“I call bullshit.” No such luck. “Why come to eat with me if you’re not hungry?”
“Because you look like you tell fascinating stories?”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns. “Does it have anything to do with your newly acquired car repair and the money you’ll be spending to take care of it? Because, Sweetheart, I wasn’t joking when I said I was offering dinner. Don’t worry about the cost. It’s my treat.”
I shake my head sadly, wondering why this stranger had to drop into my life tonight. Maybe if this was a year or two from now I’d be more willing to relax and eat a comfortable meal with Ryan. “I can’t accept that. You’ve been too generous already.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my treat.”
“Seriously, Ryan. I can’t let you do that—ˮ
“Sweetheart,” he pauses, and I can’t help but look up at him when he doesn’t continue. His gaze is strong and confident, and it holds me steady. “It’s. My. Treat. Now, pick something decent to eat, or I’ll choose for you.”
Whoa.
My heart drums a rhythm of galloping horses as I pick up my menu. Whatever you say, Mr. Bossy. Whatever you say.
The conversation flows easily in the aftermath of our intense moment. Heather returns with a BBQ chicken sandwich for Ryan and a giant omelet breakfast platter for myself. We stick to lighter topics, discussing movies (most of which I haven’t seen), and music (most of which I haven’t heard). We skim the topic of books, but as soon as I mention my uncontrollable obsession with the young adult and romance genres, Ryan shuts the topic down insisting he’d prefer to keep his balls firmly intact. I think some men in this world could seriously benefit from reading a few romance novels. I’m not sure yet if Ryan is one of those men, but it couldn’t hurt.
We finish our meals and I excuse myself to the restroom when the check comes. I know Ryan insisted he’s happy to pay, but I’m uncomfortable witnessing his generosity.
After using the toilet, I spend a ridiculous amount of time washing my hands and staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes are tired, my hair is flat, and I look pale. I pinch my cheeks to add a little color and tease my hair with my fingertips. After I’m positive enough time has passed, I walk out and find Ryan waiting for me by the hostess stand.
We walk to his car in a slightly uncomfortable silence. What happens now? This is foreign territory for me. Besides a fling or two my freshmen year, and Wyatt, I don’t have any experience outside of teenaged, hormonal, immature guys. Nowhere near the realm of a real man like Ryan. Is he going to kiss me? Does he even like me? I’ve had such a good time that I’ve forgotten I just met him this evening. How embarrassing. Here I am crushing on this stranger, and he probably thinks he’s just being polite.
He might even have a girlfriend.
Shit. Shit!
This is exactly why I don’t do this. Dating is too complicated.
“Tatum?”
I’m still a million miles away in my head, so I fail to notice we’re standing outside the passenger door to his car, but his voice breaks my inner panic. I was probably standing here, still as a statue, staring off into nothing for who knows how long. He probably thinks I’m a head case. Maybe he’ll drop me off at a mental ward. Brilliant, I’m turning into my mother.
“I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
Ryan takes a hesitant step towards me until we’re standing toe to toe. I have to tilt my head back in order to see his face properly. His eyes are shadowed from the streetlight behind him, but I can feel the intensity in his gaze. My eyes are drawn to his tongue darting out from his mouth to run across his bottom lip. My stomach swoops. I slowly rake my stare back to his in perfect timing for his next question.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt. I really need to work on this brain-to-mouth filter thing.
His face registers shock, before he grins and lets out a small laugh.
“You think I’d be asking to kiss you if I have a girlfriend?”
I stare at a button on his black shirt. Well, I ruined that moment. Now I’m too mortified to look him in the eye.
Shrugging my shoulder, I respond, “I don’t know. Just wanted to make sure.”
Ryan laughs again, but I’m not finding this funny.
“Look at me.” I don’t comply. His index finger caresses the smooth skin of my neck before he clasps my chin between his forefinger and thumb. He tilts my face until I meet his eyes. “Tatum,” he pauses. I’m beginning to pant. This is ridiculous, guys don’t affect me like this. “I’m going to kiss you.”
He barely gets the words out, and I gasp as he crushes his mouth to mine. Ryan slides the hand holding my jaw to cup my neck instead, his thumb brushing along the hard ridge of my cheek. His other arm wraps around my back; his strong fingers sliding to tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck.
At first, I stand shock still, unable to process what’s happening. Screw the brain-to-mouth filter, my entire brain is malfunctioning in general. When Ryan slips his tongue against opening of my lips, I’m sparked back to reality. Throwing my arms around his neck, I grasp his silky strands, anchoring his mouth to mine.
His tongue rolls against my own, twisting and swirling in a slow, sensual kiss. He takes tiny licks and flicks into my mouth, drawing my breath into him. It’s heated and intense, but in a controlled way. Unhurried. I feel as though I’ve come alive for the first time. Ryan holds my body tight against his, and I moan at the feel of his erection pressing against my stomach. This is…this is…
Shit. This is just too much.
Oh no. I’ve let myself be swept away by the errant thought that someone might find me interesting. I can’t allow myself to entertain thoughts of a relationship beyond casual sex, and by the way Ryan kisses me, the way I feel around him, I know this could never be just casual. He’s made me feel more in two hours than I’ve let myself feel in two years. He’s been a breath of fresh air, a cold drink of water, and every other cliché out there for someone like me. I need to get out of here. I can’t let this go any further.
Ryan must sense my panic, because he ends the kiss, pulling back to study my face. His eyes move back and forth, trying to read the words I’m not saying. That I won’t say.
“What is it?” he breathes out, sounding more affected than I assumed he’d be.
“I need to go.” I speak the words, but my body doesn’t budge, and Ryan holds tight to my biceps. “Please let go, I need to leave.”
“I don’t understand.” His dark brown eyes are a mixture of warmth and concern. A concern I don’t deserve. The look in his eyes is enough to shove my body into motion. He shouldn’t waste his concern on someone like me.
“There’s nothing to understand. Now let me go!” I twist my body, wrenching myself away from him. He releases my arms, and I storm across the parking lot. I’m not far from home now, roughly a mile. I can walk.
I’m halfway across the blacktop slab when Ryan catches up to me. He grabs for my arm, but I yank it out of his grasp. At the last second, he snags my fingers and pulls me around to face him. If I thought he looked concerned before, it’s nothing to the emotion darkening his face now.
“Will you just talk to me?” he asks.
I’m losing my control. I need to get away from him before I fling myself in his arms and cry like a fucking baby.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Kissing you was a mistake. Let go!” I pull from his grasp and start jogging across the pavement.
“Tatum—“
Whirling around, I deliver what I hope is enough to get him to back off. “That’s not my name!” I snarl. “I lied.” Without waiting to see his reaction or hear his response, I turn around and run home.
He doesn’t chase me or call my name again, and I don’t stop running until I’m back inside my sanctuary.