Burn (7 page)

Back when they
were together in college, she and Ryan had made love so many times it was impossible
to keep count. He’d known her body as well as she did.
Knew
how to make her squirm in a room full of people and burn hotter than the sun
when they were alone.
It had become embarrassingly easy for him to make
her come. He could get her worked up with just the briefest of touches,
glances, a few dirty words whispered into her ear. She was almost capable of an
orgasm on command.

Sex since then
had been adequate at times, unfulfilling others. It was telling to acknowledge
that she’d often fantasized about Ryan when it wasn’t working with another man,
but she didn’t want to think about that right now. Not when her own personal
sex god fucked her like something out of a wet dream. She didn’t even need to
hear him say anything. The sounds of their soft, blissful moans and warm bodies
moving together were enough.

His hand moved
down her stomach, unerringly finding her swollen clit. Tate wavered on the
brink of a blinding climax. She made a rough gasping noise in her throat, a
wordless plea for more, more, more, and Ryan gave her what she needed. Gripping
his hip in her hand, she broke apart beneath his deft touch.

“Christ,” she
heard him mutter before he thrust deep twice more, then buried his face in her
neck, broken breaths gusting over her skin as he shuddered in completion.

Tate could feel
the grasp of sleep tightening its hold on her. If she lay still and quiet for
another minute she’d succumb. She needed to get up, redress,
go
home while she still had a miniscule amount of energy left.

Ryan eased off
the bed. She watched him stroll into the bathroom, all graceful rolling muscles
and firm ass. She couldn’t help but smile. But then he turned on the shower and
came back to where she lay, offering a hand to help her up.

“Ryan,” she said
feebly. “I should—”

“You should be
quiet and let me scrub your back.” A wicked grin curved his mouth.
“And maybe your front, too.”

Without further
protest, he ushered her into the shower but didn’t join her right away. “I’m
going to throw your clothes in the wash. Don’t collapse on me while I’m gone.”

Tate moved
beneath the hot spray, letting the warmth of the water ease the knots in her
shoulders and neck that the sex hadn’t loosened. In a matter of minutes, he was
back. He soaped up a mesh sponge, and she let him wash her from chin to toe.
Then he shampooed her hair, his fingers working a subtle magic on her scalp. By
the time he had her body thoroughly rinsed and dried, she was as limp as a used
dishrag.

“I didn’t intend
to spend the night,” she murmured as he ran a comb through her damp hair. “Did
you put my scrubs in the wash so I couldn’t leave?”

“Maybe.”
She
met his eyes in the vanity mirror and saw not a trace of remorse. “You want to
stay, though, don’t you?”

She did.

Aside from lacking
the energy to drive home, she wanted to spend the night in Ryan’s arms. Since
he’d reappeared, her staid, predictable world had been turned on its head, but
she couldn’t ignore the fact that the empty places inside of her didn’t feel so
cold and deserted anymore. Even if it was a temporary fix, she could no longer
deny the craving for more of him, of them together.

He’d always been
so very good to her, up until the moment he vanished. Punishing them both by
holding onto the anger wasn’t productive or healthy. He would tell her his
reasons for leaving in due time, though she hoped it was sooner rather than
later. She would just have to be patient and wait, as hard as that might be.
Tate wasn’t known for possessing a great deal of patience. Now was a good time
to start working on that.

“Yes, I want to
stay.”

Chapter Six

Ryan was
finishing up the bacon when Tate shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes bleary
from sleep and her hair a stunning tangle of brilliant color around her face.
She’d found the clean T-shirt he’d left out for her, the hem of which hit her
at the top of her creamy thighs. A little trace of white on her bottom lip told
him she’d also found the new toothbrush he’d placed on the edge of the bathroom
sink.

He reached out
and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, dragging her to him for a minty kiss.
“Morning,” he said before swiping the speck of toothpaste away with his thumb.

“Morning.
Thanks for…” She waved a hand at the shirt then in the general vicinity of her
face.

He grinned. Tate
had never been very loquacious in the morning. “You’re welcome.
Coffee?”

“God,
yes.”

He poured her a
cup and set it down on the bar while she slid onto a chair, and then he added a
dollop of cream and waited to see if he’d gotten it right. She picked up a
spoon and stirred it a few times before lifting it to her lips to take a
hesitant sip.

“How does an
omelet with lots of cheese and veggies sound?”

“Like heaven,
only no onions or spinach, please.” She started to take another sip of coffee,
then with a grimace said, “Or tomatoes or mushrooms.”

Ryan laughed,
shaking his head.
“One cheese omelet, coming right up.”

While he whisked
the eggs, she munched on a piece of bacon. “I’m glad to see you didn’t turn
into one of those fruity health nut chefs who are all about tofu and bean
sprouts.”

“I’m all about
taste, baby. Bring on the butter and the pig fat.”

She pointed at
him with her strip of bacon. “I see big things in your future, young padawan.”

“Speaking of the
future…” When he glanced up, she’d frozen mid-chew. “Kevin’s in the early
planning stages of another restaurant.”

“Yeah?”

“In
Buckhead.
He’s already found the space.”

“Wow, fancy.”

“Fancier than
Bite.” Ryan poured the eggs into a skillet. “The menu won’t change much, mostly
just the name and atmosphere.”

“And he could
double the prices and the residents of Buckhead won’t bat an eye.”

“There’s that,
too.”

“So … is he
going to hire another chef for the new place or ... will
he
—”

“Run it
himself?”

She nodded.

