“Dinner?” I squeak, trying not to think about how excited I am to see him. How these last eight weeks have been a constant state of longing.
“Yes. I’ll be happy to take you someplace, but I’d rather cook you dinner at my place, if you’ll let me.”
“You cook?” I don’t know why this astounds me. “I thought men who cooked were mythical beings. Like unicorns.”
He laughs. “I cook. My mom taught me.”
I think of my own mom, giving me lessons about a woman’s place in the home and how to take care of a husband, like it was something to be proud of. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have offered. So seven tonight?”
I want to say yes so badly. I want to see him, but I can already feel myself getting tense at the prospect that he’ll want sex. Most guys I’ve slept with had no idea I couldn’t have orgasms. I’m a very good actress. But Chad knows. None of my normal distraction tricks are possible with him because I’d stupidly confessed all this to him in a drunken state of emotional upheaval on Valentine’s Day.
I shake my head. “What about…” I trail off, unable to say the words.
“Coming?” he supplies for me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You know I can’t.”
There’s silence for several long moments, before he says, “I know this is hard for you to understand, but you don’t have to worry about that. Let me worry about that. We’re going to talk about it, but we’re a long way from orgasms even being on the table, okay?”
Something eases, but I am compelled to continue. He deserves something better. I clear my throat. “It’s just that I’ll be a disappointment that way. And I don’t want that for you.”
“It’s not your decision to make, Ruby.”
My heart gives a hard thump. “But—”
“This is a discussion best had tonight, curled up on my couch, instead of you alone on a street corner.”
“Okay.” My throat suddenly tightens. What is it about him that brings up all these hidden emotions? I hate it, but something inside me feels like it’s exactly what I need.
“Ruby?” His voice drops.
“Yes?” My tone is husky and unsure.
“Did you come for me last night?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why I don’t lie, or at least play coy.
“Good girl.”
My knees actually quiver.
“I’ll see you tonight at seven. Text me your address and I’ll send you an Uber.”
This is something the guys I date would never think of, they’d let me find my own way to their apartments. The consideration makes me…uncomfortable. “All right.”
“And one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“You and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other, so there’s no reason to keep it a secret from Layla and Jillian. The decision is up to you, but don’t hide on my account.”
In a daze I hang up. Thirty seconds goes by where I stand on the street and watch the traffic, my mind a whirl. I finally manage to blink out of my stupor, text Chad my address, and slip my phone back into my pocket.
I walk back into the restaurant and sit down as my friends stare at me in anticipation.
Finally, Jillian asks, “Who was that?”
I look at her and then at Layla. I want to talk about this, at least to get some of it out there in the open. “Chad.”
Their eyes go wide with surprise.
Layla leans forward. “Chad?”
I nod. “Last night, while Tommy was kissing Shelly, I was kissing Chad. Or rather, Chad was kissing me.”
“Oh. My. God.” Layla plants her hands on the table. “Tell us everything.”
Jillian nods. “Don’t leave anything out.”
And I don’t. Well, that’s not true. I tell them the basics, of talking on Valentine’s Day, the hallway, about dinner tonight.
But how he makes me feel, I’m not ready to even to think about that, let alone talk about it.
Layla and I are sitting on my couch that doubles as my bed, in my tiny studio apartment. I could get a bigger place if I wanted a roommate, but I like living alone, being completely independent of anyone else. If I want to leave dirty dishes in the sink I can, and don’t have to worry about inconveniencing anyone.
The place is small, the size of a large hotel room. But I have room for my desk, computer and a place to sleep. I don’t need much and I don’t like being attached to things.
Jillian left us at the restaurant to go study at the library, and Layla had come home with me to help me figure out what I wanted to wear. We’d settled on a pair of skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder Ramone’s T-shirt.
Layla looks at me, bites her lip, and looks away.
She’s got something on her mind but isn’t sure if she should say anything. She’s been giving me Layla clues all afternoon.
I raise my brow. “What is it?”
She frowns. “I’m not supposed to say anything.”
My chest squeezes. I experience a moment of dread as I contemplate what she’s hiding. “If you didn’t want to say, you wouldn’t have said anything at all, so spill.”
“Michael told me to leave it alone, but I feel duty bound as your best friend to tell you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to tell Michael on you.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” She grins, and shrugs a shoulder.
There was a time where I thought I’d never see Layla smile again, that her eyes wouldn’t be anything but flat, cold and distant. But she’s outdone herself. She’s happy. She radiates a health and vibrancy that makes her absolutely gorgeous.
I’d forgotten, in those dark times, how beautiful she was. She’s older, all traces of girlhood long gone, and she’s magnetic. The kind of woman men follow with their eyes as she crosses a room.
I’m thrilled for her—and a tiny bit jealous. Not because of her looks, but because she’s managed to fight for her happiness and win, while I’m still struggling to find my way.
“I assume this is about Chad?” Does he have a secret girlfriend? I frown, no, that can’t be it. He’s too upstanding for that.
“I don’t want to scare you.” She tucks a lock of dark chestnut hair behind her ears.
