great, thanks.” I can’t help the smile I feel spreading across my face.
“Of course,” she waves me away like it’s nothing. “I heard there is a really hot club in our hotel, so I thought, if you’re into that sort of thing, we could check it out. If not, I’m open to whatever.”
“A club?” I would not have pegged her as the clubbing type.
“Sure,” she rolls back, propping her arm behind her head, and I’m grateful that she’s not facing me anymore. “I like dancing, but if you’d rather do something else or nothing at all…,” she trails off.
“Uh.”
I have to think on this.
Going to a club with her could be a bad idea. Dancing with her like that is very tempting in more ways than one. But it’s what she wants to do, and she has been in a really good, happy mood today, and I want to keep her that way. I can suck it up and deal. I mean, I know nothing will happen, so what does it matter if I dance with her?
“Sure. The club sounds fun.”
She smiles wide, but doesn’t say anything else.
After a few more minutes of silence, she turns her head to look at me. “Ryan?” she asks softly, almost like she’s not sure if she wants to ask me her question.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you’re over Francesca? I mean, do you think you ever get over someone you loved and lost?” She’s hesitant, and I can’t tell if she’s asking out of curiosity or for herself.
“I am over Francesca,” I tell her with assurance, turning to face her and propping my head up with my hand. “I thought I loved her, but in retrospect, I’m not sure if I actually did, or if it was the idea of her.
“What do you mean?”
“Francesca was very shallow. She enjoyed my money and the lifestyle it provided her. She was selfish. Very selfish. And the things that were important to me, that mattered to me, were not important to her. That’s not love.”
She nods like she understands this. “I know she hurt you, but if she truly is the way you describe her, then I’m happy you’re not with her anymore.”
“Me too, Katie, me too,” I smile over at her. “But in answer to your other question, I think the people we truly love are always a part of us. That said, we can move on and find someone else to love. Maybe we even love that new person as much as the one we lost, but that doesn’t mean we have to forget them. Moving on doesn’t make the love we have for the person who is gone any less real.”
She swallows hard and nods at me.
“I’m going to go back to my room to take a nap,” she puts on her best fake smile. I hope my words didn’t hurt her or make her feel bad.
“Dinner is at eight, cowboy,” she winks, getting up and leaving me here without another word.
I know she’s struggling, coming to terms with her loss, and I wish she didn’t have to go through that alone.
But she does, to a certain extent, because only she can find peace in her situation.
I’m showered, my beard is trimmed up, and I feel like I look good. I’m wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, my dark gray pants that sit a little low on my hips, and my black dress shoes. I managed to tame my hair by brushing it back, and tonight I’m rocking my contacts that I rarely wear—mostly because they bother me after extended use.
I knock on her door at seven forty-five, and when the door swings open, I gasp, making her smile and laugh a little.
“Is that a you look hot gasp or a you look terrible go change now gasp?” She cocks her head to the side, and her long blonde hair falls over her bare shoulder.
“Hot.” I look her up and down because I feel like I have permission to do so. “Definitely hot.”
She smiles, liking my answer.
“Give me a sec. I just have to grab my bag.”
She turns, and I watch her fantastic ass as she walks back into her room. She’s wearing a dark-red halter top that is very low cut, showing off her ample cleavage as well as her entire back. It stops just at the top of her tiny skirt, so when she moves, I get glimpses of her toned stomach. Her thighs are on full display, and she’s paired the whole death-of-me ensemble with sky-high red stilettos.
Oh, and did I mention the fuck-me red of her lips? Yeah, she’s got that going too. She’s a siren, and I’m screwed.
“Ready,” she announces with a proud smile.
“Can you actually walk in those shoes?” I gesture at her crazy hooker heels.
“Short women get used to wearing psychotic heels. It’s the only way we feel tall.” She looks up at me. “See, I’m almost cheek height.”
“Not exactly, but we’ll go with it for now.”
She smacks my arm, then loops hers through mine.
“Dick,” she mutters playfully. “We can’t all be blessed with good looks and height. Some of us have to work for it.”
“Uh. Other than the height, you don’t have to work for anything. You’re the most naturally beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I regret them, but she just nuzzles her head on my arm for a second instead of giving me a look that says I crossed the line.
“Thanks. That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me,” she looks up at me with her light-blue eyes that I could happily get lost in. “You look great by the way. Totally hot. I’m digging the whole dark and mysterious thing you’re rocking tonight.” Her hand waves up and down my body, and I laugh at her description. I want to scoop her up in my arms and press my lips to hers. Devour every perfect inch.
