Sage nods her head. “Colby will be coming up for reassignment soon, and we want to make sure we’re married before that happens, because his next station will be overseas.”
“What?” I whip my head toward Colby. “You’re moving overseas?”
“It’s not definite yet, but it’s a great possibility since my last two stations were here in the States.”
Married and moving across the world? What is happening to my life right now? Moving overseas . . . I’ll never see him. I’ll probably barely hear from him with his already crazy schedule and the time difference. What would that mean for our friendship?
Would we even have one?
Or would he soon forget me as he lives his dream-filled life with his beautiful and sweet bride?
She’ll be his best friend, Ryan.
There will be no place for you.
Time to accept that.
Basically it’s like the universe is sending me a signal, tearing us apart in every which way, and even though I’m not ready to accept it, I need to realize that Colby is a fictitious possibility in my head. There was never a chance where he would be mine, and this news is the nail in the coffin.
I need to move on.
“Wow, I had no clue. I guess I forget sometimes that you’re in the military and your life is unpredictable.”
“Yeah, I’m at the mercy of the Air Force.”
“But it will be okay,” Sage says, linking her fingers with Colby. “We will have each other and it will be an amazing journey.”
Someone hit me upside with a baseball bat. Please. Anybody!
I look at my phone and wince. “Uh, I should go. I have to get ready for work tonight.” I stand from my chair. “But it was great catching up with you guys. I’ve missed you.” And that’s the truth. I have. I’ve missed Sage’s friendship, even though I’m a jealous monster where she’s concerned and Colby, hell, it almost feels impossible to breathe, that’s how much I miss him.
Not wanting to linger, I give them both a quick hug and start to walk backward while saying bye.
“I’ll text you. Does that work?” Sage asks.
“Works great.” I twiddle my fingers. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”
Before I can fully turn around, Colby says, “Thank you, Ryan, for everything. And don’t fucking ignore me again.”
I chuckle. “I won’t.”
“Holding you to that.” He gives me a wink and then turns back toward Sage where he presses a quick kiss to her cheek.
I focus my attention straight ahead. It’s time to move on, move forward. I think back to Leah’s question and have my answer.
“Do you honestly, in your heart, think you can do something about this? That Colby could be yours?”
No. Colby is moving overseas with his wife.
I didn’t think there was much life still in my heart, but that has obliterated any semblance of hope. He’s happy. He’s leaving. There is absolutely nothing I can do about this.
So, it’s time to rebuild the façade of indifference and be lighthearted Ryan Collier again. I look at the tattoo on my wrist, wishing I didn’t have it as a reminder of . . . of what will never be.
I have a phone call to make.
Chapter Ninety-Two
RYAN
“Are you nervous?”
“Of course I’m nervous,” I answer, fixing my dress and running my tongue over the front of my teeth.
Leah gives me a once-over. “Well, you look hot as sin. How come you didn’t lose any weight in your boobs? That’s really annoying.”
“No idea, but I feel like they’re maybe a little too out there for tonight. It’s a first date; should I really be almost showing nipple?”
“Donovan will love it, as he’s a tits man. You’re his type.”
That’s not the first time Leah’s mentioned I’m Donovan’s type. She’s been trying to get me to go out with this guy for weeks now, and I’ve never wanted to say yes, but after my little gathering with Sage and Colby, I knew I had to do something, even if it’s getting lost in someone else until I have to make it through the wedding.
Donovan seems like the perfect escape.
“Oh, there they are.” Leah fluffs her hair and walks up to Tyler, who not-so subtly grabs her ass in one big handful and brings her close to his impeccably dressed self. I’ve met Tyler a couple times, and not only is he smart, good-looking, and can charm the pants off of anyone, but he has an incredible fashion sense. Loves to dress Leah up, reminds me of Kim and Kanye. Leah is Tyler’s own personal Barbie doll, who apparently fucks well, something Leah has also told me a few times.
If Donovan is anything like his friend, I’ll be grateful for the much-needed distraction.
Speaking of Donovan, I tear my eyes away from the very blatant public display of affection and take in the man standing near them, staring intently, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the side of his jaw as he studies me. Tan skin, dark, wavy hair, hazel eyes, and a scruff on his jaw that looks like it could do some decadent damage to my inner thighs.
His broad shoulders are draped in a very expensive-looking gray suit and crisp white button-up, the length of his pants ending at his ankles, the fabric tight and tailored, showing off what I can only imagine is a pair of very expensive loafers.
Donovan oozes sex appeal. He’s the kind of guy I’m instantly attracted to, the kind of guy who usually gets me into trouble, and more importantly, the kind of guy I need right now.
A distraction.
Without speaking, he walks up to me, swagger in every step, his eyes fixed on me, trouble lurking behind his pupils.
He holds out his hand and in a smooth voice, he says, “You must be Ryan.”
Putting on my best game face—time to get my flirt on—I nod and take his hand in mine. “And you must be the sexy friend of Tyler’s Leah keeps talking about.”
