“We can’t eat,” Tessa says. “This is, you know, a purely sexual thing we’re doing here. A fling.”
“Dude, let me explain how flings work in real life—it’s not the way it seems in movies. You can’t just fuck a guy and immediately make him do the walk of shame—first, you gotta feed him and then you can kick him out.”
Tessa giggles. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas about sleeping here. We’ve got a big day tomorrow and we need to get some solid sleep.”
“Cool. Tonight’s all about fucking, food, and flapping our gums; next time, we add forty winks to the itinerary.”
“You sound like Keane.”
“God help me.” I grin at her. “Okay, well, I’m glad we’re agreed: we’ll do a sleep-over next time.”
“We’re not agreed about a damned thing. There won’t even be a next time.”
“How long are you gonna keep doing that?”
“Doing what?” she asks.
“Pretending this thing between us isn’t inevitable?”
“It’s not.”
I sigh. She’s wrong, of course—we’re as inevitable as the sun rising and falling. But there’s no reason to try to convince her of that now. That’s the thing about the sun, after all: it does its thing whether you like it or not.
We find a room service menu, place our order, and put on some music—a playlist I made specifically for her before heading out to the opening party earlier tonight. The first song that comes up is “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran, an upbeat, vaguely Latin-reggae-sounding groove that prompts me to pull her up from the bed and ask her to show me some basic ballroom dancing steps... and, before I know it, we’re doing a naked cha-cha (sort of) around the room.
When the Ed Sheeran song ends, we stretch out on the bed together as the next song—“Sex on Fire”—begins. I stare at her for a long beat, grinning, my head propped up by my elbow.
“What?” she asks.
“I could sit and stare at you like this forever and never get tired of the view.”
“Honey, there’s no need to butter me up,” she says. “I already slept with you, remember? Seduction complete.”
I wink. “I’m working on you for next time.”
“Don’t waste your time. We’re one and done.”
“You mean three and done?”
“Two and a half. But, whatever, we’re done.”
“We both know you’re full of shit.” I pat the bed. “Come closer and listen to my favorite song with me.” She complies, scooching her body closer to mine until her beautiful face is mere inches from mine.
“You promise you didn’t tell Keane about us?”
“I swear.”
“And you haven’t told Kat?”
“Not a word.”
“And you haven’t said anything to anyone else about me?”
My stomach clenches. “Just Colby.”
Her body tenses. “What’d you tell him?”
I exhale. “Everything.”
Tessa sits up, instantly enraged. “Fucker! You’re the one who begged me not to tell anyone!”
“No, I begged you not to tell Josh, and, don’t worry, Colby won’t tell him or anyone else. Colby’s been a locked vault since I was five, when he aided and abetted my very first felony.”
She stares at me for a long beat, her anger visibly melting. Finally, she rolls her eyes and lies back down next to me. “God, you’re an asshole. How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know exactly what to say to make me forget I’m mad at you. Now all I can think about is, ‘Gosh, I wonder how Colby aided and abetted Ryan’s first felony when he was five.’”
“Well, gosh, thanks for asking. Cuddle close again and I’ll tell you the whole story.” I pull her into my naked body and nuzzle my nose into her hair. “Now isn’t this better than being mad?”
“This changes nothing,” she whispers. “I’m still mad as hell you told Colby. It’s just that my curiosity is stronger than my anger at the moment.”
“Sex on Fire” ends and the next song on my playlist—“Beneath Your Beautiful” by Labrinth—begins. I hold her close and listen to the poignant lyrics of the song for a moment.
“Your very first felony?” she prompts, apparently not as swept away by the song as I am.
I kiss her head. “Okay. This is a Morgan-family classic: ‘The Story of Ryan’s Shitty Towel.’”
She giggles. “Oh my God.”