Admittedly, Ryan
was baiting Tate to gauge her interest in their future, or rather the possibility
that they might have a future. Kevin hinted that he might like Ryan to
eventually run the new place, and Ryan
was
interested, but not if it meant causing problems for him and Tate. Not when
their rekindled relationship remained as fragile as the eggshells he’d just
cracked.

“Kevin likes downtown.”
He added the cheese to her omelet. “He’s mentioned making me head chef of the
new place.”

Tate clasped her
cup like she was trying to warm her hands, staring down into her coffee. When
she spoke again, her words were measured and exactly what he expected her to
say. “That would be great for you.”

Grabbing a plate
from the cabinet, he slid her omelet onto it and set it down in front of her,
then placed a fork and a napkin beside it. “There are some really good
hospitals in Buckhead. There’s Piedmont and the Shepherd Center and—”

“Don’t.” She let
out a shuddering sigh, shaking her head. “You can’t factor me into any decision
you need to make, Ryan.”

“What if I want
you to be a factor?”

She stood
abruptly, walking around the end of the bar to stop in front of him. Her hands
curled into fists at her sides. Her deep green eyes held fire. For a second he
thought she might be about to punch him. “You don’t get to do this to me again.
I can’t let you back into my life, only to watch you walk out of it a second
time! I don’t think I could survive it.” Tears filled her eyes, and she spun
away from him, darting out of the kitchen.

“Fuck.” That had
backfired on him epically. “Tate, wait!”

He’d lost her in
his apartment until he heard her rummaging around in the laundry room. When he
reached her, she was shaking out her scrubs, still damp and wrinkled from the
washer.

“Don’t go,” he said.

She sniffed,
trying to stuff one foot into her pants while she balanced on the other. He
snatched them out of her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist from
behind while she struggled to fight him off. All it did was make him hold on
tighter.

When she stopped
squirming, he buried his face in her hair. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you
again, understand? I know I fucked everything up and you still don’t trust that
I won’t hurt you a second time, but all I can do is prove it. In order to do
that, you have to be around to watch.”

He held her
until he felt the stiffness gradually ebb out of her muscles, and even then he
didn’t let go, only loosened his grip a little.

“We should end
this now before things get any deeper and out of hand. It’s not fair of me to
hold you back from a promotion, and it’s not fair of you to put that kind of
weight on our relationship when it won’t bear it this soon.”

“All right, I
admit bringing up the job was unfair and stupid. I wanted to gauge your
reaction to the possibility, and I didn’t think it through to the end. I’m
sorry for that, but at least you know I’m being honest with you.”

“I like downtown,
too,” she said quietly. “I like
my
hospital.”

He whispered in
her ear, “Do you still like me?”

When she didn’t
answer right away, he kissed her shoulder where his shirt had slipped down her
arm, brushing his stubbled chin across her skin just to feel her shiver against
him.

“You don’t fight
fair,” she grumbled.

“I offered to
let you beat me up.”

“And I might
still take you up on it.” She turned around in his arms, flattening her hands
on his chest. “Of course I still like you, but no more landmines, okay? I’m not
good with subtleties, and I won’t be the reason you turn down a job you
deserve.”

“Buckhead
is
reachable by car, you know.”

She scrunched up
her face. “Maybe for you it is.”

He kissed her
mouth. “Damn, I’ve missed your stubborn ass.”

****

Over the next
two weeks they fell into a routine of sorts—sex, food, sleep, or some variation
of the three at either Tate’s apartment or Ryan’s, depending on work schedules
and fatigue levels. Tate wasn’t surprised to discover she’d gained seven pounds
from his cooking. You would’ve thought all the sex would burn off some of the
additional calories she was consuming, but what wasn’t being used up was settling
on her ass.
Time to start using the stairs exclusively at the
hospital instead of the elevator.
And maybe foregoing
second helpings of Ryan’s amazing food.
Unfortunately, like him, his
dishes were hard to resist.

It was Sunday,
and they had a date.
A
real
date, outside of their apartments, with him picking her up and everything.
Wearing clothes.
He’d told her to wear something
casual that she’d be comfortable in outdoors.

When Tate
bounced down the stairs at one o’clock sharp dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a
long-sleeve cotton t-shirt, Ryan was reclined against the seat of a sleek blue
Kawasaki motorcycle, arms crossed over his broad chest, long legs crossed at
the ankle. He was dressed similar to her. She had to stop walking for fear that
she’d trip over her tongue. How was it possible for all that sexiness to be
contained in one man’s body?

The day was as
beautiful as he was—a cloudless blue sky above their heads, the air crisp with
temperatures in the high sixties, possibly creeping into the low seventies
later. A perfect day to do something fun outside, which was such an anomaly for
Tate. Normally her days off were spent catching up on laundry, paying bills,
maybe watching a movie and getting eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. The
fresh air would do her good.

Ryan leaned in
for a quick kiss, then tucked her sunglasses away inside a compartment on the
bike while she cautiously eyed the machine, noting the second helmet strapped
to the back of the seat.

“Are we taking
this?”

“That’s up to
you. I thought I’d give you the option if you’re up for it.”

She distinctly
heard the challenge in his voice. Was she up for streaking through the busy city
streets of Atlanta on the back of a crotch rocket, arms wrapped tight around
Ryan’s waist, ending up with helmet hair?

“Hell, yes,”
Tate said, beating back a wave of nervousness. She’d never touched a motorcycle
before in her life, but she knew he’d take good care of her, and above all else
it would be exhilarating, if not a wee bit scary. Okay, probably terrifying,
but you only live once, right?

He grinned. “I was
hoping you’d say that.”