Drop Everything Now (9 page)

With both palms plastered to the sides of his head, I controlled the depth of our kiss and took full advantage of his open mouth when he gasped for air, pressing in and letting his tongue dance with mine, whimpering when he sucked it into his mouth and responding by pulling his lower lip between my teeth.

Faintly, I heard an “excuse me, ma’am,” but it didn’t even register as something I needed to pay attention to. I was too caught up in Ryder, in the hard warmth of his muscles pushing my boobs up into gorgeous roundness; of the way he tasted, like clean wetness and citrus and longing. Ryder pulled away from our kiss, trailing his hot open lips down my neck, tasting the spot where it curved away to my shoulder. When his tongue swirled around the inside knob of my collarbone, I couldn’t help it—a whimper escaped. I didn’t see anyone—my eyes were clamped shut—but now several throats cleared around us and a few light “excuse me, ma’ams” peppered the air. But Ryder must not have heard them because his smooth palm moved from my side and traveled up to cup my breast, squeezing it with the most exquisite pain, and—

“SIR!”

I sat full upright at that, finally opening my eyes. Eight of the guys in striped shirts and fake moustaches stared at us, arms crossed. A lady in a white shirt and black pants with glasses, who must have been the manager, stood there with a stern expression on her face. Did I see a hint of amusement?

“Public displays of affection that
affectionate
are not really allowable in our venue,” she said. “I’m sorry, but perhaps you should go back to your room.”

Across from us, a man who had to be sixty-five years old chuckled, and his wife reached across their table to swat him with the back of her hand, even though she was obviously trying not to laugh, too.

Slowly, painfully, I stood from Ryder’s lap, and he stood, too. From the looks of it, it was far more painful for him than it was for me.

“Yes, of course,” I mumbled. I reached out and gripped Ryder’s hand hard.

“So sorry about that,” said Ryder, staring at our clasped hands and stifling a grin.

“Yes, well,” she said, before she waved the workers away and turned to leave herself. “Just do that somewhere else.”

When they all finally had their backs turned, I let loose a shoulder-shaking giggle. “Dare accomplished,” I said. But my laughter melted away when Ryder’s eyes burned into mine.

“Do you want to play anymore?” he asked. “Or do you want to do something else?”

Just say it, Andi.
Not having practice with this is no excuse. “I think I want you to take me home,” I said, pushing each word out, syllable by syllable. I stared up at him through my thick eyelashes. “But I’m not tired yet.”

He nodded and took a step back toward the Strip, and I followed. The whole scene was even more beautiful than before. Every step felt like I was walking on air, and the neon lights melted together in an incredible electronic watercolor. I wanted to live inside this moment—the feeling of Ryder’s big hand gripping mind, the sensation of my nails brushing his skin, the memory of my mouth on his, and the promise of something more delicious to come.

No, I wasn’t tired yet. And I wasn’t ready to stop what we’d started.

As we walked, Ryder nudged my shoulder. “So what are you saying?” he asked, laughing. But then his expression turned serious. “Just so we’re clear.”

Looking up at him while we were walking wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but as we did, the swirliness in my head started to let up. It only intensified how badly I wanted him.

“I want to go to your place and finish what we started in that café.”

Chapter 12

His
jaw clenched, and I tried to suppress my smile at how obvious it was that he wanted me badly. It was a total thrill to feel this—wanted by someone I’d just met. Someone strong and beautiful.

“Let’s speed walk then.”

I decided I’d never get tired of the low tone of his voice in these moments. When we got to the hotel where he’d parked, I heard him murmur, “Hurry,” to the valet while slipping a twenty into his hand. Something about the command and the money and the urgency sent a thrill right through me, and when he came back to stand beside me, I looped my arm around his waist, dipping my fingers into the front of his shorts. He turned to press his body to mine immediately and brushed my hair back from my face, pressing gentle kisses all over it.

I wanted to cry that we hadn’t taken a cab. I probably would have straddled him in the backseat and done him right there.

