by J. Saman
It’s Ryan. It’s the way he holds me, and touches me, and looks at me and talks to me.
It’s the whole goddamn Ryan Grant package that I want to buy into.
“What now?” I whisper into the darkness we’ve been snuggled up in for the last half an hour. We did get out of bed and managed to have a sex-free shower. We even put on clothing, ate some food, and watched mindless television.
But all of that turned into naked bedroom time. Again.
“You tell me. I want you. It’s really that simple for me.”
Shit. I want him too, and I also want Eric. Yes, I get that I can’t have Eric anymore, but I feel like as long as I still want him, I shouldn’t be with anyone else. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?
“I want you, Ryan. Like mad.” He smiles, but he can feel the but coming, so he holds back. “But I’m still not ready for something more than what we’ve got going.”
“Do I still get to have sex with you, and kiss you whenever I want?”
I smile. “You bet your sweet ass you do.”
“Then I’ll survive. But just.”
18
Kate
* * *
I wake up the next morning much the way I do any other, but this time, Ryan is up before me. He has been on the phone since four in the morning doing work, and when I got up at six, he was ready for a break. We both went to the gym in the hotel and ran our butts off. Ryan then lifted all kinds of insane weights while I did some yoga. I used to do a mommy and baby yoga class with Maggie, which was really the most absurd thing on the planet, but she loved it.
Maggie loved everything. She was always smiling and talking and playing and making my world a better place.
I miss her.
I don’t know how not to, and I think I’ll feel like this forever.
I miss Eric too.
As I breathe and stretch, I think about the fact that he’s no longer the last man I kissed, or had sex with. I knew this moment would come, but it’s not the sort of situation one can ever really prepare for.
Eric was an amazing lover. Generous, sweet, and fun. But Ryan is a different animal all together. He’s more carnal. More aggressive. More devouring. Neither is better than the other, just different.
A difference I’m so grateful for.
Eric used to think my wild sexual fantasies were amusing and something to play with, but not fully explore. I get the feeling Ryan would not only embrace them in a second, but push them to the next level. Again, neither is better, just different.
Eric could kiss the hell out of me. In fact, every time he’d press his lips to mine, I felt a comfort I haven’t been able to duplicate since he died. A love unchallenged and unparalleled.
Ryan kisses like a fiend. Like a hungry man desperate for the food my lips give him.
Both hot. Again, both different.
The main issue is that I still feel like I’m married to Eric. Like my being with Ryan is somehow betraying him. I know it’s not. I. Know. It’s. Not. Which is why I’m doing it. But that doesn’t change my mentality. How can I be with one man when I’m mentally still with another?
I can’t.
Do I feel like the world’s biggest bitch? Absolutely.
Can I stop this new train that I’ve found myself on? No, probably not.
I’m addicted to Ryan. I want him constantly. And not just the sex, though that’s certainly part of it.
I want Ryan.
His brain. His sense of humor. His touch and smile. His everything. I don’t know how to stop wanting him.
“Off to LA today?” I ask, my ass in the air as I do a downward-facing dog.
“Yes, though if you keep that position up, our getting there may take a bit longer than planned.”
“As tragic as that would be,” I look up to find him staring at my ass in the air. “I could be okay with that.”
He laughs, walking over to me and smacking my ass. Hard. “You’re insatiable, Katie. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m more than happy to keep up this pace, but it seems to me that if we do, we won’t have time for anything other than me being buried inside of you.”
One thing I learned about Ryan last night? He’s really good with the dirty talk. Really freaking good. Bringing myself upright, I stretch my arms up over my head.
“You’re right. We should shower and get going.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and begins to walk me to the exit of the gym, his nose inhaling the skin of my neck.
“Katie?”
“Hmm?”
“Should we talk about last night?”
I tense, and I know he feels it because he pulls away from my neck to a standing position, though his arms are still around me.
“Probably.” I know we should. I know how he feels about me. What he wants.
Me? I have no fucking clue what I want. What I can handle. Why do we have to put a label on things? Why can’t this just be what it is? Fun. Sex.
Because it is so much more than that, I remind myself.
I hate how selfish I’m being. I know I’m being selfish. But how do you stop something that just feels so…right?
“Are you okay with everything?” Could he be any more considerate?
“What are you asking me, Ryan?” I angle my head up to see him. “Are you asking if I’m okay with all the sex we’ve been having, or something else?”
“I’m asking about the sex. About this,” he squeezes me with his arms that are around my waist. “Other than what we talked about yesterday, you’ve been very quiet about where your head is with all of this.” I know he doesn’t want to ask about it. I can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes.
He’s uneasy. So am I.
Leaning back into his chest, we step onto the elevator and make our way back up to our room.
“I like being with you, Ryan. You put me at ease. Relax my mind and somehow seem to understand me. I have fun with you. I think you’re an incredible man. Smart and funny and charmingly sweet.” I spin around, reaching my hands up and wrapping them around his neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He smiles big, bending down to kiss my lips and when I push him back a little, his smile falls.
“But?” he asks cautiously, sensing it coming.
