The Replacement (9 page)

His lips roam upward, to the space just below my ear, and he laughs as he dips his tongue there. “You’re talking crazy talk, baby. That’s exactly why you’re here. You’ve missed this.” He lifts up my skirt and skims his thumb over my panty line, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’ve missed it, too. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

I moan as his fingers slip into my panties, rolling over my slick wetness. “Oh, God.” My head hits the wall, and my eyes snap shut in pure pleasure. “Christian, we need to talk.”

“After,” he growls into me, rocking his taut hips and straining erection against me. “Fuck, you’re so ready. Always so wet for me.” He withdraws his hand and slides his index finger into my mouth, letting me taste myself.

I bite down, heady with wild need, need for this man to own me like only he can, but I release his finger and shake my head. I need to break the spell right now, or I won’t get what I came here for. “No, we need to talk now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He bites a trail down my throat, moving south. He sounds amused. “What about?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” I pant, answering honestly.

“
Mmmm
,” he groans when he reaches my breasts, his mouth sucking straight through my bra. My nipples harden and my back bows. I’m losing control fast.

“I want to talk about me and you,” I say more evenly this time. His head continues to move downward. It’s over my belly now. “I need to know if you were serious about me moving in with you.”

He pushes my shirt up and bites just above my navel, his hands dropping down my hips to cup my ass. “Of course I am.”

“Why do you want to live with me?”

He laughs, but it’s cut off by a moan when he hits the apex of my thighs. The heat swells, sending me closer to the edge, and I involuntarily buck against his mouth. “You’re a dirty, filthy girl, and I fucking love you for it, baby.” He nuzzles his nose against me, blowing hot breath between my thighs. I nearly convulse on the spot, but I steel myself up and focus.

“Christian, answer me.”

“What kind of question is that?”

“An important one.”

He seems to realize I’m not giving up on this and his movements finally slow. He exhales and tilts his head back to look up at me. He rises and his chest is heaving as he stares down at me. “Doesn’t this answer it for you?”

“Doesn’t what answer it for me?”

“This.” He removes his hot hands from my body only long enough to wave between us. “Us. You and me. The way you respond to my touch. Have you ever felt this way with anyone? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”

“So…you want me to move in with you based on what, the way you touch me?”

“Elise,” he pushes out a breath full of frustration, “what are you getting at, baby?”

“I want to know why you want to be with me. What do I have that Kylie doesn’t have? What, I’m better in bed than her?”

“That’s not—” he huffs in disbelief, “that’s not what this is. You’re not hearing me. This chemistry transcends the physical. But we don’t need words. We don’t need talking. We only need this.” His hands plant firmly on my hips and he presses his erection harder against me, eliciting a whimper from somewhere deep in my throat.

Why does he have to be so damn good at that?

“We can’t survive off of that alone. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Of course it does.” He blinks, looking at me as if this is a no-brainer. “Think about how many people share a marriage based on other compatibilities, but there’s nothing deeper. No passion. There’s none of this.” He lifts a hand and pinches my nipple between his fingers. I groan. “I would know, Elise. I’ve been in one of those marriages for five years now. There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship, married or not. When you find a connection like we have, you recognize it. You grab hold of it and take it for all its worth. You don’t let it slip between your fingers.”

“What if that connection’s not enough?”

“There’s no such thing as enough. It’s an illusion.”

“What happens when someone else comes along? When this grows dull?”

“It won’t,” he insists, stunned, like I can’t possibly be saying what I’m saying to him right now. “No one can ever replace you.”

“You say that now.”

His nostrils flare and he tilts his forehead to meet mine, staring me square in the eyes. “You’re a keeper. Not a substitute or a flavor of the week, baby.”

“Why do you want me? You don’t know me.”

His eyes burn with determination, but he comes up pitifully short. “Because we fit.”

“Simple as that?” It comes out quietly.

“Simple as that.”