“Once upon a time, five-year-old Ryan took a gigantic crap in the toilet in our house and was then dismayed to discover the toilet paper roll empty. But, of course, because I’ve always been a can-do kind of guy, I solved my dilemma by wiping my ass with the nearest useful implement—which happened to be my mother’s precious Christmas hand towel hanging on a nearby rack.”
“Oh, Ryan.”
“It had little golden angels playing horns on it. Very pretty. Anyway, the minute I used Mom’s pretty angel-towel to wipe my little ass, I remembered she’d told Colby and me very clearly we weren’t allowed to touch her towels. And so, in an attempt to cover my tracks—pun intended—I re-hung the shit-streaked towel on the rack, exactly the way I’d found it and sneaked out of the bathroom.”
Tessa laughs. “Welcome to the criminal mind of a five-year old.”
“I was a criminal mastermind. So, seven-year-old Colby uses the bathroom a little while later and discovers the shitty towel hanging neatly on the rack, and he easily surmises the shit-wiper had to have been his stupid little brother, since Kat was a toddler in diapers, Keane was an avocado in our mom’s belly, and Dax didn’t exist yet. And you know what Colby did? If you think he ratted me out, you’d be wrong. Little Colby Morgan did the thing that laid the foundation of our brotherhood from that moment forward: he grabbed that shitty towel, sneaked outside with it under his jacket, and chucked it over our backyard fence into our neighbor’s yard.”
“Brilliant!”
“We were both geniuses.”
“And did you two get away with it?”
“We sure did. For about twenty minutes.”
Tessa giggles.
“That’s how long it took for Mrs. Wheeler from next door to come knocking on our front door, the shitty towel in her hand.”
“Fucking Mrs. Wheeler,” Tessa says.
“Fucking Mrs. Wheeler,” I agree.
“What’d your mom do to you?”
“She made us apologize to Mrs. Wheeler and to her, of course, and then she made us rake leaves off Mrs. Wheeler’s lawn and our own until we’d ‘worked off’ the price of a replacement towel.”
“God, I love your mom.”
“She’s the best. When I have kids, if my wife is half the mother my mom is, my kids will be lucky as hell.”
Tessa’s face flushes. “You want kids?”
“Hell yeah. You?”
She nods.
“How many?” I ask, my heart racing all of a sudden.
“Two or three, probably,” she says. “You?”
“Four or five, in a perfect world.”
Her eyes widen.
“But everything’s subject to negotiation,” I add quickly. “The most important thing is to find their momma first—the woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with. Everything else will follow naturally from there, I figure.”
There’s a long beat.
Oh my God, I’m falling head over heels in love with this woman.
“Tessa, I’m not the lying, cheating scumbag you think I am,” I say softly, stroking her arm. “Will you hear me out for a minute?”
She nods, thank God, and, finally, for the first time, I’m able to tell her chapter and verse about the night we met, beginning with what actually happened at the restaurant with Olivia and the blonde with the note, and moving on to explaining exactly why I truly believed my relationship with Olivia had ended before I met her (though, I concede, I knew having one final, confirming conversation with Olivia was certainly in order).
Wh
en I’m done talking, Tessa looks at me thoughtfully. “I remember, right before Psycho Barbie came in, you said you had something to tell me.”
I exhale the longest exhale of my life. “I was gonna tell you about Olivia, just to make sure we got off on the right foot.”
She bites the inside of her cheek.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“That your explanation makes perfect sense and sounds incredibly sincere.”
I exhale with relief.
“And also that, in my past relationship, my boyfriend had quite the knack for telling me explanations that made perfect sense and sounded incredibly sincere.”
I rub my face. “Oh for the love of fuck, you’re exhausting. At some point, you’re gonna have to trust somebody again, Tessa—you do realize that, right?”
Tessa opens her mouth to reply, but before she says a word, there’s a loud knock on the door. “Room service!”
42
Ryan
“Ooooh, try this mango,” she says, feeding me a piece.
“Amazing,” I say. “I didn’t even think I liked mango. Did you try some of this pineapple?”
She nods. “Amazing.”