“But I’m a mental mess, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. I care about you way too much for that.” He looks up at the ceiling of the elevator and lets out a sigh. The doors open and we step out into the hallway. We’re silent for a moment as we walk toward our room. The heaviness between us is tangible. “Ryan?” He doesn’t look at me. “I know how selfish I’m being. I’m trying to just live in the moment, and it’s not fair to you. Maybe we should—”
“No,” he snaps out, interrupting me. “I don’t want to stop.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Ryan. I’m going moment to moment, and that’s just fucked up and wrong.”
“Katie.” He spins me around, stopping me in the middle of the hallway, his hands on my shoulders. “If you can live in the moment, so can I. I told you I’d take anything I could get with you, and I meant it.”
“How is that fair to you? Is that even what you want?”
“Yes. Being with you in whatever way I can have you is what I want. I’m a big boy, Katie. I can handle myself, so stop worrying about it. I want fun and sex and you. Beyond that?” he shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “I’m not asking for a relationship; you’re the one who keeps going on about that. I’m just asking if you’re okay with what we’ve got going on right now.”
Oh. Well, now I feel stupid for assuming he was looking for more.
“Yes. I’m okay with it,” I smile slimly. “More than okay with it.”
“Good,” he shrugs again. “Let’s go shower and hit the road. It’s getting late.” With that he brushes past me toward our room.
Shit. What just happened?
I follow after him, and by the time I reach the bedroom, I hear th
e shower running. Apparently, he wasted no time. Stripping out of my sweaty clothes, I tentatively walk into the bathroom.
“Ryan?” I call out, but he doesn’t respond. Either he doesn’t hear me or he’s ignoring me.
He’s standing, unmoving under the stream of the shower, his head lowered to tiled floor.
“Ryan?” I try again, and this time he raises his head, turning to look at me. “Can I come in?” I ask, uncertain.
He shrugs.
I’m going to take that as a yes.
His face is completely blank. Impassive. Pouring some body wash into my hands, I rub the soap into his warm, wet chest, creating lather and filling the steamed glass enclosure with the scent of jasmine. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes trained on my hands as they work soap all over his body.
“I’d wash your hair, but I don’t think I could reach.” That gets a half-smile, but nothing more. “Here, sit.” I point to the bench on the far wall, walking him over there when he doesn’t move right away. Now that his body is clean, I go to work on his hair.
His head falls back into my hands and his eyes flutter shut. Very few things feel better than having someone else wash your hair for you. My nails scrape along his scalp as I work the shampoo through his thick, inky strands. When I’m done, I adjust the showerhead so that it reaches us and wash out the soap. Leaning down, I place a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth before I set to work on myself.
“Let me,” he whispers and runs his hands through my hair, lathering it up with shampoo, washing it out, and then repeating the process with the conditioner. His strong hands run down my wet body, spreading soap as he goes. “Katie,” he says in that way of his, before his mouth connects with mine. Ryan lifts me up into his arms, walking me until my back is pressed against the tile wall. My fingers run through his sodden hair, our eyes locked as he enters me. “Katie,” he says again, though this time it’s more of an expletive.
We’ve never done it like this—without a condom. Skin to skin. The sensation is overwhelming. My fingers are digging into his arms and shoulders, my eyes rolling back into my head.
“Look at me, Katie,” he demands. “I want to see your pretty blue eyes as I fuck you.” Jesus, his words aren’t helping with the whole opening my eyes thing. Then he pounds me into the shower wall. Over and over again. I moan long and loud, clinging to him and saying his name over and over again. “Yes, Katie. Just like that. So beautiful when you come for me.”
He pulls out of me after I come down from my heavenly high and finishes with a heavy grunt all over my belly. Washing ourselves off, we get out of the shower, and he wraps me in a towel. Whatever heaviness he was carrying seems to have lifted and his eyes are light, playful even.
“I realize this is an odd question at this point, but are you on the pill or anything?”
I shake my head, looking down at the floor and pulling my towel tighter around my body.
“No,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes as guilt, and maybe even a little shame, takes over. So much for living in the moment and working on not feeling sad. Eric and I were trying to get pregnant when the accident happened, and I never felt the need to go back on anything after that.
This rollercoaster feels like it is never-ending. Just as I’m up, I go flying back down.
“It’s okay, baby.” He brushes my chin with his fingers, drawing my eyes up to his. “We’ll use condoms. I was just asking.”
“I know.” I nod my head.
He leans down to kiss my lips. “Come on, sweetheart. Checkout is in one hour.” Ryan leaves me standing there in the bathroom, and I wonder if he’s hit his limit with my mood swings.
I have, so I can only imagine the frustration he must feel from them.
We’ve entered into new territory, and though I certainly don’t regret sleeping with Ryan, I don’t know how to navigate this either. I’ve only ever been with one man before, and that was the man I fell in love with, married, and had a child with.
I don’t know how to do casual.
I don’t know how to do just sex with no strings.
I don’t even know if that’s what I want. Ryan has also become a hotbed of mixed messages. Worst of all, I’m terrified that our friendship is over.