This unrequited stuff sucks.
The restaurant is big and trendy, and we both drink more than our weight in alcohol. Hers in apple martinis and mine in whiskey, so by the time we make it back to our hotel and into the line for the club, we’re drunk. We’re smiling and laughing and touching, and generally having a great fucking time.
We get in about twenty minutes later and she immediately drags me over to a dark sitting area with short white couches and purple mood lighting. Multicolored laser beams of light streak across the room to a synchronized rhythm.
The music in this section is a steady beat of heavy house bass and we have to shout at each other to hear anything. I think she gets frustrated with the whole talking thing because she eventually rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor full of gyrating bodies.
And then she begins to dance.
Rolling her hips and raising her arms above her head and closing her eyes, and I can’t stop watching her move, because it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Did I mention how drunk we are?
Because I do something I know I shouldn’t, but can’t for the life of me talk myself out of. I reach out and put my hands on her hips, pulling her into me and moving my body with hers.
Her glassy eyes open to my touch, and a big beautiful smile lights up her face.
She’s into this. Us dancing together. So that’s exactly what we do.
We dance and move and even grind a little. My hands roam all over her hips, her ribs, the skin of her stomach and back. Anywhere I feel like I can get away with touching her, I do.
And she touches me too.
My arms, my back, my chest, and when her fingers glide into my hair, I have to stifle my moan. That’s always been a weakness of mine, and it feels unbelievable.
We’re both sweaty when the song morphs into a slower more hypnotic beat. I think she’s going to ask to sit down, given the seductive nature of the music, but she shocks the shit out of me by resting her head on my chest and snaking her arms around my lower back. Her hips are moving, and my hands automatically glide down the exposed silky skin of her back until they stop just above her ass.
I’m holding her in the dark, surrounded by strangers who are practically dry fucking all around us.
My heart rate starts to climb, and I know she can feel it because her ear is pressed right above it. Katie’s hand glides up my chest, resting next to her head on my peck, and I reach up with one of my hands to hold it. She lets me. I know it’s just because she is drunk, but I can’t help the goddamn want that is swirling around inside of me.
Katie is like a drug I can’t seem to get enough of, and even though I know I need to quit, I can’t. I’m addicted to this. To her smell, her feel, the way she moves against me, all of it. I want more, and I can’t have it, and that just sucks.
The song ends all too soon, and she pulls back, her eyes sleepy, hair tussled, and crazy sexy.
“I’m tired,” she says during a brief break in the music.
I check my watch and see that it is well past two in the morning. “Let’s get you to bed then, sleepy girl.”
“I had so much fun tonight, Ryan. This has been the best,” she grins, half-asleep as we walk through the hotel over toward the elevators that lead up to our rooms. Once again our rooms are next to each other, and the thought of her sleeping on the other side of the wall isn’t doing me any favors.
“I did too, sweetheart.”
My fingers glide through her hair as she rests her heavy head against my side. Leaning down, I press my lips to the top of her head, relieved she’s so short that even with stilettos, her lips aren’t more accessible. I need a distraction, and if it wasn’t so late, I might actually consider going back into the club to pick someone up.
“If I tell you something, will you not speak of it again and pretend like it never happened?”
I smile at her cuteness and kiss the top of her head again before we step off the elevator onto our floor. “Promise.”
She sighs heavily into me. “I miss sex.” My eyes widen, and I suppress a groan, because this girl is killing me. My cock hears her words, thickening against the zipper of my pants, and I nearly groan again. “Part of me thinks I should just find someone and get it over with. You know, rip the Band-Aid off, but the other part of me has been holding onto it. Afraid to experience that with someone else.” She sighs again, leaning into me a little more and our walk has all but stalled in the hallway. “What if I’m bad at it?”
I chuckle softly at the absurdity of those words.
“No, I mean it.” She stops me, pulling away and looking at me earnestly. “I’ve only ever been with Eric. What if I’m not good at sex?”
I cup her face with my hand so she’s force to look into my eyes. “You will be,” I tell her honestly, because I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt. “No one who moves their body the way I saw you move yours tonight could possibly be bad in bed.” I’m desperate to offer up my services as a test, but I keep quiet because I know she’ll say no and laugh it off and then things could get weird between us. “You’re an incredible woman, Katie. Beautiful, sexy, smart, funny, a bit of a wiseass. The whole package.” My fingers glide down her face because I can’t seem to stop them. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her. “When you do decide to have sex again, it should be with someone worthy of you, not a meaningless fuck.”
