35. Ryan

Chapter 35

Ryan

Traffic is crazy busy at this time of night, and I make it to Yvet just as Cameron and Kayla are leaving the restaurant arm in arm. They’re joking and laughing like old friends, but the way her face falls when she sees me is going to haunt me for a long, long time.

“Thanks, man.”

“My pleasure,” Cameron says, eyes twinkling as he releases Kayla from his crooked elbow. “We’ve had a blast, right?”

“We have,” she says, smiling up at him.

“I am so sorry I couldn’t make it,” I tell her again, but I’m sick of hearing myself say it, and I’m sure she is too. “It’s not too late. Do you want to go for a drink somewhere?”

She rubs her belly. “I’m exhausted, and so full from dinner. Can we go back to your place?”

“Sure, of course. Anything you want.”

Beside us, Cameron pulls out his phone. “Some friends are having drinks nearby, so I’ll leave you guys to it.”

I don't know if that’s true or not, but I appreciate the gesture. Some alone time will hopefully get us back on track.

“Thank you for dinner, Cam. I had a really nice night.”

Kayla hugs him goodbye, and I shake his hand, then take hers and weave our fingers together. The tips are painted a glossy red to match her dress. She made a lot of effort for this dinner, and I fucked up big time.

Back at the apartment, she kicks off her heels the second we’re through the door, groaning in relief. I hang up my jacket and run my hands up and down the sides of her waist.

Her dress really is stunning. Long, and deep red, made of silky fabric that hugs her curves and pools at her chest. We stay like that for a while, my hands roaming, craving all of her in the darkness of my hallway.

“You wore this to dinner with my best friend?” I tease, hooking a finger underneath the delicate straps on her shoulder.

Kayla scoffs, then pokes me hard in the sternum with one finger. “I wore it to dinner with you, you asshole. It’s not my fault you didn’t show up.”

“Well, I’m here now, and so fucking lucky I’m the one who gets to help you out of it.”

I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her tight to me and walking her backwards to my bedroom.

“So beautiful,” I murmur against her neck on the way. “This beautiful back, your beautiful hips.”

She tips her head to one side, giving me space to run my lips softly along the column of her throat. I could do this for hours, explore her body, the scent of her skin, the taste of it all.

At the foot of my bed, her mouth finds mine, and she opens on a moan, letting my tongue sweep into hers. Kayla closes her eyes, her hands clutching at my sides while I take it slow, revisiting old memories, making new ones with every nip of her lips.

When she tears her mouth away, she drops to her knees in front of me, and makes light work of my belt buckle and zipper. My stomach twists uncomfortably .

“Stop,” I whisper, covering her hand with mine. “I don’t—”

She looks up at me, her head cocked to one side. “Since when don’t you want to get your dick sucked?”

“Since we’re not in a hurry,” I tell her, pulling her to her feet. “Since kissing you is my favourite thing to do.

“I don’t want to kiss,” she says, unzipping her dress and slipping it off her shoulders. It falls to the floor, and I feel robbed of the chance to undress her myself. She kicks it to one side and lays back on my bed, a vision in black lace underwear I’ve never seen before.

Reaching behind her back, she unclasps her bra and tosses it aside, then shimmies out of her panties and sends those flying too.

“Just fuck me rough, OK?”

I hear the words, but I can’t make my body react to them.

“I… I…”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” she asks, trailing her fingers down between her breasts. “I made myself all pretty for you so you can ruin my make-up.”

“I do, I just…” Oh God, I do, but not like this. “I'm not… I want to take my time with you. Enjoy every second.”

Kayla swallows hard and sits up. She lifts her knees to her chest and presses her fingertips against her eye sockets. When I reach out to stroke her hair, so long and soft with how she's straightened it, she ducks away.

“It’s been a long day,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Can you pass me a t-shirt?”

My heart is racing as I fetch one of mine from the closet. She turns away to pull it over her head and starts rummaging in her luggage.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

“My body clock is still on French time, I think. It’s so late, I think I want to take my make-up off and go to sleep.” She finds what she’s looking for, squirting some lotion onto a cotton pad and sweeping it over her eyes.

“Kayla, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Please don’t be mad.”

“I know you couldn’t,” she says brightly, but I can tell it’s forced. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just—”

“Oh fuck. Please don’t say you’re disappointed.”

“Well, I am,” she snaps, spinning to face me and throwing her hands in the air. “I knew you’d be working, I knew I’d hate being in a city, and I don’t know what I was thinking, coming out here like this.”

“I’m sorry, OK?” I slump onto the foot of my bed, my head in my hands. “I’m so fucking sorry, but I can’t just leave work. It’s not that kind of job.”

We never fight, so we switch to heavy sighs and words pulled back from the brink of being spoken aloud. When she’s done removing her make-up in silence, she stands in front of me and pulls my head to her stomach. Her fingers weave through the strands of my hair and she holds me there while we calm down.

“I’m sorry, too,” she says softly. “I knew what I was getting into, and it’s not fair of me to put that on you. I probably should have waited until the timing was better but I really wanted to see you. We’ve never had a birthday together, and I wanted to be here for that.”

My hands cup the backs of her legs, smooth and firm, grounding me to the one thing I’ve always found comfort in. Her.

“I wanted to see you, too. I’d shrink you down and take you to work in my pocket if I could.”

She giggles at the thought, letting go and crawling underneath the covers.

“We should get some sleep.”

Our bodies shift until we find a comfy position with me behind her. Kayla reaches back for my arm and pushes my hand up underneath her shirt to rest over her heart. In minutes, she’s snoring softly in my arms, the way I wish for every night.

I’m not a praying man, but I don’t know who else to ask now. I let my eyes drift close, and whisper against her hair.

“If there’s a world where this works, please God let it be this one. I can’t lose her.”