Author: J. Saman
Category: Contemporary
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/j-saman/page,9,558335-start_again_series_a_billionaire_romance_box_set.html
We ate all kinds of typical New Orleans fare with the exception of crawfish, since we both agreed that they creep us out. It was awesome and we talked and laughed and it felt like a fucking date. A good date. No, a great date. The kind of date that you hope turns into all night, and all night turns into many more dates.
So now we’re walking through the throngs of people down Bourbon Street hand in hand, pointing and laughing at various things—especially the oversexed and alcohol-ridden establishments and people. Finally, we set our sights on a jazz bar and enter the cave-like room. The walls are comprised of what looks like pressed dirt or clay with several bumps.
It’s dark, as you would expect a cave to be.
The only illumination is coming from several fake candles set up throughout the room and the blue glow over the bar. It’s sexy and intimate, and the jazz music is only fueling the fire.
Katie drags me up to the black shiny bar and we both order whiskeys before finding a small corner in the room where we can listen. The place is packed, so Katie is pressed up against me and my hand is on her hip—for safety purposes only, of course—because she keeps getting bumped into.
Her hips slowly sway to the beat of the drums and bass, and my chin is resting on her head. I’m enjoying the sensation of her against me.
My chin slips from her head, and I can’t stop myself before my nose runs through her hair, breathing her in. That one not-so-simple motion does me in, and my hand snakes from her hip to her stomach where it splays against the thin fabric of her dress.
I know I should stop, that what I’m doing is wrong, but I can’t.
I need this too much.
I need her.
Her small body leans back into mine, and my breath catches before speeding up along with my heart rate. Maybe this is different? Maybe she’s into this too? My mind wanders in a million dirty directions. Would the whiskey taste sweet or smoky on her lips and tongue? Would her skin blush under my touch? Would she moan or whimper as I slip my fingers inside her panties and find her wet pussy?
But that other question pops in. The unsolicited one. What would this mean for the rest of the trip for us, if she wanted me the way I want her?
I know she doesn’t want a relationship. I know she’s not looking for anything, so what the hell am I doing?
And when did I turn into a woman with all of these fucking questions?
We sway like this for the rest of the song, and when it’s over, she turns around to look at me. Her blue eyes are heated and dark in the limited lighting, her skin a little dewy from the humidity. She’s gorgeous. So gorgeous she takes my breath away.
Katie continues to stare intently at me, not saying anything, just watching me, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. Normally Katie wears her heart and her thoughts on her sleeve, but right now, she’s holding them back, and this little stare down is getting my heart racing even faster. I don’t know whether to be turned on or apprehensive.
After what feels like the longest moment of my life, she swallows hard and blinks, and just like that, the spell is broken.
At least for her it is, because she takes a sip of her whiskey and turns back around to listen to the next set of music that has just started. In this moment, I’m sort of wishing I flew on airplanes, because I need to create some distance between us. Both physically and emotionally, because I can say with one hundred percent certainty, I’ve never been drawn to anyone the way I am to her.
Ten agonizing minutes later, and with as little physical contact as I can stand, she turns to me and tells me she’s ready for bed.
Awesome.
I walk her back to the hotel, which is really only four blocks away. When we reach her room, she stops to face me. Her hand glides up to her ever-present pendant, grasping it like it’s her lifeline.
“In case I haven’t told you, Ryan,” she says softly, her sweet smile shining up at me. “You’re really special to me. It’s only been a week, but I feel connected to you somehow. Like we were meant to meet.” She tilts her head. “Does that make sense?”
I nod once. “Yes. I agree.” And I do.
“Thank you for being such a good friend to me,” she smiles, and I’m gutted with that one stupid word. Friend.
“You’re easy to be good to, Katie, and it works both ways. You’re so special to me, too.” I wrap my arms around her, but pull back just as quickly because I just can’t. She gives me that sweet smile again and then goes into her room. The door clicks shut, and my face falls to my hands as I blow out a hot, tormented breath.
I turn slowly, not really wanting to do what I’m about to do, but knowing that I need to all the same.
Before Francesca, I slept around.
And I did so without explanation or regret. I made sure the woman knew the score beforehand, but that didn’t change my methods. They used me just as much as I used them, so it worked, and I felt zero remorse for it.
Francesca changed that. But after her, I went back to my old ways because she made me believe that love and attachment lead to hurt.
And fuck that.
But as I make my way back outside, the only place I want to be is upstairs with Katie. I don’t want any of these women, but I can’t have the one I want, and since I’m forced to be around her constantly, I need this.
I need this, I tell myself again.
I’m two steps onto the main drag when I spot my target.
Or more like she spots me. I get the fuck-me eyes, and I barely have to return them before she walks up to me.
“Hi. You want to come with us to that bar over there?” The girl points to some place behind her, but I don’t care enough to raise my eyes to see where. She’s cute. Straight brown hair that stops an inch above her shoulders, and dark eyes. She’s dressed for sex, and her friends who are standing a few paces away giggle at their brazen friend.
She doesn’t ask my name or offer hers.
