by Maisey Yates
“Okay. In return do I get some dinner?”
She treated him to a mock scowl. “I should’ve known you had ulterior motives.”
“Me? My motives are pure. And hungry.”
“I have some cheese and crackers. I’ll get those out and then I can put some pot pies in the oven.”
“I won’t say no to that.”
She readied the plate of cheese and crackers, then fiddled about in the kitchen so that she had a little bit of distance from Ryan. The pies went into the oven before she arranged some vegetables and dip on a platter. If there was one thing she always had a lot of, it was various appetizers and munchies. The perks of working parties. Especially weddings. The happy couple left, and after she saw to the work of preserving what was left of their wedding cake for them, she typically ended up with the other food from the reception, since it would go bad before they got back from their honeymoon.
Of course, it was potentially bad for one’s diet to have a steady stream of crabcakes, puff pastries and bacon wrapped everything. She tried to eat a lot of salad to counterbalance it.
She walked out into the living room with the vegetables and the cheese and crackers, then sat both plates on the couch. Ryan had already unpacked all of the bins. The tree ready to decorate, garlands and strands of lights unrolled and laid out across the floor.
“Christmas command central,” he said, gesturing to the display in front of her.
“It looks like a reindeer threw up in here.”
“I know. It seems like the kind of thing you would like.”
“I don’t like it.” She smiled when he frowned. “I love it.”
“Holidays are a big thing to you, aren’t they?”
She lifted a shoulder. “In my line of work? Of course the holidays are a big deal to me. Plus...” She hesitated. “We didn’t celebrate anything when I was a kid. My parents just...didn’t see the point. Getting to plan parties like this, to share in all of these special moments of people... It’s kind of like making up for every party I didn’t have.”
Ryan frowned and her heart contracted, embarrassment over the fact that she just admitted that making her cheeks sting with heat. “Did you ever have a birthday party? Before Dan and Margie?”
His words brought the night of her eighteenth birthday to mind. Her parents had agreed to come and take her out, and then they hadn’t showed. She’d been standing there on Dan and Margie’s lawn in a dress, not wanting to go back in and admit that her parents had flaked out on her.
And then Ryan had come up the walkway, looking every inch like the only present she would ever really want. He’d touched her then. Hugged her. She’d wanted to stay in his arms forever, but it had only lasted a moment.
Just one more disappointment.
She bent down, picking up one of the green garlands. “Doesn’t matter. I have big parties now. All the parties I want. I plan the best ones.”
“Holly...”
She looked up and froze, immobilized by the look in his eyes. Sympathy. Sympathy from Ryan Masters. A man who would quite possibly shout bah humbug at a Dickensian street urchin. And he was standing there feeling sorry for her.
Just like he had back then. She wanted so much more than just his sorry.
“Don’t give me that look,” she said, frowning and gathering one of the garlands into her arms. “You’re thirty-four, single, and live on a boat.” She swept over to her mantel and climbed up onto the raised brick hearth of the fireplace to place the garland over the bare, polished wood.
“You want me to apologize for feeling something?”
“I don’t need pity. My childhood sucked. A lot of people had it worse. I was fortunate enough to end up with the best foster parents in the entire world. Foster parents who still care about me, who still treat me like one of their children. How many people can say that? And now I’m a grown-up who deals in fancy foods and decorations for a living.” She snorted. “Pity yourself, boat man.”
He ignored the dig. “We have quite a few things in common,” he said.
“Do we?”
“Besides the obvious foster kid situation, neither of us wants sympathy. Neither of us has a whole lot of attachments, either. Don’t act like you’re so different from me.”
“I don’t think our situations are exactly comparable,” she said, climbing down from the fireplace and making her way over to one of the bins that was filled with ornaments. “I’m a stable, happy business and home owner. You, on the other hand, are alarming.”
His dark eyebrows shot up. “I’m alarming?”
“A little bit.”
“How so?”
“You spend a lot of time alone. With fish.”
“I’m a fisherman.”
“So the fish don’t even like you. Because you kill them.”
He treated her to an unamused look. “I’m not exactly worried about the finer feelings of fish.”
“You can’t afford to be.”
“No, I can’t. But I worry a little bit about your finer feelings.”
Her stomach clamped down hard, and she had the inescapable feeling of being caught at something. “Oh?”
“You’re so concerned about my constant grumpiness. I worry a little bit about your constant cheerfulness.”
“Oh. Ha! As if being a...a...jackass all the time is more emotionally healthy than being an optimist?”
“No, being honest is healthier. You’re just pushing it all down.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked. “I can’t imagine that you want to sit down and talk about my feelings. We had a crappy start, we both did. But why wallow in it? And why talk about it.”
