The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,83
adrenaline and a good buzz. Now, out here in the winter elements, I’m too clear-headed and shivering, even though I’m plastered against Ryder’s warmth.
“Yeah, I’m fine. End of the year just inspires a lot of reflection, you know?”
“Care to share?”
The street is packed sidewalk-to-sidewalk with people, like sardines. There’s jostling, there’s bumping, there’s loud noises everywhere. There’s also not a lot of privacy for a serious conversation, even if I were inclined to have one.
I shrug. “Just the usual. Mentally composing my New Year’s resolutions, regretting how many books I didn’t read this year, and making a solemn vow that I’ll actually stick to a regular workout routine. Isn’t that the norm?”
He gives me an admonishing look. “Not for you. You don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions because you think they’re, and I quote, ‘just a platform for disappointment and self-hatred and are leading to the decline of western civilization.’ You don’t waste your money on books because you know you don’t have the attention span to actually get through an entire one. And saying you’ll stick to a regular workout routine is like me saying I’m going to be starting forward for the Boston Celtics.”
“Do you always feel like you have to know everything? A woman can have inner thoughts that she doesn’t share out loud. It’s part of our mystery and charm.”
He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll never force you to share anything you don’t want to. But if those thoughts somehow impact me, I hope you’d have the courtesy to at least clue me into what’s going on.”
He might have a point, but this isn’t the time or place to bring up a sensitive subject. As well as he knows me, I know him just as well. And I know he’ll lose his ever-loving shit in the middle of Times Square if I tell him that I’m considering Tremblay’s offer.
So, I do something I never do with Ryder. At least, not when it’s about something important.
I lie to him.
“Contrary to what you might think, not all of my thoughts revolve around you. But the ones that do, you’ll be the first to hear.”
He looks unconvinced. But the thunderous cheers that suddenly ripple through the crowd abruptly end the conversation. The noise is so loud my ears start ringing.
“Happy New Year, duchess.”
Reality bomb! Incoming!
This is our last night in New York. Tomorrow, we have to go back to life as usual, back to sneaking around, back to uncomfortable conversations and life-altering decisions. Who knows what will happen next? Even if this job offer hadn’t come around, how long did I expect to stay working at TCG? Until today, I’ve been living in the moment, day-to-day. I love my job, so there’s been no reason to look elsewhere, or even think about looking elsewhere. But I suppose I have to at some point, right? I never anticipated that TCG would be a forever job. How many people actually work at just one company for their entire career? This was bound to happen eventually.
But I’m not ready for it to happen tonight.
Tonight, I want this man.
Tonight, I want to pretend that we really do have tomorrow.
And tonight, I want to forget that Ryder has never been mine to keep.
They say the person you kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Day is the person you’ll kiss for the entire year.
So, I kiss Ryder.
In Times Square, under the neon lights of the marquee, in a sea of gold confetti.
Because…here’s hoping.
He’s already fucked me once against my hotel window that overlooks West 34th street. Now, I’ve got him pinned beneath me on the bed, my thighs straddling his hips, as I take him deep inside my body. Nails scraping down his chest, leaving red marks. Whimpers escaping my lips because it’s so good it’s almost painful.
But once I stop, that’s when the desolation will kick in. The melancholy. The agony over the impending loss I don’t see how I can prevent. So, I’ll keep going all night. Right up until the moment we have to board our flight, if necessary.
“Holy shit,” Ryder pants, fingers tweaking my stiff nipples. “That view from the window can’t hold a fucking candle to this.”
“The compliments are getting better.”
He grins. “One of my New Year’s resolutions.”
“You’re off to a good start.” I take his hand and place it between my legs. He needs no guidance after that. His fingers stroke my clit, rubbing, applying pressure. “Now, how about a good