I don’t care.
I’m in.
“Lead the way.”
She smiles up at me coyly like she’s about to offer me something entirely new. I doubt that, but what the hell?
I follow the nameless brunette into whatever the closest bar is without a cover charge, and she doesn’t even bother bringing me up to the bar for the ruse of a shared drink. No, this girl is all business. She throws her friends a wink and then takes my hand, leading me through the crowd of people toward the back.
She tries the handle on a broom closet, and when it opens, she throws me a devilish smile over her shoulder. She’s taller than Katie, probably closer to five-seven or eight. And she’s not built like Katie either. She’s leaner, more of a model-like build, which I don’t normally find all that attractive. I like curves. She has none, but like I said, I don’t really care all that much tonight.
We get into this small room, and the second the door shuts, I experience total sensory deprivation. I can’t see or hear anything except her breathing and mine.
She rubs up against me, running her hands up and down my chest.
She feels wrong. Too rough and overly aggressive. Her hair brushes against my nose and she smells wrong too. Like strong floral perfume.
Her hands run down my body, landing on the button and zipper of my jeans.
“You’re so sexy,” she breathes out, and I can’t stand her voice either. It’s sharp and feels fake, put-on. “The second I saw you, I knew I wanted you.”
I don’t respond, because suddenly she lowers herself to her knees and puts my cock in her mouth. My eyes shut instantly, trying to block out the pounding thoughts in my head.
My mind swirls, toxic and sick. My stomach churns, turning the remnants of my dinner into a corrosive poison in my gut.
Suddenly I can’t stand the feeling of her mouth on my dick.
I yank her up and off me, and she giggles. It’s annoying, and I can’t breathe, so I spin her around, sliding up her tiny skirt. She hasn’t kissed me or even tried. A small win because I know, I fucking know,
I would not be able to stand that.
This is quick and dirty and she’s not complaining at all.
“Yes,” she pants out.
I blink against the blinding darkness, shaking my head back and forth. Focus. I can’t focus. I can’t have Katie and I need this. This nameless, faceless woman. If I screw her then…
I put the condom on and stare down at myself. At where I know my condom covered dick is.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Only it’s not okay. Nothing is okay and what the fuck am I doing right now?
She moans loudly, trying to egg me on. It’s the fakest sound I’ve ever heard. I’m not even touching her.
“Come on,” she bites out when I don’t move or speak. She inches her too-thin body back against me, bumping into my cock, and I grunt. But it’s not out of desire.
It’s out of disgust. With myself.
“I…”
“Just put it in me already. I need it hard and rough.”
“Shhh,” I snap. “Just give me a second.” She keeps going, saying something I’m no longer listening to, and I close my eyes again, trying to block her out.
And then I do the worst thing ever.
Something I’ve never done in all my time of random, meaningless sex.
I picture someone else.
I see Katie. Her sweet smile looking up at me. Those light-blue eyes—the color of the sky—gazing at me. Her perfect body beneath mine. The feel of her silky skin against my hands. Her smell. Her taste. Her sounds.
I’m picturing Katie instead of this girl. I want Katie. Not this girl. Not any other girl.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
“What?” she shrieks. “What the fuck does that mean?”
It means I’m done.
I rip the condom off, zip myself up, find the door, and walk away without another word. Straight out of the bar and into the humid night that offers me no solace.
I wander around aimlessly for god only knows how long, before I make myself go back to the hotel. For a hot second, I’m tempted to go and have another drink at the bar, but I don’t. Instead, I go right up to my room and take the longest hottest shower of my life, washing my body so many times that my skin is practically raw.
By the time I crawl into bed, I’m wrecked. It’s late and I’m tired.
Worst of all, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I could pull away from Katie entirely. Become emotionally distant and save myself. But then her words from earlier tonight flit through my mind. She said I was special to her. That she felt like she was meant to meet me. I’m important to her.
And I know I can’t pull back.
So is it better to spend whatever time I have with her knowing that I’m only going to get hurt in the end?
Maybe.
Maybe I should just take what I can get with her and deal with the consequences when they happen. And they will happen. Of that I have no doubt. The thought of hurting her is worse than the thought of hurting myself.
I’ll ride this wave with her.
And when it’s over, I’ll completely wipe out.
10
Kate
* * *
We end up spending two days in New Orleans, walking around the city, riding the streetcars, eating and drinking way too much and having a good freaking time.
Originally, we had wanted to drive north up toward Chicago, and then west through the Badlands and Wyoming. But we both want to do Vegas, the Grand Canyon, and SoCal, so that first plan didn’t really make a lot of sense given our time constraints. If we had endless time, then sure, it would be game on.
So we did what we said we would not do.
We created an itinerary.
Our plan is to hit up Austin, then Dallas, drive through northern Texas and New Mexico until we get to the Grand Canyon. After that, it is Vegas, LA, somewhere along the coast, San Francisco and up the Pacific Coast Highway through the redwood forest all the way to Seattle.
All of that is to be done in the next fourteen to seventeen days max.
It’s ambitious since we both agreed that we want the majority of our time to be spent in California.
