Beautiful Secret
Page 33
“I shouldn’t touch you,” I blurted and immediately squeezed my eyes closed. “Sorry. I’ve been drinking as well, and . . .” Opening my eyes, I looked at her face. She was smiling, looking . . . relieved. “I don’t know why I’m here. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today, and how much I wanted to see you. But I really shouldn’t touch you, Ruby.”
I could see her pulse in her neck. I could tell that she was trembling.
“You shouldn’t?” she asked. “Or you don’t want to?”
Without answering and without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward, moving into her room. She took a step back, letting the door close behind me. The thud reverberated in the quiet.
“Is it really true what you said earlier?” I asked. “You think about this? With me?”
She flushed, from her neck to her cheeks, but still managed to sound brave when she said, “Yeah.”
She’d stopped moving but I hadn’t. I kept drifting forward until I was barely an inch away from her. In fact, I could feel her breath on my neck. Could smell the sweetness of orange juice, the sharp tang of vodka on her lips.
This is stupid, Niall. Get the hell out of this room.
“What do you think about?” I asked.
“Having you in my hotel room.” She smiled, looking at my lips. “As an agent of pleasure.”
Laughing a little, I ran my hand down my face, admitting, “These past few days . . . I think about it, too. You’ve hijacked my brain.”
“Is that bad?”
I looked down at her. She looked nervous but also confident; I was here in her room; she’d regained at least some of the power between us. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just not sure I know what to do with you.” I had no idea why I said this, but it didn’t seem to trip her up in the slightest.
“We’d figure it out together.”
Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Would we?”
Ruby nodded, reaching out and putting her hand on my chest. “I understand you. I think you understand me, too.”
I swallowed, at a loss for words.
“I’d tell you what I like,” she whispered. “You’d tell me what you need.”
She ran her hand down my chest, over my stomach, and then—just before she reached my belt—she let it fall away.
I should leave. I should go to my room and let us both sleep it off.
Looking up at me, she asked, “What do you need?”
“This,” I said. “The odd certainty I feel when I’m this close to you. The way you look at me.”
Her wide eyes searched mine. “A lot of women look at you this way.”
“No, you’re wrong. Maybe they look at me the way men look at you—where it’s clear they want you, and are thinking of you sexually—but not the way you do, where it feels you can see beneath my skin.” Pausing, I added, “Besides, I’ve never been one to want ‘a lot of women.’ ”
Her smile was so radiant, I forgot whatever else I was going to say.
My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I felt unsteady. It seemed to mix potently with the alcohol, and yet I never wanted this feeling to end. I’d never experienced a rush like this. She was so close, smelling of rose water and the indescribable scent of a woman. She would fit so perfectly tucked into my chest, beneath my chin. Or riding me, with her legs around my waist, her chest slick with our sweat.
“Ruby, what are we doing?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing a little. “You’re the one who came to my room. I think we’re both a little drunk. You tell me.”
“I . . . I’d like to explore this.”
Her smile straightened into something more earnest. “Me, too.”
“But maybe tonight isn’t the night. I shouldn’t touch you.” Maybe once I’ve said it a hundred times, I’ll believe it. “We’ve been drinking. I want to be sober if . . .”
She closed her eyes, and the disappointment was evident on her face. And then, a transformation occurred: Ruby opened her eyes, looked up at my face, and in an instant went from guarded to mischievously coy. She turned, walking into the room a few feet and picking up a slip from the bed. “But if you did, how would you touch me?” she asked, folding the garment neatly before placing it in an open drawer in front of her.
I barely had to consider the question before my answer burst forward: “Desperately.” I took a step toward her.
I could see her pulse in her neck. I could tell that she was trembling.
“You shouldn’t?” she asked. “Or you don’t want to?”
Without answering and without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward, moving into her room. She took a step back, letting the door close behind me. The thud reverberated in the quiet.
“Is it really true what you said earlier?” I asked. “You think about this? With me?”
She flushed, from her neck to her cheeks, but still managed to sound brave when she said, “Yeah.”
She’d stopped moving but I hadn’t. I kept drifting forward until I was barely an inch away from her. In fact, I could feel her breath on my neck. Could smell the sweetness of orange juice, the sharp tang of vodka on her lips.
This is stupid, Niall. Get the hell out of this room.
“What do you think about?” I asked.
“Having you in my hotel room.” She smiled, looking at my lips. “As an agent of pleasure.”
Laughing a little, I ran my hand down my face, admitting, “These past few days . . . I think about it, too. You’ve hijacked my brain.”
“Is that bad?”
I looked down at her. She looked nervous but also confident; I was here in her room; she’d regained at least some of the power between us. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just not sure I know what to do with you.” I had no idea why I said this, but it didn’t seem to trip her up in the slightest.
“We’d figure it out together.”
Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Would we?”
Ruby nodded, reaching out and putting her hand on my chest. “I understand you. I think you understand me, too.”
I swallowed, at a loss for words.
“I’d tell you what I like,” she whispered. “You’d tell me what you need.”
She ran her hand down my chest, over my stomach, and then—just before she reached my belt—she let it fall away.
I should leave. I should go to my room and let us both sleep it off.
Looking up at me, she asked, “What do you need?”
“This,” I said. “The odd certainty I feel when I’m this close to you. The way you look at me.”
Her wide eyes searched mine. “A lot of women look at you this way.”
“No, you’re wrong. Maybe they look at me the way men look at you—where it’s clear they want you, and are thinking of you sexually—but not the way you do, where it feels you can see beneath my skin.” Pausing, I added, “Besides, I’ve never been one to want ‘a lot of women.’ ”
Her smile was so radiant, I forgot whatever else I was going to say.
My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I felt unsteady. It seemed to mix potently with the alcohol, and yet I never wanted this feeling to end. I’d never experienced a rush like this. She was so close, smelling of rose water and the indescribable scent of a woman. She would fit so perfectly tucked into my chest, beneath my chin. Or riding me, with her legs around my waist, her chest slick with our sweat.
“Ruby, what are we doing?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing a little. “You’re the one who came to my room. I think we’re both a little drunk. You tell me.”
“I . . . I’d like to explore this.”
Her smile straightened into something more earnest. “Me, too.”
“But maybe tonight isn’t the night. I shouldn’t touch you.” Maybe once I’ve said it a hundred times, I’ll believe it. “We’ve been drinking. I want to be sober if . . .”
She closed her eyes, and the disappointment was evident on her face. And then, a transformation occurred: Ruby opened her eyes, looked up at my face, and in an instant went from guarded to mischievously coy. She turned, walking into the room a few feet and picking up a slip from the bed. “But if you did, how would you touch me?” she asked, folding the garment neatly before placing it in an open drawer in front of her.
I barely had to consider the question before my answer burst forward: “Desperately.” I took a step toward her.