It was bad enough that his giant silver truck had a full bench seat in the front. The whole ten-minute ride back to our place, I let my nails tease along his shorts, scooting up the bottom a bit with every half-mile. I loved the way the strong muscles of his thighs flexed and strained under my fingertips. When we pulled into the parking lot, tires squealing against the asphalt, he grunted as he got out of the driver’s side, jogged over to my door, threw it open, grabbed my hips, and pulled me to him so that I straddled his waist. His mouth slammed against mine, his tongue parting my lips almost instantly, stroking, needing me, only half-asking if he could have me.

That was just fine. All he had to do was pay attention to the way I dragged my fingernails over his scalp to get the answer.

We started walking, and the alcohol made what would have otherwise been jerking movements into the gentle sway of a ship at sea. I tasted every corner of his mouth, savoring the feel of the inside of his lips, of his teeth pulling at mine. I vaguely heard the beep of his car locking and felt him fumble for the key to his place.

We stumbled inside, and the incredibly homey smell of it was so right that I practically swooned. I wanted to wrap up in it—to wrap up in him and never let go.

Suddenly, I felt air instead of warmth against my lips, and I was being laid down by strong arms on that fluffy, black duvet. Then he was on top of me, and I almost sighed with relief.

Between frantic kisses, I managed, “Do you have something?”

He dipped down, pushing my shirt off over my head, while I did the same with his, and nodded. “But not yet. Not yet.”

He pushed up on his knees, and it was all I could do not to stretch my arms out and grab for him to come back. But oh my God, that body. If I snapped a shot of him with my camera phone, I could have sold posters and been an instant billionaire. Quit that shitty waitress job without a second thought.

Maybe next time. This time, that body was all mine. I had big plans to graze my teeth against every last ridge of those abs.

But Ryder had different plans. “Holy shit, you are so beautiful,” he said, laying his exquisite weight back on top of me, making my head arch back into the pillow as he devoured my neck. His hand grazed down over my shoulder, pulling my upper arm in and pressing my boobs together while his mouth moved down there, too. My bra was a front-closure, and after fumbling at it for a few excruciating seconds with trembling hands, Ryder gave up, and my fingers flew to the enclosure to do it myself. The lacy fabric didn’t even have time to fall away before his tongue lashed inside of it, hunting for my nipple, starving for me.

When he finally found the spot he was looking for, a moan from deep in his throat vibrated through my entire core, and the knot of heat forming between my legs pulled even tighter. He sucked me into his mouth with deep, luxurious draws that very nearly sent me over the edge. I clawed at his back and arched into him, letting him know just how good at this he was. The room around me swirled in dark, sweet-smelling pleasure, and if I could have gotten a single word out, it would have been his name. I’d forgotten mine the second my legs wrapped around him.

“I can’t wait,” he growled.

Fucking finally.
My hands darted out to grab the waistband of his jeans. He swallowed hard, gasping, and shook his head. “No. You first,” he said, closing his eyes. I watched his beautiful chest heave once, twice. “Please let me.”

My heart went even faster at the thought of what he was about to do to me—if I was understanding this right. No guy had ever gone down on me before. No one had ever offered, and I had never been brave enough to insist.

But I had never wanted it more badly than I did at this exactly moment. I nodded, feeling my lips separate in a sexy pout, and running my hand down between my boobs to my belly button, like I’d done this a thousand times. His thumb and forefinger flicked the fly of my jeans open in half a second, and in the blink of an eye, he’d tugged them down right along with my panties, pushing them to the floor and flicking my shoes off my feet in the same movement. He grabbed my sides, just under my boobs, and tugged me down on the bed until he could kneel on the floor and still reach me. His palms smoothed down my stomach, around my hips, and left my body for a single unbearable second while they pushed under my thighs, looped over the top of them, and held me open.

