Page 97 of More Than a Spark

Milo thrust hard, then held it and groaned. “Holy fuck.” He buried himself deep inside me and the heat of his release filled me. As it slowed, he drew heavy breaths and rested his chest on my back. “Oh my God, Ryder.”

With a soft chuckle, I said, “I know.” As I straightened, he lifted from my back. I glanced out the window. “We better clean this up before someone comes home.”

“Kiss me first.” Clutching my arm, he twisted me around, grabbed my head and planted a hard kiss on my mouth. “I love you, Ryder. You’ve supported me through so much and now this. It’s…you’re the best.”

My heart swarmed with emotion. I’d do anything for him. “That’s because you’re the best.” I placed a longer, lingering kiss on his mouth. “Now, get me something to wipe this cum off the cabinet.” I broke out in a giggle. We’d been so nasty, but in a good way.

TWENTY-FIVE

MILO

After a great evening of snuggling up for a movie on the couch, then in bed, we woke up earlier than the rest of the guys and headed out for a nice day date, doing some shopping at the Biltmore. This place was high end with its Neiman Marcus, Saks, and fancy restaurants all done up in a Frank Lloyd Wright modern vibe.

Dad’s restaurant was nestled into a corner of the plaza, and we strolled our way toward it under the shade of an overhang between buildings. My gaze caught on the flowers and rows of hedges interspersed with flowing fountains, lit up by afternoon sun.

I tightened my grip on Ryder’s hand. “What if he’s not there?” I probably should have texted Dad first. Shit.

“He’ll be there. You said he’s always there on a Saturday, right?” With a smile, Ryder kissed the back of my hand. “Look, there it is. We have to at least go inside and try one of those insane desserts.”

“Yeah, okay.” My fluttering heart settled. No matter what, I had Ryder with me, and Dad did make some incredible desserts at this place. It was one of the things it was famous for, besides the extensive wine collection. We stopped at a large, rustic wooden door with an iron handle, and I looked up at the sign in a fancy script, reading,Arti-Zin. It was a play on Dad’s name and his favorite wine.

Ryder opened the door and pulled me inside.

The place was just as I’d remembered it, all dark wood paneling with modern leather chairs surrounding marble tabletops. Flowers in vases were perched between booths along one wall.

A woman in a small black dress with bobbed blonde hair approached us, holding leather bound menus. “Table for two?”

“Yes, please. And can you tell Art his son is here to see him?” Ryder gave her a charming grin.

With her hand raising to her mouth, she said, “Oh, are you his son?” Her gaze flicked to me, then back to him.

“No, this is his son, Milo.” He held his hand out to me.

Warmth trickled up my neck. Damn Ryder was teasing me. “Hello.” I held my hand out.

Giving my hand a quick shake, she said, “Hi, Milo. My name’s Jasmine. It’s really nice to meet you.”

My heart faltered. Shit, Jasmine? Hadn’t I heard that name before? Wasn’t she one of?—

“Right this way.” She led us between tables and to a booth, then set the menus down. “I’ll let Art know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Sure, thanks.” I slid into the booth and Ryder glided in next to me. Looking around us at all the wealthy ladies with their afternoon wines and fancy hors d'oeuvres, I said, “What are you doing?”

“Sitting next to you. That way, he can sit opposite us and see us holding hands.” Ryder kissed the side of my head, then snatched my hand off my thigh and held it over the table. “He’ll know right away we’re together.”

“You are so devious sometimes.” With a soft huff, I picked up my menu. Good thing this was dad’s restaurant. The fancy desserts cost a small fortune, but I knew he’d give us whatever we wanted on the house. I glanced at Jasmine, strolling away from us. “Hey, I think my dad dated the hostess.”

“Are you serious? She’s got to be half his age.” Ryder furrowed his brows. “Doesn’t surprise me though.” He flicked his gaze toward her. “You think they’re still together?”

“No idea, but she probably would have said something if they were, don’t you think?” I cleared my throat and ticked my head at Dad, as he walked down an aisle between tables, smiling and making small talk with the ladies sitting at them.

Ryder looked his way, then shook his head. “Shit, your dad is such a schmoozer.” He turned his gaze on me. “Whatever happened to you?”

“Me? You want me to be like him and date…I don’t know, teenagers?” Holding my menu over my face, I snorted. No, I liked my men to be my age and firefighters, apparently.

Dad stepped to our table and stopped, his white chef’s jacket pulled tight across his shoulders and sporting decorative black accents. “Milo and Ryder, what a pleasant surprise. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in today?” After running his hand over his dyed, dark hair, he shimmied into the bench seat across from us, his gaze dipping to our entwined hands. “You two messing around with your dear old dad?” He narrowed his eyes and lifted the edge of his mouth.

My pulse kicked in my chest. “Um, no.” How the hell should I put this?

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