We’re sitting at a table on the little patio just outside her room, overlooking the moonlit ocean, the warm night breeze wafting over us.
“I’ve got a proposition for you, Argentina,” I say. “What do you say we fuck each other’s brains out every night this week, totally on the sly—nobody ever has to know—and after this week, once we get back to Seattle, if one or both of us doesn’t want to keep going, then, no problem, we’ll both agree to move on, no hard feelings, and pretend this week never happened.”
She takes a bite of food and chews it slowly, considering the idea.
Shit. My heart is clanging wildly. I’m going all-in right now and I know it. “What do you have to lose?” I ask.
“So it would be like a one-week vacation-fling?” she asks.
I nod vigorously. “Exactly. ‘What happens in Maui stays in Maui.’”
She bites her lip.
“No commitment. No pressure. One week. The only thing you’d need to commit to—and this is non-negotiable—is exclusivity while we’re here.”
She takes a sip of water. “Definitely something to think about.”
My stomach tightens. “What do you mean? It’s a no-brainer.”
She shrugs. “I’ve been drinking tonight. I’m not gonna make any decisions about anything ’til I’m completely sober.”
“It’s hardly a major life decision. There’s no downside.”
“I’ve never done anything like what you’re suggesting. I just wanna think about it and not make a snap decision.”
I open my mouth and close it again. What the fuck is wrong with this woman?
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
“Anything.”
“Do you have some sort of raging flight attendant fetish?”
“What? No. Why do you ask?”
“Because you were so damned furious with me when you found out I wasn’t a flight attendant, and now that I’m getting to know you, that seems so contrary to your personality. All I can figure is maybe I’d dashed some raging flight-attendant fantasy you had.”
“I don’t have a particular boner for flight attendants. I was just pissed as hell you’d sent me on a wild goose chase.”
She looks at me quizzically. “How did I send you on a wild goose chase?”
Shit. How the fuck did I let that slip out? I pause, considering my reply. Should I say fuck it and tell her everything, right here and now? My gut tells me not yet. “Bad choice of words,” I say. “I just meant I was pissed I felt so connected to you and it turned out you’d lied. But Colby reminded me Kat always used to pull that kind of shit, too, which made me realize you’re no more or less of a sociopath than her—although Kat’s definitely on the sociopath-spectrum, so don’t get too excited.”
Tessa giggles. “Kat was telling me about some of her ‘personas’ from back in the day. That girl’s got quite the imagination.”
“You have no idea.” I laugh. “Actually, all us Morgans have pretty active imaginations.”
Tessa cocks her head flirtatiously. “You ever thought about maybe doing some kind of...” Her cheeks flash with color. “Role-play? Like, I dunno, maybe pretending you’re screwing a flight attendant?”
My cock jolts. “Let’s do it!” I blurt.
She giggles. “Well, I’m not offering. Just gathering information.”
I flash her a wicked smile. Sure, she is. But, okay, I won’t push it—I’ll let my little Virgo warm up to the idea slowly and get her freak on when she’s good and ready.
Tessa stretches her arms over her head and lets out a huge yawn, and her eyes flutter closed. She tries to open them, but it’s clearly difficult. She looks like she’s about to fall headfirst into her plate of fruit.
I stand. “Let’s get you to bed, beautiful.” I pull her up and walk her back into her room. I wait for her to brush her teeth and wash her face and then I tuck her into bed, kissing her gently on her soft lips. “Good night, Argentina. See you tomorrow. Thanks for feeding me before kicking me out. I feel so much less trampy now.”
“You’re still a tramp,” she says sleepily, her eyes closed. “Don’t kid yourself.”
I touch her cheek. I’m physically aching to slip into bed right next to her and hold her close all night long. “Don’t overthink my proposition, okay?” I whisper, stroking her hair. “I won’t hurt you—I promise. I’ll never hurt you, Tessa.”
