“I’m not one of them,” I say quickly.
“How do I know that? You could seem pretty normal, but then inwardly have a real freaky side to you. Is that the case?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I don’t fantasize over feet or belly buttons, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Okay, but have you ever spanked a woman?”
“Yes,” I answer, which perks her up.
“Really?” she drawls. “Ooo, tell me more. Have you ever tied someone up?”
“Just hands,” I answer.
“Giving her free range with her legs, that’s fair.”
“No, I just wanted to control how far I spread her.”
Myla sits tall now as her mouth falls open slightly.
Ha!
Looks like I found a way to finally stun her.
Eyes on me, she reaches for her newly filled water glass. Pulling an ice cube out, she brings it to her chest, where she rubs it across her tan skin.
Well, fuck . . . me.
My eyes travel with the ice cube, watching it run over each breast, the water slipping down between the two plump mounds and into the valley I desperately want to explore. And in seconds, with my eyes watching her and her breath picking up, the tension between us grows.
“How many times in one night have you made a woman come?” She continues to move the ice cube around, and I continue to follow it.
Licking my lips, I say, “Too many to count, but my bare minimum is at least two before you leave my bed.”
“How kind of you.”
“I tend to be generous.”
“I see.” She gulps. “And, uh, would you say you’re at least nine inches?”
Smiling to myself, knowing the tables have turned, I say, “Why, you interested?”
I expect her to be flustered, to maybe lie and say no, but that’s not what happens. Nope, that confidence of hers just pours right out. “If you’re at least nine inches, then yes, I am.”
“High standards.”
“I know what feels good, so I only settle for the best.”
“I am the best,” I say, now leaning both arms on the table so I’m closer. “I know how to edge out a woman, bring her to the precipice of an orgasm, only to make her wait, and wait . . . and wait.” She sighs. “Until she can’t take the pressure, the buildup, anymore and I allow her to come. I know how to use my tongue, how to make you shiver from my touch, how to make you beg for my dick, and how to create such desperation in your mind that I’m the only man you will ever think about again.”
She wets her lips and then drags her finger along my hand. “I see. And how do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Just ask your friend,” I say as I spot Nichole heading toward our table. “It runs in the family.”
I hop off my chair, grab my wallet, and throw some cash down just as Nichole reaches the table. Her lipstick is smeared across her cheeks, her neck is reddened from beard burn, and her hair is sticking out in all different directions. But there’s a satisfied smile.
“God,” Nichole says as she rests her hand on the table. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk home.”
Myla glances back at me, and I just wiggle my brows before walking away, feeling completely and utterly justified. Now that was satisfying.
Chapter Three
MYLA
Present day . . .
“Myla, where are you?” Ryot calls out as the garage door slams behind him.
“Right here,” I say as I poke my head up from the couch.
“Oh.” His eyes scan me, and I can see him processing, trying to figure me out. It’s what he’s done from the very first day I met him. I’m a puzzle he’s constantly trying to solve. Sometimes he figures it out, and sometimes he throws in the towel and gives up. And lately? Lately, I think he’s forgotten I existed. At least in his plans for the future. I don’t think I exist in those. “I need to talk to you.”
“Ryot, I don’t want to get into this,” I say as I lie back down on the couch and clutch the throw pillow that’s propped my head up.
“Don’t worry, we won’t be getting into much,” he says, his voice distant and edgy. A voice I’ve only heard him use maybe a few times since we’ve been together.
He sits on a chair across from the couch and rests his arms on his legs. When our eyes connect, I see . . . nothing. No emotion. He’s completely expressionless. I’m not looking to hurt him or for him to be hurt. I’m not that type of person. Just because you’ve hurt me doesn’t mean that I’m going to retaliate.
“I’m not signing the papers . . .” he starts, which of course makes me sit up. Before I can say anything, he holds his hand out to stop me. “Yet,” he finishes.
“What do you mean you’re not signing them yet?”
“I have a stipulation.” He rubs his hands together, and I can see he’s thought about this. That’s Ryot, though. He always puts thought into his big decisions, even if it doesn’t include me.
I cross my arms. “Okay, what’s your stipulation?”
“JP and Kelsey are getting married in three weeks. We are obviously invited to the wedding, and I don’t want to stir any drama before or during their wedding, so I’m proposing that you go to the wedding with me, pretend everything is fucking great between us, and then after that, we go our separate ways. I’ll sign the papers, and you can do whatever the hell you want.”
“You want me to go to the wedding and act like everything is fine? How is that helpful to you?”
“It’s not for me, Myla,” he says through clenched teeth. “It’s for my friend who has done a lot for me. If you don’t show up to the wedding, they’ll wonder why. I don’t want to pull the attention away from them. So if you agree to act like everything is fine, then I’ll sign your papers, no questions asked, and give you what you want.”
“And what do we do until the wedding?”
“Whatever the hell we want,” he answers. “If you want me to sleep in the guest room, I’ll sleep in the guest room. If you want me to find my own place, I can do that too. I’ll be discreet about it, but when we’re here, at home, we don’t need to act like everything is fine. We can even lay out ground rules and become roommates who don’t talk. I don’t give a fuck. I just need you to go to the wedding with me, and then after that, you can do whatever the hell you want with your life, Myla.”
“You don’t have to sound so rude about it,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to roll out the red carpet and pamper you while I told you my plan? Should I try again?”
“Now you’re being a dick.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me if I’m handling this differently than you. Not all of us can give zero fucks about life.”
“Okay, I can see we’re not going to be civil about this.”
“Being civil would have included you talking about this with me. It would mean trying to work it out, but I can see that’s not even on the table as an option. So yeah, I’m going to be fucking bitter, I might very well be a dick, and if I’m frustrated, it’s because of you.” Venom drips from his voice, and his brows are narrowed as anger seeps from every pore on his body.