Chapter Fifteen
Ryder
“It’s not a date, Claire,” I say, though the butterflies in my stomach disagree with that statement.
“Sounds an awful lot like a date to me,” my sister touts on the other end of the phone. “If you’re planning on bringing him back here after dinner. Sounds like someone’s expecting something.”
“It’s not like that, I just—”
I mean, she’s not wrong. Well, partly. I do want something to happen, I won’t lie. After what happened yesterday in the elevator, our midnight conversation, and today’s flirty texts… and the fact Kane asked to get dinner with me tonight…
If it walks like a duck and smells like a duck…
Except, I get the feeling if Kane wanted this to be a date, he would have said something. Which makes me think this isn’t .
But then he got all flirty and told me if I behave and be a good boy, then I might get a reward, and after his insistence I wait yesterday…
I’m pretty sure he is at least thinking about it, even if it is only to torment me. I get the feeling Kane likes a little bit of torture. In a good way.
In the best way…
“I’m not saying I’m going to ask him to come in, but—”
Claire sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. If you’re feeling it, you don’t want your sister and her girlfriend to cramp your style.”
“Please, Claire?” I plead. “I will never ask you another favor again.”
Claire sighs dramatically and I know she’s only doing it to annoy me on purpose, make me sweat.
But there’s still a part of me that worries she’ll say no.
After all, I am bringing a stranger over to our house.
But true to the sweetheart she is, she sweetly purrs, “Okay. But you are going to make it to me. And Tori.”
I sigh, but truthfully, I knew that it was coming.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “Thanks, Claire.” I say the words genuinely, needing her to understand, and for once, I think she does.
“You must really like this guy,” she says softly.
“I do,” I say. “I know we’re still sort of getting to know each other, but yeah… I like what I do know. I want to know more. I just—”
“What is it?”
I carefully empty the espresso bin into the trash.
“I just don’t want to screw it up this time. Like I always do.”
Claire breaths out a long sigh. “You won’t.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, going around to make sure everything’s been turned off.
“Because you’re not as bad of a guy as you think you are, Ryder.”
Her words fall on me, and make me feel strangely warm. Understood.
“Thanks,” I say. “Glad one of us thinks so.”
I hear the chime of my text on my phone, and realize as I pull it away, that it’s Kane.
Kane: Here
Shit!
“I gotta go, he’s here and I still have to lock up,” I say. “Karen won’t be here until eight to do the stock.”
“Have fun! Remember to use protection!” Claire teases and I shake my head.
Sometimes I swear, she’s actually worse than our mother. And that’s saying something.
I shoot off a text to Kane, telling him I’ll be out in a couple minutes and shut the light out. I take my apron off and head to grab my coat, and barely get halfway to the lobby before I see him.
Fuck, this man… how does he manage to make even the most basic clothes look so good?
It’s not like he’s dressed any differently—he’s still sporting the same black jeans, studded boots, black shirt, and black coat. But somehow he looks less like a Hot Topic worker and more like James Bond if James bond had a beard and a bright red scarf.
Okay, the scarf is definitely new.
“Don’t tell me you got all dressed up for me,” I say with a grin, sliding my hands in my pocket.
“Oh, this isn’t dressed up.”
I flick his scarf. “This looks new.”
He smirks. “I’ve had it for a while. Just… no excuse to wear it.”
I shake my head. We live in New York, and it’s cold more than anything else, so that’s a downright lie. But I don’t press him on it, because it’s kind of adorable how he’s trying to play it cool right now.
Mr. Cool seems nervous, and I can’t help but feel somewhat excited about that.
“I’d offer you a coffee, but… we’re closed,” I tease.
“Oh, don’t worry, I think you’ll find my diet consists of many things.”
I scoff, but not angrily.
“Uh-huh. Right.” I take a step forward, and Kane turns, taking the lead.
“So, what did you have in mind, friend?” I ask, stealing a sideways glance.
God, he’s so fucking hot. The bright red scarf only makes him look cooler. I’m pretty sure if I tried to pull off the same look, I’d look like one of the rats from the Muppet Christmas Carol.
“Well, I did promise you dinner and lots of talking.”
I nod. “In that order specifically?”
Kane smirks. “Does it matter?”
I shrug as he opens the door for me. I don’t fight the blush, because it makes me feel good. I can’t say many of my boyfriends or even my former doms were much for that sort of thing.
“Thanks.”
The air is chilly, but it’s not terrible. It’s busy out, but there’s a sort of relaxing quality to the chaos that I’ve come to love about the city.
