Something passes across her expression, a flashing emotion, difficult to read. I wish I could reach inside her pretty head and pluck at her thoughts.
“I never talk about this,” she says softly. “But with you, I don’t know. It feels easier than with everybody else.”
Her tempting insecurity triggers a protective impulse inside of me, right down to phrasing her emotions like a question. It’s that shiver in her voice, as though she’s telling me she’s prey, my prey, and she needs me to keep the other predators away.
“What happened to the person who did it?”
“He died in prison,” she says.
“Good,” I snarl.
“Anyway,” she grins, pushing away the sadness. “That’s enough of that. We can only tolerate so much grumpiness, right?”
I chuckle. “I’d hardly say you were being grumpy.”
“Where are we going?” she presses.
She’s changing the subject, but I can’t blame her. I’d do the same if we were talking about my uncle and all that pain.
“A little place I know,” I tell her. “But first – if you don’t mind – we need to pick somebody up.”
“Oh,” she frowns. “Okay.”
I laugh and reach over, stroking my hand along her face. The gesture feels natural, like I’ve done it a thousand times before. And yet the excitement is there like it’s the first time since it is the first time.
My woman is so fascinating to me. It hurts just being close to her and not being able to explore every inch of her, making her whimper with want in a thousand ways.
She reaches up, touching my hand, locking eyes with me. The way her fingers cling to mine, I can feel her nervousness.
“Not another person,” I tell her. “I was talking about Rusty.”
“Your dog,” she says. “I remember.”
“There’s a dog-friendly restaurant near my apartment. I thought we could go there. We don’t have to, but….”
I leave it hanging. This was Charley’s idea. When we were talking this morning, he said it would be good to test if she’s really the one, as he insists on calling her.
“What if she hates Rusty?” he said. “What if she hates all dogs? I know you, Ryland. You need a dog in your life.”
My old friend is right. I’ve always had an affinity for animals, even when I was a kid.
If Rachel’s lips turn downward, if she mentions allergies, if she says she doesn’t want a mangy mutt intruding on our date… would that make me cut this off, end it before it begins? Would that make her less essential or attractive to me?
“Oh, great.” Her face lights up, her smile bright. “That sounds awesome. I’m excited to meet him.”
I almost laugh at my own stupidity.
Of course, my dream girl likes dogs.
“Okay then.” I start the engine, joining the traffic. “I bet he’s excited to meet you too.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rachel
He puts his hand on the small of my back as we walk across his building’s lobby.
His touch is warm, burning through the fabric of my top. It’s the same way I felt when he tucked my hair behind my ear in the car. And when he tenderly grazed his hand along my face.
I wonder if he knows how insanely fancy his lobby looks. The floors are clean marble, and a security guard sits behind a large desk as though this is a hotel. Beyond him, floor-to-ceiling windows look out upon a well-maintained garden.
Ryland leads us to an elevator, guiding me inside.
This is exactly what Autumn warned me against.
“Don’t go anywhere private with him, not until you’re sure about his intentions.”
When I asked what she meant, she shook her head, telling me you can never be too careful.
But even as the elevator doors close us in together, it’s difficult to feel even a flicker of fear. It’s difficult to think, even for a second, that Ryland could want to cause me harm.
My core pulses and my body tingles at the thought. My womb hums with a hot feeling, silently telling me that the only thing I should care about is taking this man inside of me, and having as many of this man’s children as possible.
“Are you okay?” he asks as we ride the elevator.
I turn, staring up into his eyes. He’s gazing down with that particular brand of intensity. It radiates from him until I’m sure I can feel the passion.
His hand is resting on my hip, squeezing gently. As he stares, his grip gets firmer, his fingers sinking deeper.
A moan escapes me.
“You are so, so, so damn beautiful.”
I whimper as he leans down, part of me still unwilling to believe this is happening. As his lips collide with mine, a thought hits me, striking me at the most unfair time.
How did he find me on the online chat the second time? Did he find me just to ask me on a date?
I can’t believe it hasn’t occurred to me sooner.