“Why does it sound so hot when you say it like that?”
Now I do groan. “You’re killing me here, Katie. I’m trying to be a good and honorable man, and you’re telling me that what I’m saying sounds hot and that you miss sex. I’m a guy sweetheart; there is only so much I can take.” And I’m about at my end.
She laughs like I knew she would, and then she leans back into me, and we start to walk again. “You are sort of a perfect guy, aren’t you, Ryan Grant? I’m jealous of the woman who gets you, and I don’t even know her.”
I want to tell her that she could have me this very second, but I don’t.
I can’t.
She doesn’t actually want me.
Katie is still very much stuck in the past and in love with her husband. She’d regret me before the condom even came off, and I know I couldn’t handle that.
“Back at you, babe. I sort of want to take down the guy who gets you.” Actually no sort of about it.
She leans her head back against the door to her room. “You’re a liar, but a sweet one. So I’ll let you get away with it just this once,” she winks at me and I’m not exactly sure what she’s talking about. “Good night, Ryan.” She leans up and kisses my cheek before pulling back and going into her room, leaving me in a world of horny frustration and emotional confusion.
In all the many ways I’ve thought of her—imagined her—over the years, I never quite did her justice. She is so much better than any fantasy I ever conjured up, and I have a fantastic imagination. Katie is my wildest dreams and greatest hope combined into one stunningly perfect package. And I want to open it up so damn badly. But there is no way that will ever happen. There is just no way.
8
Kate
* * *
I wake to a loud pounding in my head and that sick, icky feeling in my stomach, which can only be the result of too much alcohol the night before. More pounding, and then I realize it’s the door.
Crawling out of bed, I grab the robe and wrap it around myself before I open the door to a frowning Ryan. “What’s up, dude? Why the early morning wake-up call?”
“Well, dude,” he mocks, walking past me into my room. “First of all, you need to tie that damn robe because I can see you’re only wearing panties under it, and it’s more than I can deal with at the moment.”
I shrug a shoulder, not really caring that he saw my stomach and panties. It’s not like he saw my boobs. He’s grumpy today.
“Second of all,” he continues as I tie a knot and turn around to face him. “It’s not early morning. It’s after eleven and checkout is at noon.”
I yawn, rubbing my face. “I thought we said we were going to stay here another night?”
“We did, but that was until I saw on the Weather Channel this morning that we’re going to get hit with a hurricane tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“Why are you being a grumpy bear?” I flop down onto my bed, raising an eyebrow at him.
He smirks despite himself, and it’s the reaction I was hoping for. “I’m not being a…grumpy bear.” I love that he just said those words. �
��I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Too much ETOH will do that my friend.” I lean back on my hands, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed.
“ETOH?”
“It’s the acronym for ethyl alcohol, also referred to as ethanol or drinking alcohol.”
His lips quirk. “You’re a nerd.”
“So said the computer geek. Anyway, I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well last night.” I sit up, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my thighs. His eyes graze down my body before he shifts and looks away. “I guess this means that Key West is out now too?” He nods. “All right. So then where to, kemosabe?”
“You’re a bit of an odd duck, aren’t you?”
“So said the man who used the phrase odd duck.”
“Are you going to keep starting your sentences with, so said the?”
“Maybe.” We’re both smiling now and I think feeling a little better for it. “Give me twenty to shower and pack up. I need some greasy food, and then I’ll drive wherever you direct me. You can nap in the car.”
“Let’s head toward New Orleans. We’ll stop somewhere along the way when you don’t want to drive anymore.”
“That’s a plan, Stan,” I wink, standing up and grabbing a pair of shorts and a vintage Beastie Boys tee out of my bag along with clean panties and a bra. “Are we checked out?” I ask as I move to the bathroom.
“I’ll go take care of it while you shower.”
“Awesome. See you soon.”
I shut the door behind me, strip down and start up the shower. Other than my stomach that feels gross, I don’t feel terrible. Probably due to all the water I drank when I got back here last night. I wash quickly, dress, run a brush through my hair and teeth, and then finish packing everything up.
I’m ready in under fifteen and feeling a lot less nasty.
Ryan is hard at work on his phone, leaning against a large pillar as I approach him. “Ready, sunshine?” I ask once he tucks his phone in his pocket.