Page 40 of Spark

RUBY

A s Kendrick carries me out of the rain and into his dimly lit living room, I feel like a bride. A sexy one, thanks to my dress, but a bride, nonetheless.

He sets me down carefully onto my heels, and the scent of flowers envelops me.

During my stay this past week, Kendrick replaced those first vases of tulips and added a third bouquet, a colorful spray of fragrant blooms that now sits on the nearby coffee table, making the already electrified air in Kendrick’s living room feel doubly supercharged: sexy and romantic.

We’re both slightly damp from the short trip from Kendrick’s car into the house. But the rare Southern California downpour is only adding to the magical, romantic quality of the moment.

With his Adam’s apple riding up and down, Kendrick looks deeply into my eyes and brushes a lock of rain-speckled hair off my face. With a slow exhale, he wordlessly slides his palm to my cheek and plants a tender kiss onto my lips.

His lips move with slow tenderness this time.

Tentatively. In a way that’s worlds apart from the ravenous mauling he gave me after leaping off that stage at Reed’s party tonight.

And even more removed from all the voracious, desperate kisses he gave me while fingering me to an orgasm so deliciously.

No, this time, as we stand in the middle of Kendrick’s fragrant, dimly lit living room, the sounds of rain hitting his roof and windows all around us, we might as well be sixteen and standing underneath a porchlight after our first date.

I didn’t have a boyfriend in high school.

Wasn’t interested in dating at all. All of Titus’s friends were bone-headed jocks who didn’t interest me, and those boys were the only ones who ever came around.

Not that Titus would have let his friends date me, anyway.

If any had tried, I’m pretty sure he would have ran them off.

Besides all of them, my only male interactions at school were with my friends—guys I knew for a fact weren’t interested in me like that.

So, my first kiss happened at Northwestern.

With Ryder. At age nineteen. Only a few weeks after my mortifying attempt to surprise Kendrick at his new college.

But that first kiss with Ryder felt nothing like this one with Kendrick.

I don’t know if that’s because I’m not scared of what comes next with Kendrick, only excited, or if it’s simply because the mind of an experienced adult processes these things differently than the mind of a virginal teenager.

Or maybe it’s simply because I’m kissing Kendrick.

All I know is I’ve never swooned like this in my life.

Surely, that’s a good sign for what’s about to happen.

Will sex with Kendrick feel sort of like a first time, too ?

God, I hope so, since my first time with Ryder wasn’t anything memorable.

At least, it was nothing like I thought it’d be, based on what I witnessed of Kendrick going to town on Florence on his couch.

Kendrick breaks away from my lips and kisses my cheek. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he whispers, grabbing my hand. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

I pause, and Kendrick immediately stops .

“You’re having second thoughts? That’s okay. We can cuddle or?—”

“No, I want to do this. No second thoughts.” It’s the truth.

An understatement, actually. But thinking about Ryder and the letdown of my first time, which has always been entangled in my mind with the disappointment and embarrassment I felt about my surprise trip to visit Kendrick, has planted the seed of a fantasy, just this fast. One I can’t resist requesting from Kendrick, even if it’s a little bit weird.

Kendrick said this fling is all about me, after all.

My desires and fantasies. And if I don’t speak up now, this one-of-a-kind moment will be gone forever.

“W-would you be willing to do a role-play with me?” I ask, my heart thumping. “Just this once. For our first time?”

Kendrick’s eyebrows lift. “Anything, yes. Of course.” He presses his lips together, his body language communicating he’s on tenterhooks to hear my idea.

“It might be weird,” I warn him. “But, since you’re the guy who wrote a song called ‘Spank,’ I figure . . .” I trail off, feeling vulnerable. “You know what? Never mind.”

“No, tell me. Please. Whatever it is, my answer is yes.”

My cheeks feel hot. My heartbeat is crashing in my ears. “Could we maybe pretend I’m a virgin . . . and you’re . . . my first?”

Kendrick’s chest expands. “Yes,” he chokes out, like he’s barely able to get the word out.

“Nothing too complicated,” I add quickly. “I’m not asking you to lay rose petals down or pretend I’m a serf and you’re a lord.”

One side of Kendrick’s mouth hitches up. “I’m down to do all of that, if you want.”

“No. I mean, okay, maybe later.”

We both chuckle.

“But for now, for this time, you’ll still be you and I’ll still be me. I just mean, maybe you can take it extra slow and gentle, or however you’d do it if knew I’d never had sex before and you wanted to make it feel extra special.”

