Читать книгу Unfaithful - Devon Scott - Страница 6

Olivia—

I’ve tried for days to tell you what, for me, is an absolute new feeling. I’ve been asking myself if what I dare to express is real and worth fighting for, given our circumstances and the fact that we’ve been friends for so long. But I’ve come to the point where I can no longer NOT let you know how I’m feeling.

I know a letter is not the best way to communicate affairs of the heart, but in the interest of so many things, I feel this is the only way to start.

So, here goes…

Something changed within me that night at the party. Two weeks ago, almost to this day, my life was indelibly altered. I can’t tell you exactly why it began, but all I know is I don’t look at things the way I did before. I find myself dreaming about new things—whole new realms of possibilities, and each one includes you.

Olivia, what happened between you and me that night cannot be ignored. It was profound. It was deep. And I pray that it happens again and again and again. Yes, Olivia, for me it was so much more than just physical…it affected me that much….

Ryan doesn’t hear the door open until the footfalls are inside his cage. He glances up to find his boss, the president of the company, standing before him. He swivels away from his laptop and quickly closes the clamshell, ensuring no one will witness this spilling of emotions.

“Ryan.”

“Rodney. Have a seat.”

“No, thanks. This won’t take but a second.” He glances back toward the door as if expecting company.

Ryan witnesses Olivia’s dark locs rise into view. Before he can breathe, she is moving through the door. Russet-colored skin and toned calf muscles, sculpted flesh that curves upward to the hemline of her short, yet fashionable, skirt. The crisp white buttondown top is fitting, following her curves the way a sports car does a winding road. Eyes drift upward to her full breasts pressed against cotton—no, that is not right. They are straining against the fabric—yes, straining.

“Ahhh, perfect timing, Olivia,” Rodney says.

She grins at Rodney before flashing her alluring smile in Ryan’s direction.

Rodney begins without preamble. “I need the two of you in New York, tonight. Sorry for the late notice, but, Olivia, your guy is having second thoughts—something he’s hearing on the street about a manufacturing defect with the optics. Pure bullshit, of course, but we need to squelch this thing before it gets out of hand.”

Olivia is nodding, as if she expected this. Ryan is turning a sour face, as if he has no idea what they are talking about. He opens his mouth to speak, but Olivia beats him to the punch.

“Rod, Ryan and I met earlier today regarding this issue, and I’ve already had my staff prepare a briefing just in case. So Ryan and I can finalize it on the shuttle going up. We’ll be ready, no problem. Just tell us when and where.”

Ryan remains silent. He is observing her, cool under fire. Her stare is unwavering, her smile captivating. He feels himself stirring, readying the switch that turns the windows opaque so fast it would make her head spin. He longs to push Rodney out of his office, then rush to her the way a cheetah attacks its prey.

“Outstanding. Jackie has all the details.” He turns to leave, swatting Ryan on the shoulder. He winks at Olivia as he says, “As usual, the two of you make quite a pair.” Then he is gone, leaving Olivia alone with Ryan, a smirk painted on her sensuously full lips.

Six hours later, he sits across from her, forty-seven floors up from Broadway, enjoying the tastiest broiled salmon of his life. She is dressed casually: tight jeans, dark boots, and off-white sweater showing off her curves. As she excuses herself to go to the restroom, he stares silently at her perfectly shaped ass, thanking God for answering his prayers.

When she returns, looking more refreshed than before, he focuses on the gap between her thighs, that sweet spot, attempting to make out the cleft that forms her core. He knows what it feels like. He has committed its form to memory…has touched it…even slipped a finger inside.

God, what a night that was.

He hopes tonight he will finish what they began.

The biz trip to New York was a godsend.

He is drinking rum and Coke. The buzz he is feeling helps his thinking along. He stares at her, pondering just how alluring she can be. They talk casually about stuff, already exhausting the technical problems that sent them there. Once again, he is barely listening. Instead, he remembers a scene very similar to this one.