“Donovan.” He smiles and brings his mouth to my hand, placing a light kiss on the back of my knuckles before giving my entire body another appreciative once-over. I feel a tiny sting about his lack of reciprocal compliment. Although, maybe Tyler didn’t bother telling Donovan anything about me. Or, Donovan has found his type, and she doesn’t require flattery . . .
“Looks like you two have met,” Leah says, removing her lips from Tyler’s for a brief moment. “Do we want to get going?”
Keeping his attention on me, Donovan shakes his head. “Ryan and I are going on our own. You two have fun.” Donovan slips his hand into mine and intertwines our fingers, sending a small chill up my spine.
Okay, maybe this was a good idea, just what I needed.
“Oh okay,” Leah answers with a huge smile on her face. “Be good to my girl; she’s special.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Donovan asks before giving Tyler a quick bro-shake and guiding me out of the lobby of the casino toward a bank of elevators.
Ehh, okay, this guy is hot, but not that hot. I’m not ready to jump into bed with him right away. At least buy me a glass of wine first. Does he think I’m that easy?
A little apprehensive about his plans, I ask, “Where are we going?”
He jabs the up button to the elevators with his thick thumb before turning back to me. “To the top of the hotel, Bar Eleven, gorgeous view. Is that okay?”
First impression of Donovan is that he’s an extremely attractive businessman who gets what he wants with one steely look. Now I can see there is a softer side of him, a concern in his voice, an attempt to make me comfortable by holding my hand and asking my opinion on his plans.
“Sounds good to me. I’ve never been there.”
“You’ll love it, unless, do you like steak?”
“Love it.”
He winks at me as the elevator opens up. “Then this is the place for you.” He presses the top floor and turns toward me, one foot propped up on the elevator, the other steadying his large body.
“So how do you know Leah?”
“We work together, but we al
so knew each other in high school. I’m the makeup artist at the variety show.”
“Ah.” He nods. “You do a good job.”
“Thank you. It’s a passion of mine I’m trying to turn into something. We’ll see where it goes. Experience is the first thing.”
“Ever think about your own makeup line?”
I can feel myself start to light up, and I’m kind of impressed that this guy—who frankly seems full of himself by the way he styles himself and the rich air around him—is actually interested in what I do and my aspirations. Coming into this date, I expected something a little different, someone a little more like Tyler, who is more involved with himself rather than paying attention to Leah’s needs. It works for them.
I’ve been there, done that, not what I want.
But Donovan . . . he’s actually showing potential. Donovan might be a nice way to forget about my feelings for a moment.
“That would be a dream, but it’s such a shot in hell to be able to accomplish something like that.”
“Never know until you try,” he says with a wink as the elevator doors slide open, revealing an incredibly posh-looking restaurant, the entire space cased in black with sparsely placed candles providing light throughout.
“Wow,” I breathe out, amazed.
As he leans closer, I catch a whiff of his sexy-smelling cologne that makes me feel weak in the knees. He whispers, “Told you, this place is amazing. A little secret at the top floor.”
He wasn’t kidding. We make our way to the hostess station where a beautiful woman wearing a black wrap dress, guides us to a table right next to the window, offering us a beautiful view of Las Vegas’s nightlife, the lights visible for miles.
Donovan pulls out my chair and helps me take my seat as I rest a napkin on my lap.
“This is absolutely gorgeous. Wow, you can see everything from up here.”
“One of my favorite places to eat.” Donovan leans back in his chair, looking confident and full of pride. “Would you feel confident letting me order for you? Can I show you a good meal and gain your trust?”
I smile at him. “Do you think you can do a good job?”
He places his hand on the table and leans forward, a wicked smirk curling the corner of his lips. “I’m going to give you a fucking good experience tonight.”
Why do I think he’s not just talking about food?
* * *
“Open your mouth and close your eyes.”
My brow lifts as I ask, “You want to feed me?”
“Trust me.”
I place my hands in my lap, close my eyes, and open my mouth. When the first course came to our table, Donovan moved his chair next to mine rather than across, making our dinner more intimate. His intoxicating cologne is sweeping me into this opulent world he’s creating around us.
He leans in, his lips inches from my ear. “Inhale.” I do as he tells me, taking in the aromatic steak that rests on his fork. “Now take a bite.” He places the steak on my tongue, and I swear to God it melts right then and there. No chewing necessary. Keeping his mouth close to my ear, sending a wave of chills down my arm, he says, “Savor the flavor, the experience. This is the best steak you will ever eat.”
He’s not kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything so refined and beautifully cooked in my life.
When I finish chewing and swallow, my eyes flutter open, the dark room barely affecting my pupils. I take in the man next to me, the knowing glint in his eyes, the cocky grin playing at his lips. He’s got me and he knows it.
“Well?”
I lick my lips, enjoying how his eyes are trained on the movement. “The best steak I’ve ever had.”
“Just wait until dessert.”
“Why do I feel like you have other plans for dessert?”
“Maybe because you’re fucking gorgeous, Ryan, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”
A blush creeps up my cheek. “Thank you.”