A lump forms in my throat and a civil war breaks out, wreaking havoc on my mind. He’s giving me all he’s got. He’s not being cold or insincere, or even dishonest. He’s 100 percent genuine about his perception of us. What we are, what we’ve been, and what we will be, if we stay together.

But it’s not enough.

And I think he’s right. Enough doesn’t exist. Even if I want it to, it doesn’t, and it probably never will. So where does that leave me? Where does it leave us? Right now, it leaves me against a wall with an Adonis of a man worshiping my body like I’m the shrine of an adored idol. Right now, there’s nothing else.

For now, that has to be more than enough.

***

I leave Christian’s house thoroughly spent and sated. One afternoon of love making with that man, and my limbs are weak and aching in all kinds of delicious ways. I remove the awareness that I’m oddly restless, even after our tiring romp, from my mind, determined to get home in time to get ready for my evening out.

My brain does somersaults while I shower and change, tossing Christian’s words around like laundry in a dryer. They feel perpetually damp, spinning round and round on a broken cycle. But I made a promise to Natalie, and more importantly, to Ryder, and for once, I don’t feel like being the town tramp loner girl. I want to be normal, even if only for a night. I’ll have to return to my pumpkin carriage before the clock strikes midnight, but I can live with that.

Stella’s parking lot is packed when I arrive. It’s hard to find a parking space, but I manage to pull into one before a blue sedan cruising for a spot beats me to it. Parking around here is always brutal around this time of year, regardless of the night rush at Stella’s. As soon as the annual holiday festival begins, people are out and about, braving the chilly temps in exchange for hot cocoa and the array of eclectic booths that set up shop along the waterfront. There are foods from all over the world, and unique arts and crafts at every turn.

I step out of my car and wave to Jay through the diner window. He’s busy, running around like a mad man as usual, but he waves back and gives me one of his signature smiles. I check my watch to make sure I’m on time, and it turns out I’m a few minutes early. I begin to stroll down the diner’s front walkway, stopping when I come to the end of the building, where there’s a sweeping view of the harbor.

The waterfront is always charming at night, especially with the festival lighting. The evergreen trees lining the sidewalk have been lit, even though we haven’t made it to Thanksgiving yet, and caramel and pumpkin aromas are everywhere. This is without a doubt my favorite time of year, and it reminds me of the times Tee and I spent together during high school, tasting our way through the festival, trying new foods and sneaking booze along the way.

“Hey Elise,” Natalie’s voice sings in the distance. I spin to find her walking toward me from the other end of the sidewalk. Nate is at her side, their hands comfortably linked. Nate is holding a cold beer in his free hand, his eyes traveling up and then down when he sees me.

I smile.

“You look gorgeous!” Natalie hurries up to me and gestures for me to turn, so I oblige and give her a little awkward spin, wobbling to the left. My long blonde hair is down, with soft curls that hit just above my breasts, and I’m wearing a snug-fitting cream turtleneck that shows off my curves. A pair of dark skinny jeans and tall, black suede boots complete the ensemble, leaving me feeling casual, sleek, and elegant.

“Thanks,” I say. “You look nice, too.”

She shrugs with a grin, looking down at her bright red sweater and black-wash jeans. Her red hair is thrown up into a loose, pretty bun, and her pale skin is fresh and bright. She really is an attractive girl, but I can tell she doesn’t seem to think so. “Sorry we’re running a few minutes late. Nate couldn’t find his car keys. I swear, he loses everything. Then he wanted a beer, so we had to stroll a bit.”

Nate looks sheepish for a moment before he speaks up in his defense. “We’re also fashionably late, thanks to Natalie.”

Natalie rolls her eyes playfully. “Hey, I couldn’t decide on the flats or the heels. Cut a girl a break!”

“She changed her shoes like ten times.” Nate gives me a bland look.

“I finally decided on the heels,” she laughs, showing off her black, shiny shoes. “Unlike Elise, I don’t have legs that go for miles. I need a little height.”

