As the wheels of the plane touch down, I’m still staring at the small picture in my hand. The one that has a crease worn into it from being in my wallet all these years.
It was just a dream, I tell myself as my finger traces the outline of Natalie’s face.
Then why do I feel so damn guilty?
Maybe I should end things with Rylee. Nothing is worth a few good romps in the hay. Not even if Ry is different from the others. Not even if she’s the only woman who has ever come close to being in the same ballpark as Nat.
But therein lies the problem. These feelings I’m having, whatever they are – they can’t lead anywhere and I know it.
I put the picture away as we taxi up to the gate.
I have two more weeks down here. Two more weeks of spending my mornings with Rylee. Two weeks of looking forward to whatever time she’ll give me after work. Two weeks of touching her, smelling her, laughing with her.
Two weeks can be a long fucking time. And right now, it seems like forever.
I need to end it with her.
I get off the plane and bypass the luggage carousel. I was only gone for two days so I just have my carry-on. As the escalator takes me down toward the exit, I notice a familiar face. I see Rylee standing there, wearing a black hat like one a limo driver wears. I wonder what she’s doing here wearing that silly hat and a huge smile. Then, just as I’m stepping off the escalator, she flashes a sign that reads ‘Scott Eastwood.’
I laugh. I laugh harder than I’ve laughed, well, since the last time I was with Rylee.
It’s only two more weeks, I think, justifying my sudden change of heart.
“What are you doing here?” I ask when we stop laughing and I can finally speak again.
“I drove you here Wednesday night, remember? You told me your itinerary.”
“Oh, well, you didn’t have to pick me up. I could have taken a cab. Or called Lenny.”
She shrugs. “It’s Friday. We always hang out on Friday. That is unless you don’t want to.”
“That depends. What did you have in mind?”
She takes something out of her back pocket and hands it to me. It’s two tickets to a concert.
I recognize the name of the band. I should, I’ve been backstage at a few of their concerts. “You like White Poison?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ve heard them on the radio. I guess they’re okay.”
“If you think they are just okay, why did you buy tickets?”
“I didn’t buy them. One of the guys gave them to me.”
I furrow my brow. “A player?”
She nods. “Lorenzo Santos.”
“Why didn’t he go himself?”
“Something about it being his sister’s birthday and she’s not a fan.”
“Oh, well we should go. They’re pretty good. I know Adam Stuart.”
“Who?”
“The lead singer for the band.”
We reach her car and she takes the hat off. “Of course you do,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I grab the hat and put it back on her head. “You should wear this later tonight. It looks sexy on you.”
She blushes. She’s so darn cute when her cheeks and neck pink up like this. I can’t help it when I lean down and pin her to the side of her car as I kiss her. I don’t know if it’s the crappy few days I’ve had with the funeral or what, but kissing Rylee just makes me feel … better somehow.
She doesn’t seem to mind that we’re in a public place. But the parking garage is somewhat dark and there aren’t many people around, so she deepens the kiss. She presses herself into me, teasing me with what we both know will happen later tonight. Later, when we’ll go back to my hotel room and devour each other like we have numerous times in the past few weeks.
“Well, hello to you too,” she jokes when we break apart.
I grab the keys from her and then walk around the car to let her in the passenger side.
“Do we have time to grab a bite first?” I ask.
“A quick one. Maybe a sandwich somewhere.”
“What is it with you and sandwiches?”
She shrugs. “They’re quick, easy, cheap, and the possibilities are endless.”
I laugh a little too boisterously.
“What?” she asks.
“I think you just described most of my sexual conquests.”
I see her look of annoyance out of the corner of my eye and I realize she might not find my joke funny.
“Not you, Ry. I said most.”
“Whatever. Listen, I’m a big girl, Brady. I know what this is.”
I reach over and put my hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You are nothing like them, least of all easy and cheap. But if that night in the bathroom is any indication, you’re sure as hell quick.”
We share another laugh and I realize just how good it feels to laugh with her. Sure, I laugh with the guys. I laugh with Murphy even. But I can’t remember ever laughing with any of the others. Not like this. Laughing with Rylee makes me feel … alive.
We stop at a sub shop along the way.
“Alex saw a picture of us at the fair,” she says as we eat. “Someone took a photo of us sitting on the bench while we were eating.”
