“Impatient,” I mutter.
He laughs and cups my ass with both of his hands. “Nope. It’s this
onesie. You really should consider making this your business attire.” He
kisses me again and doesn’t stop kissing
me until someone passes us,
heading down the stairs.
The guy mumbles, “Nice onesies,” as he squeezes past us. “Did the
Bruins win?”
Ryle nods. “Three to one,” he responds, without looking up at the guy.
“Nice,” the guy says.
Once he’s gone, I step away from Ryle. “What is this onesie thing? Does
every male in Boston know about this?”
He laughs and says, “Free beer, Lily. It’s free beer.” He pulls me up the
stairs, and when we walk in the door, Lucy is standing at the kitchen table
taping up a box of her stuff. There’s another box she hasn’t taped up yet
and I could swear I see a bowl that I bought at HomeGoods sticking out of
the top. She said she’d have all her stuff out by next week, but I have a
feeling she’ll conveniently have some of
my
stuff out, too.
“Who are you?” she asks, looking Ryle up and down.
“Ryle Kincaid. I’m Lily’s boyfriend.”
Lily’s boyfriend.
Did you hear that?
Boyfriend.
It’s the first time he’s
confirmed it, and he said it so confidently. “My
boyfriend, huh?” I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine and two
wineglasses.
Ryle comes up behind me as I’m pouring the wine and snakes his arms
around my waist. “Yep. Your boyfriend.”
I hand him a glass of wine and say, “So I’m a girlfriend?”
He holds up his glass and clinks it against mine. “To the end of trial
runs and the beginning of sure things.”
We’re both smiling as we take a drink of our wine.
Lucy stacks the boxes together and walks toward the front door. “Looks
like I got out right in time,” she says.
The door closes behind her and Ryle raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think
your roommate likes me very much.”
“You’d be surprised. I didn’t think she liked me, either,
but yesterday
she asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. I think she’s just hoping
for free flowers, though. She’s very opportunistic.”
Ryle laughs and leans against the refrigerator. His eyes fall to a magnet
that says “
Boston
” on it. He pulls it off the refrigerator and raises an
eyebrow. “You’ll never get out of Boston purgatory if you keep souvenirs of
Boston on your fridge like a tourist.”
I laugh and grab the magnet, slapping it back on the fridge. I like that
he remembers so much about the first night we met. “It was a gift. It only
counts as touristy if I bought it myself.”
He steps over to me and takes my glass of wine from my hands. He sets
both of our glasses on the countertop, and then leans in and gives me a
deep, passionate, drunken kiss. I can taste the tart fruitiness of the wine on
his tongue and I like it. His hands go to the zipper on my onesie. “Let’s get
you out of these clothes.”
He pulls me toward the bedroom, kissing me while we both struggle out
of our clothes. By the time we make it to my bedroom, I’m down to my bra
and panties.
He shoves me against the door, and I gasp at the unexpectedness of it.
“Don’t move,” he says. He
presses his lips to my chest, then begins to
kiss me slowly as he makes his way down my body.
Oh, Lord. Can this day seriously get any better?
I run my hands through his hair, but he grabs my wrists and presses
them against the door.
He climbs back up my body, squeezing my wrists
tightly. He raises an eyebrow in warning. “I said . . . don’t move.”
I try not to smile, but it’s hard to disguise.
He drags his mouth back
down my body. He slowly lowers my panties to my ankles, but he told me
not to move, so I don’t kick them off.
His mouth slides up my thigh until . . .
Yeah.
Best.
Day.
Ever.