Heat pools between my legs.
God, he's sexy.
I need to focus on anything else. "You hate it?" I'm not even sure what it is. The morning. The meeting. The bakery. The too sweet cakes.
"No."
"But you hate her?"
"No."
"How can you not? She barely apologized. Oh, sorry about fucking this asshole. Have some free cake. How about a coffee? That should make up for it." I dig my cell from my purse. "Sorry. I shouldn't get pissed on your behalf—"
"It's fine."
I try to place the tone of his voice, but I can't.
"Trust me. The breakup playlist will help." I reach for the aux cable.
"I trust you, but—"
"Good."
"Is he awful or is it me?"
"Boat Shoes?"
His laugh bounces around the car. "Frank, yeah."
"I refuse to call him anything but Boat Shoes. And yes. He is. I'm sure he has some redeeming qualities. A fat bank account. Or a massive cock. Or ungodly oral sex skills—"
He stares at me like I'm crazy.
My cheeks flush. "I don't mean, uh… I'm sure you're also incredibly talented. But I… uh… I don't get it. I know that doesn't help, that it probably hurts worse—it did for me. But I don't get why she'd—"
"Leigh—"
"Sorry."
"I need to wash that taste out of my mouth."
Yes. With your lips. Or your neck. Or your cock. Right here is fine. As long as you promise to pull my hair… Ahem. "Me too."
He nods. "You want lunch?"
No. I want you to unzip those jeans and pull me into your lap. "Sure."
Chapter Twelve
Leighton
"Fuck." I let out a soft groan.
Lean back in my chair.
Savor every ounce of eggplant Parmesan. Tender, umami eggplant. Rich, tangy marinara. Fresh mozzarella. Sharp garlic.
It's not as good as Ryan in my mouth.
But it's still fucking good.
"You eating that or fucking it?" He brings a slice of his—well, our, we're sharing two dishes—white fish to his lips. Chews. Swallows.
"It is an eggplant."
"That really why you ordered it?"
I'm not sure. It's burnt into my brain, the idea of Ryan in my mouth, his hand knotting in my hair, his groans filling the room—
Uh.
"It's delicious." I take another bite. Let out another soft moan. Maybe I'm overdoing it, but I don't care. This is amazing. The perfect antidote to Penny's saccharin smile.
"Nothing is that good."
"This is." I cut a slice of eggplant. Offer it to him.
His hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans forward. Sucks the eggplant from the fork.
It falls back to his ears as he settles into his chair. Chews. Swallows. "Amazing."
"Told you—"
"But not that good."
"But being here—" I motion to the cozy dining room. This Italian restaurant is a tiny place. And it's empty. We're well before the usual lunch rush. "And not there. It's that good."
He nods it is.
And being with him, with my Ryan, the guy only I know…
It's amazing.
Even if his heart is still locked.
And I'm still desperate to unlock it.
I find my cell in my purse. Motion to the table. "Should we?"
"Are we gonna document every meal together?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I'm in charge—"
"I have veto power."
"Just get over here and pose with me."
"You get over here."
"I'm gonna sit on your lap."
He pushes his chair back. Drops his arms to his sides. Pats his thighs. Do it.
"You know better than to dare me."
He nods of course.
I wipe the tomato sauce from my lips, leave my napkin on the table, move to Ryan.
Lower myself onto his lap.
He goes commando.
There are only three layers of fabric between us.
We're so, so close to being exactly where we should be.
I fight my blush. Suck a breath through my nose. Press my knees together. "You ready?"
"Yeah." He slides his arms around my waist.
I frame the photo. Relax into his chest. Rest my head on his.
Click.
"A few more. Just in case." Every part of me goes warm. He's holding me like he'll never let go.
I need that.
I need it to be real.
I let my eyelids flutter closed. I let myself believe it. I let myself fall harder.
My eyes blink open. I stare at the camera. Smile.
Click.
Click.
There. I force myself to rise. Fight the urge to wrap my body around his forever.
"These look good." I focus all my attention on picking the perfect photo. There. The second looks the coziest. Even if it's obvious my lipstick is long gone. I show it to Ryan.
"What's the caption. Wish I could suck my boyfriend's dick. I've got to settle for a phallic vegetable instead. Nice and subtle?"
"You think I won't post that?"
"You'd make it dirtier."
I laugh. "Yeah." I take a seat. Avoid his intense stare.
He's picking me apart.
Examining all my secrets.
That's a non-starter.
I'm not telling him how I feel about him.
And the rest…
Nobody knows about the rest.
"No caption." I hit post. Pull up Instagram. Repeat the process. "How long until she likes it?"
"Don't know." He stabs a green bean, brings it to his lips, chews, swallows. "She saw us together. She gets it. We can ease up."
"No. We have to go harder. We have to make her hurt."
"Leigh—"
"Don't tell me not to hate her. I hate her."
"I know better than to talk you out of anything."
"Thank you."
"Wasn't a compliment."
"Don't care." I eat another slice of eggplant Parmesan. It's still delicious, but it doesn't thrill me the way it did a few minutes ago.
It's nothing compared to Ryan's body against mine.
Compared to all that concern in his piercing blue eyes.
"Here." Ryan pushes his plate toward me. "Take what you want."
"You aren't hungry?"
"Still feel like throwing up."
"She does that to you?"
"Worse."
"Tell me about it."
He shakes his head.
I fight a frown. I can't ask him to talk if I won't. But, God, I want him to talk so badly. "I can't eat all this."
"Take it home. Eat it for dinner."
"Maybe." The white fish flakes against my fork. Melts on my tongue. Tender. Buttery. Lemony.
It's delicious, but I'm not eating his lunch.
I push the plate back to him. "No."
"No?"
"You insist on making me eat."