She’s silent for another minute as we pull up to the hotel. “I know he would, Ryan. I know that. But knowing something and being able to do it are sometimes two very different things.”
She climbs off my lap and hops out of the car, but instead of walking away like I expect her to, she waits for me, reaching out her hand for me to take. Our fingers intertwine and she grins up at me.
By the time we’re thirty seconds into our room, she’s naked and so am I. I’m devouring her, unable to get close enough. To taste enough. To kiss enough.
“More,” she whispers, and I can only oblige, because I want the same exact thing.
She’s so incredible. From her amazingly soft, yet firm, large breasts, to her slender waist and curvy hips. Don’t even get me started on her other deliciously marvelous parts, because I swear I could write a fucking sonnet about them.
Katie is my dream girl. My goddess, and I am worshipping at her altar.
Hours later—and I do mean hours—we’re both lying in bed, facing each other with only a sheet covering our bare skin. We’re smiling and talking and laughing. I’m in heaven because nothing has ever been this good. Ever.
“Tell me about the first girl you kissed,” she asks with her devilish smile.
We’ve been playing this game for a while now, and so far, I’ve told her about the time I broke my wrist skateboarding, and the time Kyle punched me in the face and broke my nose for taking his Xbox. She’s told me some stuff too, but nothing too revealing. I fully intend to change that.
“The first girl I kissed was Jessica Higgins. I was eleven and she was thirteen. It was behind the big tree in my backyard on a dare. Her dare.”
“Really?” she raises an eyebrow, like I’m a master seducer. “A player even at eleven.”
I laugh lightly, leaning forward to kiss her lips. I do that every time she says something adorable, which is often.
“Was it good?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Sure. For a first kiss that had no tongue and lasted all of three seconds.”
She laughs, biting her lip to try and hide her smile. That may, in fact, be my favorite of her smiles. “Your turn. Was Eric your first kiss?” I’ve mentioned Eric a few times, and so has she, but it has been in a happy context.
That’s what I want for her. To talk about Eric with a smile attached to her face and through happy memories.
“Yes, but he almost wasn’t. Eric and I had gone out for our first ice cream date and then on another to the movies, but all we had done was hold hands. So we went to a birthday party at my friend Sam’s house, and of course, the boys wanted to play spin the bottle.” She’s smiling big, her eyes are sparkling and a little distant, loving the hell out of this story. “So Sam spun the bottle and it landed on me. It was a half-assed attempt at a spin and everyone knew it. He had wanted it to land on me and as he got closer to me with his big, shit-eating grin, Eric blew up.”
“What do you mean?”
She laughs, resting her head on her tucked hands. “He started yelling before Sam got close enough to kiss me. Claimed that Sam cheated—which he had—and that he should have had to spin the bottle for real and see where it landed,” she laughs again. “Sam wasn’t having that at all, and the two of them got into it. My friend Chrissy—who liked Sam—was agreeing with Eric that Sam should re-spin, and so it went. Finally, Eric got really angry and decided to leave. I got up and left with him, and on our walk home he apologized. Told me that the reason he was so upset was because he wanted to be my first kiss. So I stopped him in the middle of the street and kissed him.”
“Wow. That’s a really good story.”
“Yeah. It is,” she sighs heavily. “Thank you for letting me share it with you.”
“Katie, baby, I don’t mind you telling me about him. Eric and Maggie were the biggest part of your life, though I technically did meet you first.” I raise an eyebrow, but am smiling so she knows I’m kidding.
“Is that so? Well then,” she pushes me onto my back and climbs on top, chest to chest, her face inches from mine. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m in bed with you. I’d hate to ever be with a man I haven’t known my entire life.”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.” My fingers slide up the sides of her body, across her silky skin.
“Really?” She rolls her hips against me. “It feels to me like I’m getting somewhere.” Her hand glides down my stomach to grip me.
“Fuck,” I hiss out, my head tipping back onto the pillow. “Jesus, Katie, what are you doing to me?”
“I should think that is fairly obvious, Mr. Grant.” God, I love it when she calls me that. “But since I assume you were being rhetorical; I’d like to show you just what I want to do to you.”
She kisses me chastely before lowering herself down my body and settling between my legs. She takes me in her mouth, licking and sucking me, cupping my balls, and generally giving me the best head of my life. Katie’s mouth is like fucking magic. Katie is fucking magic. She puts her whole heart and soul into everything she does, and sex is no different. I can honestly say I’ve never been with another woman like her and I hope to never be again.
She’s it for me; she just doesn’t know it yet.
20
Kate
* * *
We spend the entire next day doing the typical tourist bullshit all over LA. It’s a cool city, but the smog and the traffic and congestion make it not for me. I couldn’t see myself living here. I’m all for a city, but something smaller and more intimate is what I have in mind. Something less dirty and polluted too.
We end up at some trendy Hollywood hot spot for dinner that Ryan says his assistant Claire—who I found out made all of our reservations—says is a good place for spotting celebs.
Not my thing.
I figure they’re people who are just trying to go out and eat a meal like everyone else, but whatever.
Ryan is all over me. His distant mood forgotten once again. I swear his mood swings can be worse than a teenager’s.
The restaurant is all low lighting with elegantly appointed tables, topped with white linens and fuchsia roses. Every woman here is gorgeous, tall, very thin, and showing more skin than I think I’ve ever seen—and I’m a nurse. The men aren’t so bad either, and while my eyes haven’t stopped scanning the room of beautiful people, Ryan hasn’t taken his off of me.
Swoon.
Ryan is wearing his dark-gray pants, a black button-down, and the new gray fedora we bought today. Holy hell, can this man rock a hat. His dark hair is sticking out from the bottom, and his whole look says dark, sexy, and mysterious, especially with the beard and glasses. He’s definitely getting checked out by the local fanfare here, and I can’t say I blame them.
His hands are gliding up and down my bare legs. Apparently he’s got a thing for my legs, because he bought me yet another dress, despite my protests, and it’s very short. So short I have to cross my legs the second I sit down or everyone in this restaurant is going to get a show.
Our food comes, and tonight I ordered lamb since both Ryan and our waitress talked me out of the chicken.