Party Girl_ A Novel - Anna David [93]
And then we’re just lost in the kissing, and I finally feel like I have some control. Sober people have warned me about sober sex and how disorienting it is, but I feel a million times more comfortable making out with Ryan than I did making conversation with him. I compare it to kissing Adam that day and have to admit that this falls short. I just think that because I’ve known Adam longer, I tell myself, annoyed that I’m kissing a household name and thinking about a guy who won’t even deign to call me.
I’m concentrating on doing a good job, reasoning that all men seem to like the same things when it comes to kissing: slow, tender, quick pecks at first, followed by openmouthed exploration with the tongue trailing on the upper gum, followed by neck nibbling and ear breathing, with soft moans thrown in for good measure.
Ryan is kissing me back so well that in my light-headedness, I wonder if the reason he’s been so successful in his career is that he’s made out with all of the casting directors. As we kiss and breathe and nibble, all memories of the awkward dinner dissolve. Now I could talk to him, I think as I trail my tongue on his upper lip and he softly moans. But I’m just not willing to stop kissing him long enough to prove it.
Pretty soon, Ryan and I are lying down on the couch and he’s on top of me so that I can feel his full erection through his jeans. He starts moving his hips up and down ever so slightly and, even though one of my least favorite expressions, “dry fucking,” floats through my mind, I don’t stop him. But when he starts unbuttoning my Joie cords, I take his hand and move it away.
“I just don’t feel comfortable going there right now,” I whisper and he nods, but a few seconds later, he goes for the buttons again. When fingers enter my nether region, all rational thought—as well as any ability to say no to anything else—seems to escape me, and I know that having sex with Ryan Duran right now is simply out of the question. I may have run right over here the minute he asked, and be grinding up against him despite the fact that he hasn’t given me any indication that he’s actually interested in anything about me, but I know I’m going to follow the no-fucking-on-the-first-date rule because I’m not willing to screw this up yet. Cosmo says that you can give it up after three dates, but I’m harboring some notion that Ryan can be the one who will take my mind off Adam, and I know I’m going to have to strategize if I want to reel him in. I should probably make him wait three months, I think, as I breathe in his ear and feel his body shudder. Then his hand is on my cord buttons again, so I move it away and look him in the eye to shake my head.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes. I want to wait. It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t know a person well.”
He furrows his brow as if he’s confused and it occurs to me that this may very well be the first time Ryan Duran has even heard of the concept of not jumping right into bed. “You mean, maybe go out again and fool around a little more that time?” he asks, and I nod. “God, that sounds nice,” he says, looking suddenly completely relaxed and I wonder why I allowed myself to be so intimidated by him earlier. He kisses me again, and then says, “Want to spend the night? We wouldn’t have to do anything—we could just spoon.”
I shake my head and Ryan pouts somewhat adorably. “Are you sure?” he asks. “It would be so sweet—the kiddies are up in my bed.”
I sit up suddenly, too surprised to worry about how I’m probably killing the moment. “The kids are in your bed?” I ask.
“Sure.” He smiles and reaches for a Marlboro Red, which he lights with a Zippo. “That’s where Diego likes to sleep.”
“And you want me to sleep there with all you guys?”
He nods and smiles and inhales on his cigarette and I can’t decide if I’m a secret straitlaced conservative or if asking a girl you just met to spend the night in the same bed with your son and his friend is normal. I gesture for him to let me