“I didn’t say we had to talk about our pasts. I’m just pointing out you shouldn’t get real smug up on your high horse there. You’re emotionally healthier than me? Bullshit. You’re holding so much in that one of these days you’re going to explode.”
Holly wanted to punch him in the face. For being so right. For being part of the problem. But even while she was feeling so angry she was afraid she might explode, she was watching his mouth. Imagining, yet again, what it would be like to be kissed by him. What it would be like to have those large, masculine hands touching her. What he might have looked like carrying all those heavy boxes in without all the layers of clothes on. What he might look like without all those layers of clothes. Without any clothes at all.
It was sick. Sick and perverse. He was right. She was going to explode.
“Ok,” she said, swallowing hard. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am holding things in. Maybe I’ve been holding some things in for too long. Hiding them too well.” She regretted saying that, the moment the words left her mouth, because if he asked for an explanation, she would have to give it. He knew her. He knew this wasn’t about a serious relationship. Knew that it wasn’t about work. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out what it was about.
“Is that so?”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes. I know what it’s like to feel something that you can’t act on. To feel something huge, something there isn’t any room for, not inside of you, not in your life. And you push it down because it... It would just ruin things.”
“That’s not something that can last,” he said, taking a step toward her.
“Obviously,” she said, moving nearer to him.
His eyes were sharp, hot on hers. “What are you holding in?”
This was very bad. Very, very bad. He was talking about feelings, and she was making it about sex. She felt like some kind of gender role had been flipped. Unless he was talking about sex now too. But she doubted that. Because he seemed opposed to the idea of introducing a physical relationship into...their friendship? Their strange, pseudo-familial relationship? Whatever it was they had.
There were r
easons she’d never made a move on him. Yesterday being an exception.
The Traverses meant everything to her. Everything. If things went south with Ryan...it would complicate everything. Compromise things with the only family she’d ever known.
But you don’t want a relationship. You aren’t that stupid anymore. And he probably doesn’t want one either.
She thought about her distant New Year’s resolution. To get a kiss again. To move on. Suddenly, she had a very bad, very self-indulgent idea, that felt like it bordered on genius. Because it meant she could have everything she wanted without any repercussions.
A holiday fling. With the one man she’d always wanted. A man who didn’t want a serious relationship. She would go into it with her eyes open. Go into it for the physical only, no unrealistic expectations.
She would ring out the old year with Ryan, and ring in the New Year ready to move on.
“I like One Direction.” She had no idea why, but those were the words that escaped. Probably something in her brain trying to save her at the last minute. Giving her an out.
The left side of his mouth lifted. “Do you?”
She nodded. “Deep, dark secret.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s what you were talking about.”
“And now you’re an expert on secrets?”
“Just on yours. Or, more to the point, I can tell when you’re lying.”
“You can?” She really hoped that wasn’t true.
“Or, in this case holding something back. Maybe you do like One Direction. I’m not even sure who that is.”
She swallowed hard, her hands shaking, her stomach tightening. “Okay, yes, I am holding something back. Bacon is only okay. It doesn’t need to be put on everything. Wow, I feel better now.”
He took another step toward her. “You be careful with heresy like that.”
“Come on, bacon chocolate chip cookies. It’s gone too far.” Her face was hot, her heart beating so fast she could hardly breathe.
She didn’t know what was happening. Sometime in the past few minutes things had changed. He had changed. He could see inside of her, she was sure of it. There was a heat in his eyes that spoke of only one thing. The kind of heat she’d never seen in Ryan’s eyes before.
It scared her. And she wanted it.
“Holly, what are you hiding from me?” His dark eyes were intense, level with hers. The air felt thick between them again, like it had yesterday in the attic at his parents’ house. “You’re the one who brought it up, so I can only assume there’s something you actually want to say. But don’t want to say.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“So, I’m wrong?”
“No,” she said, her tone wooden. “But if I say it, I can’t unsay it. And you might run away. And never speak to me again. And embarrass me in front of the Traverses.”
He paused. “You don’t really think I would do that.”
“Okay, not anything except for the leaving. I do think you might leave.”
He said nothing for a moment, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “If I were you, I would clarify. And quickly. Because you’re leaving me a lot of space to make assumptions, and you may not like the conclusions I’m drawing.”
“Are they interesting conclusions? Because I might want to hear them before I admit to anything.”
“Holly...”
She licked her lips, hesitating a moment before closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his neck. He didn’t move away, not this time. And she acted before waiting for a response. Then she closed the distance between them, and pressed her lips against his.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE TILTED HER HEAD as their lips met, the shock of heat and arousal that rioted through her intense, unexpected. Yes, she’d known that touching him like this would be amazing, but she hadn’t realized it would be so...all over.
Kissing—in her experience—involved her mouth and very little else. Possibly roaming hands, but she’d never let it continue on very long. So, not even usually that.
