Chapter Thirty-Two
thirty-two
Lanie
Lanie took a deep breath as the elevator ascended.
She’d considered staying downstairs longer to heed the advice she’d been given where Ridley was concerned. Narcisa kept reminding her to be sensible about this. And as she awaited her dinner, she tried to repeat what her mother had told her.
Aim lower. The idea nagged at her.
Ridley wanted her, Lanie knew that. But, what did that mean precisely? It wouldn’t require much of him to be merely interested in sex and nothing more. She’d met more than her fair share of those guys. Stupidly slept with some too. Still, that didn’t seem like Ridley’s style. He respected her. He paid attention to her without keeping his eyes squarely on her tits and ass.
At least usually.
She was pretty sure she hadn’t imagined the air in their suite shifting. Ridley’s eyes roaming her body and following her around the room the same way her super’s cat did when it stalked its prey. But even if he was mildly interested, would she willingly trade Ridley’s respect for some meaningless sex?
Yes!
That’s the limerence talking, Lanie , the Narcisa in her head firmly shut her down.
Lanie stepped off the elevator with take-out containers from downstairs. She’d picked up a burger for him anyway, even though Ridley was sure to hate it. “Hey!” she called out, coming through the door. “I got—”
He wasn’t there but an English-language cable news station played on the large television.
Lanie placed the take-out containers on the low coffee table in front of the couch and broke one open to get at the steak fries, popping some into her mouth.
“Food’s on!” she called out, voice muffled by a full mouth.
She went into her room and stripped off her street clothes. Digging through her overnight bag for the T-shirt and shorts she usually slept in, she groaned, remembering that her bra would have to remain on since she had company. The main room was still empty when she reentered. Sighing, she walked up to Ridley’s slightly ajar door.
“Oh, Doctor!” Lanie rapped out a short beat using both hands. “Ridley?” His door slid further open on soundless hinges. She took two tentative steps into the darkened but empty room before sucking in a breath.
Reflected in the bureau mirror to her right was an unobstructed view of Ridley through the open bathroom door on the left. He was standing in the glass shower. Lanie froze then gasped upon seeing where his hands were.
Christ on a cracker.
Lanie willed her legs to move, to back out quietly before he discovered her violation. To wipe this unauthorized vision of him from her mind before he turned and saw her standing there. Lanie tried to silently escape, but in her haste to back up, she accidentally brushed the light switch at her elbow. It winked on and off as if she’d been deliberately trying to catch his attention.
“Lanie?” Ridley grimaced through the water running down his face, eyes snapping to the reflection of the open door just as she stepped out of view.
She spun, fleeing to her own room. Once inside, she closed and leaned against the door, dropping her face into her hands. Panting, she willed herself to shake the mental image loose. To somehow pretend it hadn’t happened, if that was possible. But a knock on the door minutes later said that it wouldn’t be.
“Lanie?”
She pressed her back into the door as if Ridley might try to push his way in. But the knocking was tentative, like his voice. “Lanie? Were you just in my room?”
Shame flooded her. “I am so incredibly sorry!” The words flowed like a torrent. “I swear to God, I’m not the kind of person who would sneak into someone’s room and watch them shower! I didn’t see anything!” she blurted out. It was a very obvious lie, made more so by her insistence. “I didn’t!”
“Lanie, can you open the door?”
“Are you dressed?”
“At this point, does it matter?”
She groaned audibly.
“Sorry. Yes, of course I am.”
Lanie was sure her brown face burned crimson. It would have caught fire, if possible. Still, she opened the door a crack. “I am disgusted with myself. I have no excuse. I brought you food and...” she sputtered into the silence with her eyes still closed, as if to look at him now would scald her retinas.
“Lanie.” He sounded exasperated. “Open your eyes, please.”
When she dared peek, Ridley was attired identically to her, wearing a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. His face was that unreadable mask she hated.
Is he pissed?
“Oh God, Ridley. I am mortified,” she started again, easing the door open completely. “I was knocking and the door just opened and...and—”
“Lanie, calm down.” He raised a hand to touch her before seeming to think better of it.
It fell back to his side, balling into a fist. Lanie felt physically sick. Bereft. She’d ruined things, she knew it—whatever this was between them. He’d trusted her and she’d violated his privacy. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back.
This is about him, not me. Crying now would likely result in him trying to comfort me, which is gross.
Ridley frowned, looking at the floor, rubbing his neck. Then he took a breath. Lanie was desperate to know what he was thinking but felt particularly undeserving of his innermost thoughts. If their situations had been reversed, Lanie knew the sense of betrayal would have been so acute she wasn’t sure she could have continued to share the suite with him. She would completely understand if he felt the same.
“Do you need me to go?” she whispered, barely able to push the air accompanying the words out of her diaphragm. “I can get my things.”
“What?” His eyes flew to her face. He seemed surprised, while this felt like the most appropriate response to her. “No, no, of course not.”
“But I—”
“You accidentally walked in on me taking a shower.” He finished her sentence forcefully. “That’s it.”
Lanie tugged at her ear. So, we’re pretending the other part didn’t happen?
“Right?” he insisted.
“Right.” She nodded. “No big deal.” Lanie laughed it off, feigning a playfulness she didn’t feel.
A lengthy silence grew between them as Lanie’s gaze fixed on his. Ridley’s expression darkened, growing fierce as his eyes raked over her, a hard obsidian behind the lenses of his glasses, his irises indistinguishable from the pupils. Her eyes fell to his mouth when he spoke.
“Okay, then let’s eat.”
Still, neither of them moved as the space between them became charged.
She didn’t know what was happening but after their moment on the street and on the Eye, it suddenly felt ridiculous to keep pretending it was nothing. Narcisa and Mom be damned. They didn’t understand her relationship with Ridley in part because she’d never truly been honest about it—to them or herself.
“What—what are we doing, Ridley?” Lanie held her breath, praying he wouldn’t pretend he didn’t understand what she was asking or she would perish from embarrassment. “I mean, what do you want this, us, to be? Friends or...?”
“I don’t know,” Ridley admitted, surprisingly.
Despite that answer, her heart surged with that ridiculous, continually revived hope as awareness filled his eyes.
“That’s the problem. I don’t either,” she said, the air seeming to thin around them.
They were both lying. And they both knew it.
“But the way you look at me, touch me, kiss me, it isn’t like a friend.”
“I...” He breathed through the single syllable.
“And I can’t bear this in-between much longer.”
Ridley’s open perusal paused at her full breasts and Lanie’s nipples went diamond hard beneath the flimsy cotton shirt and lace bra. His eyes shot back to hers, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched as if holding back.
“Say something,” she whispered. “Please.”
“I want to—” His already deep voice dropped an additional octave that made her practically vibrate in resonance. He stepped closer as if pulled. “To see you like you saw me tonight—”
Lanie covered her face. “I am so sorry about that.”
He frowned. “After what I just said, you think what I want is an apology ?”
She shook her head.
“Good, because to be clear, I want you .”