“Are you a dancer?” he asked.
My muscles tensed. “Yes.” Or should I say was?
“Do you perform?”
I hesitated before responding. “No.”
A half-truth. I hadn’t performed for over six months and I wasn’t sure if I ever would again. I didn’t want to get into details about my recent past. Or think about Gustave…at least right now.
His eyes stayed riveted on the little pink slippers as he gave them a light tap. Tied to the bed by their frayed ribbons, they swung back and forth like a pendulum.
“Do you want me to go downstairs and get you something to eat?”
“Maybe in a little bit.” The truth was I hungered only for him; I didn’t want him to leave me. Not yet. As I soaked in his gorgeous profile, my heart thudded and a buzz of lust flooded my body. I longed to touch him. Run my fingers through his hair. For him to touch me. Trace my lips with his fingers. An awkward stretch of silence followed as he continued to play with my pointe shoes. Then, he turned to face me again, the expression on his face a mixture of hesitance and longing.
“Willow, I want to ask you something.” He paused, holding me in his gaze. “Can I kiss you?”
My lips parted in shock, and my heart practically stopped. “Yes, please,” I murmured. Now! I couldn’t wait a moment more.
On my next rapid heartbeat, he cupped my cheeks in his hands, leaned down, and crushed his soft, warm lips against mine. He nibbled my upper lip, then deepened the kiss, gnawing and sucking. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I’d never been kissed like this before. A heat wave spread through my body, setting every cell on fire. As a moan escaped my throat, his tongue parted my lips and found mine. They danced together, swirling and twirling, two strangers in the night discovering each other. The salty taste of the salmon lingered in his mouth and mixed with his sweet saliva, making him even more delicious. My fingers gripped his hair as our lips, tongues, and moans mingled. I had read about his kisses, but nothing had prepared me for the sensation of one. I thought I was leaving this planet.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps thudded in the near distance. For sure my father. Reality hit us fast and hard. I hastily pulled away from Ryan and caught my breath. While I tidied my mane of hair, he, in turn, jumped to his feet. Before standing up, he cursed under his breath and wiped my wet lips with the back of his hand. I could still taste him. Oh God, how I wanted more of him. To make matters worse, there was a sizable bulge between his thighs.
Pop lumbered into my room. I held my breath, wondering if my father would suspect what had just gone down between Ryan and me. I hoped his eyes wouldn’t travel down my companion’s torso. Oh shit! Then, on my next heartbeat, I was saved.
Huffing, Pop wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. Sheesh! Going up a flight of stairs undid him. He so needed to lose weight and get into shape.
“They ate me out of house and home,” he panted, undoing his long, soiled apron.
I digested his words. That meant the grand break-fast was over, and my father had closed up. I glanced at my alarm clock—nine o’clock. Usually, he stayed open till midnight, but Yom Kippur was one of the few exceptions.
“How’s she doing, Ryan?” he asked.
I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He obviously had no clue about what had transpired because my father, like my mother, was brutally honest, not one to hold back.
“Um, uh, I’d say she’s completely recovered.” Ryan stuttered, my father unconvinced.
“She looks flushed. Pumpkin, let me check your temperature.”
“Really, Pop, I’m perfectly fine.” I leaped out of bed and hugged him. My overprotective father.
“Did you at least eat something?” There was genuine concern in his voice as he shot Ryan a troubled look. “Sometimes my little girl doesn’t eat enough.”
“Don’t worry. I did,” I countered, realizing I had broken this year’s fast with a delicious taste of Ryan Madewell. I turned my head to face him.
With suddenness, all of Ryan’s color drained from his face. He fidgeted with the gold band around his ring finger and then bolted out of my room without saying goodnight.