Page 46 of Unrest
I looked around for Rylen, who was nowhere.
“Where’s Ry?” I asked.
“Tired, I guess. Gotta work early, so he went back to the room.” I followed Tater’s eyes to where he was watching Remy approach us.
I looked at the far wall, and sure enough Rylen was disappearing through the lobby door. A knife of disappointment planted itself in my navel. He’d left without a good-night or a New Year greeting. I couldn’t help but think the kiss had something to do with it. It probably rattled him. My entire body itched to go.
“Happy New Year, Jacob,” Remy said softly.
“Yeah,” he said. Tater scratched the back of his head. When he didn’t reach to hug her, the two of them stood there awkwardly, both looking . . . sad.
“I’m gonna go back to the room,” I said.
Remy sighed. “I think I’ll go too.”
“Night.” Tater turned away from us.
Remy followed me through the crowd. When we got up to our floor, she inclined her chin toward the guys’ room. Rylen would be in there alone.
My heart, which had begun to accelerate, was racing now. I shook out my hands and walked slowly to his door. Remy gave me a good-luck smile and disappeared into our room. I let out five nervous breaths before working up the nerve to knock.
It took half a minute for Rylen to open the door. He was in boxers. That’s it. And it did nothing to slow my heart or breathing. I tore my eyes up from his waistline, over the pepper tattoo on his pec, and to his face.
“Hey, Pep.” He shifted to the side. “You okay? Let me just . . . uh . . .” He glanced behind him and the absolute worst thought struck me.
“Are you alone?” I whispered.
“Yeah.” He cocked his head at the fear in my voice. “I’m just gonna grab some pants. Come on in.” Oh, thank God.
I put my hand on the door but gave him a second to go inside. When I went in, he was stepping into track pants. I leaned against the wall, more nervous than I’d ever been, as he sat on the edge of the bed, legs wide, and gazed up at me.
“What’s up?” he asked. He sounded tired.
Say it. Say something.“I know it’s not my place to say this, but . . . I think you should be careful of Linette.”
He grasped the back of his neck and stared at the floor. “Nothing is going on with us—”
“I know.” I rubbed my face. Every word I’d planned to say sprinted out of my mind and left me standing there completely empty headed. Awkward, expectant silence stretched between us.
“I don’t think she understands or respects where you’re at, and what you need.”
He looked at me then, with such suffering in his gaze, and asked, “Where am I, Pepper? What do I need?”
The anguish there made me nearly slide to the floor. I closed my eyes against the wave of emotions and forced myself to speak.
“I think you’re hurting and you need time.”
His eyes dropped to the floor again, silent. Was I wrong? Was Linette right, that he needed her affections to help him heal?
No, damn it! I could not stand the thought of her ever touching him again like she’d done tonight. I was going to comfort him my own damn self. I took shaky steps forward until I stood between his knees. I saw his shoulders hitch with an intake of air, but he didn’t raise his head. I moved forward until his forehead was pressing against my stomach. Then I slid my hands around the back of his head and held him there.
Before I could be self-conscious or wonder if I was forcing affection on him, his arms went around my back and pulled me closer, his face pressing against my abdomen. I felt his warm breaths through the cotton of my shirt as we held one another in the most tender moment I’d ever experienced with him. I knew in the way he pressed into me, pulling me tighter, his fingers rubbing into my skin through the shirt, that this was exactly what he needed.
I held him, and held him longer, and felt him, and though it might not have been sexual to him, it was the most sensual moment of my life. My entire body went taut and heated at the feel of his hands on my back. His face pressed to me. My hands in his hair.
Footsteps and voices coming up the hall shattered the delicate moment. I moved away from him at the sound of the door unlocking with a click. New York Josh was talking loudly about the Yankee’s baseball record; apparently Tater had tried to bust his balls. They both stopped and shut up when they saw us—Rylen still sitting on the edge of the bed, and me now standing a couple feet away.
Josh hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “You need us to find another room?”
“What?” Rylen said. “Man, shut the fuck up.”
“All right.” Josh winked at me. “My bad.”
Tater looked between the two of us.
“I was just leaving,” I said. “Good night.” I gave them an awkward wave and shot a glance at Rylen as I turned to leave. His elbows rested on his knees, watching me go, the heat of his gaze steaming me from the inside out.