The fork and knife seem so small in his large hands as he cuts up the rest of the steak, giving me bites, switching between the two of us. I fascinate about those hands, what they would feel like on my body as they spread across my hot and sweaty skin, dipping low on my abdomen to my pussy where he would expertly press my clit, rotating his thumb over the little nub until I’m screaming his name in passion. But then, Colby’s face rings through my mind—his lips, those eyes, the controlled tick in his jaw when he’s turned on. Our passionate night rolls into the fantasy of having Donovan all over me, but instead of the man who’s feeding me steak, all I can think about is the man I’m desperately in love with.
“Hey, you okay?” Donovan asks, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Oh yes, sorry. Just got lost there for a second.”
“I hope it was good lost.”
I smile, the movement not reaching its full potential. “Getting lost in dessert.”
His eyes narrow, hidden promises behind his pupils, promises I know will help me forget, if not for the night, at least for a few minutes.
And that’s all I can ask for right now. A few minutes of reprieve from the man who’s consuming every piece of me.
Because with this man, I won’t engage my heart.
* * *
“Leah didn’t tell me many details about you,” I say as I sip a glass of red wine. Donovan’s hand rests on my thigh, his thumb doing tortuous circles as he so casually sips two fingers of brandy. “All she said was you’re Tyler’s friend, and you’re extremely good-looking.”
He swirls the glass pinched between his fingers as he slowly tilts his head to the side. “And was she accurate in her description?”
“She was.” I sip my wine, licking my lips, an action I’ve noticed he really likes.
“How accurate?” he presses, looking for compliments.
With my index finger, I run it over his carved jawline to his lips where I barely pull on the bottom one before pulling away. “Extremely accurate.”
His eyes darken and his hand glides higher up my thigh, causing a dull throb to take place inside me.
Need.
Yearning.
A desire to escape.
I want it. It’s not the touch of the man I dearly want, but it makes me feel good, so I’m allowing my body to simply feel.
I want to forget.
But I need to play with him a little before I take what I want.
“So what is it that you do, Donovan?” I lean a little forward, giving him a great view down my very revealing dress, and just as I suspect, his eyes go straight to my cleavage. I watch in fascination how he adjusts in his seat, his pants tight enough I can see an outline of his bulge.
Impressive.
“For one, I own this restaurant.”
That catches me off guard, causing me to blink a few times. “You own this restaurant?”
He nods. “I own a bunch in town, the hottest places on the strip. Bar Eleven was my first, my baby, the dining experience I value the most. It’s the ambiance in here”—he glances around—“the mood lighting that creates a sinful sexy feel, and the food, everything some sort of play on sex and the experience of foreplay.”
I think back over our meal. The oysters were a given, the cool and frothy watermelon gazpacho, the steak silky and smooth, the wine making the night more relaxing—it was all a setup, a beautifully laid-out setup. He’s good at seduction.
“Do you take all of your dates here?”
Not answering right away, he sips from his tumbler then turns that electric gaze on me.
“No.”
I lean my elbow on the table, wine glass still in hand, my chest about to fall out of my dress. “Do you tell all your dates that?”
His hand runs farther up my thigh, his thumb riding dangerously close to the center, his strokes long and languid, imitating what it would feel like if his head were between my legs. “One thing you need to know about me? I don’t lie to impress. I don’t need to. My accomplishments speak for themselves.”
“So it’s the truth?” I scoot in a little closer and move my hand to his corded and strong thigh. This guy must spend hours at the gym daily to have this body.
He bites his bottom lip, and a low rumble escapes him when my hand moves in even closer. He moves the hand from my thigh to my hair where he twirls a long piece in his finger.
“It’s the fucking truth,” he grits out.
I scoot even closer; we’re practically on top of each other, the rest of the restaurant blocked out. “Can I ask you another question?”
He nods, his eyes turning heady, my palm burning a hole through his pants.
“How do you own a restaurant in a hotel you don’t own?”
Smiling sharply, he answers, “They lease the space to me. My portfolio of restaurants draws more attention to their hotel, so they have no choice but to cut a deal with me.”
“You’re that cocky about your business?”
He shakes his head. “I’m that good.”
“What else are you good at?” I move my hand closer to his bulge, my fingers lightly dancing across it.
He sucks in a sharp breath before taking another sip of his alcohol. “You’re playing with fire, Ryan. Go farther and see what happens.”
Wanting to test his will—and wanting to stop feeling so bereft—I cup him, his length thick and long against his leg. God yes, he can definitely help me avoid pain. God, he can definitely help me forget. I want nothing more than for this gorgeous man to take me to a room and fuck me until I pass out on the bed, falling asleep to the thought of absolutely nothing.
Keeping my eyes trained on him, I squeeze my hand, causing him to buck his hips and thin his lips.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, eyeing me, knowing just how naughty I’m being. He takes a deep breath and sits up, causing my hand to fall. He leans on the table as well and comes within inches of my face.
He releases the strand of hair he was twirling and very slowly grazes my skin with the pad of his finger, tracing my jawline to my collarbone, and lower to the swell of my breasts. His finger dances along the edge of my dress, so close to my nipple that my body reacts to his touch.
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