“Have you ever been to the Lazy Lyre?” he asks.
I furrow my eyebrows. “The reservation-only restaurant that literally has a waitlist like a month long?”
Kane’s expression doesn’t move. In fact, it’s stone-cold, and somehow that only makes him hotter.
“That would be the one.”
“Um, no,” I say in disbelief. “Pretty sure that place is going to be tied up for a year at least before us peasants get to it.”
Kane chuckles.
“What?” I ask, stopping in my tracks as he hails a cab.
He doesn’t answer me, but I see the grin on his face as he opens the back car door for me, ushering me in.
“Kane…”
“Get in the car.” His voice is stern, taking on that firmness I love so much. My cheeks heat and though I want to argue, he leans in close, whispering to me.
“Remember what I said about being on your best behavior, tonight.”
I don’t miss the way his gaze drifts to my mouth, or the way he licks his lips.
Fuck me all to hell.
How am I supposed to resist this?
“And if I don’t listen?” I ask, my voice low, a whisper as I stand in between the car door and the seat. Kane is on the other side of the car door, gazing down at me with a darkness that makes me want to see just how far I can push him.
What will it take to make him break? What happens if I disobey him?
Kane lets out a low growl and I swear the sound goes right to my cock.
“Then I will punish you.”
I grin, leaning against the car door as I flash my gaze up at him.
“Is that so?”
The look in his eyes is fierce and demanding, and for a moment I think it’s probably a good thing we’re taking a cab. Because I’m not entirely certain if this car door wasn’t between us that I wouldn’t be pushing him up against the nearest wall.
Again.
There’s something about Kane that just makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never felt before.
“Get. In. The. Car, Ryder,” he growls.
I playfully pull away and do as he says, grinning up at him from inside the car. Kane folds into the seat next to me, that dark look on his face equally terrifying as it is hot.
I wait for him to say those words—those two perfect words. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, take us to the Lazy Lyre.”
My eyes widen.
“You are not serious.”
Kane folds his hands in his lap, and I note the lines of ink, his black painted nails.
I swear this man could make anything look high fashion. Maybe even a barista apron.
“Do you have a problem with Mediterranean food?” he asks, and I note the shift of concern in his eyes, his voice taking on a worried, less direct tone.
Like he’s forgotten for a moment who he is.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m just… like… aren’t we a little underdressed? Not to mention how the hell did you get—”
Kane dismisses me with a wave. “Doesn’t matter how I got it, and no, you look fine.”
I don’t miss the way his gaze roves over me; over my red coat, my dark jeans, and my white sweater.
He looks like he wants to dine on me right here, in this backseat.
The thought makes me bite my lip. I don’t think I’d say no if he offered, which is crazy.
I’ve never thought about this kind of thing—getting frisky in public.
Like, ever.
But I can’t deny that Kane makes me think and feel things that are equally foreign and exciting at the same time and I want to explore that.
That is, if he’ll let me.
After all, I don’t want to put him in a situation he isn’t comfortable with. Which means we should probably talk about my kinks.
I don’t make a habit of blurting out my sex life in front of or to strangers.
But I also know, friend or more than friend, I need to tell him so he at least knows.
It’s a deal breaker for some people, and while I don’t want to lose Kane before I can even grasp him, I also don’t want him to assume things.
But when I open my mouth, the words that come out aren’t what I expect.
“Why did you pick Lazy Lyre?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He says, leaning back into the cushion.
His knee brushes mine and he settles his hand over it, splaying his fingers.
I glance at the tattoos. All of them. I find the rose and the thorns and without thinking, I reach out and trace the thorns.
He doesn’t move or even flinch. He remains perfectly still.
“I mean, you could have picked anywhere for dinner. But you picked the most romantic restaurant ever.” I clear my throat as the clouds cover the sun, making the light of the car hazy and dark. Shadows falls on him, and I tell myself if I don’t do this now, I never will.
“Almost like this is a date.”
Kane nods in understanding. My fingers trace the lines of his tattoos, his long thick fingers, his knuckles. A low growl escapes him.
“Do you want it to be a date?” he asks carefully. “Because—”
“Yes,” I say confidently. More confidently than I think I’ve said anything in my entire life.
I can’t tell if he’s shocked or if he truly thought I wouldn’t say something.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.
Kane nods, glancing down at my hand, then back up at me.
“Of course.” His voice evens, that low growl just on the edge of his tongue. But he speaks lower, whispering so only I can hear him.