We set off for Austin bright and damn early since it is a long-ass drive and will take us all day. But as soon as we start out we change our plans and decide to head straight for Dallas, which makes more sense than stopping in Austin.
We realized pretty quickly that we wouldn’t get to enjoy the city at all, since we’d get in late and would have to set out again early. This drive is actually better anyway, as it takes us through actual towns in Louisiana, like Baton Rouge and Shreveport.
Today is October first and we have already been on the road nine days.
It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.
Ryan is scheduled to do a bunch of things in Seattle on the nineteenth and wants to be there for at least a full day before, so he’s not so rushed. Knowing there is a very real and looming expiration date on our little adventure sucks. I never thought I’d want to travel with anyone like this, especially a man I didn’t know, but now the thought of continuing on without him doesn’t feel possible.
So I have a new goal for this trip.
Find a place I want to live before we get to Seattle.
I promised to take him all the way there, and I intend to keep my word, but I don’t want to drift aimlessly after that is done. I want to know where I’m going. I want a direction and a mission, because leaving him is going to be rough.
I meant what I said to him the other night in New Orleans.
I feel like Ryan is a part of me.
I’ve heard that old cliché about people being thrust into your life at the right moment, and I never really believed it—until now.
Yes, I have fun with him. Yes, he’s sweet and thoughtful and ridiculously hot and perfect. Yes, I have a crush to beat all crushes on him. I admit it, but that’s all it is.
A crush.
Those are natural and normal when spending this much time with a member of the opposite sex, right? Right. It’s not like I’m cheating or my thoughts about Ryan mean that I don’t love Eric as much as I still do.
This is different.
And though Ryan and I flirt and occasionally get a little touchy-feely, we’re just friends.
I’m sure it is the same way for him. I don’t pretend to think he has feelings for me beyond what we have right now. That and I’m pretty sure he hooked up with someone when we were in New Orleans. I smelled some strong god-awful perfume on his shirt when I was helping to pack up his clothes, and there was an empty condom wrapper stuffed in the pocket of his pants. That’s usually a pretty good indication of sex.
I didn’t really expect him to be celibate just because I am.
I understand that he is a very attractive single guy and has needs and all that. I understand all of it. Even if I hate it. I’m grateful he didn’t tell me about her, but I despise the twinge in my stomach I get when I think about it. I feel guilty and wrong for even remotely entertaining the idea that I’m jealous.
I have no right.
He doesn’t want me, and I’m forever in love with Eric, and that is all there is to it. Even if it sucks a little.
“Tell me you’re up for some killer barbeque tonight,” he says as we hit the Texas border.
“I never say no to barbeque. I could rock the hell out of some ribs,” I tell him, leaning back in my seat and stretching my legs up onto the dash. I drove the first four hours and now he’s finishing off this leg of the journey. I flex and relax my toes repeatedly, improving the circulation in my lower extremities, because DVTs are real and I don’t want one.
He laughs. “As long as we don’t have to line dance or say y’all.”
“Or chew tobacco,” I add, scrunching my nose up in distaste. “Something tells me we can find fantabulous barbeque and delicious drinks.” He looks over at me, and I bounce my eyebrows at him. “I bet you can even find some really nice fake t
its here. I’ve heard Dallas is known for them.”
He laughs again, reaching over to poke my ribs, making me squeal. I’m so freaking ticklish and he knows it. “I think I’m all set with that.”
I shrug. “Never say never.”
He looks at me for a moment as if trying to read my expression, and I’m doing my best to remain casual under his scrutiny. And as much as I want—and don’t want—to ask about the mystery sex in New Orleans, I keep quiet.
“Not that I have any problems with fake breasts, but I have a thing for natural beauty.” His eyes roam all over my face, down my body, and they definitely stop on my breasts for a leisurely look. I feel my nipples harden under his gaze as if to say, yes, look at us, aren’t we delicious.
God, his eyes are practically devouring me. Okay, point proven. I need to change the subject stat before I do something crazy. Like maul him. “What’s your favorite place we’ve visited thus far?”
“Hmmm,” he tilts his head a little, the way he always does when he’s giving something some genuine thought. “I’d have to say either Miami or Charleston.”
“Really?” I’m a little surprised by this given the sex—yuck. “Not New Orleans?”
He shakes his head, something dark crowding his features. I take no relief in that. None at all. “Nope. Charleston is where I feel like we really got to know each other, became closer. And Miami…” he trails off.
I wait a few seconds, but when he doesn’t finish his thought, I prompt him. “What about Miami?”
“I had fun dancing with you in the club and lounging by the pool,” he says this so simply that I have to love that answer. I loved dancing with him too. Spending time with him is quickly becoming the thing I look forward to most. I don’t even care where we are, just being with him is fun. “What about you?”
“I agree with you about Miami, but I really loved my day at the spa in New Orleans.”
He looks over at me quickly with his crooked smile before turning his eyes back to the road. “I wish we had more time,” he starts, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I wish we could have gone north and done all of those places that we talked about seeing.”