22. Ryan #2
“See you later.” Ronan winks and steals a carrot before ducking out.
Did that just happen?
Yes. It did. And I enjoyed it.
I take a moment to study myself in the mirror—my puffy lips, my mussed hair, the smears of black mascara around my eyes—and then I brush my teeth, grab my containers of food, and sneak out to my room.
It’s almost two in the morning when commotion stirs in the living room and female laughter carries. I sit up to listen intently.
Plural female laughter. Ronan’s courtesy must have run out. He’s brought someone home the same day I gave him a blow job in our bathroom.
I flop back into bed, disappointment overwhelming me. It’s followed closely by anger, at Ronan, but mostly at myself for allowing our little charade to continue. I’m not programmed for casual sex. I can’t do it, even with a guy I have no interest in hanging out with outside of what we do in bed.
My pulse hammers in my ears as I lie in the dark, listening to the floor creak in the hallway, his door opening.
Waiting for the inevitable bed-frame thumping to begin.
I stiffen when my bedroom door swings open instead. For a split second, I think it’s another directionally challenged naked drunk girl, but the brief stream of light allows me a glimpse of a naked Ronan instead.
He shuts the door behind him. A moment later, the sheets shift and pull, and then he’s lying down beside me, heat radiating off his body.
“I know you’re awake,” he whispers, the sound of his voice stirring my blood.
His breath—a mixture of toothpaste and a sweet liquor and tobacco—skates over my face.
“How?”
His hand slides between my legs, his fingers slipping under my panties. “Because you’ve been lying in bed for hours, wondering what I’m doing at the bar, waiting for me to come home.” His finger draws along my slit. “Thinking about me.”
I have been doing that.
But now I shove his hand away. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”
“What?” I can hear the frown in his voice even if I can’t see it.
“I heard more than one woman come in.”
“You’re right. There are two, and they’re with your brother.”
“ Both of them?”
I sense his smile. “Both of them.”
“Oh.” Relief overwhelms me even as I try to block out that visual.
Ronan’s hand slips back, this time peeling my panties down past my knees.
I lift my legs until they fall to my ankles and I can shake them off.
“You thought I’d bring someone else home while we’re doing this?” he asks, the soft pad of his thumb finding my clit to draw teasing circles.
“Well … yeah. You said only the one night.”
He chuckles. “Obviously we’re not following that rule.”
“What changed?”
There’s a long pause as if he’s considering his words. “I don’t enjoy picking up girls at the bar.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I heard how much you enjoyed Sherrie, remember? ”
“The part where I came, sure,” he corrects with a dark chuckle.
“But it’s all pointless, impersonal. And it didn’t make me feel better about Tasha leaving me.
” His breath skates over my cheek. “You don’t feel pointless or impersonal.
And even though this is just for now, I feel better when I’m with you. ” He pauses. “Is that wrong?”
My God, how did I not realize before that I’m not the only one needing a confidence boost?
“No, I get it. You’re still in love with someone else.
” My heart pangs in my chest with a rare glimpse at Ronan’s pain.
He seems so lost. “And here I thought you were just another cocky asshole taking advantage of a vulnerable girl.”
“I am a cocky asshole. But I’m not a dick, and I don’t fuck over friends.”
“Is that what we are? Friends?”
“Aren’t we?”
I consider that. “I guess you could call us that.”
He nuzzles my cheek with the tip of his nose. “While we’re messing around, I won’t be with anyone else. That’s the only commitment I can make. If that’s good enough for you.”
“Yeah. And same. I mean, not that I have a line of guys waiting—” A soft gasp slips from my lips as his fingers slide inside me with ease, proving my readiness for him.
“You don’t need me in your bed to feel good about yourself, Ryan. You’re incredible and David is an idiot, but that’s his loss, not yours. You’ll find someone else who makes you ten times happier, and you’ll wonder how the hell you ever thought he was the one.”
A warm feeling erupts in my chest with his encouraging words. I hesitate. “Actually, there is one other thing I want from you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, never breaking his tempo.
I reach up to touch his stubbled cheek and run my thumb over his bottom lip. I’m torn between wanting to see his face and enjoying the liberty that comes with darkness. But there’s one thing I know I want. “Kiss me.”
“Ryan…” I sense him searching for a way to deny me.
“Please?” I thought I was done begging this man for things.
A long moment passes and then he leans forward and presses his mouth against mine. His lips are softer than I imagined, moving in a sweet, sensual way that I hadn’t expected from him. “Like that?”
“Yes. Exactly like that.” A sigh escapes my lips, and he slides his tongue along the seam.
I open wider, my tongue reaching for his, needing it against mine, needing to taste his mouth.