“Was he mad?”
She sighs. “He seemed jealous, that’s for sure. I think I’ve been in denial.”
“I told you that man wants you, Ry. But I have to ask, other than the no fraternization thing, why don’t you want to go out with the guy?”
“He sleeps with all the interns,” she says. “But you never heard that from me.”
“Really? Isn’t the guy like thirty-five?”
“Thirty-seven, actually. And the interns are usually in their early twenties.”
“He’s taking advantage, Ry. That’s not right. You should say something.”
“Maybe they have an arrangement,” she says, elbowing me. “And I’m not about to say anything and lose my job. They are consenting adults, Brady and it’s none of my business. But he creeps me out. And since you’ve been around, he’s been kind of territorial.”
“Territorial?” Alarm bells go off in my head. “What the fuck does that mean? Has he made a move on you?”
“Calm down, Brady. He just asks a lot of questions about me and my personal life. And about you.”
“And what do you tell him?”
“That you are my patient. Nothing more.”
“And the picture? How did you explain that?”
“I told him you were getting impatient and anxious about your recovery and that I needed to think outside the box. I said the fair games were therapy and it helped to do something different. It wasn’t a lie.”
I smirk and lean in close. “I suppose you left out the part where I gave my fingers a good workout later that night by pinching your nipples and stroking your clit.”
She flushes and squirms in her seat. “Uh, yeah, I left that part out.”
“I need another good workout,” I whisper in her ear.
“We might be able to arrange that, if you behave yourself tonight.”
“Behave myself? What, no touching at the concert? Come on, Ry. It’ll be dark.”
She laughs. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you knowing the lead singer. You are not allowed to use that fact or your celebrity status to get us anything. No backstage passes. No private parties. We’re just two normal people going to a concert, okay?”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.” I tug on my Nascar hat. “It’s a good thing I’m wearing this instead of a Hawks one, maybe it’ll provide camouflage.”
“That and your clean shave,” she says, reaching over to run a finger along my jaw.
“Oh, you like that? I thought I should shave for the funeral.”
“I do, but it’s a lot different than your usual scruff.”
“Scruff? I work hard to keep it that way I’ll have you know.”
“I’ll bet. And it works for you. Obviously,” she says rolling her eyes. “But it was nice to kiss you back at the parking garage. No scruff-burn.”
I look her up and down, my eyes falling to her lap. “No scruff-burn anywhere,” I say.
Her face pinks up again when my eyes meet hers. “Actually, that’s one place I don’t mind it. It kind of enhances the whole feeling.”
My pants get tight at the thought of going down on her. “Well, damn – I’m never shaving again.”
She giggles as she checks the time. “Come on, we’d better go.”
“In a minute,” I say. “You can’t tell me what you just told me and then expect me to walk out of here without a hard-on.”
~ ~ ~
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a concert. Especially a concert where I’m not in some VIP section with an all-access pass. It’s kind of refreshing to just be one of the crowd. For five years now, I haven’t been treated like a normal person. Not until Rylee forced me to be. And being normal is so much better than I remember. It’s freeing. It’s cathartic.
We make our way to the seats printed on the tickets. They aren’t near the stage but are close enough to see without squinting. We’re in the first row in the stands behind all the floor seats. There is a railing in front of us and we’re a few feet above the people sitting on the floor. All in all, they are decent seats and provide an unobstructed view.
The opening band is a local band I remember seeing at a bar last spring. But the real fun starts when Adam and the rest of White Poison come on stage. The pyrotechnics are a sight.
If the crowd wasn’t excited before, it is now. The people on the floor are getting shoved around in what is becoming a mosh pit.
“I’m glad we aren’t down there,” Rylee says, pointing to the sea of people.
I see some guys putting arms around their dates, trying to protect them from the mayhem. And suddenly, I have the urge to pull Rylee against me. So I do.
“I don’t know,” I say, stepping behind her and caging her to the railing in front of us. I lean down and let my breath tickle her ear. “It looks kind of fun.”
She cranes her neck and looks back at me with raised eyebrows. I know what she’s wondering. Brady Taylor doesn’t do PDA. When I’m out with a girl, there’s no touching. There never has been. So why am I breaking my rules with her? The Ferris wheel. The parking garage. Here. I convince myself that none of those count because they were all in dark places.
