by Piper Rayne
I lift her shirt, kissing her stomach. The tattoo makes me want to grip her harder. I want to beg her not to go, to stay here with me, but I can’t do that. She deserves to be the shooting star.
“Can we please just talk about it later?” She slides down, straddling me on the floor.
Our limbs are as tight as vines around one another, our lips seeking the other’s in short kisses as though we’re testing if this is where we want this conversation to go. My hands slide up her back and lift off her T-shirt, my mouth exploring her lips, jaw, neck. I unhook her bra and she lets the straps slide down her arms. I toss it to the side.
She bends back, and I run my hand down the middle of her breasts, flicking open the button of her jeans. When I slide my hand under the hem of her panties, she moans and rises on her knees, her lips landing on mine. Our tongues tangle with desperate urgency, as though time is short. And it might be for the future, but not right here and now. I’m going to cherish her body.
I push my finger into her. For a moment, she stops kissing me, pulling back to enjoy the pleasure. Each time her gaze falls to me, my heart turns over.
“Dylan,” she whispers.
A shot of electricity zings through me as she says my name like a plea. As though all her pleasure is in my hands and I’m the only one who can push her over the cliff of an orgasm.
Running my finger through her folds, I make small circles along her clit and I manage to ease her body down on the rug. With my other hand, my fingertips skim across her bottom lip. I’m unable to stop staring at her.
An animalistic lack of control comes over me and I need her now. I’m desperate to be buried deep inside her. I fall back on my ankles, bringing her jeans and panties off in one swoop.
Her hands run up my T-shirt. “I need to feel your body.”
“Your tattoo.”
She gazes down and smiles, climbing up on her knees to help me undress.
As soon as I’m naked, I sit with my back to the couch and she straddles me, sinking down on my length. Her warmth fills me from inside out. How can I live my life without this? I push out all feelings of impending doom and my hand slides to the back of her head, holding her in place as I kiss up her neck to her jaw. I capture her mouth with mine, sliding in my tongue.
Her nipples press against my chest as she rocks back and forth. There’s no dirty talk tonight; we’re going merely on touch. Feather-light touches leave shivers in their path like waves rolling onto the beach. Each caress has a deeper meaning than any words could describe.
My knuckles skim down her spine to her ass, which I take in my hands, molding and gripping and pulling upward.
“Please don’t stop,” she whispers. “I want to feel like this forever.”
I ignore the hitch in her voice as our tempo increases and her moans turn from a submissive whimper to a groan. Since I love watching her come, I’m relentless on getting her off once I feel the sighs of her impending climax. She rocks harder, chasing the friction of her clit along my pelvic bone.
“That’s it, baby.”
Her love-filled eyes gaze down at me, her hands tightening on my shoulders, her nails digging in. My hips push up off the couch to get as deep inside her as I can. She cries out and the walls of her pussy tighten around my cock. There’s no holding back tonight—my own orgasm comes right after and I spill inside her.
Her body falls to mine and her arms wrap around my neck like a scared child. I run my hands down her back.
I can do this. I can be mature about this because why would I ever chance losing something so good in my life?
Chapter Thirty-One
Rian
I dial up the video call to Dr. Quinton. After his assistant sent me the information on the position, I asked if he and I could talk before I headed down to Houston and she arranged this call. I purposely waited until Dylan was at Ink Envy because things are weird between us. We never talk about the job in Houston. He’s quiet and withdrawn except for when we have sex, and then it’s like a flood of emotions seep out of him. My heart races when he caresses my body with a longing look in his eyes as though I’ve already left.
Which is why I felt it was better to schedule this call when I was by myself.
Dr. Quinton answers the call. He’s not at all what I pictured. I think I had an image in my head of an older version of Johann, with glasses and a thin frame. This man clearly works out and takes care of himself. Behind him is a framed picture of two blond kids and a woman who I assume is his wife.
“Miss Wright.” His smile is bright and welcoming.
“Hi,” I say, waving like a moron.
We exchange a few pleasantries about weather and our day. Summer is just on our horizon and I love the change of winter to spring to summer that we get in New York. When I tell him that, he says they get a different change of seasons down there.
“Have you had a chance to review the email?” he asks.
I pull out the paperwork I printed a few days ago. “I did. It’s all pretty straight forward.”
“Before we begin, I have a question.”
“Okay.” I look up from the paperwork.
The smile that’s been so permanent you’d think it was sewn on his face isn’t there anymore. “I wondered why you chose Pierson as your next step after your undergrad? You have some remarkable accomplishments. There are many places you could have gone. Why Pierson?”
“Um…” Think, Rian. If I could hit my head, I would. All I can think about is that I wanted to torture my parents, but that won’t sound very mature.
“I don’t mean to pry. I was just curious. If you’d rather—”
I’m not dumb—I need to answer this question if I want this job. Which I don’t even know if I do. “I found Pierson at a job fair my senior year. I was unsure about going to graduate school, so I figured they’d be an interim.”