When I felt his breath on my thighs, I lost mine. Without hesitation, he licked a long, hard stroke up my center, and I lost my entire world. Electric sparks and spinning pleasure took over my body as his tongue dipped deep inside me, his teeth grazing my most sensitive skin, his lips kissing every inch and fold like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever encountered.

With every touch, noises I’d never heard myself make before floated out of my mouth, punctuated only by the hiss of my breaths, the sounds of Ryder’s lips colliding with my wet heat, and the murmurs of pleasure he made between my thighs.

When he reached up to press two strong fingers inside, dragging them along my upper wall, I sobbed with pleasure. I shouted God’s name, moaned, and panted into the still night, while my surroundings became clearer with every breath. Every touch, every smell, every sound came into pinpoint focus as the world compressed to a spinning universe of heat inside me.

He looked up at me. “Andi,” he said, his voice gruffer than I’d ever heard it before. “You’re so goddamn real. I can’t get enough of you. I can’t…”

And then his head dipped back between my legs again, his tongue circling fast around that one spot and sending jolts of lightning through my whole body. I arched against the bed like a woman possessed, and a high-pitched “Ryder” shot out of my mouth. An utter assault of pleasure overtook every cell in my body relentlessly, over and over again, only diminishing after I’d spasmed against the mattress more times than I could count. It could have been seconds or minutes. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. It was the most all-consuming, almost-unbearable pleasure I’d ever felt.

Even as the warmth that followed the orgasm coursed through my veins, I realized something was missing. I wanted Ryder, hard, pressing into me from above, or at least to hear the crinkle of the condom packet with his breathing as shallow and anxious as mine. So when I finally opened my eyes to see him still kneeling with the saddest look I’d ever seen on his face, the reality of it hit me like a brick wall.

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” I stuttered, trying to figure out a way to put my legs back together while he was kneeling between them. “What’s wrong?”

The bob of Ryder’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed was obvious, even in the dim light. “I’m sorry, Andi. I…I just can’t. I…uh… I have some stuff in my life, okay? Stuff you wouldn’t want to know about. And you can’t be around for it.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said, scooting myself back up to sitting with trembling arms. I was naked. I had no idea what stuff he was talking about or whether he was right, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue. And his abruptness bothered me. A lot. “Did I…was it something I did?”

“No,” he said emphatically, looking into my eyes. Then he looked down on the floor and picked up my jeans, setting them gently on the bed while I stood up, re-hooking my bra. “No. I just can’t right now. Can I walk you home?”

I seriously did not understand what was happening. A guy had gone down on me and suddenly didn’t want to have sex with me? I stared down at his shorts as he crossed to the other side of the bed and retrieved my shirt. That massive hard-on was definitely making him walk uncomfortably across the room.

“I guess…um…okay.” I fished my underwear out of my jeans, quickly tugged them back on, and then pulled my jeans up. Then I stepped into my flats, which were mercifully in the exact same position they’d dropped from my feet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he checked me over to make sure I was fully clothed. He walked—or, rather, limped—over to the door, and pulled knob open. “I’ll make sure you get in there safe, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, my head down, my body still reeling from the most incredible orgasm of my life. I didn’t understand what had just happened or why it had ended, but I was damn sure disappointed that it had.

The air was cool, and the breeze had slowed since we were on the Strip. Wordlessly, I pulled the key out of my pocket and pushed the door open. Ryder was a silent ghost behind me. As soon as I stepped one foot over the threshold and turned to say goodbye to him, he’d already gone back to his own door.

I plopped down on my bed, stunned and miserable. The moldy smell of the covers was distinctly worse after I’d just spent ten minutes writhing in Ryder’s bed. At some point, I got up to wash my face and brush my teeth, and then I collapsed back on the bed, only kicking off my shoes before I drifted off into a deep sleep.

Chapter 13

I woke
up that morning with my head in a vise, my back with a pinched nerve, and my teeth fuzzy as my bedroom slippers back in Philly. Before I even opened my eyes, the events of the last night hit me. Ryder and me, drinking on the Strip. Steamy kisses on a Parisian patio. Ryder’s tongue between my legs.

