He dropped his gaze and grabbed a towel, drying his hands off as he walked back into the main part of the room. He furrowed his brow when he caught faint strains of music.

And then he stopped, everything in him just kind of going quiet at once.

Kate was sitting on their bed, facing the headboard, a loose sheet tucked under her arms and wrapped around her chest and hips. The crisp white of the cotton against her pale skin made it look all peaches and cream, and he swallowed hard. She was fiddling with a panel on the wall. He’d noticed it before but hadn’t really paid it any mind.

The sounds on the air resolved themselves in his mind.

“Édith Piaf?”

She twisted, looking at him over her shoulder, and she was so beautiful he could hardly breathe. The soft curve of her smile cracked his heart. “It’s a radio. All it plays is this really random old stuff.”

And she looked so charmed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She beckoned him over. “Come here and listen.”

His feet didn’t seem to want to move. For a second, he could only stand there, staring at her.

If he could draw, he’d paint her in ivory and pink and umber, looking exactly the way she did in that instant. Preserve her forever, to look at when he was old. Just like this.

But he couldn’t.

“Rylan?”

“Sorry.” He tossed the towel he’d been using in the vague direction of the bathroom door. Unglued his feet and walked himself over to the bed.

He sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face against her hair. Vanilla and rose, and layered in with it, the sharpness of his aftershave. The faintest notes of sweat and sex. His throat felt tight, and his heart was pounding too hard.

She put her hand over his. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He breathed her in, memorizing her scent. Their scent, all tangled together. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Lifting his head, he pressed a kiss to her temple. It was probably too intense, probably lingered too long. When he could, he nodded. “Absolutely. I’m just . . . happy.”

She laughed, a soft, ringing sound. “Good. Me, too.”

His heart felt like it was pressing against his ribs, but what could he do? He bit the inside of his cheek and cast his gaze skyward, then gestured at the radio, drawing attention from the way he’d been completely, utterly disarmed. “Does it play anything else?”

She paged through the handful of stations, each stranger than the last. The whole time, he held her, watching her and listening and trading comments about the selection of songs.

And it was another thing he’d heard of in the past—one he’d thought he’d done before. But really. He’d never known what basking in the afterglow meant.

Not until now.

chapter NINETEEN

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“What?” Rylan shot her a cheeky smile. “You’ve never had room service before?”

She tossed her napkin at him. “Not what I meant.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure she ever had had room service. It was always so expensive. But Rylan had insisted, and at the time, her legs hadn’t felt up to working. Even now, an hour after he’d turned her to jelly, her whole body was still thrumming, a warm glow of satisfaction radiating from the very center of her.

Yeah, staying in for dinner had been a good call.

Still. “Eating dinner in bed. Naked.” She cocked her brow at him. “This is something you do all the time?”

He was sitting opposite her on the bed with their dinner plates between them. Somehow or other, they’d managed to split the sheet so it draped over his lap with enough left over for her to tuck the other end under her arms. All the important parts were covered, but it still felt illicit. Obscene.

Sexy.

Shrugging, he took a bite of his sandwich and chewed. “It’s not exactly a first. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say I do it all the time.”

That dip was coming in her stomach. The little lurch that happened every time he reminded her that she was one of many.

Only then the corner of his mouth curled upward. “Can’t say it’s ever been this much fun before, though.” He wiped his fingers on his napkin before reaching out to drag the back of a knuckle down the bare length of her arm. “Or that the view has ever been so good.”

The anxious dip turned into a flutter. She dropped her gaze to stare at her own sandwich. He did this to her every time. Made her feel like she was special, when really she was just one of the herd.

“Hey.” He gave her a second, then hooked his finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “Where did you go there?”

“Nowhere.” She tried to smile.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at her. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Don’t have a lot of practice, I suppose.”

He cupped her face and swiped his thumb across her lip. “Good. I like you like this. All fresh-faced and innocent.”

She shook her head. Kissed his thumb before batting his hand away. “Says the man who’s been doing everything in his power to corrupt me.”

“Not everything.” His eyes twinkled. “But a lot of things.” His grin receded as he poked at what was left of his pile of fries. “Haven’t pushed it too far, I hope.”

It didn’t quite lilt up as a question, but she heard it as one all the same.

And she could do this. She could talk about the things they’d done. There didn’t have to be any shame to it—even if something cold and uncomfortable threatened to unfurl in her lungs. “I—I don’t regret anything. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s something a guy likes to know.” His one shoulder quirked upward and then settled back down.

“I don’t regret it.” She put more conviction into the words this time, because she didn’t. No matter the heartbreak that was bound to come. It had been . . . amazing. Like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She was glad she’d get to hold on to that. “You were really good to me.”

He made a little huffing sound and tore at the bread of his sandwich. “I am never going to stop being angry about the fact that anybody ever wasn’t good to you. If you—” He cut himself off, fingers clenching into a fist before he relaxed them. “I hope you never let anyone treat you like that. Not ever again.”

Right. The little dip in her stomach was back, twisting her insides up. He was talking about the other men she’d sleep with, after she left.

“I won’t.” It sounded too solemn, but there it was. Out on the air between them.

She’d promised it to herself once before, but it had been an abstract then. Now she knew how good she could’ve been getting all along. How terrible the bad had been by comparison.

“Besides.” Her voice threatened to crack, and was she really going to do this? “There were only a couple of other guys,” she blurted. “Before.”

Apparently, she was.

Rylan paused. “Yeah?”

She’d told him that much their very first night. He’d prodded her then, clearly wanting her to tell him more about them, but she’d shied away. Now, though . . . She’d let him inside of her, had given up the one thing she’d been the most afraid to. She could give him just a little bit more.

“One was a hookup,” she said, testing the words on her tongue. “I don’t think I even got his name.”

A month after things between her and Aaron had fallen apart, her friends had decided that enough was enough. They’d told her it was damn well time for her to pick herself up. Get back on the horse. Move on.

So they’d taken her to a club and bought her drinks all night. She’d caught a guy’s eye, and she’d been so starved for the attention, she’d let him dance in close behind her. And when he’d asked her if she wanted to get out of there . . .

“I was . . . drunk. Not so drunk that I don’t remember it or anything, but enough that I was maybe not making the best of decisions.” She focused hard on picking at the crust of her bread so she didn’t have to meet his gaze. Or show that her hands were trembling. “He was . . . fine. But he’d been drinking, too. Everything moved way too fast.” She shrugged. “And when he was done, that was kind of the end of it.”