“I can, and I sort of get why you went with Seattle, but you’re awfully cryptic with what you do. Is it a secret?” My eyes widen with intrigue. “Illegal?”
He grins slyly. “No. It’s not illegal, and it’s not exactly a secret, but I don’t like to publicize parts of it either.”
“Then how do you get clients?”
“They come to me by referral and my reputation.”
“Wow,” I lean back and give him a big up and down once-over. “So you are sort of big-time then, aren’t you?”
He laughs out loud and pulls me into his side. “Adorable, Katie. Simply adorable.” Only I don’t feel adorable in his arms. I feel something else entirely.
9
Ryan
* * *
Tonight’s the night. I realize that makes me sound like Dexter or something, but since I’m not planning on murdering anyone, I think I’m good. No, I’m talking about sex. And how I need to get some. Tonight.
It’s the only way I’ll survive being around Katie and not touching her or kissing her or doing any of the millions of other things that I want to do.
It certainly doesn’t help that she looks like the goddess from my wildest fantasies tonight.
That silver dress is driving me mad, and the fact that I had to sit pressed up against her all through dinner? Jesus.
We ate all kinds of typical New Orleans fare with the exception of crawfish, since we both agreed that they creep us out. It was awesome and we talked and laughed and it felt like a fucking date. A good date. No, a great date. The kind of date that you hope turns into all night, and all night turns into many more dates.
So now we’re walking through the throngs of people down Bourbon Street hand in hand, pointing and laughing at various things—especially the oversexed and alcohol-ridden establishments and people. Finally, we set our sights on a jazz bar and enter the cave-like room. The walls are comprised of what looks like pressed dirt or clay with several bumps.
It’s dark, as you would expect a cave to be.
The only illumination is coming from several fake candles set up throughout the room and the blue glow over the bar. It’s sexy and intimate, and the jazz music is only fueling the fire.
Katie drags me up to the black shiny bar and we both order whiskeys before finding a small corner in the room where we can listen. The place is packed, so Katie is pressed up against me and my hand is on her hip—for safety purposes only, of course—because she keeps getting bumped into.
Her hips slowly sway to the beat of the drums and bass, and my chin is resting on her head. I’m enjoying the sensation of her against me.
My chin slips from her head, and I can’t stop myself before my nose runs through her hair, breathing her in. That one not-so-simple motion does me in, and my hand snakes from her hip to her stomach where it splays against the thin fabric of her dress.
I know I should stop, that what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t.
I need this too much.
I need her.
Her small body leans back into mine, and my breath catches before speeding up along with my heart rate. Maybe this is different? Maybe she’s into this too? My mind wanders in a million dirty directions. Would the whiskey taste sweet or smoky on her lips and tongue? Would her skin blush under my touch? Would she moan or whimper as I slip my fingers inside her panties and find her wet pussy?
But that other question pops in. The unsolicited one. What would this mean for the rest of the trip for us, if she wanted me the way I want her?
I know she doesn’t want a relationship. I know she’s not looking for anything, so what the hell am I doing?
And when did I turn into a woman with all of these fucking questions?
We sway like this for the rest of the song, and when it’s over, she turns around to look at me. Her blue eyes are heated and dark in the limited lighting, her skin a little dewy from the humidity. She’s gorgeous. So gorgeous she takes my breath away.
Katie continues to stare intently at me, not saying anything, just watching me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Normally Katie wears her heart and her thoughts on her sleeve, but right now, she’s holding them back, and this little stare down is getting my heart racing even faster. I don’t know whether to be turned on or apprehensive.
After what feels like the longest moment of my life, she swallows hard and blinks, and just like that, the spell is broken.
At least for her it is, because she takes a sip of her whiskey and turns back around to listen to the next set of music that has just started. In this moment, I’m sort of wishing I flew on airplanes, because I need to create some distance between us. Both physically and emotionally, because I can say with one hundred percent certainty, I’ve never been drawn to anyone the way I am to her.
Ten agonizing minutes later, and with as little physical contact as I can stand, she turns to me and tells me she’s ready for bed.
Awesome.
I walk her back to the hotel, which is really only four blocks away. When we reach her room, she stops to face me. Her hand glides up to her ever-present pendant, grasping it like it’s her lifeline.
“In case I haven’t told you, Ryan,” she says softly, her sweet smile shining up at me. “You’re really special to me. It’s only been a week, but I feel connected to you somehow. Like we were meant to meet.” She tilts her head. “Does that make sense?”
I nod once. “Yes. I agree.” And I do.
“Thank you for being such a good friend to me,” she smiles, and I’m gutted with that one stupid word. Friend.
“You’re easy to be good to, Katie, and it works both ways. You’re so special to me, too.” I wrap my arms around her, but pull back just as quickly because I just can’t. She gives me that sweet smile again and then goes into her room. The door clicks shut, and my face falls to my hands as I blow out a hot, tormented breath.
I turn slowly, not really wanting to do what I’m about to do, but knowing that I need to all the same.
Before Francesca, I slept around.
And I did so without explanation or regret. I made sure the woman knew the score beforehand, but that didn’t change my methods. They used me just as much as I used them, so it worked, and I felt zero remorse for it.
Francesca changed that. But after her, I went back to my old ways because she made me believe that love and attachment lead to hurt.
And fuck that.
But as I make my way back outside, the only place I want to be is upstairs with Katie. I don’t want any of these women, but I can’t have the one I want, and since I’m forced to be around her constantly, I need this.
I need this, I tell myself again.
I’m two steps onto the main drag when I spot my target.
Or more like she spots me. I get the fuck-me eyes, and I barely have to return them before she walks up to me.
“Hi. You want to come with us to that bar over there?” The girl points to some place behind her, but I don’t care enough to raise my eyes to see where. She’s cute. Straight brown hair that stops an inch above her shoulders, and dark eyes. She’s dressed for sex, and her friends who are standing a few paces away giggle at their brazen friend.
She doesn’t ask my name or offer hers.