Ryder stopping cold turkey even though he obviously wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

Apparently, not a single goddamn thing in my life was going to be normal.

I sighed and stepped into the shower. The water coursing over my boobs and between my thighs sent flashback after flashback of last night. He’d looked at my naked body like he’d wanted to worship me and gone down on me with exactly the same sentiment. So why did he blueball himself and kick me out immediately after?

I glared at the moldy caulking in the corner of the tiny stand-up shower. I had to remember why I was here in Las Vegas. I had to focus. I was only upset because I was fucking around like a stupid tourist girl on the Strip and not concentrating on how I could best help Mom. How I could keep up with everything back in Philly and keep up with everything here at the same time?

I twisted the water out of my hair and thanked God that Nevada was dry enough that it should dry straight on its own without frizzing at all. This was going to be one hell of a stay in Vegas.

After three days of exhausting shifts at the Starr and sitting by Mom’s bedside in the ICU, the doctors finally thought she was well enough to move to a more stable floor. I hadn’t seen Ryder once, but I’d barely cared—Mom being more stable was pretty much the best news I could have hoped for. Maybe her memories would follow the progress of her body, and I could be out of this whole crazy, alternate universe soon. That night, I slept well since the first time Ryder and I went out on the Strip.

The next morning, the sun woke me up. As I stumbled around making gross instant coffee in the microwave, the phone chirped that it was 8:30. The alarm that had once reminded me to get up for class was now my reminder that hospital visiting hours started soon. A sigh blew out of my mouth as I pulled on another plain t-shirt and a pair of dark skinny jeans, dialed the number for the cab services, and traipsed down the stairs to wait.

I sighed as I entered the warm, sun-filled foyer of the hospital. Now that Mom had been moved to a more permanent room—she’d been fighting a series of minor infections that made her temperature spike up and down—it really was a pleasant place to visit. A short elevator ride later, I was knocking on the door to her room, ducking my head to the side of the curtain that blocked it off. “Mamá? It’s me.”

“Andrea,” Mom’s voice called out. It still wavered a bit, but when I pushed through the curtain, her face reassured me that she was feeling stronger. A nurse stood over her, and I caught a glimpse of what she was doing—checking Mom’s stitches and staples. I winced at the dark red lines slicing angrily across her abdomen. They hadn’t told me too many details of the surgery, mostly because it had turned out well and her recovery was going as smoothly as could be expected.

I knew that fresh scars were ugly—I worked with surgical patients all the time in my child life position—but they’d never been unbearable to look at before. I swallowed back the tightness that suddenly seized my throat and took the opportunity to size up the new room.

Mom’s brothers and sister, who lived in San Diego and Playa Vista, had sent flowers and cards, but I knew their arrangement was nurse-directed. She always liked things to be in meticulous, logical order; things like flowers would either be arranged by height, with the tallest in the middle, or by color, in order of the rainbow. These were spread out pretty randomly, but they looked nice anyway. They just weren’t Mom.

My gaze flicked to the corner, where Mike was sitting, bent over a crossword puzzle. He looked up and I smiled.

“How are you today?” I asked. I knew how different “how are you
today
” was compared to “how are you.” My heart twisted. This man had essentially lost his wife, and he was still here, patiently keeping her company.

That was the kind of person I’d always wanted for myself—someone I could quietly sit with, happy, no matter the situation.

“Andi, this is Mike.”

“Yes, Mamá, I know,” I said, settling in a chair beside her and cradling her hand in mine.

“He tells me we used to do crossword puzzles together in the mornings, but I can’t remember where.”

I looked up quizzically at Mike. “Later,” he mouthed.

Guilt seized my chest when I realized I hadn’t kept up to date on the plans for what to tell Mom about her own life and when. Most of my time at her side had been spent watching her sleep, and sometimes dozing off myself. If I didn’t know what she knew, how could I help her? Carol had told me that Dr. Ernest had been here, but she hadn’t told me anything new about the plans. I also hadn’t asked.