His breathing is shallow. “That sounds good. I can do that, yeah.”

I rub my forehead nervously. “I don’t even know what this would entail, honestly, compared to what you were already planning to do, but?—”

“Ruby, yes. I love the idea. It’s a huge turn-on for me.”

I meet his gaze. “Really?”

“Really.” He smiles wickedly. “Are we our actual teenage selves, only on an alternate timeline? Or are we our present selves, but all prior sexual experiences have been wiped from our memories?”

I can’t help giggling. “I’m thinking we’re teenagers.”

“Okay.”

“But not kids . We’re, like, nineteen going on twenty.”

Kendrick bites back a smile. “I lost my virginity at nineteen, so that’ll be easy for me to role-play.”

“I did, too. Nineteen.”

We stare at each other for a moment, the mention of our past lovers thudding like lead balloons onto the floor between us.

“Be honest with me,” I say, “if this idea doesn’t work for you.”

“It does. Like I said, it’s a turn-on. A big one.” He shifts his weight. “It feels right to do it this way for our first time.”

“It does, right? After this, we can swing from the chandeliers.”

“Or not. Whatever works for you, when the time comes, is what will work for me. No performances required or desired, okay, Ruby? We’ll take it one honest minute at a time.”

“Okay,” I squeak out. “Fair warning. I’m pretty sure, after this, I’ll go right back to being the horny wildebeest who begged you to fuck her in Reed’s laundry room. ”

Kendrick bursts out laughing. “You can be whatever and whoever you want to be, sweetheart. Whatever feels good to you and turns you on, whatever fantasies you have, tell me, and that’s what we’ll do. I want to do it all with you.”

My breath comes out in a slow, stuttering stream. “Thank you.”

He cocks his head. “Wait, so am I a teenage virgin, too, or just you?”

I pause to consider. “I think that would be good. But since this is a fantasy, you’re a teenage virgin who somehow magically knows exactly what to do to me, just like you did in the laundry room.”

Kendrick chuckles. “Okay, I’m a horn dog who’s watched every how-to video he can find online.”

“And your natural instincts are amazing, too.” I laugh with him. “You’re still you, remember? So you’re a musician on this timeline, too. It makes sense you’d be good at feeling . . . a groove.”

Kendrick winks. “You know what they say: drummers make the best lovers.”

“Who says that?”

“Maybe it’s only me.”

It’s not, actually. Kendrick’s lucky tour fling, Tracy, said basically that same thing to her friends, once, while I was standing close enough to overhear everything.

In fact, that woman didn’t stop making comments, right and left, about how “amazing” and “fun” and “masterful” Kendrick was in bed.

And always within earshot of me. One of those times, I vividly remember her saying, “But that’s drummers for you.

They know better than anyone how to keep a steady beat and lay down a dirty groove.

” The comment haunted me for months. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure that comment was directly responsible for the sex dream that ended my relationship with Cooper .

“Okay, so . . .” With an exhale, Kendrick grabs my hand and kisses the top of it. “Listen, if you’re not sure you’re ready to do this with me, Ruby?—”

“I am. Kendrick, wanting to do a role-play doesn’t mean I’m not?—”

“That was me starting.” He winces. “Sorry. I thought we were supposed to jump right into it.”

I giggle. “Oh. Yeah. That was good. Sorry.”

Kendrick makes an adorable face. “Take two?”

“Yep. Go.”

“Do you want to count us off or something?”

“No. Let’s do it. Go.”

He pauses. “Actually, I should shower before we start.” He motions vaguely to his crotch, and, presumably, to the premature ejaculation that’s long since dried down there.

“Do you want to join me in the shower and make it part of the role-play, or wait for me in bed, or . . . ? I don’t think virgins would have sex in a shower for their first time. ”

“Probably not.”

“We could make out in there, though, while washing up, and then take things to the bed for the actual de-virginization.”

I crack up at his word choice. “I agree, no sex in the shower. I don’t think virgins would necessarily make out in a shower, either, but I can suspend my disbelief on that, if you can.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I definitely can.”

I laugh again. This time, at the gleam in his eyes.

“Okay, let’s take a shower, then, and make out as our present-day selves. No sex. And then, the role-play will start automatically, the second we get to the bed. No need to say it out loud.”

“Got it. No starting gun. I dig it.”