22. Ryker #2
“What are you talking about?” She got up from the ground, brushed off her knees, then took a step toward me. “This was your fantasy, right? You changed your mind?”
“I didn’t change my mind.” I shook my head and wondered if my dad and Barbie had left the office yet. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”
“Why not?” she asked me, her tone confused, offended, and a little angry.
“It’s just not something I want to do with you right now.”
“So you’d do it with someone else, then?” Her eyes narrowed, and I tried not to smile at the hint of jealousy in her voice.
“Maybe.” I shrugged, answering her honestly. I wanted to be as honest as I could with her, even though the entire situation was so far from honest, it wasn’t even funny.
“Have you done it with someone else before?” Her eyes narrowed, and I could almost feel the palpable tension in her being.
“Why are we talking about this?” I asked her, annoyed.
I didn’t want to think about any other women.
Not now. Of course, there had been other women.
Inconsequential women who had meant nothing to me.
Not like her. I growled out loud as that thought hit me.
She didn’t mean anything to me. I liked her, cared for her, was attracted to her, liked hearing her laugh, loved watching her smile, enjoyed her scent, was addicted to the touch of her skin, soft and silky next to mine.
Yes, I felt more for her than I had for the nameless women I’d been with.
But that feeling wasn’t love or anything that could give her what she craved.
I wasn’t that man. I was bitter and jaded by life, love, and relationships, and, as much as she meant to me, I knew I would ultimately disappoint her, and that it wouldn’t work out.
“I guess I’m really special, huh?” she said, her face a twisted mask of hurt and bitterness. “How many women have you had up on this roof before me?”
“Mila,” I said and grabbed her hands. “Please, let’s not go there. We’re having fun here.”
“We are?” She yanked her hands away from me and shook her head. She gathered up her clothes and pulled them on quickly. “Let’s just go. I want to go home.”
“Mila, I’m sorry.” I sighed, panic hitting me. What if we caught up with my dad and Barbie? “Is there really any reason for me to tell you what I’ve done with other women in the past?”
“I was just curious.” She sighed, too, and looked away, her whole body suddenly seeming to fall as if she was accepting some inevitable defeat.
“Nothing in my past matters,” I said honestly. “We shouldn’t dwell on it.”
“I’m not trying to dwell on anything. I just want to know.
I want to feel special,” she mumbled her words so that I could barely hear her.
My ears strained to concentrate on her words, and my heart felt a pang of guilt.
I was being selfish with what I was doing.
I had to let her down gently. She had to know that this wasn’t about her self-worth.
I wanted more for her than this. More than me.
Me and my fantasies and desires. She deserved better.
Even though it killed me to think of her with someone else, smiling at someone else, touching someone else.
No. I couldn’t think of it. When our relationship was over, I’d have to banish her from my life.
“You are special, Mila. You’re the most special woman in the world.” I grabbed her arms and pulled her toward me, holding her so close to me that I could feel her heart beating next to mine.
All of a sudden, the E. E. Cummings poem, “I Carry Your Heart with Me,” popped into my mind.
I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart, I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and held her to me.
I didn’t want to think about what that meant.
It was probably because we’d been friends for years.
She’d been like a younger sister—someone to protect from the harsh realities of the world and someone to tease mercilessly.
“Make love to me, Ryker,” she whispered up at me urgently. “Make love to me so that we can fly.”
“You want to fly?” I asked her softly.
“If you’re the pilot, then yes.” She looked up at me with an impish smile that tugged at my heartstrings.
“I’ll be your pilot,” I growled, leaned down, and kissed her hungrily.
She kissed me back eagerly and laughed as I licked her lips.
I laughed back at her, and my mood relaxed as I realized our awkward moment was over.
The tension was gone from the moment, and the excitement burned through my body again.
“You’re so romantic, Ryker, offering to fly me around the world,” she said, teasing me. “Where will you fly me to first? Australia, England, South Africa, or maybe some cute little island in the Maldives?”
“You’d like that too much.” I grinned down at her, feeling light-hearted. “I’ll take you somewhere over the rainbow.”
“Over the rainbow?”
“Yeah, somewhere no one else could ever take you.” I winked at her.
“In a helicopter or a plane?”
“The only aircraft you’ll be riding on is me.” My hands reached down and caressed her breasts. She moaned as my fingers pinched her nipples, and my body reacted instantly. “I want you, Mila,” I growled as my lips found her neck and bit down. “Oh, how I want you.”
“Then take me.” She breathed out, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Come,” I said, grabbing her hands and bringing her to the edge of the roof again.
“Kneel down again,” I said, and watched as she complied easily.
I reached down and lifted her skirt and touched her; she was so wet.
Wet in anticipation for me. My body shuddered, and I grew rock-hard as I continued to touch her.
“You want to feel me inside you, don’t you?
” I massaged her shivering bud, and I felt like a king.
I had done this to her. I had her looking at me like she would die if I stopped touching her.
“Yes,” she cried out as I pushed a finger inside her. “Please, Ryker, please.”