“No, sweetheart, you’re so unbelievably amazing.” I wrap my arms around her, kissing her again. When we pull back, I can see the conflicted agony in her gorgeous blue eyes. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. You know how I feel and where I stand, and I know the same about you. Now we can put it aside and try to have some fun tonight.” I brush my lips against her jaw.
“I’m good with that,” she smiles brightly, turning around for her drink only to notice the two shots I ordered are waiting for us. “Shots?” she throws me a raised brow.
“Yup,” I raise a brow of my own. “You with me on this?”
“Hells to the fuck yeah,” she laughs, bumping her hip into me. The serious mood from moments ago is gone, and we’re back to being playful.
To being us. Even if being us hurts like a motherfucker.
22
Kate
* * *
I wake up the next morning sans clothing, with an alcohol-muddled brain and a mouth that feels like I swallowed sand. This is what two martinis and two shots gets me.
Ugh.
Rolling over onto my side, my hand slides to the spot next to me where Ryan usually sleeps, only to find it empty. Slowly I sit up, testing the waters to see just how roughed up I am. My head feels heavy, but not awful, and my stomach seems intact. In fact, I’m needing to get my hands on something greasy, stat.
“Ryan?” I call out, pulling the sheets up to my chest.
No answer.
Crawling out of bed, I throw on a pair of yoga pants and his t-shirt since it’s on the floor and I like wearing his clothes. I think he likes it too. Walking through the doors into the living room, I find him sitting at the dining table, typing a mile a minute on his laptop while his cell phone is wedged between his shoulder and ear.
“No, Luke. I can’t do that.” He’s listening, and I feel weird about standing here when he doesn’t know I can hear him. “Because I can’t,” his tone is firm, but not mean. “I’m not going to be in Seattle until the middle of next week, and after tomorrow I’m going to be in the middle of nowhere, so I have no idea what cell service I’ll have.” I start to walk toward him, but he is too engrossed in what he’s doing to notice. “You can handle it, Luke. I’ve known you to be very capable when it comes to wielding a computer’s wiles.” His eyes flash up to me and he smiles appreciatively, taking in what I’m wearing. “I gotta run. My distraction just got out of bed and I’d like to put her back in it.”
I blush like a bastard, because I have no idea who this Luke is.
He laughs at something the guy says and then hangs up the phone.
“Morning, gorgeous.” He places his phone down, clicks another button or two on the keyboard, and then closes his laptop. “I like you in my shirt, but those pants have to go.”
“But if they do then I’ll be naked underneath.” I hold my hand up to my open mouth, widening my eyes in mock horror.
“True,” he nods solemnly. “But I’m afraid I’m still going to need you to remove them.”
Maintaining eye contact with him, I shimmy out of the offending pants, letting them rest on the floor next to me as I step out of them. “Now what, Master?”
His eyes heat instantly.
He likes it when I call him that, which I find just the tiniest bit amusing.
“Come here and sit on my lap, straddling me.” He scoots his chair back, patting his thighs like I’m a puppy who needs to heel. I do as I’m instructed like a good little girl, and his hands slide up my naked thighs until they reach my ass where he adjusts my position to how he wants me. “Perfect,” he breathes in my ear. “Now your shirt, love. I want to look at this beautiful body before I have my way with it.”
Damn. The dirty talk gets me every time.
I remove his shirt from my body and then lean back in his arms so that my back is against the solid wood of the table. His eyes roam over me greedily, every freaking inch, and instead of feeling exposed or self-conscious, my blood heats like nothing else.
“What about you?” I ask, tilting my head. “You’re wearing all of your clothes.” He is. He’s wearing running shorts and a worn gray tee.
“We’ll get to me soon, but for now, I’m going to focus on you.”
He lifts me off his lap in an effortless motion and sets my bare bottom down on the edge of the cool table. Now I feel exposed, especially when he spreads my legs wide open before dipping his head in between them.
Holy mother of Moses.
My back arches as my hands fly down to his thick hair. His mouth devours me, eating me out like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. Like he can’t get enough. He doesn’t stop until I’ve cried out his name a full two times. After we’re both completely sated, we shower and get ready to go out.
“Can we go eat now?” I moan, running a brush through my hair. “I’m so hungry; I’m wasting away over here.”
He chuckles at me. “Yes, I can see that clearly. If we don’t feed you soon, I’m afraid your health may suffer.”
“Don’t be a dick, Mr. Grant,” I smack his arm. “You gave me lots of alcohol last night. With that comes the need for lots of greasy food.”
“All right, all right. Let’s go feed the hungry beast.” He throws his arm around me as we walk out of our suite. “Do you want to eat in the hotel or go and find a place near the park?”
“Um,” I look up at him blinking. “So I checked and Off the Grid is open on the far side of the park today.”
“And what is Off the Grid?” he asks, scrunching his eyebrows.
“Food trucks,” my eyes widen with excitement, and he laughs at me.
“You want to eat from a food tuck?”
“You bet your sweet sculpted ass I do,” I tease, pinching his butt and making him laugh.
“Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets,” he jests, kissing the top of my head.
But his words make my stomach flip, and I can’t tell if it’s in a good way or a bad way. I like his words. I like him calling me his girl. But at the same time, I can’t stand it. Eric called me that when we were in high school, and now I’m feeling the sting of guilt.
Ryan knows where I stand.
I’m not ready.
I didn’t hold back at all last night when I told him that, but still.
I choose not to say anything to him about it. I don’t want to hurt him with the reminder, and at this point, it’s like beating a dead horse—I’ve always hated that idiom. His arm is slung over my shoulder and my fingers are laced through the hand draped against my chest as we take in the beautiful city around us.
I could live here. I like San Francisco. A lot. But I’m not going to say anything about that to Ryan either.
After we scarf down some amazing Korean barbeque à la food truck, we set off into the park. I’m dying to see the waterfalls and botanical gardens. Ryan is interested in the Japanese tea gardens. I think tea is a vile substance, but what the hell? The architecture will be killer.
“So you’re really up for camping in the freaking redwood forest for the next two nights?” he asks as we get closer to Strawberry Hill. Have I mentioned that I’m in love with this park?