That’s the story I told my parents when my mom was appalled that I’d taken the job.
“What made you not pursue your master’s? Are you still thinking about further education?” He sits straight with his fingers weaved together before he grabs a pen and poises it to paper.
“I think I got distracted but…” I got distracted by this life I live with Sierra, Dylan, Seth, and Knox. I put more effort into developing recipes than I did looking into graduate programs. “I think I would be interested in continuing my education.”
He smiles and checks something off on his paper. “That’s great. We do encourage continued education so that you can advance your position within our organization.”
“Of course.”
We go over some more questions about my education and my ambitions. He explains the job a little more.
“How about you come on out and you can tell me yes in person?” He laughs.
“I have to think about it,” I say.
He sobers up and looks me square in the eye. I hold my breath. “Can I be candid, Miss Wright?”
“Please call me Rian,” I say.
He nods. “Rian, what’s holding you back from accepting this position?” He scans the paperwork in front of him. “You’re more than qualified, just from your background. You went to Pierson after college when there were other opportunities for you out there. I see the hesitation in your answers. I don’t mean to be arrogant, but we are NASA. Rarely do we hear the word no. Especially when we come to you. I guess what I’m asking is, what am I up against to get you here?”
I blow out a breath and bite my lip. “Truth is, I’m not sure I love math enough.”
He sits back in his chair. “Oh. I thought for sure it was a fiancé or boyfriend. I had a speech ready for that. This is a first for me.” He chuckles.
“Do you mind if I take a few days to think about it?” I could tell him it’s the boyfriend thing too, but that’s only a piece of the puzzle.
“Not at all. We’d really like to have you on board, but let me give you some advice. This life is short. Last year I went through some health issues. Be
fore then, I was in the office all the time, never home with my kids for dinner. A typical workaholic. After I became sick and I was forced to slow down, I realized that getting sick was a blessing.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Because I got the wake-up call not everyone does. I got to reexamine my life and I found that I love my job, which I’m grateful for, but it’s my wife and my kids I love the most. There’s truth in the cliché ‘you only have one life.’ I’d hate to lose the opportunity to bring you on board, but you should do what makes you happy.” He smiles, and I nod that I understand. “I’ll wait to hear from you, Rian. It was a pleasure talking with you.”
“You as well, and thank you for the opportunity,” I say.
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I close my laptop and sit in my chair. I need to really consider what I want my life to be moving forward.
The buzzer to my apartment goes off, and I jolt.
I head over to the door and press the intercom button. “Hello?”
“Rian?” It’s my dad. “Can we come up?”
I sigh and look around the apartment. No reinforcements. But I need to face them eventually and I’ve been dodging them for long enough.
“Sure.” I allow them in and open the apartment door, grabbing a soda before sitting at the kitchen table.
My mom peeks her head in. “Rian?”
“Come on in.”
They each hold a coffee. My dad slides one over for me, also putting a white bakery bag in the middle of the table.
“We heard about NASA,” my dad says.
My mom crosses her legs and looks at her lap.
I have no idea how they heard, but it doesn’t really matter. “I haven’t accepted the position.”
My mom opens her mouth, but my dad puts up his hand to stop her. “May we ask why? Does this have to do with Dylan?”
“Yes and no.”
My mom sits up straighter, opening her mouth to say something again, but my dad clears his throat. I guess they had a conversation before they came here.
“Can we talk about it?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He opens the bag and places a smiley face cookie in front of me. The ones I would get when we went to the grocery store when I was younger. It was my prize if I calculated the groceries with tax correctly.
I smile. “Thanks. What do I need to do to eat it?”
“No conditions,” my dad says.
I break off a small piece and eat the sugary goodness.
“So, Dylan… is this serious?” my dad asks.
I’m not sure my dad has started a conversation like this before. It feels odd, but it’s a nice change.
“I really like him.” I refrain from saying more. Although I think the feelings are there, I’ve yet to truly accept that I love him.
“Is enough to throw away your entire life?” Mom sneaks her own comment in, and my dad scowls at her.
The frayed thread between us snaps.
“I’m not throwing my life away. Have you ever thought that maybe I threw it away all these years you’ve forced me into something you loved? That I did math only because you forced me into a life of numbers and equations? I’m not you. I don’t have the same dreams you do.” I push away the cookie that did come with stipulations.
“He has no future. He’s great now because you’re twenty-eight. But what happens when you’re thirty and you’re ready for marriage and kids? That guy isn’t going to stick around.” Her lips purse and she looks at me with disdain.
“How do you know that?”
She shakes her head. “His type is clear as Saran Wrap. I did not bring up a daughter to be this blind. If you don’t take this job, you’re going to wake up one day as some single mom and saying you wish you would have listened to me.”
I roll my eyes and I’m not sure they could get any farther behind my eyelids. “You do this all the time. You don’t know him. You’re stereotyping him because of his appearance. And regardless, he’s not the reason I might not accept the job. It’s the fact that I don’t want a position that revolves around mathematics.”