“I’m a big girl, I can take it.”
“It is about Chad.”
The tension curls tight in my sternum. “If he’s a serial killer, it might be best if you tell me now.”
She laughs. “God no, nothing like that.” She clears her throat. “You know he’s dominant, right?”
Oh, that. I blow out a deep breath and nod. “I know. He told me on Valentine’s.”
Her brow furrows. “Are you’re okay with that? You’ve told me often enough that’s not your scene.”
An image of Chad’s hands around my throat flits through my mind, the imprint of his fingers, tight around the cords a sharp memory. “It’s not, but he hasn’t been like that to me.”
Her brows draw even deeper. “He hasn’t?”
I think of him holding me against the wall. A flash of heat spikes in my blood and I shake it away. I don’t want to think about his tendencies. Besides, it’s not like he made me kneel on the floor or anything like I’ve seen Michael make Layla do. I shake my head. “No. Besides, it’s a date. One date that probably won’t go anywhere. We’re nothing alike so it’s not like we’re going to end up together.”
Layla’s expression turns speculative. She tilts her head. “So why are you going? If there’s no future?”
This is where Layla and I are different. She’s goal orientated, she likes order and plans, she likes things to have purpose.
I can’t deny her the point. The truth is, I don’t know why I’m doing this. Other than Chad seems to touch some part of me that’s remained untouched all my life, and something in me needs to know what lurks there, even though it terrifies me. I can’t deny Chad feels like the key to…something. I just don’
t know what the something is or how to define it. Those are too complicated to discuss though, to explain to her what I can’t explain to myself. I shrug. “Why does there need to be a future? Can’t we have fun without worrying about where it’s going to lead?”
I wish I believed this. It’s not just fun. I’m not sure it’s fun at all.
Layla nibbles on her bottom lip before nodding. “You’re right, but Chad’s a part of our group now, I don’t want things to be awkward if someone gets hurt.”
“It’s dinner, Laylay.” I smile as reassurance, wanting off this topic. “You went to dinner with him and now you’re friends. It’s possible.”
Right after Layla met Michael, Chad and Layla went on a blind date set up by her sister and while it didn’t lead to love, it had led to friendship.
“He didn’t kiss me.” Layla’s frown is back.
“Only because he had to compete with two men.” My counter argument. When they’d gone out, Layla had been using Chad to avoid Michael, and had been in deep mourning over the death of her fiancé, John. He didn’t stand a chance with her, and Chad is a smart, intuitive guy, he surely picked up on it.
“That’s a point.”
It is, but the idea of them back on that date long ago gives me pause. Layla is much more Chad’s type than I’d ever be. If she hadn’t met Michael first, would she be with Chad? Would they be a couple? Getting married? I can see them together, crystal clear in my mind. Or at least, I can see Chad with someone like Layla. They’d be one of those perfect couples everyone loves to hate.
It’s further confirmation we’re fundamentally incompatible.
But I’m still going to his house tonight. Because there’s something between us, and I need to find out what it is so I can exercise him from my mind.
Chad
I open the door to find Ruby standing there, a bottle of wine in her hand. She’s wearing a leather jacket, skinny jeans and is shivering.
I smile and usher her in. “It’s cold.”
She shudders. “It is.”
Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and her blue eyes are stunning, her lips red. She looks adorable, although I won’t tell her that. In my experience, telling a woman she looks cute isn’t taken as the compliment intended.
She blinks at me, and scrapes her teeth over her lower lip.
“Nervous?” I ask, even though I already know she is.
“Yes.” She hands me the wine, glancing around. “I don’t know why we’re doing this.”
I put the bottle on the table in the foyer, before walking over to her. Sometimes you have to let the anticipation build, but this isn’t one of those times. I slide my hand around her waist, tangle another in her hair, and kiss her.
Other than a gasp of surprise, she freezes, but I don’t let that stop me.
I coax her pretty mouth, that’s been driving me crazy for the last two months, into a response. I stroke my thumb over her rigid jaw, before applying pressure.
She opens to me. Her muscles uncoil, and her lips part, as her body melts into mine. Last night I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of deepening into the kiss, but I do now.
I slant my head, stroking into her mouth with my tongue. She shivers against me, but this time, it’s not from the cold. She presses into me, rising up to fit her body against mine. Her fingers crawl up my shoulders to my neck, before her grip tightens.
Everything between us turns hot. A bit desperate.
My natural instincts take over and my mouth turns harder, more aggressive, more demanding.
She moans, and plasters herself to me, like she can’t get close enough.
And as things are about to spiral completely out of control, I pull away.
She chases my mouth, but I grip her ponytail, holding her still, making it clear I’m calling the shots here.
Breath fast, she blinks up at me, her gaze glassy.
I brush lips over hers, nip at her, before licking with my tongue. “Does that answer your question?”
She nods and says in a panting voice, “It does.” Her expression clouds over. “But…I can’t…”
She’ll never relax until I make her believe I won’t push her on this. That I won’t get carried away and try for the sake of my own ego. It tells me everything I need to know about Ruby’s relationship with men. That she’s always allowed them to put their needs above her own. Until I show her, my word will have to do. I grip her jaw, give her my most serious look, and repeat a variation of what I said to her before. “This isn’t your concern, let me worry about making you come.”