I kiss her temple. “Turn around, you’re missing the show.”
I spend the next thirty minutes torturing myself by lightly grinding into her from behind. She doesn’t turn and look at me again, and we share no words the entire time, but she does push herself into me, making me crazier than I already am.
One of my hands is on her hip and the other wraps around and grips her stomach, firmly pressing her to me. She reaches up and threads her fingers with mine.
Finally, I break our silence and lean down, putting my face next to her ear. “Let’s get out of here, Ry.”
She turns around in my arms, looking surprised. “But the concert is only half over. Don’t you want to stay and see your friend sing?”
“Fuck the concert and fuck Adam Stuart,” I say. “Because all I want to do right now is fuck you, Rylee.”
She looks up at me with a seductive grin. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
I laugh and take her hand, blazing a trail through the crowd until we reach the other side of the tunnel where the bathrooms and concession stands are. Few people are out here since the concert is still in full swing.
Rylee tugs on my hand, pulling me to a stop in front of a booth. “What size are you?” she asks.
I look over at the concert t-shirts. “Adam will send me fifty if that’s what you want.”
She admonishes me with her stare. “That’s no fun. This is all about the experience, Brady. If we buy a t-shirt here, you’ll always remember this day.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I have a déjà vu moment. My eyes briefly close as my memories go back to when I was eighteen. “You don’t have to do that, Ry.”
“Extra-large?” she asks.
I pull out my wallet since it looks like she’s not going to back down.
“No.” She brushes my hand away when I try to give her some cash. “This is my treat.”
She pays the guy and hands me a shirt. As we walk away, I realize she didn’t get one of her own.
“Why didn’t you get one?”
“I don’t wear a lot of t-shirts. Maybe I’ll just borrow yours once in a while.”
I don’t tell her that it won’t be possible. I don’t remind her that I’m leaving in two weeks and we most likely won’t see each other until spring.
I throw the shirt over my shoulder and grab her hand. “Maybe you can borrow it tonight. Because the thought of you wearing this shirt with nothing under it, just made me hard again.”
She laughs. “Brady, is there anything that doesn’t make you hard?”
“Not when it comes to you,” I tell her.
My driving is on the verge of reckless as I race us back to my hotel. She teases me with light touches to my thigh all the way home. I park in the lot instead of driving up to the valet stand. Rylee gets the key card I gave her out of her wallet. She knows the drill. She goes into the hotel a few minutes before I do. Her going in first is less likely to cause a stir or foster a connection between us should any lurking fans notice me.
As I watch her walk away from the car, I realize she’s the only woman I’ve ever given a key card to.
Convenience, I tell myself. It’s nothing more than that.
After she’s inside, I look around to find the t-shirt, but I can’t see it in the darkness. I’ll find it later.
When I enter the lobby, I breathe a sigh of relief that Rylee entered first. A group of fans rushes over to me before the front door has a chance to swing shut.
“Brady!” one squeals. “Can I get a picture with you?”
“An autograph?” another asks, holding out a pen.
I oblige them all, taking a few minutes to heed their requests.
When I finally make it up to my suite, I walk in with a smile on my face. Rylee appears in the doorway to my bedroom wearing nothing but the concert t-shirt she just bought me.
“Why do you look so happy?” she asks.
“You mean other than the fact that a beautiful half-naked woman is standing in my bedroom?”
She laughs. “Yeah, other than that.”
I stride over to her and pick her up, swinging her around. “I signed an autograph downstairs.”
“Okaaaaaay,” she says, looking confused.
“Ry, I signed it with my left hand. And I didn’t drop the pen.”
“That’s great! See, I told you it would happen. I’m so happy for you.”
I put her down. “Well, it’s not a jar of pickles.”
“Baby steps,” she says. “This is a very good thing, Brady. And you have every right to be happy. Progress is progress, no matter how you look at it. You are going to make a full recovery. I know it.”
Rylee has always been my biggest cheerleader when it comes to my recovery. I still have such a long way to go. What will I do when I’m back in New York? Will my physical therapist there push me as hard as Rylee has? Will he believe in me the way she does?
She grabs my hand and pulls me over to the bed. She leaves me standing at the end of it while she crawls seductively onto the middle of the bed, letting the shirt ride up just enough so I can see what’s not underneath.