My mom paces in front of us, looking at my dad as though they’re a team and he needs to tag in now.
Dad says, “Sweetheart, you’re good at what you do. You’re more brilliant than most and you should use that gift you were given. What will you do if you don’t take this job?”
I shrug. The bakery idea sounds nice, but I’m not sure I want to put all my eggs in that basket either. “I’m not sure, but some people are lucky and find what they love. I want that.”
My mind travels to Dylan and how when he broke his arm, he was depressed because he couldn’t work. How many people can say that? Dylan loves what he does.
I shake my head. “You know what? It’s time that you face facts. It’s my decision now. Time for you to let your baby bird go.”
My mom huffs.
“Sweetheart,” my dad says.
“No! When will you love me for me? Be happy for me? Everything comes with a stipulation or a condition or a guilt trip if I don’t do what you think I should.” My fists pound on the table and the smiley cookie cracks into pieces under my right hand. “I’m done. You two can see yourselves out.”
My mom swipes her coffee off the table. “The way you speak to us with such disrespect.” She shakes her head, heading toward the door.
“Respect earns respect, Mom,” I say, but she’s gone.
My dad hesitates, but he’s just a nicer version of my mom. “I had hopes that we could heal things between us.”
“You had hopes that you could convince me. I suggest you stop coming here expecting a different result. Either you both learn to love me for me or stay out of my life.” The words are hard to say, but I mean them. I can’t be on this merry-go-round anymore.
My dad’s shoulders fall and his eyes lock on mine. Probably to figure out if I’m bluffing. But there’s no bluffing. I should’ve had the backbone to say this a long time ago.
He nods and stands, following my mom out the door. The click of the door shutting brings a finality I’m not sure I was prepared for.
Once they’re gone, I grab my purse and leave my apartment, needing the security of Dylan’s arms. His reassurance that I did the right thing.
I open the doors of Ink Envy with my tears barely held in check. If he’s with a client, I’ll wait in his office.
Lyle is at the front desk and glances up from his sketchbook like every other time I’ve been here. Frankie’s station is empty, and Jax’s tattoo machine is aimed on some woman’s pelvis. He nods to me, pausing because he’s just as perceptive as Dylan when it comes to people’s feelings.
I see no sign of Dylan and ask Lyle, “Where is he?”
Lyle looks to Jax to answer the question and sourness fills my stomach.
“He’s in the back doing a discreet tattoo.” Jax tips his head toward the back room. I start down the aisle between stations. “Maybe wait in the waiting area or his office.”
He’s right. I can’t very well barge in there.
“Lyle, go tell Dylan that Rian’s here,” Jax says.
Lyle drops his sketchbook on the table. A minute later, he returns from the back room. “He said he’s finishing up. You can wait in his office.”
I head to the office, but on my way, the door of the room Dylan’s working in opens. When I look in, I spot a girl still straightening her clothes. Whatever they’re talking about, they’re laughing, and Dylan wipes his mouth with the collar of his shirt.
He sees me and says, “I’ll be right with you,” as if I’m a customer.
The girl who’s flushed from head to toe looks me up and down as though I’m her competition.
Instead of going into his office, I hang out in the hallway, watching him check her out. He allows her to run a fingernail down his bicep. She hands him a piece of paper, and he slides it into his back pocket with a smile.
All those tears that were threatening to come out dr
y up with the anger twirling around my body like a tornado.
She leaves after kissing him on the cheek and gives him a pat on the ass.
Lyle stares at me in the hallway, and Dylan catches sight of Lyle before turning toward me. I have two choices: get the hell out of here, or stay and demand answers.
Why would I waste a night when I feel so feisty? I open his office door, go in, and slam it shut, preparing for the hurricane that’s about to hit landfall.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rian
I knew he wouldn’t dodge the confrontation, so when he opens the office door two minutes later, I’m not surprised.
“What’s up?” He nods to me as if I’m an acquaintance.
I cross my arms. “Care to explain?”
He releases a breath. “Explain what? You know it’s my job to tattoo people in private places and that means private rooms.” He sits at his desk. “I’m actually done early today. Want to go get dinner?”
“Dinner?”
He swivels in his chair. “Yeah. You know, when we put food in our mouths, chew, and swallow. Third meal of the day?”
“Don’t.”
The smile falls from his face and that hurts worse because he knows what he did out there. What I want to know is if he did it only for my benefit.
“Don’t what?” he asks.
“You took her number.”
He huffs. “You know how many numbers I get on a nightly basis?” He digs it out of his pocket and tosses it in the trash. “You know this relationship won’t work if you don’t trust me.” He swivels back around, looking something up on his computer. “I could order and we could pick it up and eat at home, or if you want, we can hit up a restaurant.”
“Stop it!” I yell.
His chair slowly turns, which reminds me of the movie The Godfather that Dylan made me watch a few weeks ago. Like I don’t want to mess with him right now. But I desperately do. It’s time we hash this out.
“What is your problem?” he asks.