Months ago, the two of them were out on a client call…another late night, one of many. For some reason, he was feeling depressed that night. Can’t recall why—but it was one of those times when self-esteem was at an all-time low. Perhaps he was just going through a midlife crisis—or reexamining his life from a different angle. We all need to do that from time to time. Right?

Regardless, he was feeling down, and needed to believe in something else for a change.

Warmth.

“Do you find me attractive?”

He recalls blurting out the question over dinner. She had glanced up, incomprehension etched in her usually smooth brow.

She was thinking.

“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously while setting down her wineglass stem and giving him her full attention.

“Just what I said. Do you find me attractive?”

He was thinking about her husband, Miles. How could he not? They had been talking about him earlier. And Ryan found that he was comparing himself to the man. Ryan was thin and lanky, like a ball player, whereas Miles was muscled, stocky. Ryan was light-skinned; Miles, on the other hand, richly brown. Ryan wore his hair short, tapered, professional, almost boring to a fault, whereas Miles wore his to fit his personality—wild, free, unencumbered. His locks were thick, dark, and long. Women loved his hair. He received stares and comments from women everywhere he went. Sometimes it made Ryan sick.

Olivia stared at him for a moment, pondering the question, and in the ensuing silence, he wondered, Could I have gotten her? Could I have been her man?

Her brow furrowed. She smiled and then said something simple that blew him away.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Ryan considered her words for a moment. Head tilted down, he pondered their meaning.

He didn’t see her get up, didn’t notice her move to his side of the table until she was bending down. He glanced up, meeting her stare as her mouth opened. Before he had time to consider further action, her mouth was upon his, kissing him, loving him with her mouth, those luscious lips pressing against his with a passion that ignited something so deep and primal he hadn’t felt in decades.

When she was done—he wasn’t sure if it took mere seconds or minutes—Olivia finally pulled back, wiped the locs from her eyes, and sat down. She then picked up her wine and took a sip. No words were needed. He knew now how she felt….

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asks, bringing him back to reality.

He smiles in remembrance. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You. Me. The party a few weeks ago.”

Olivia grins. “Fucked me up.”

His breath catches in his throat. Then, he smiles. “Yeah. Almost.”

Olivia stares at him unknowingly. “What do you mean?” she asks.

He ignores the question. Instead, he drains his drink and places the glass down, staring into the kaleidoscope of ice patterns for a split second before sucking in a breath, then exhaling loudly.

“Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot…”

“That night, did you want things to go all the way?”

Again, that look. Furrowing brow.

“Pardon?”

“You…me…the party. Hel-lo?”

She laughs. For a moment, the tension had risen to the point where one could cut it with an axe. Seconds later, thanks to her mirth, it had dissipated. So, he laughs with her before turning serious.

“Something funny?”

Olivia responds. “Yeah. As I recall, we were all pretty fired up. You, me, Carly—oh, my god—”

“This isn’t about Carly,” Ryan states, interrupting her, willing her to stay on track. To not talk about his wife.

She pauses. Stares at him hard.

“Okay.”

“I’ve known you a long time, Olivia. We go way back, right?”

“Right.”

“So, no sense in pussy-footing around.” He chuckles at his own joke. “I mean, it’s something we need to discuss.”

She opens her mouth to speak, then thinks better of it and nods instead.

“That night at the party, something happened between us. Something that can’t be denied. Two weeks later, we’ve yet to fully acknowledge it. I don’t know about you, but I can’t just waltz around here like nothing happened, ’cause that’s not the case.”

“Ryan—look, I know—”

The annoying clamor from her cell phone cuts the conversation short. Olivia reaches for her hip, mouthing her regret as she answers it. Her face changes—a glow emerging in place of a frown.

Miles…

He stands, slaps some bills on the table, and is walking away before she stops him with a brush to his elbow.

“Miles wants me to remind you about Friday. He’s made reservations at Bluespace for noon,” she says, gesturing to her phone. “Don’t be late, he says.”

Olivia smiles in an attempt to cut through the apprehension that has risen again between them. He smiles in return, but their conversation is done. Dejected, he heads for his room.