But Mom’s face was so calm and peaceful, relative to how I’d seen her my first day here and heard about her a few days back, that I forced myself to push it back.
Just another day of forcing yourself to put your head down and not feel anything, Andi.
Great.

Okay, this pesky voice had to stop. I had shit to get done.

“Yes,” I said, smiling down at her. “You used to race sometimes.”

Mom threw her head back and laughed, just like she used to when I made her try on a prom dress meant for a sixteen-year-old or when she’d mismeasured butter for cookies and they turned out disastrous. The right reaction, the wrong event.

“I raced?” she asked, and I nodded, smiling. “I was fast at this? I’m slow as molasses now.” The corners of her eyes glistened, and her chin shook the tiniest bit before she blinked hard and looked at me again. She gave me one deep nod. “Your hair always did dry shiny and straight. Just beautiful.”

I almost told her that that had all ended when I moved to Philly and humidity had been introduced to my follicles, but I caught myself. Did she know I’d moved to Philly? Once again, I hated myself for having no clue.

I glanced down at my phone again. How had I already been here for twenty minutes? “Mamá, I have to make a call, okay?”

I called in to the Shooting Starr and got none other than Gladys on the phone. “This is the last time I’m checking the schedule for you,” she croaked. I remembered what Cara had said—this lady must really like me for some reason.
At least someone does
, I thought, my thoughts drifting to Ryder. How he’d given me the kind of pleasure I never even knew was possible that night and then just deposited me back to my house?

I still couldn’t believe it.

Gladys’ words knocked me out of self-pity mode. “You’re on from 1 to 11 today.”

“Is a ten-hour shift normal?”

“Be grateful. Mr. Starr must really like you. He’s got you in here for the beginning of the dinner crowd. Don’t blow it.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you, Gladys,” I chirped in as sweet of a voice as possible.

She clicked the phone off without a word, and I smiled to myself. Maybe I would learn how to get along at the Starr.

Just as I was about to step back in the room to grab my stuff and say goodbye, the door clicked open, and Mike rolled out. “Andi,” he said. “I’m so sorry I didn’t ask them to tell you about your mom’s life information progress on the phone. I know it’s been three days, but we keep crossing schedules.”

“It’s okay,” I said, watching his eyebrows pull together. “It is, really,” I reassured him. “You probably weren’t even here when I called. I know you’re recovering too.”

“I’ve been around most days,” he said, scratching at his five-o’clock shadow. “But every once in a while she would get agitated. And when you called, it was right after one of those times, so I just had the van take me home.” Of course he’d taken the van—he’d lost his car and, at least temporarily, the use of his leg in the crash. We’d all lost a lot of things in this crash.

“No problem,” I said, sighing. “I would have been here, but I was caught up with the new job. Turns out three days is just enough to catch on to the finer skills of cocktail waitressing.”

“Aw, Andrea. I’m sure sorry I can’t help you more, it’s just that…”

I held up my hand to interrupt him. “I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m a grownup now. I can take care of myself.” The cold truth of it—being responsible for myself, for making sure all my provisions were taken care of—hit me hard, forming a thick ball in my throat. I’d always had to pay for my own stuff, but sailing through Drexel on scholarship buoyed by advice and comfort from Mom and my easy little coffee shop job was much different from Vegas. I had no safety net anymore. Now it was just me, walking a tightrope, with nothing to catch me if I fell. I swallowed that truth down and said, “So what are the treatment changes I missed?”

“Dr. Ernest thinks that she has such deep memory loss that exposing her to too many of the individual elements of her life will overwhelm her.”

“Like they did a few nights back.”

“Exactly,” he said. “So we have to break it down. Things may seem like no big deal to us, but to her, each memory is made up of ten things she’s never heard before. So today’s bit of news is that she played crossword puzzles with me. Hopefully she’ll pick it up again, and it’ll help strengthen those neurons and make new memories.”