“
Hhhmmm
,” I respond half-heartedly, looking over her shoulder for my date. I’d love to stand here and continue to listen to Natalie drone on about clothes and hair and make-up—okay, not really—but I’m far more interested in finding Ryder. I have no intention of being a third wheel tonight.

“So, where’s your date?” Nate asks. His delivery seems natural enough, but the eagerness in his tone grabs my attention. I quit looking for Ryder and bring my gaze to his. There’s something different about him tonight, something I can’t pinpoint. But I think it’s lurking in his eyes. There’s a secretive glint in them, like he’s uncovered something about me and is keeping the discovery all to himself. I don’t miss the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact with me for longer than a few seconds.

“He should be here soon,” I reply, the corner of my lips twitching with a ghost of a smile. He really has caught on. My cover is blown.

“Where’d you guys meet?” Natalie pipes up, her eyes alive with curiosity.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but we just met. He’s not my boyfriend. He actually works at my apartment building. He does maintenance.”

“Ohhh,” Natalie gives me a sly look. “A Mr.Fix-It type, huh? I love guys who know how to get their hands dirty.”

I glance only briefly at Natalie, quickly pinning my gaze back on Nate’s. “So do I,” I say, not missing a beat.

Nate chokes on his beer, and Natalie looks completely baffled. I’m not sure who to feel sorrier for: Nate, for trying so hard to appear comfortable, or Natalie, who has to put up with the poor guy.

I’m about to go easy on Nate and change the subject, but warm fingers on my shoulder distract me. “Hey you,” a friendly, smooth voice comes from behind me, and Natalie’s eyes widen, her mouth gaping slightly.

I glance back and find Ryder standing there, his usually disheveled hair covered by a loose, gray cable-knit beret. A long-sleeve flannel shirt is fitted to his firm build, and a dark blazer gives him just a hint of sophistication. I grin in appreciation, knowing underneath that blazer lies a bold, beautiful canvas of poetic ink…among other delectable things.

His tattoos might be covered up tonight, but his masculine good looks are on full display. He is pure ruggedness but polished, with traditional, boyish charm. His jaw line is tinged by just the right amount of hair—not yet a beard, but darker than a five o’clock shadow. His strong cheekbones and warm, intense eyes give him an earnest yet approachable look, and the scent I’ve come to recognize as uniquely Ryder’s—pine and cinnamon spice—is ever present. He’s so close, I discreetly breathe him in.

“Hey,” I say, liking the way his hand moves to the small of my back. It’s such an easy, natural movement, I almost don’t sense it, except for the fact that my body is apparently hyperaware of his hands. “You made it.”

“Yeah, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“Not at all. Ryder, these are my friends, Natalie and Nate. Guys, this is Ryder.” Saying I have friends is like saying I’m a nun. It’s a completely unholy union. But I don’t know how else to refer to these people. I step aside to allow them space for introductions. They turn chatty in a matter of minutes, and I’m happy to see the exchange. It helps that Nate is just as much into the outdoors as Ryder. They talk boating, camping, and hiking, and then the subject of kayaking comes up.

“Kayaking’s like a religion around here,” Nate says as we all walk side by side down the town’s main drag. “We should all go some time.”

“You’ve never been kayaking?” Ryder asks with interest.

“Nah, I’m still new to town. I’m from the desert. Well, and the concrete jungle. Phoenix.” He shrugs. “I’m dying to get out and try it, though.”

“Maybe we can camp one weekend,” Natalie says, locking arms with Nate. She eyes me and Ryder, her gaze falling on his left hand. It’s still casually resting against my lower back as we stroll down the sidewalk. Little sparks tickle the skin beneath my sweater where his fingers rest.

“I’d be game for that,” Ryder says. “What about you, Elise?”

“Sure, maybe,” I shrug, keeping my arms crossed over my chest. I’ve never been opposed to the great outdoors. It’s hard to reside in the Pacific Northwest and not be drawn in to its natural beauty. But being here tonight is already so out of my element, I have no idea how I’d function a whole weekend in such an intimate social situation.