Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
I think about his words. I see the delectable woman I’ll be feasting on tonight.
He was teasing me. He had to have been. Men like him don’t look at women like me with chunky hips and plushy middles and think about dirty things.
Fixing my hair in the mirror, I decide to write the whole thing off as some good-natured teasing from my older brother’s friend. I’ve never been wanted my whole life and that’s not about to change now.
When I leave the bathroom, I move to the silent auction across the hall. Ryan wouldn’t expect to find me here.
Growing up the way I did, I learned how to hide from a lot of people. Angry foster fathers. Mean older kids. Even social workers who would do nothing but chide me for all the ways I didn’t fit in.
Now I’ve become an expert at being unseen.
My heels echo against the hardwood floor as I step into the auction to examine one of the tables draped in a white sheet. I inspect the pictures of items for bid including a diamond bracelet and a Rolex watch.
Those don’t appeal to me, so I keep looking. Not that I can afford to bid on any of this stuff anyway. I’m barely making ten dollars an hour while living with my brother. My idea of luxury is name-brand shampoo, not a week on a yacht.
As it is, I put the cost of my boyfriend by the hour on three separate credit cards. Money that I now desperately hope I can get back.
I hear a noise behind me, dress shoes squeaking against the hardwood. Instantly, my nipples pebble and my core aches. My body knows who it is without even having to turn.
He steps beside me, and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It’s lightly spicy and masculine but not overpowering. “A trip for two to the Red Shirt Museum in New York. Are you going to bid on that?”
“The museum is a complete replica of the original set,” I tell him. I read the little place card for it twice. I never had anybody that shared a hobby with me and it’s cool getting into his.
“If you learn Vulcan, I’ll take you there,” he teases.
I laugh, wondering how you seduce someone in Vulcan. I really like this about Ryan. He’s not just hot and strong and caring. He’s also a…friend. That’s something I haven’t had a lot of in my life.
“You were trying to hide from me,” he says. Even though we’re alone in the room, he whispers. It feels intimate, like we’re more than friends.
I don’t answer him. I keep staring at the sign for the trip for two. There will never be a two with me and Ryan. But I’d kind of like it if there were. If I had someone who would go on adventures with me.
“Dance with me. This song is my favorite,” he says before tugging my body against him again. He pulls me closer now than he did in the ballroom and I feel his hardness against my belly.
“What is the song?” I ask, trying not to focus on the fact that he’s aroused. Or the fact that it’s doing funny things to my insides. I feel nervous and jittery and excited all at once. Like the time I had too many espresso shots.
“Wonderful Tonight,” He hums along to the music. “My parents danced to it every night when I was a kid.”
It’s the most I’ve ever heard about his past. “Do they still?”
His voice is quiet. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in years.”
I’m curious about Ryan. There are so many things I want to learn about him. Instead of asking questions, I say, “I’m sorry.” Then I tuck myself against him, letting my body completely relax.
We dance through the next two songs until more partygoers are entering the auction room to examine the items up for bid.
He threads his fingers through mine and leads me to the terrace outside. I breathe in the humid June air and welcome the feeling of the evening breeze against my face.
“They were good parents,” he says.
I reach out to put a hand over his suitcoat. “You don’t owe me the story.”
Of all the people in the world, I understand not wanting to show off wounds that still bleed.
He stares at my hand before saying, “I’d like to tell you.”
I squeeze his forearm, noticing how muscular and strong it is. Just like the rest of the man. “Then I’d like to hear it.”
“They loved me and tried to do right by me. But when I came home from the war, I was a mess. They didn’t know how to help me. My dad and I said some ugly things and that was it. I haven’t spoken to them in five years now.”