“But…” she tries again, her voice shaky and unsure.
The best thing I can do for her right now is to put the worry off the table. She’s far from ready for me even to try and, and I won’t until it’s all she can think about. I tighten my hold on her jaw. “When you’re with me, it’s not your responsibility anymore. Understood?”
“No.” She laughs a little, but her anxious expression relaxes a bit, and I understand, even if she doesn’t, that my words soothe something inside her.
She’s been carrying around this deep dark secret of hers for years, faking her way through every single sexual encounter she’s had, and she’s scared because she knows that’s not possible with me.
I can only continue to reassure her. I stroke my thumb over her jaw. “Tonight all I’m going to do is kiss you, all right? Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Her brows furrow but she nods. “Okay.”
I smile down at her. “We’re going to eat, drink, talk and make out like a couple of teenagers. Do you think you can manage that?”
“That I can manage.” Her expression clears and she beams up at me.
For an instant I’m dazzled, because I think it’s the first genuine smile she’s given me, and it’s fucking breathtaking. I brush over her lower lip. “You are so gorgeous.”
The frown returns and she shakes her head. “Don’t say that.”
I lean down and kiss her again, claiming her mouth for a fraction of a second before pulling away. “You’ll learn soon enough that I always mean what I say.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Now let’s get you out of this jacket.”
Ruby
The kiss has shaken me, and I’m beyond nervous, but I shrug out of my coat. He walks over to the hook and hangs up my belongings, and I just kind of stare, stunned at the breadth of his shoulders, the taper of his waist, and lean cut of his hips. The way he fills out a pair of jeans.
He turns around, flashing me that smile, and he’s so damn good looking I barely know what to do with my attraction. How is it possible I hung out with him for all these months without thinking much about him, and now I can’t get him out of my head?
And that kiss. I can barely think.
He grabs the bottle of wine I brought before taking my hand. “Come on in.”
Chad lives in a townhouse, but I had been so anxious, so consumed by him, I hadn’t paid any attention to what I walked into. For the first time I absorb the place.
I suck in my breath. “Wow.”
It might be the coolest place I’ve seen. It’s got a loft, industrial feel to it, and the back of the house is almost floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out onto a spectacular view of the skyline. The floors are driftwood gray and wide planked. Everything is in shades of grays and white but instead of looking cold, it’s inviting. The kitchen is sleek and modern with industrial appliances.
The place also smells delicious, like Italian food, but that was the least of my awe.
I drop his hand and walk into the huge room, spinning around to take in how fantastic it all is. I look up at the ceilings that seem to go on forever. “How tall are these?”
“Twenty-five feet.” His voice is filled with pleasure. “Do you want the tour?”
“I’d love one. This place is unbelievable.” I’ve never really thought much about what an IT person made, but a townhome like this had to cost a fortune. I wanted to ask, but didn’t know him well en
ough. Software must be more lucrative than I’d imagined.
I grin at him. “I think this is the coolest place I’ve ever been in.”
He laughs. “I did everything myself, so I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
Surprised, I raise a brow. “You did it yourself?”
I find I want to know all about him. It’s so odd. So strange. There’s nothing about us that goes together, but I suddenly find him the most fascinating person.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I bought the building during the real estate crash. The neighborhood was still up and coming, and the place was in foreclosure so it ended up being a steal. Previously an abandoned factory, I had it rezoned and divided. One of my friends is a contractor so we decided to try out our hand at real estate. When we were done I kept the house I liked the best, and we sold the other ones.”
My mouth falls open and before I can censor myself I spit out, “Didn’t that cost a fortune?”
He shrugs. “We didn’t do it all at once. The building sat for a couple of years. We did lots of stuff ourselves in pieces. It was a gamble that paid off.”
I’m impressed. “I love it, it’s gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” He laughs, a little chagrin. “It’s my pride and joy. And I found I liked doing it. My friend and I have bought buildings and gutted them, and sold them off a few times now. It’s a hobby of mine.”
I know enough about Chicago real estate to know that if this place is any indication, it was a lucrative hobby. I gaze at him, my eyes narrow. “Are you saying you’re a secret real estate mogul?”
He laughs. “Hardly. It’s just something I like to do in my spare time.”
“Some hobby.” In continued awe, I walk to the back of the house where a dining room table sits and is already set for dinner. For us. The table is heavy, with thick distressed wood, stately high-backed benches on the sides, and high-backed leather chairs on either end.
It looks almost medieval. I run my hand over the wood and stare at the place settings. He used real plates. White and crisp, like out of a magazine.
It sounds silly, but it touches me, and scares me all at the same time. Nobody has ever cooked me dinner before, or gone through any sort of trouble for me. The last guy I dated for any length of time lived in a hovel with a mattress on the floor. I don’t think he even owned plates. We used to sit on the floor and eat Chinese takeout of the box with chopsticks.
Debauched (Undone Book 3) Page 4