Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
More Than Words
Spencer
Anthony leads me through a set of service doors at the back of the ballroom and down a short hallway.
The sounds of the event fade behind us, but the closer we get to the kitchen, the louder everything becomes—pans clanging, voices calling, the hiss of burners.
Then we step through the doors, and the sight leaves me breathless.
Ryan stands at a prep station surrounded by a half dozen kids from THRIVE.
Bonnie, Jacob, and several others I recognize straightaway.
They're gathered around him in a semicircle, watching intently as he demonstrates something on a plate.
His sleeves are rolled up, a white chef's coat stretches across his broad shoulders, and atop his head is a gigantic floppy chef's hat.
He's smiling as he explains something, using his hands while the kids nod and ask questions. They're completely locked in, engaged, and enchanted by him. Just like everyone else.
Just like me.
Ryan reaches for a garnish, then pauses. His head lifts. Those green eyes find mine from across the room, and a huge, dopey grin spreads across his face.
My heart detonates.
There he is.
There. He. Fucking. Is.
Before I can get in my own way, I'm already moving. Ryan's smile grows as I march straight across the kitchen, grab his hand, and start dragging him away.
“Uh—” Ryan starts.
“I'll bring him back in a minute,” I interject.
A chorus immediately erupts behind us. “Ooooooooh.”
Ryan starts laughing.
Anthony’s snickering somewhere behind me.
I don't care. Not even a little.
I scan the room and spot a small office just off the kitchen. Perfect. I pull Ryan inside and close the door, the click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in the sudden quiet. Then I turn back and lock eyes with him, and the want in his gaze nearly brings me to my knees.
But on my knees is not where I want to be right now.
I haven't kissed anyone in years. Not since my brain decided that intimacy was a currency I would no longer spend. I've trained myself not to want, not to need, not to crave the heat of another person's mouth against mine.
But Ryan stands there in his ridiculous chef's hat, looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world worth seeing, and every wall I've constructed crumbles to dust. I need to show him—with more than just words—how he’s completely turned my world on its side in the best possible way.
I grab the front of his chef coat, shove him against the wall and crash our mouths together.
The first touch of his lips against mine is a revelation, a shockwave, a fucking explosion. I gasp against his mouth because it's too much and not enough, because I've forgotten what this feels like and because I've never felt it like this.
Not with anyone, not ever.
His lips are softer and warmer than I imagined. The taste of him—God, the taste of him—floods my senses until I'm drowning in it, until I can't remember my own name, until the only word left in my vocabulary is more.
Ryan makes a sound against my mouth, surprised and hungry, and then he's kissing me back with a desperation that mirrors my own.
His hands find my waist and grip tight, fingers pressing into the fabric of my jacket like he's anchoring himself to me, like he's afraid I'll disappear if he doesn't hold on.
Tossing the hat somewhere aside, I slide my hands into his hair, and the strands are silken against my fingers. I want to touch every part of him, want to map his body with my hands and my mouth until I know him better than I know myself.
Neither of us is easing into this kiss. Now that I've finally let go… I can't stop, won't stop. I kiss him harder, deeper, tilting my head to fit our mouths together more perfectly, and Ryan groans against my lips, the sound vibrating through my chest. It settles somewhere low and aching in my gut.
God. I've wanted this. Wanted him. For so long.
I just wouldn’t let myself have him.
The years between my last kiss and this one disappear, rendered meaningless by the heat of Ryan's mouth. He kisses me like he's been starving for this too—like he's been standing on the opposite side of the same locked door, waiting for me to finally turn the key.
His forehead bumps mine and I feel him breathing, feel the shudder in his chest, and my breath catches because this is real, this is happening. Ryan is kissing me back and I never want it to end.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard, chests heaving, the air between us charged and electric. Ryan's cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen and wet and red from my mouth. His eyes are bright and dazed.
He looks wrecked.
He looks beautiful.
He looks like mine.
He smiles, soft and tender, completely undoing me.
“Hey, Perfect.”
In this moment I realize—with a jolt of panic, desire, and absolute certainty—that I've made a terrible mistake. Because now that I've tasted him, now that I know what his lips feel like… not to mention the sounds he makes when he's breathless with want, I will never be able to stop.
I have opened a door I cannot close, crossed a line I cannot uncross, and I am already addicted to the heat of him, his scent, the way he looks at me like I'm worth loving.