Damn. I realize just how much I like her wearing my shirt. I think back to earlier when she said she’d just borrow it once in a while. I don’t tell her that I want nothing more than for her to borrow my shirt. Or anything else she wants to borrow. And more than once in a while. I want her to borrow it and return it. And borrow it again.
Suddenly it hits me like a ton of fucking bricks falling off the Empire State Building.
I want this woman lying on the bed wearing my shirt. I want her for more than tonight. For more than these few months. I don’t want her to be my Tampa girl. I want her to be my only girl.
But I push the thought aside. Because no matter how much I want her. I know better. I can never have her. I can never have anyone.
Not anymore.
“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to join me?” she asks, teasing me by pulling the shirt up even higher.
I can see her soft tuft of curls. Her flat belly. The undercurve of one of her breasts. Hell, I can smell how much she wants me.
I kick off my shoes and crawl onto the bed, working my way up her body starting at her bare feet. I kiss her ankles. I lick the inside of her knees. I knead her thighs. By the time I reach her sex, she’s already writhing beneath me.
I push a finger inside her. “Ry, you are so wet.”
“Well, what do you expect? This whole night has been one big production of foreplay.”
I push a second finger in and press my thumb on her clit. She whimpers in pleasure. “Oh, God.”
“You’ll be shouting out my name in two minutes,” I tell her.
“Two? You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?”
I pull out my phone and set the stopwatch.
She looks at what I’m doing. “You’re kidding, right?”
I put down the phone next to me and press my mouth to her opening. I work my tongue inside her, fucking her with it as I give her a taste of what’s to follow. I replace my tongue with my fingers when I move it to her clit, sucking on it as I feel the little nub grow harder. Her moans become louder and I smile knowing she’s close. I double my efforts and work my pinky finger back to the pucker of her ass. I slip the tip of it in, pushing her over the edge as she pulsates around each finger I have inside her.
As she recovers from her orgasm, I pick up my phone and turn it around, showing it to her. “Ninety-four seconds,” I say, smugly.
“Give me that thing.” She takes it from me. “Now take off your clothes.”
I laugh. “You think you can beat my time?”
She watches my every move as I strip, my erection springing proudly from my boxer briefs as I lower them to the floor. When I’m completely naked, she peels off the t-shirt she’s wearing, revealing her gorgeous body. Her breasts are perfectly proportioned to her petite, trim figure. Her nipples are stiff and puckered. Her face is flushed and her hair is messy from her orgasm. I’ve never seen such an incredible sight. My dick throbs almost painfully.
“Oh, I know I can,” she says arrogantly.
I dive onto the bed and turn around, my head on the pillow and my hands laced behind my neck. “Give it your best shot.”
She hits the start button on my phone’s stopwatch and smiles deviously. She gets on all fours next to me, her bottom inches from my face. She takes my dick into her hands and strokes me steadily. Then when she leans over to take me into her mouth, I get an all-access view of her wet pussy.
Holy shit. I can’t help it when my hand travels up and my fingers find their way inside her again. She moans around my cock, probably still sensitive from her orgasm. The vibrations from her noises drive me insane. Her hand works beneath me to massage my balls and I feel them tighten with my impending release.
She works her mouth faster, up and down, up and down, stopping momentarily to suck on the head before continuing on. I feel a finger traveling across my perineum and when she carefully plunges it into my ass, it sends me over the top. “Jesus, Rylee!” I shout, my powerful orgasm flooding her mouth as she works every last drop out of me.
She sits back on her haunches and picks up my phone with a brilliant smile on her face. She shows it to me. “Eighty-nine seconds,” she says. “I win.”
I laugh and pull her on top of me. “I’d say we both won at this game.”
She laughs with me as she runs a finger across my jawline.
Damn I love this.
I kiss her finger when it traces my lips. “Let me rest for a few minutes and then we’ll go for the record.”
“You should know I’m very competitive,” she says. “We may be at this for a while.”
“Challenge accepted, Rylee Kennedy.”
“Game on, BrayTay.”
“If you keep impersonating Lenny, I guarantee you’ll never beat the record.”
I watch her bounce up and down on my chest as we share another laugh, and for a moment, I feel something I haven’t felt in what seems like forever.
I feel happy.