Walking back out into the bedroom, Ryan is already dressed and running his fingers through his hair instead of using a brush. I don’t say anything as I walk over and grab what I want to wear out of my suitcase and begin to get dressed.
It’s not awkward between us, but it’s not comfortable either.
This is how he was the two days before the Grand Canyon.
Distant. Introspective.
I don’t know how to breach this divide. Is it better this way? Maybe I’m not as ready for sex and another man as I thought I was. I mean, I knew I wasn’t ready for a relationship, but maybe I’m not ready for this either.
What have I done?
One thing is for sure, I need to make friends with Ryan again. I don’t think I can handle the alternative.
19
Ryan
* * *
Katie and I don’t talk much on the three-hour drive into Los Angeles. She’s been typing away on her phone, doing god only knows what. I fucked up. I get that. She has told me time and time again that she doesn’t want a relationship. That she isn’t ready for something more than fun.
And I told her I was good with that.
No wait, I told her that’s what I want too.
So when she sticks to her word, I fail at mine because I’m going into hibernation, self-preservation mode again. I decided when this all began with her that I’d live in the moment and enjoy whatever time we had together.
Then we had sex, and everything I thought I had managed to control fell apart.
I’m totally and completely ruined, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do about it.
Claire booked us in an amazing hotel right in Beverly Hills. Katie’s eyes finally leave her phone in favor of the view, but as we pull into the hotel, she starts to shake her head ever so slightly.
“What? You don’t approve?” My tone is clipped. Even I can hear it.
Her head snaps over to mine with wide eyes. “Oh. No, it’s great.” She doesn’t mean it. I know she thinks it’s beautiful here, but all of this luxury just isn’t her.
“Do you want to stay somewhere else?” My voice softens.
“No, this is fabulous.” She reaches over for my hand now that we’re parked in the valet area. “Thank you for seeing to all of this.” She leans in to kiss me and then looks at me with a shy smile. “Do we have plans for tonight?” Her teeth sink into her lip, her eyes apprehensive.
We do have plans for tonight, but it’s just dinner, and judging by the look in her eyes, I’m happily canceling it. “Nothing important. What did you have in mind?”
“I sort of got us Dodgers tickets.”
I smile, because how fucking cute is she? “Sort of?”
“Well, yes, I got us tickets. It’s the last game of the regular season.”
She’s trying to make me happy, knowing how much I love baseball. Trying to lesson this bullshit tension I’ve created between us.
“That sounds great. I can’t wait.” I lean in and kiss her lips, her nose, her cheeks. “Thank you for doing that for me.”
She beams, squeezing my hand before stepping out of the car. I check us into our overly posh suite, but we don’t have a lot of downtime before we have to head back out to the game. The hotel arranges a car service for us, since driving in LA sucks and neither one of us wants to deal with it.
We arrive at the stadium, procure our tickets and make it to our seats—right behind home plate—as they’re singing the national anthem. The park is crowded, and as I sit down, I get the buzz that you only get from watching professional sports live.
This was the perfect idea, and I’m so glad that she did this.
Another night of being dressed up and going to an expensive dinner seems over the
top. And that’s certainly not who Katie is. She’s down-to-earth and easy-going.
How stupid am I for thinking that if I wine and dine her full of lavish things and big price tags, that she’ll be more inclined to stay with me? So fucking arrogant. The way to Katie’s heart is not through money. Francesca really jaded the hell out of me.
Katie doesn’t drink beer, but when the beer guy comes by, she throws her hand in the air and orders one up. Then hands it to me. She does the same thing when the hotdog vendor approaches, though this time, she gets one for herself too.
It’s the perfect night. The air is mild and just the right temperature. The crowd is into the game, despite the fact that the Dodgers are not headed to the post-season, and Katie is even heckling the umpire over a bad strike call.
I want to freeze-frame this moment and hold onto it.
Katie is able to stay in the moment. To live in it. At least that seems to be the way she’s been doing things for the last few days.
Me? I’m trying. Trying like hell actually, but it’s hard.
“Can you believe that call? That was so obviously a ball.” She’s full of ire, her eyes on the field.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” I lean over and kiss her cheek.
She smiles. “You’re adorable all the time,” she nudges me with her elbow. “Now shut up with the compliments and watch the damn game.” Fuck I love this woman.
And apparently I’m admitting that to myself now. Great. That should help with the in-the-moment thing.
“Yes, ma’am,” I kiss her again, and then I relax into it. I drink beer; she drinks water. We eat hotdogs and ice cream and have one of the best nights of my life—even if it’s not the Phillies playing.
The Dodgers lose, but it was still a good close game, and as we sit in the back of the car, stuck in never-ending traffic, Katie takes my hand, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I was seven the first time I went to see a game in Fenway Park,” she starts, her voice distant, lost in the memory. “I thought it was the coolest place ever. My dad and I didn’t have great seats, we were high up in the bleachers, but it didn’t matter. It was the whole spectacle of it, you know?” She tilts her head up to look at me and I nod, grinning down on her. “It was just…fun. Hotdogs and Cracker Jacks, and people yelling all around us. Tonight reminded me of that, so thank you for canceling whatever incredible thing you had planned for us so we could go.”
