My curiosity is forgotten instantly as we both reach for drinks and our hands touch. I blush at the contact. Ryder holds up his glass, and we toast to new beginnings and finding our own type of perfect. I tilt the martini glass toward my lips and start to consume my cocktail.
Our banter turns light and playful. We talk about my blog. We discuss how to promote his work. He gets all the dirt on my living with Jules. I tell him the story about how Jules and I were almost crushed by a laundry basket gone rogue.
“We were sitting on the floor in our sorority house our sophomore year. I think we might have been pre-gaming before going out. Wow, it feels like so long ago. Out of nowhere, someone down the hall slammed the door to their room. I shit you not the walls through the whole house rattled. And then out of nowhere, the laundry basket from the top shelf of our closet came flying down…it must have weighed fifteen pounds, minimum. It missed our heads by inches. After the shock wore off, we busted into the most hysteric fit of laughter ever. To this day…we talk about the laundry basket gone rogue.” Ryder lets out a chuckle, and then I continue to talk, telling him how I dream of writing, and he gives me words of encouragement. He encourages me to only write the truth, no matter how ugly it is. He says that writing is the only time you can ever really purge your sole in its entirety. He thinks that being perfect is boring and that we should strive to do one thing imperfect every day.
After about an hour we signal to the waitress and proceed to order sushi and appetizers in the lounge. We order another round of cocktails. We are now two cocktails deep, and I’m sure this will kick up the flirtation. My inhibitions are dialed down a notch, maybe even two. At this juncture, I feel young, free and alive. Bridgette brings over our food. The presentation is impeccable. The innovative approach to the culinary experience sets this restaurant well above the norm. The fragrance is enticing, and my mouth waters with anticipation. My senses kick into overdrive as I taste the succulent foie gras and seared tuna with white truffle oil. I’m in culinary heaven.
The meal is extremely pleasant as Ryder makes funny quips between bites. I try to laugh as often as possible without embarrassing myself. However, the more drinks I consume, the less concerned I am with what is prim and proper, and I laugh even with a mouth full of food. I laugh through the whole meal, completely enthralled with the stories from his life. His stories give me a glimmer of the man behind the words. The more I get to know him, the more captivated I am.
After the food is gone, and the table is cleared, Ryder looks at me with pensive eyes. This is the turning point in the evening. Should I go home or stay and have another drink?
“Would you like to have another drink, Ava?”
I have no choice. I need to please him. I need to say yes. Right from the beginning it was inevitable. From the first glance, he has had an irrevocable hold on me, and at that moment I decide I’m going to learn to live again.
We walk hand in hand to the stairs that lead to the lounge down below. The bar that is housed in the cellar of the hotel radiates sensuality. The baroque style of design is in complete contrast to the gothic architecture. It’s a perfect marriage of elegance and decadence. It has a completely different feel to the rest of the hotel. Here there is music and dancing.
As we head over to the bar, Ryder pulls me by the hand, and we step onto the dance floor instead. The vibe is electric, as the patrons rhythmically move to the music. I close my eyes, allowing the beat to permeate my consciousness. Ryder pulls me toward him, swaying his body with mine. We slowly begin to dance. The warmth that emanates from his body is a beacon to my soul. As our bodies touch, sexual tension radiates between us. We move together in perfect sync. Our breath is coming out in short, ragged bursts.
I feel sexy.
I feel liberated.
I feel free.
Desire courses through me. This is all Ryder. He keeps me in a perpetual state of need. Sensing my urgency, he looks at me with an expression that sends chills down my spine. His need to consume me is palpable.
He leans into me, breathing me in. I can feel the warmth tickle against my neck. My heartbeat becomes more erratic. His hand trails circles down my back, stroking lower and lower. He grazes the swell of my hip as I glide my fingertips up the side of his body. I stroke his torso ever so lightly as we continue to dance. Trailing my hands past his collarbone, I wrap my arms around his neck. I look up at him, and he smiles at me seductively, the curve of his mouth lifting so that it is barely noticeable.
"I want to taste you." His voice is husky.
I bite down on my lower lip as I take in his words. His fingertips trace the end of my black eyelet dress.