Don't Forget Me Tomorrow(38)

Or maybe I just needed an excuse to be close to Dakota. It seemed the more I was around her, the more I wanted it.

To be in her space.

To experience her goodness, inhaling it like secondhand smoke.

Or maybe it was the idea of her signing up for that dating app that had set me off-kilter. Made me feel like I was going mad.

She groaned a throaty, deep sound that spoke directly to my dick. “Are you trying to spoil me, Ryder Nash?”

A smirk hitched at the edge of my mouth as I began to twist the corkscrew into the cork.

“Maybe just a little,” I told her as I poured her a glass and slipped it across the counter to her.

A giggle rolled from between those pouty, shimmery lips, and she picked it up and took a sip. “If this is a little, then I need to see what it’d be like if you really wanted to spoil someone. I bet you have all those women completely on their knees.”

She twined her fingers through the end of her ponytail, the razzing drifting off a fraction at the end.

I guessed neither of us could help but cringe with what she’d implied.

“Do you think I’d take the time to spoil anyone else but you, Dakota?” It was out before I could stop it, no way to reel the confession back before it’d hit the air.

Fuck.

I focused on stirring the noodles rather than taking in the confusion that tripped through Dakota’s features.

It didn’t matter if I wasn’t looking at her, anyway.

I could still feel it.

Could sense the way she wanted to ask me what I meant.

She took a long drink of her wine like it could quell the questions that were dancing on her tongue all while the woman was watching me like I was a riddle to figure out.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” she finally asked a couple minutes later.

“Nah, I’ve got it. You sit there and relax those pretty feet.” I managed to find the teasing again.

She smirked. “I have news for you, Ryder. No one’s feet are pretty.” Then she curled up her nose. “Unless you have one of those foot fetishes?”

She leaned forward, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fighting a smile like she was horrified by the thought.

Only if they’re your feet, sweet thing.

“What, you have a thing against fetishes? And here I thought you were into some crazy kink?”

A blaze of red rushed across her face when I gave voice to what had been eating at me for the last three days.

Visions constantly invading my mind and stirring my cock into greed.

I wanted to ask her what her fantasies were and then take her to them time and again.

“That was just Paisley trying to get a rise out of us.” She muttered it below her breath.

“Yeah?” I asked as I drained the noodles in the sink, cutting her a glance as I did. “The kink or the dating app?”

Yeah. I’d come across as a misogynist prick Saturday morning.

But I couldn’t stop the reaction, the way my stomach had sank and every nerve in my body had short circuited at the thought.

The thought of losing her.

Forever.

In a way I could never get her back.

She was leaned up close, both elbows on the counter as she nursed her wine, and she lifted one of those soft shoulders to her ear, though there was a tiny twitch of her lips. “The app, I guess.”

“You’re not interested in dating, huh?”

But the kink was a thing?

Noted.

I started working on scooping piles of noodles onto each of our plates and pouring a mountain of sauce over them.

Hesitation brimmed in Dakota, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see something creep through her features. Something that shouted reservation and doubt. “I actually have a date,” she quietly admitted.

I nearly dropped the plate I was holding to the floor, and I had to set it on the counter so I could regain my bearings.

Heart thrashing.

Teeth grating.

I gave it my all to keep the asshole out of my voice. “Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Brad Geller. We’re going to dinner on Wednesday,” she added quickly.

“That’s cool.” Too bad the words sliced like spears.

I had to force myself to move. To focus on carrying our plates to the table rather than spitting out the thousand things that spiraled through my mind.

Rather than telling her the thought of it fucking killed me. Rather than begging her to give me some time.

Rather than promising I was going to fucking fix this.

But could I?

Was it ever really going to change?

And even then, it couldn’t undo the stains. Couldn’t erase the sins that I’d committed.

I went back to the counter and grabbed the small bowl I’d made for Kayden while Dakota stood from her stool and pulled Kayden from his playpen.

She buckled him into the highchair that I’d also picked up the day I’d gotten the crib.

The whole time, we moved around each other in this discomfort that made it feel like we were walking through sludge.

I was refilling her wine, my back to her, when her voice finally broke through the tension. “You don’t think I deserve to find love, Ryder? Do you think I’m not desirable enough that someone would want me?”

Hurt wove into her words.

My chest felt like it was going to cave when I moved back to her. She stood in front of the table, facing out.