And when he touched his lips to mine, I pretended—just for now—that all of this was real.
We didn’t talkabout the kiss or how it went on longer than polite for the setting. Or how we were breathless when it ended. Or how we kept swaying toward each other like our bodies knew something we didn’t.
We didn’t say anything and we didn’t share another kiss the rest of the night.
It was better that way. Nothing good would come of this growing into something more…complicated. With our history and all. And our lives were different. So totally different.
We returned to the hotel after midnight, bleary-eyed and hungry. I had Ryan’s jacket draped over my shoulders to ward off the chill in the air and his tie hung loose around his neck. He held my hand as we shuffled to the elevator and swept me close once we were inside.
“Still ordering the whole room service menu?” he mumbled into my hair.
“No,” I said, letting my head rest on his chest. “I’m not bothering with anything sensible. Just give me a bucket of fries.”
I heard him rustling in his pocket and then the snap of a camera’s shutter. Another pic for the socials. He held it up for my approval. I gave a tired nod.
“Will you share the fries?”
The elevator came to a stop. Neither of us moved. “If you give me all the burnt and ugly fries.”
“I always save those for you,” he said.
I bobbed my head. “Okay, then.”
The room had been tidied since we’d left. Lamps were lit, the bed linens turned down, and the complete explosion of my makeup on the bathroom counter now looked like something out of an organization video.
“There’s champagne,” Ryan called from the living area.
“Really don’t think I need more alcohol,” I said as I kicked off my shoes. These fucking things. Wren and I were going to have a long talk about my tolerance for shoe-induced pain the next time I saw her. “If the rest of the weekend is anything like tonight, I’m gonna be sweating mint julep until the summer solstice.”
“There’s also chocolate-covered strawberries,” he said.
“You shall bring them to me now.”
I stepped out of my dress and groaned in relief once I had the strapless bra unhooked. I wanted to fling it straight into the sun but I only had myself to blame. I’d chosen the X-strap dress knowing full well that my bust required a level of support that could only come from a perilous combination of steel and spandex. If I wanted to fight gravity, I’d have to accept some reorganization of my ribs.
I turned to get a look at my back in the bathroom mirror before pulling on a sweatshirt. Deep, red grooves in my skin glared back at me. One spot on my side looked particularly miserable. It would be gone in the morning, and if it wasn’t, I always had diaper cream on me. That stuff fixed everything.
“There’s also chocolate-dipped orange segments, which I wasn’t sure about but I tried one and I’m—oh, Jesus, fuck, Em, I’m sorry.”
I glanced away from the mirror to find Ryan in the bedroom, his back to me with a silver platter in one hand while he shoved the other through his hair. And I was wearing only undies and a hoodie clutched to my chest.
“It’s all good,” I drawled as if we walked in on each other mostly naked all the time.
He let out a tight laugh but he didn’t leave. “For fuck’s sake, Em.” He fisted his hand in his hair while I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. “What happened?” he asked. “To your back.”
“Oh,” I said, reaching for the sleep shorts I should’ve put on five minutes ago. “It’s from my bra.” I stared at the hand still tugging at his hair. His knuckles were white. “I’m dressed now. Sorry about that. I should’ve closed the doors.”
“You should’ve had your own room,” he grumbled.
“We’ll just have to blame the Derby for that.”
He hung his head and blew out a ragged breath. “I’ll take the sofa.”
“You will not,” I said. “Don’t invent bad solutions to things that aren’t problems. We’ll find something to watch, eat fries and chocolate-covered fruit, and build a great wall of pillows down the middle of the bed to protect your virtue.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder but didn’t meet my eyes.
“I don’t have any virtue so there’s nothing to protect.” I babbled when I was overtired, overstimulated, and underfed, so I went on. “I’m the opposite of virtue. Whatever virtue is these days, I’m not it. I mean, I packed two different vibrators just for this two-night stay and?—”