“New ones?” I asked.

“Dr. Ernest told us it’s more likely than not that she’ll never get her old ones back,” Mike choked. “She would have to recover every memory she’s lost. The brain is incredible but not that incredible.”

“I think you’re right because she remembers me but not anything about my life now.”

“And she doesn’t remember me at all. Especially not that she fell in love with me. She has to do it all over again. I just hope she will.” A tear spilled out of Mike’s eye, and I felt so bad that I actually clasped my hand over his.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Even if she doesn’t remember, I do. I remember how much she loves you. And she only met you a year and a half ago. You haven’t had time to get weird or cranky yet, right?” I teased. That made him smile a little bit. “It’s going to be great. It’ll just take time.”

Even though I said it, I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want it to take the rest of the semester for Mom to get better. I wanted to be back in classes next week, just like Dr. Sullivan had assumed I’d be. I knew I hadn’t challenged her because I secretly hoped her prediction that I’d be back soon was prophetic. I said a silent prayer that, somehow, next week Mom’s brain would snap out of it as I followed Mike back into the room.

I bent down by Mom’s bedside to grab my bag.

“Going so soon? Do you have a lot of homework? Meeting with Carson?”

I racked my brain for who Carson could possibly be. Homework…high school…ah, my chemistry tutor. I hadn’t been able to sketch those molecular compounds for shit and had needed someone to help me through. Which only reminded me of the twice-weekly bio labs I was missing back in Philly.

“No, Mamá,” I said, smiling. “I ended up passing that class.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s good. I know you’ve been upset over it.”

“You do?” I hadn’t even thought that had been on her radar. She’d been working so hard to pay for stupid extras I wanted, like prom, and saving up a little bit of cash to help pay for college that I hadn’t thought she noticed academic stuff. I’d handled all the tutoring arrangements for myself.

“Yes, sweetie. I notice more than you think. I’ve been telling you since you were little. I have eyes everywhere.” She winked at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, you did tell me that. It freaked me out then, too.” I flashed her a grin and leaned in to kiss her forehead before heading out the door.

Just as I was about to leave, she called out, “Andi!”

“Yes?”

“You look happy.”

The funny thing was, despite my botched date the night before and the dwindling possibility that I wouldn’t get back to the East Coast any time soon, I kind of was happy.

Goddamn, Ryder—or Vegas or both—was doing a number on me. “Thanks, Mamá. I think I kind of am. I’ll call tonight and check in as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. Have a good day,” she called, like I was headed off to class.

If only that was true.

Back at the Shooting Star, I headed to the Employees Only room like I’d been doing it for years. If I wanted to be an expert at this waitressing thing and get some actual good shifts that would bring in some actual good money, I had to fake it till I made it.

I rummaged in the locker where I’d tossed my clothes the day before, relieved to see that no one had messed with them and that I hadn’t sweated too much in the shirt. I cringed when I thought about how badly I’d need to do laundry tonight and cringed again when I thought about how damn awkward it would be to find Ryder and ask him where the machines were and, by the way, how did he get quarters. And while we were standing there, maybe I could ask him whether he liked going down on me as much as I loved it because he damn sure hadn’t acted like it, but on the off chance he had enjoyed himself, could we do it again?

Right before I closed my locker, I looked down. Tied up in a plastic grocery bag was a stack of neatly folded sheets in slate gray. My heart jumped as I reached down and untied it, pressing the bundle to my nose. Ryder. They smelled just like him. A yellow Post-it brushed against the tip of my nose.

A—

Don’t sleep on those gross sheets anymore. This is my spare set. Go ahead and use them.

There’s no one I’d rather have between my sheets.

—Ry

Something small and heavy pulled at the bottom of the bag. I reached under the sheets to find a combination lock with the combination attached. My cheeks blazed while my heart beat a mile a minute, and I gently set the bag back in the bottom of my locker, then locked it up.

If he was trying to apologize, that was a damn good start.