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“He warned me not to hurt you.”
He raises a brow. “That’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t—”
“I know. But I did.”
He nods. “Yeah. But it wasn’t you. It’s me.”
No. It was my lie of omission. But why retread ugly things?
He grabs his slacks-currently hanging over a chair—and steps into them.
“Do we have to get dressed?”
“Fuck no.”
“We could—” My stomach interrupts me with a low growl.
Ryan laughs. “We will. After.”
“But work-”
“After that.”
I pout.
His chuckle fills the room. “Get ready. We’ll eat. I’ll make you come later.”
“You promise?”
“You’re gonna have to beg me to stop.”
“Two.” Ryan smiles at the hostess. Yeah, I wore this last night. What’s it to you?
She giggles as she hugs two menus to her chest. “Right this way, sir.”
He’s still wearing his suit. I’m in a casual dress and wedge sandals and he’s in a suit.
God, he wears that suit.
How can he look so good in everything? And nothing?
He presses his palm into my lower back to lead me to our table.
The hostess arranges our menus then motions to our seats. “Your server will be with your shortly.” She shoots Ryan another nervous smile then gives me one of those is she really competition once-overs.
He catches her staring. Wraps his arms around my waist. Pulls me into a long, deep kiss.
The possessiveness of the gesture sets me on fire.
Does he want that as badly as I do?
He must.
I sigh as he pulls back. My knees knock together. I press my palm into the table to steady myself, but it’s not enough.
Ryan brings his hands to my hips. He helps me onto the bench seat then slides in next to me.
My heartbeat picks up.