One brush of Ryan’s lips against hers and she felt the impact everywhere.
It took her a moment to realize that he was frozen beneath her. She had to cut through the heat, the fire and flame, to get any sort of sense of his reaction. But now that she had it, she felt slightly horrified. She raised her head, breaking the contact between their mouths. “I’m sorry,” she said.
The moment the words left her mouth, Ryan’s hand shot up, his fingers digging deep into her hair, holding her tight. “Don’t apologize for that,” he said, his voice almost a growl, a look in his eyes she’d never seen there before.
“Well, you didn’t... You didn’t kiss me back.”
“I need to make sure you know what you’re asking for,” he said.
“You need to make sure I know what I’m asking for?” she parroted.
“I don’t want to kiss.”
“Oh?”
“I haven’t had sex for more than a year. And you’re the last person that I should ever touch. What I need... It’s physical. Only physical. And it’s not just a kiss.”
“Good. That’s all I want too. I... I’ve wanted you for a long time. But you’re part of...you’re part of the most important people in my life. You don’t lift out of the picture. And I don’t want you to lift out. It always seemed like something way too important to screw up for a few orgasms.”
“Being horny means never having to explain why.”
She laughed, a short, distressed laugh. “Wow, that’s profound.”
Suddenly, his arms were around her, and he was pulling her up against his body, letting her feel the evidence of just how aroused he was. She was shaking now, from the inside out, all of the words in her head suddenly jumbled and tilted on end.
“I’m not even sure what I said. There’s no blood left in my brain.”
“Nothing changes,” she said, while she could still figure out a way to form sentences.
“I’m good with that.”
“I mean it. Nothing changes. After this we go back to how it was. I know that you don’t want to marry me. I certainly don’t want to marry you and go live on your boat, and deal —”
Her words were cut off by the hot press of his mouth against hers, his tongue sliding against the seam of her lips, forcing them apart. She had no idea how they’d gone from never having touched romantically to making out in her living room in five seconds flat, but they most certainly had.
There were very few things that lived up to their promise. Very few things that possessed even a shade in reality of what they had promised in fantasy. Ryan’s kiss was one of them. In reality, his kiss superseded the fantasy. Everything his lips had promised to be, they were more. His hands were strong and hot on her back, sliding down her waist and to her hips, gripping her tight as he angled his head and took the kiss deeper, harder.
She couldn’t believe it was happening. Finally. It felt like the last piece had fallen into place. The last part of human contact she’d been missing. Margie and Dan had given her love like parents, love she’d been missing all of her life. Elizabeth had been like a sister. When it came to romantic relationships...there had been nothing. Not anything real.
Ryan was the one she’d wanted. His touch. His kiss. It was happening now. And it was everything.
He groaned, walked her back and pressed her against the wall, his body hard and hot in front of her, the surface of the wall unyielding and cool behind her. She clung to him, her fingers fisted into the fabric of his shirt as she learned the surface of his lips and became accustomed to the slick friction of his tongue against hers. As the ache between her thighs deepened, intensified, became a ravenous, hollow hunger that needed only him to be satisfied. She rocke
d against the hardened length of his arousal, his height making it impossible for her to feel him precisely where she needed him most.
“Ryan,” she said, tearing her mouth away from his, “Ryan... I need...”
“I know.”
And he seemed to, because he slid his hands down from her hips to grip her thighs, tugging them apart and forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist. Opening the center of her need to him, grinding the hard ridge of his cock against her as he held her firmly against the wall.
“Oh!” She’d officially gone past the point of all previous experience. But then, she felt as though she’d done that the moment their lips had touched. Kissing Ryan was an entirely separate activity from what she’d experienced in the past.
He slipped his hands away from her thighs, using the strength of his body and the wall to hold her in place. He cupped her face, tilted her chin up and deepened the kiss, tasting her, savoring her as though she were a delicacy, and he a starving man.
She knew what that was like. It had been more than a year since he’d had sex, but she was a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. She was pretty sure she won.
She was suddenly struck with a jolt, not of nerves, but of extreme excitement. She was finally touching him in the way that she wanted to. Finally kissing him like she’d always fantasized about. No, it wouldn’t end well. But she had accepted that, and she was just free to enjoy now. Everything she could have. Everything he would give her.
Scratch that. Everything she could take. She wasn’t passive in this. She refused to be. This was her fantasy come to life. She doubted it was the same for him. For him, this was just a drink of water after a long dry spell. For her, this was the oasis she had always desired after years in a desert. For her this was the fulfillment of a specific fantasy, not a generic need.
Those thoughts spurred her on, made her bold. Virginal nerves had no place in this. Later, later she could sit and have a postmortem. Be horrified by her behavior, maybe. But now, now she was just going to have what she wanted.
