Page 46 of Love on the Brain
Ryan’s hooded gaze was steady on her, as if waiting for her to make a move. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but she was sure she could sum it all up in one action.
She lifted her free hand and tenderly ran her fingers from his temple down to his jaw, cupping the side of his face lightly. Straightening her spine, she set her shoulders back and angled her face. His eyes burned with desire and expectation, and when she pressed her lips to his, his body came alive.
Ryan’s arms engulfed her like a blanket swaddling a baby. The sheer heat of him through his thin dress shirt nearly scorched her. Still, he let her lead. His restraint was borderline agonizing. Her eyes closed, and she parted her lips to deepen the kiss and tune out everything else.
When she pulled away, it was because she needed to breathe, not because she’d had enough of him. Her chest heaved as she tried to regain control of her breathing. When she opened her eyes, Ryan’s smile was shining on her like a blinding sun.
“You’re a great kisser,” she said softly.
His grin spread wider. Feeling suddenly shy and completely out of words, she angled her body back toward the table as the platter of sopapillas was set down and their entrée plates cleared away.
Ryan let go of her hand and plucked one of the doughnuts from the plate. He dipped it into the honey mixture and twisted it to cut the sticky drip. “For you,” he said, his voice husky.
Jane opened her mouth to accept the fried treat. When it hit her tongue, it was sensory overload. She closed her mouth, allowing it to melt so she could catch all the flavors. The sweet dough, the powdered sugar, the honey, the cinnamon. These were better than she remembered.
Wanting to return the favor, she scooped one up and dipped it generously for Ryan, coating all but the surface her thumb and index finger touched with the honey. As she fed it to him, she thought about how there was no going back from here, with him. This intimate moment, her realization, and the unspoken plans between them would carve a new road that would require their current paths to merge. How that would happen, she didn’t know yet.
What she did know, for certain, was that she wanted it. Despite the sadness, the pain, and the guilt, she wanted Ryan as more than a friend.
They’d find a way to be together. God made big things happen every day, and it was their turn.
Of that, she was sure.
* * *
Sunday morning,Ryan hummed along to the hymn playing over the PA system as he arranged a fresh set of free Bibles on the reception desk in the church lobby. It was Palm Sunday, and he’d arrived extra early to make sure the lobby was set before the volunteers set up to distribute the long green fronds to attendees.
“Someone’s having a good morning. Or was it a good night?” his father teased. “It was well after nine o’clock when we heard your truck pull in next door. You and Jane have a good dinner?”
“We did.” Ryan set the final book on the ledge and turned to face his dad. “It’s gonna be hard not seeing them for a whole month.”
His dad clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be so busy, you’ll barely notice. But if you do, that’s a sign.”
Ryan nodded. “I’m aware.”
The automatic door hummed, and his father turned to greet the arrival.
“Ryan? Can we talk?”
Sunny?
He turned around, and sure enough, she was standing just inside the doorway, her hands in the pockets of her fur-trimmed ivory knit knee-length cape. What was she doing here? He darted a glance to his dad.
“Use my office.”
“Thanks, Pastor Engstrom,” Sunny said with a smile. He raised an eyebrow and nodded.
Ryan was in no mood to talk to her. What could she possibly have left to say to him? The bitterness creeped back into him as he led the way down the hall, not wanting to care but at the same time curious as to what Sunny wanted to speak with him about. They had no unfinished business that he knew of. Their divorce had been final for almost a year now.
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first. She strode past him, leaving behind a cloud of her designer perfume.
Jane didn’t wear any perfume. She smelled like cookie-scented soap.
He preferred that.
Ryan preferred everything about Jane. Her honesty, for one. Sunny had turned out to be a fraud. His vision of the perfect wife that she’d played in public had been a carefully sculpted mirage that had fooled everyone.
Lips pressed into a line, he crossed his arms and waited for her to speak, trying to look cool and collected on the outside as he burned on the inside.
