DrinkWithMe: LOL! What? How is that friends to lovers?
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: At first, they didn’t like Alan, but after quite the adventure, they loved him. See, friends to lovers.
DrinkWithMe: You need help.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Possibly.
DrinkWithMe: Is this how you’re going to win me over? Gifts?
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: No, I’m going to win you over with my tongue, but we aren’t quite there yet. Gifts are just a way to show you I’m thinking of you while I’m lying . . . all alone . . . in my hotel room. Do you like them?
DrinkWithMe: Probably the most decadent chocolate I’ve ever had in my mouth.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Vosges Chocolate is my favorite. Wasn’t sure if you’ve had any since you’ve been in Chicago, but thought I’d give you a glimpse of what the city offers.
DrinkWithMe: The hazelnut almost made me orgasm.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Got you throbbing, did I?
DrinkWithMe: You did, which makes me realize that maybe I don’t need a man at all. Maybe I just need Vosges.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Now, now, now, that was not the intention here.
DrinkWithMe: Yup, just me and my chocolates, that’s all I need in life. Excuse me, I’m going to go climax now.
Ryot.Bisley.Balls: Well, that didn’t go as planned.
Chapter Nine
MYLA
Present day . . .
“What is that heavenly smell?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen, fresh from a dip in the pool.
Update on the living conditions, in case you were wondering: tense.
That’s the perfect word. It’s been the word of the week, actually.
Just . . . tense.
And yes, I knew that would happen when I set the ground rules, but I’m not the only one shooting off icicles in this house.
Ryot has too.
And he’s worked fast to create a better living environment for himself. A plethora of groceries were delivered this morning—I heard him talking to Banner on the phone about how to order them—he skimmed his side of the pool and put up a pool noodle barrier, and somehow, the man was able to get a TV installed in the pool area in a matter of twenty-four hours. See what money can do for you? He spent all morning watching highlight clips, but the moment I stepped out in my skimpiest bikini, he went back inside. I haven’t seen him since, but then the sweet scent of baked goods beckoned me out of the pool.
When I look up, I find Ryot in the kitchen, shirtless in an apron, and hovering over a bowl of melted chocolate and dipping éclairs.
Oh mama, yes, please!
“You made éclairs?” I ask as I reach for one. “They look amazing—”
My hand is slapped away as a menacing expression meets my shocked one. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh, grabbing an éclair.”
“I see that. Did I invite you to my éclair party?”
“Is that what this is?” I look around at an empty kitchen. “A party? Doesn’t seem like one.”
“A party of one,” he answers with a voice dipped heavy in spite. “And I don’t think I did, so keep your sticky, clammy paws away from my delicious, puffy, and creamy éclairs.”
Hand on my hip, I say, “Ah, I see what you’re doing. This is your way of getting back at me for yesterday, isn’t it?”
Seems like we’re volleying the spite back and forth now. And that, too, makes me sad. That we’ve come to this.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he says as he dips his last éclair into the melted chocolate and then rests it on a cooling rack.
“Uh-huh. Making my absolute favorite dessert the day after we had a rules talk has nothing to do with payback?”
“Let’s just say I had a hankering,” he says before taking the melted bowl of chocolate to the sink.
My eyes trail his muscular back all the way down to his . . .
“Oh my God, where are your pants?” I ask as I stare at his round, tight, sculpted ass.
Lord help me, he has the nicest backside. Even after retirement, he still stays in peak shape by running every morning and lifting weights, and man, does it show. His back has bulgy muscles everywhere, with two distinct muscles that protrude and connect with the curve of his ass and two dimples on either side. I’ve always been a fan.
“Didn’t think I needed them,” he answers while he cleans the bowl.
“What do you mean you didn’t think you needed them? Nichole could see you.” If Ryot knows anything, he knows I have a sweet spot for his backside.
“So?” he answers. “Wouldn’t be the first time she’s seen my ass. Remember, she caught me fucking you on the dining room table once?” It was a show for everyone.
“This is different.”
He places the bowl on the drying rack and then turns back around. “Not really. This is my house too. Therefore, if I want to walk around in an apron and nothing else, then I will.”
“I see, so if I want to walk around topless, that won’t be a problem?”
“Do whatever your little maniacal heart desires.”
As I said, I volley, and he volleys back.
I challenge, and he’s waiting on the sidelines with revenge in his eyes and my name written all over it.
If this is our new normal, then I might as well play his little game. I reach behind me to the strings of my bikini top and tug on them until they’re loose. With one swift pull, I’m topless. Resting the top on the counter, I say, “There, that’s better.”
He glances in my direction and then fully turns his head when he notices that my boobs are out, exposed. His tongue slides across his top teeth right before his jaw clenches, and he turns away.
“Nice day out, isn’t it?” I lean against the counter, hands behind me, and thrust my breasts toward the air.
“Yup,” he answers in a clipped tone, which makes me laugh. He moves toward the island where I’m stationed and where the éclairs are. “Is there a reason you’re still in here?” His head is tilted down, not looking in my direction.
“Thought I’d soak up the smell of the éclairs since I can’t have any. And since this is a neutral space, I’m allowed to be here. Why, do you have a problem with my naked breasts?”
He glances up, his eyes landing on my chest as he lifts an éclair to his mouth and takes a large bite. After chewing for a moment, he says, “You know I have no problem with your tits.”
“Okay, just making sure.” I turn and lean on the counter so my boobs are pressed together. “Wouldn’t be fair if your ass was out and my tits weren’t. A little tit for tootie, you know?”
He takes another bite of the éclair, but this time, he moans while chewing.
My eyes narrow.
“This fucking pudding. So creamy, fuck, I could lick at it . . . all . . . goddamn . . . day.” And then he takes his tongue and slips it inside the éclair and then back out. In . . . and out.
In.
And.
Freaking out.
The motherfucker.
My body immediately heats from the base of my spine all the way up past my neck and to my ears. There are three things about this man I don’t think I will ever get over. His ass, his tongue, and his dick.