Tessa surprises me by grabbing my hand from her cheek and softly kissing it. “Thanks for an amazing night, Ryan,” she whispers, looking at me dreamily. She opens her mouth and closes it, and then bites her lip, clearly on the verge of saying something.
I hold my breath and wait. For some reason, I feel like she’s about to invite me to stay with her tonight.
I wait.
Finally, Tessa releases my hand, closes her eyes, and nestles her cheek into her pillow. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Rum Cake. Sleep tight.”
43
Tessa
Okay, this is unexpected.
I’m on the phone with Charlotte, my half-eaten breakfast next to me as I sit on the patio attached to my room, looking out at the ocean, and my unpredictable best friend’s just floored me by saying she wholeheartedly believes every word of Ryan’s explanation, and, furthermore, that she thinks I should take Ryan up on his no-strings proposition and bang the hell out of him all week long.
“I’m thinking maybe I should quit while I’m ahead,” I say. “If I keep going with him like this all week, I might develop genuine feelings for him. And then what?”
“And then... that’d be awesome.”
“No. Even if Ryan’s not a lying cheater like I originally thought, he’s still a manwhore, and he’s about to become Josh’s brother. And all that makes him a nonstarter, even if he’s as honest as Abe Lincoln.”
“Why, again?”
“Because if I start something with Ryan, when we eventually break up, my employer, aka Ryan’s brother-in-law, will feel like he needs to pick sides—and whose side do you think Josh will pick? Look at what happened with Stu: Josh never talked to him again.”
“You’re really putting the cart before the horse here, honey. If you’re gonna quit the drug before you leave Maui, fine, but what’s the difference if you quit the drug after banging the guy twice or ten times? Why not have fun this entire week?”
“But what if I develop feelings and get hurt?”
“I say risk it. Live a little.”
I don’t reply.
“There’s always the chance you could develop feelings and not get hurt,” Charlotte says.
“Not bloody likely,” I say.
“By any chance, did Ryan say anything about what he’s been up to these past couple months? I mean, like, did you two talk about how much you’ve both been thinking about each o
ther since the night you first met?”
“Of course, not. Why would we talk about that? I’m sure Ryan didn’t give me a second thought any more than I gave him one.”
“Sweetheart, you thought about Ryan all the time after you met him. You imagined you saw him around every corner.”
“Well, yeah, but only for about six weeks. After that, I didn’t think of him hardly at all.” I scoff. “And I know for a fact Ryan didn’t think about me, even once. If he did, he would have told me so by now. To the contrary, I keep calling him a manwhore and he doesn’t say a word. Obviously, that’s a topic I don’t want to know too much about.”
Charlotte lets out a very long sigh. “Well, okay. Just keep me posted on what you decide to do. I vote you bang him all week.”
“Your vote has been duly noted in the log. Oh, hey, I almost forgot: Kat told me to invite you to Maui. She wants to meet you.”
“She does? Wow, that’s so nice. But I can’t. Remember? I’ve got that ten-day Mediterranean cruise with my parents for their anniversary starting the day before the wedding.”
“Oh yeah. Crap. Well, can you maybe come for a few days and hang out and meet everyone?”
“Ooph. That’d be a lot of travel with the cruise on the other end of the world. I don’t think I’ve got enough vacation days to do both trips. But I’ll look at my work schedule and let you know.”
“Okay, lemme know.” I look at my watch. “Ooph. I gotta run, Nut Job. The wedding brigade is taking a bus to the top of Haleakala and then riding the whole way down on bicycles today. I gotta catch the bus.”
“That sounds fun. You gonna ride with Ryan?”
“Yup. He texted this morning and made me promise to save him a seat at breakfast and then on the bus.” Out of nowhere, my stomach flutters with a flock of butterflies at the thought of seeing Ryan this morning.
Charlotte sighs. “Oh, Tessa. Don’t you hear yourself? Get out of your own way for once and just take a leap of faith.”
“I’m thinking about it. You know I like to think things through.”
Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection Page 134
