Ryan glances toward me as we pull up to a stoplight but doesn’t say a word. I know he can tell I’m holding back. I tell him everything, literally everything. He knows every tear I shed in therapy last week, he knows how pissed I was at that the taco truck across the street from our apartment was out of red beans, and he knows every other bit of drama from every second of my life. I can’t hold this back from him. It’ll spill out sooner or later and then I’ll look like a liar.
I suck in a deep breath. “He also said some other weird things to me.”
Ryan’s back stiffens and his voice shakes. “What do you mean?”
I swallow hard recalling all the filthy, awful, eerily tingly things Viktor said just a few moments ago. “He mentioned spanking me, making me come in the bar, and something about fucking me.” I’m nearly breathless as the words slide from my mouth. I never talk this way, especially not with Ryan. He’s conservative, to say the least.
I shake my head, embarrassed by the whole thing. Embarrassed that Viktor said it and embarrassed that I’ve repeated it. Even when I was stripping, I never heard talk like that. The worst I ever heard wastake the rest off. I didn’t do private dances like some of the girls. They must’ve heard things like this, if not worse.
The light turns green, but Ryan sits at the light staring in my direction until a car horn beeps behind us, and Ryan redirects himself.
He hasn’t spoken yet. What is he thinking? Probably what a slut I am or what a mistake he made ever meeting me. I bet he’s formulating a response right now to let me down slowly. He should too. I’m admittedly a huge, giant, horrible mess. I deserve a guy like Viktor. Ryan is way too good for me.
I shake my head. I need a shot of vodka. No… abottleof vodka. Maybe Lucy is available tomorrow morning for brunch. It’s Saturday, and she’s usually down for anything. I could use her advice before I drink myself into a coma.
“Hello…” Ryan says, waving a hand in front of my face. “Are you coming inside?”
I blink hard and look around. We’ve already parked at the apartment complex. Shit, I really got into it there.
“You okay?” Ryan reaches for my hand and helps me from the car. “I thought I lost you.”
I nod, following his lead up and out of the vehicle. “Yeah, I think I’m going to make an appointment with Dr. Wellings tomorrow morning. That or breakfast with Lucy? Which one do you think will do the trick?”
Ryan looks toward me, his hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the apartment, locking up behind me. “I’m worried about you.”
“Worried about me? Why?” Well, I know why… but asking why seems like the polite thing to do.
“I saw it in your eyes when that guy whispered to you, you liked it.”
My heart sinks and my palms start to sweat. “What do you mean, I liked it?” I hang my purse on the hook behind the door and make my way into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door. I need to change the filter. The light has been blinking for a week.
When I twist back, Ryan’s sitting on a kitchen stool looking toward me. “Did you?”
I clear my throat, and gulp back the water, closing my eyes tight. Maybe if I keep drinking this whole thing will go away. Except when I open them, it doesn’t. Ryan’s still sitting at the bar, staring at me, waiting for an answer.
I walk toward him my heart crushing under the weight of my own stupidity. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“You do,” Ryan says, his hands in mine. “You know.”
I stand in silence, staring at him blankly, unable to find the words to speak. “Do I?”
He nods. “You felt something for him. A sexual connection. I see it all over your face. You’re flushed.”
I shake my head, but we both know I’m lying.
“You don’t have to deny it.”
“If I admit to it, then what does that mean about me?”
He stands and holds me against his chest in comfort, the way only Ryan can. “It means you’re human. It means you’ve been through a lot. It means—”
“It means I’m a whore.”
He pulls away from me and looks down with narrowed brows. “What?”
“Yeah, what kind of woman has those kinds of tingling, sexual feelings for two men at once?”
“Who are the two men?” He asks as though he really doesn’t know.