I am completely, irrevocably, terrifyingly gone for this man. And I have no idea how to survive it.
Tears start streaming down my face.
Ryan's smile instantly falls. “What's wrong, baby?”
A laugh bursts out of me, wild and unhinged and a bit manic. He tilts his head, concern deepening. I take a step back and throw my arms into the air.
“What's wrong?” I shout a little sarcastically. “What's wrong?” I laugh again. “My whole life plan is up in smoke. That's what's wrong.”
Ryan crosses his arms, now looking thoroughly confused and slightly offended.
I point at him. “You.” His eyes widen. “You and your fucking sunshine.”
“Uh—”
“You barged into my office.” Ryan winces. “You took over our condo.” His mouth twitches. “And you invaded my heart, Ryan Buterbaugh.” His eyes widen.
The words break something open inside me. I brace a hand on the corner of the desk, trying to steady myself.
“Spence—”
I hold up a hand. “No.” He obeys. I swallow hard, then look directly at him. “Then I find out you've been here all along.”
“What?” Confusion flashes across his stupidly gorgeous face.
“The boy with the kind eyes,” I choke out.
Ryan blinks. “Who?”
“Second Sunrise.”
He looks baffled for a moment, then his expression changes, just slightly. “My aunt worked there. But what does that—”
“She took you there a couple times.”
Understanding still hasn't arrived. I pull back the sleeve on my suit jacket, and expose the cufflink. The silver twenty-two catches the light. Ryan's eyes drop to it. “You asked me about this,” I remind him. His gaze remains fixed on the number.
“My mom and I,” I tell him, voice trembling. We were Family Twenty-Two.”
His eyes widen in sudden understanding. I’d told him there were a few years we bounced around shelters, but there’s no reason he would have made the connection. Until I made it for him.
Ryan stares at me, then the cufflink, then me again.
“Oh, Perfect.” His voice barely exists. He reaches toward me. I take a step back because I have to get this out.
“You tried to be nice to me.” My throat chokes on the words. “And I pushed you away.”
“Spence, I can't imagine what you were going through.”
I shake my head. “Let me finish.”
Ryan nods.
“After that experience...” I stare down at the floor. “After losing her.” The words nearly destroy me. “I built a plan. A very detailed plan. I designed my entire life around never being vulnerable again.” I shrug. “And honestly? It worked.”
Ryan's jaw tightens. “Until Travis.”
I nod. “Until Travis.”
His fists bunch.
“But I got back on track.” I meet his eyes. “I lived exactly the life I planned. And then you showed up.”
Ryan's expression melts.
“With your kind eyes.” A tear slides down my cheek.
“And your perfect ass.” He lets out a surprised laugh.
“And your stupid giant heart.” I suck in a breath.
“Trying to love me.” His eyes immediately water.
“And I've done nothing but push you away.”
“Spence, I understand—”
“No.” I shake my head again. “The problem, Ryan...” My voice breaks. “...is now I have to recalibrate everything. My plan. My here and now. My future.” I laugh through the tears. “Hell, even my past.”
Ryan's eyes shine.
“Because I have to accommodate the fact that I'm completely fucking gone for you.”
Ryan freezes.
“I am so gone for you that I blew past 'in love' months ago.” His eyes widen. “And my stubborn ass refused to admit it.”
Silence. A beat passes. Two.
“You love me?” A massive smile spreads across his face.
I look toward the ceiling. “Oh God.”
Ryan starts laughing.
“I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”
“You love me.” His smile gets bigger, brighter, more Ryan. “You looove me.”
I groan. “Yep. Knew it.”
Ryan Beams.
I start laughing because there’s no resisting his oafish charm. Then suddenly he's stepping closer, pulling me into his arms, pressing his forehead against mine. And for the first time in years... everything feels right.
“Our condo.”
I blink. “What?”
Ryan grins. “You said I took over our condo.”
I hum. “Well that’s what it is.”
His face lights up like someone plugged him into the sun. Then he whispers, “I'm going to kiss you now.”
I nod against his forehead.
“And I'm never going to stop kissing you,” he says, low and dirty. “We have a lot of kissy time to make up for.”
I groan. “As long as you don't call it that, I’m good with it.”
Ryan starts laughing, then his mouth is on mine again.