“We didn’t have anything in Chicago because it was wrong,” Shawna said coldly.
“It wasn’t wrong!” Ryan spoke with such vehemence it startled her. He swiped a hand across his mouth and took a calming breath. “It was us. The timing may have been off, but we weren’t wrong. We were right.”
How could he say that? He actually sat there rewriting history.
“How’s Holly?” Shawna asked.
He stiffened. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Why not? Because you can’t face the fact that you lied to me?”
“I wanted to tell you the truth, Shawna.”
“Wanted, but didn’t. You should have told me the truth before we slept together. Can you deny that the only reason I slept with you is because you betrayed her and deceived me?”
He looked at her with deadpan eyes. At least he didn’t avoid her gaze like he had that day. He didn’t acknowledge her words, but he didn’t refute them either. How could he, when it was true?
“Isn’t that what you call it,” she continued, “when you’re sleeping with one woman while involved with another?”
Chapter Eight
Chicago, Saturday, six years ago
Sunlight teased Shawna’s eyelids open. The hotel room’s thick drapes were wide apart, allowing the rays to enter. She could see Saks Fifth Avenue across the street. She’d explained to Ryan that she’d done the store a favor by staying on a few extra days, but yesterday had been her last day. With her lease up at her apartment and a new tenant moving in right away, Saks had moved her into this hotel at the company’s expense, making it a nice way to end the summer.
She stretched and yawned, lazily brushing hair from her face. Behind her, Ryan mumbled grumpily about it being too early to be up. She refrained from pointing out it wasn’t early. They were late.
A heavy arm fell across her waist under the fluffy white duvet. He kissed a spot between her shoulder blades, and the rough hairs of a reemerging beard scraped her skin. He reached up to fondle her breasts, his fingers stroking a circle around a hardened nipple.
“Are you up?” he whispered. He obviously knew that she was or he was a very inconsiderate person. He tweaked the hard peak of her breast and pressed his body against hers.
“Mmm.” Shawna reached back and touched the morning wood wedged between them. “So are you.”
A puff of air ruffled the hair at the back of her neck when he laughed and slid his muscular thigh between hers.
They’d made love twice last night. The first time had been slow and sweet as they took their time exploring each other’s bodies. He was such an attentive lover, leaving not one square inch of skin untouched. Because of him she learned that the backs of her knees were erogenous zones. She bit her lip at the memory of his kisses there, smiling to herself.
The second time had been more passionate because of their newfound familiarity.
“Last night was nice,” Shawna said softly.
“Nice?” He sounded offended.
“Excellent,” she corrected.
“That’s better.”
She wiggled back into him. She’d only had a couple of lovers since she lost her virginity in college, but neither of them had ever made her feel like this. Content in a way she’d never been before. How was it possible to feel so comfortable with someone she’d known less than twenty-four hours?
Despite being a bundle of nerves, upon arrival to the room she’d known that she wanted to spend the night with him. Straight-laced Shawna, voted Best Personality and Most Likely to Succeed by her class, had had a one-night stand and it didn’t feel wrong like she would’ve thought. It felt right. Perfect. Because he was perfect.