He obliges, pressing in deeper, his hand down below stalled, as if his undivided attention is now above.
I could do this with him all night long.
“Finally. First base,” I murmur.
His lips stretch against mine in a smile, and then they’re shifting south, along my jawline, my throat, leaving a trail of wet heat. He toys with the spaghetti strap of my nightie. “This is different.”
“Easier to remove.” And a lot sexier than the oversized T-shirts I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping in.
He tugs at the top, uncovering my breast. I moan as he pulls my nipple into his mouth and sucks. How is he so good at everything he does?
Experience, I guess, but I don’t want to think about that. This Tasha girl’s loss is my gain. “What you said earlier to me, about me finding someone else who makes me ten times happier? The same will happen for you. I promise.”
He pauses a moment, and I think he’s going to respond, but then he occupies his mouth once again.
My legs stretch apart without thought, opening for him, a deep ache growing between them that he works to satisfy, stretching me with first two, then three fingers as I roll my hips against his hand, all while I grip the back of his head, holding him against my breast .
I’m writhing under Ronan’s touch, moments away from coming, when heavy footfalls pound in the hallway.
There’s a knock and then, a moment later, Ronan’s bedroom door creaks open. “Hey, bro. I need your help with these two. I’m way too drunk to handle them both.” A pause. “Ronan?” Connor slaps the wall. He’s turning the light on, no doubt.
“Shit,” Ronan hisses against me, pulling away.
Shit is right. Connor may be dense, but even he will put two and two together now. If he does, will that be the end of this?
I don’t want that.
Scrambling out of my bed, I adjust my nightgown and then open the door a crack. And quickly avert my gaze. “What the fuck, Connor!” He’s naked.
“Sorry! I didn’t think you’d be awake.”
He didn’t think, period. I keep my eyes on his face, shielding any risk of a downward view with my hand. “Of course, I’m awake, when you’re yelling outside my door.”
He points to Ronan’s room. “Where is he?”
“How the hell should I know? I heard his door open a few minutes ago, so I guess he went somewhere. I can’t keep up with all the whoring going on around here. Yours included.”
Connor furrows his brow in thought. “I’ll bet he hooked up with Vera. She was all over him in the elevator the other day, using that ‘broken light in her bedroom’ trick.”
Vera—a fifty-year-old divorcée with enormous breasts who wears skintight gym clothes and bright pink lipstick. Connor slept with her about a year ago and still talks about it to this day. “Good for him. Now go back to your room and let me sleep.” I slam the door for effect.
And hold my breath.
A moment later, Connor’s footfalls pad against the hardwood as he leaves.
Ronan groans. “That was close. ”
I push the straps of my nightshirt down, letting the thin cotton fall to the floor before I climb into bed. “Do you think he’d actually be mad at you for this?” I fumble in the dark until I feel his smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips again.
“It’s hard to tell. I know I’d kill him if he got into my sister.”
I ignore his crude choice of words. “You have a sister?”
“Yeah. Younger one. Brittany. Or Britt.”
I didn’t know that. Of course I didn’t. I know nothing about this guy I’m living next to and sleeping with. And that’s how I want it , I remind myself.
I reach out, tracing his stomach muscles. “Well, I don’t think he’d have a right to be. He practically forced you on me by letting you move in. What did he think would happen?”
Ronan rolls on top of me, positioning his hips between my legs. “That you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me, obviously.”
With crisis averted, my thoughts turn to something else. “So, do I want to know what he meant by ‘helping’ him?”
His lips trail over my jawline. “Probably not.”
“Do I want to know the kinds of things you’ve done?”
“Definitely not.”
He’s right. Because I’ve heard a couple stories at work—including one about my brother and another crew guy named Jake sharing a girl—that have dropped my jaw.
And I’m not with Ronan for anything but the very thing he’s giving me, and knowing that is liberating.
There’s no pull on my heartstrings, no desire to stay up until the morning learning everything there is to know about him, no wondering if this will last. I know exactly how long it’ll last—for one more week.
And then he’ll go to Alaska and try to fill the void in his heart by screwing who knows how many women, and I’ll get back to my life, hopefully feeling a little better about David.
That’s what this is all about—me, helping myself move on after a horrible breakup .
The foil wrapper tears and latex crinkles as Ronan sheaths himself.
“You’re always careful though, right?” I ask.
Collecting my hands in his, he pins my arms above my head, pressing his whole body against mine. I revel in the feel of his weight. “Always.” He traces my jawline with kisses, all the way to my lips, whispering, “I’m completely yours for the week, Ryan. Use me.”
I angle my hips upward. “Gladly.”
With our fingers entwined, he lines himself up and pushes into me.
I close my eyes as the first moan slips out.