She puffs a humorless laugh. “You think that makes any difference? They’ll take literally every minute they can get.”
“And I’ll take every morsel of Sosi’s cooking I can get.” Maral’s mom’s boregs are second to none, not that I’d ever tell my own mom that.
“Speaking of food, greasy spoon for breakfast?”
“You know it,” I say, my stomach rumbling in anticipation of pancakes.
“Get up, then. Our train leaves in a couple hours. Why are you still in bed, anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lie down for so long when the sun’s up.” She pokes her head out of the bathroom. “Jet lag getting to you in your old age?”
She loves to make fun of me for being three years older than her, and it’s getting less funny with time. I found a single gray hair a couple of years ago and she had afield day.“Maybe it’s because you force-fed me beer.”
She nods sagely. “Alcohol tolerance deteriorates with age too.”
“Right along with cousin tolerance.”
I’m only mildly hungover this morning, which is impressive given how little sleep I got. I couldn’t find a comfortable position, my body wound up and in desperate need of release. Even after I went a round with my little purple friend, the tension didn’t ease, my mind replaying Ryan’s kiss like the horniest GIF of all time. My skin warming at the memory of his touch. Of his lips, soft but hungry as they devoured mine. Of the determined swirl of his tongue in my mouth, promising delights my pussy was not willing to forget anytime soon.
Goddamn, when that ice cracks, he warmsup. The only rigid thing about him all the more impressive for its rigidity…
I bury my face in the pillow to muffle my groan. I’m so hard up, desperate to finish what we started last night, and absolutely beside myself that we won’t be able to.
We can’t do this.
It’s not right.
Then why did it feel so fucking right?
I know the only reason I’m this wound up is that we didn’t close the deal. If Ryan hadn’t stopped things from going any further, we would have had a good fuck—okay, anamazingfuck…likely ahall-of-famer, if that kiss was any indication—and I’d have slept like a baby last night. Right as Seattle rain this morning.
It’s not that I don’t understand why he stopped things from going any further. Yes, we were drunk—though I would have been just as eager without a drop of alcohol in me—and yes, it would be a conflict of interest. He doesn’t want to compromise his job, which I can’t fault him for.
Even though he doesn’t evenwantthis job. Not really. He said it himself, in not so many words. It pays the bills, but what he really wants to do is write. Surely he could find some other way to earn a living while pursuing the thing that makes him feel the most like himself…
Yeah, Ana. He’s going toquit his jobso he can fuck you, strings-free.
Get over yourself.
I’m normally a reasonable person when I’m not in goddamn heat.
If only he understood that sex, for me, is not some monumental act. That I don’t get attached. That we could enjoy each other’s bodies and not get weird about it afterward. No weirder than we’re liable to be today after that kiss…
A soft knock sounds from the door.
“Doesn’t housekeeping know we’re checking out this morning?” Maral says, emerging from the bathroom to answer it. “Hey.” She sounds surprised. “Aren’t we meeting at nine?”
I can’t see the doorway from the bed, but I can guess who’s there by her question. Her tone with Shanthi is much more familiar, and Maral wouldn’t be quite so surprised to discover her knocking at my door.
Shit.I jump out of the bed, not wanting Ryan to see me in a position that might cue the unmet potential of last night, but realize too late that the thin camisole and boy shorts I slept in are no better. What Maral is thinking, inviting him inside without checking that I’m decent first, I have no idea. When she turns and sees me in my state of undress, she seems to remember herself, her eyesflying wide as she throws me the closest thing she can find. Unfortunately, it’s my blazer from last night. I can’t decide if it would look stupider to stand there in skivvies and a blazer or to just let the partial nudity ride.
Before I can decide, Ryan is in the room, a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. His eyes find mine, then flicker to my barely-clothed body, heating instantly. My nipples salute him, at full attention, which seems to be their resting state when he’s around. He casts his eyes up to the ceiling, like a plea.
“Sorry,” he says, turning around for long enough that Maral can hand me the complimentary robe from the closet. “I texted, but didn’t hear back.”
I silenced my phone last night, knowing Mom would be Good Morning–memeing me at the crack of East Coast dawn.
I try to keep my tone light, as if nothing is amiss. “It’s fine,” I say. “We’re all adults here. Well, Maral’s maturity is questionable.”
He sets the cup and bag on the dresser. “I brought you coffee and a muffin,” he says, then adds more quietly, “and some Advil.”
