Chapter 16
sixteen
WREN
I keep replaying the way Ryan looked at me during the challenge. There was something hot in his eyes. Curious. Like he was starting to wonder who I really am.
Who am I? That’s the question. I feel like I’ve been changing, molting, like I’m almost ready to emerge from my cocoon.
Wait. Did I just compare myself to a butterfly? I really must be out of my mind.
I lie down on my bed and try to read a little, but my mind won’t stop spinning. Mostly, I’m thinking about Ryan. The way he looked at me right before I took the cold plunge. Like he saw straight through me.
My brain won’t stop spinning. I need quiet, I need stillness, but mostly, I need to stop remembering the way his eyes tracked me like I was something worth seeing.
No one’s ever looked at me like that. Of course, the one person who finally does is my big brother’s best friend. One man that I absolutely can’t have. Figures.
I sit up and decide to take my book downstairs. A few people are still watching TV in the living room. Ryan is nowhere to be found, which kind of makes sense. He’s probably not looking to hang out with one of the bachelorettes right now.
I scrunch my face and try to think of where I can go, somewhere without cameras but with good light. Somewhere comfortable. Like the confessional trailer.
It’s only a few steps from the house. It’s fully powered.
I climb the steps and flip the lights on.
At one end of a long modern pink couch, a huge lens faces it.
That’s where we’re supposed to sit and relay everything that’s happened to us each day.
So far, I’ve only been in here once, but I’m sure the producers will start dragging me in soon enough.
I close the door behind me and settle on the couch. There are a lot of snuggly pillows. I prop myself up on them. At first, I look at the camera, remembering every stupid lie I’ve told in confessional. But then I open my book and try to relax.
I manage maybe two pages before I hear the door creak open. My heart leaps into my throat, but I should have known who it was.
Of course, it’s him. Of course. My pulse taps a frantic rhythm as he closes the door behind him, sealing us inside.
Ryan. The only person who might be gently stalking me.
“I figured you were out here somewhere.”
I lick my top lip and look at him. Silence stretches between us. He doesn’t come closer. Just stands there, watching me.
I’m not exactly sure what he wants.
I exhale. “You sent home two girls.”
“I did.”
“Why? Why them, I mean?”
“Because two of them were lying, and one of them didn’t even try to get to know me.”
I tilt my head a fraction. “You’re not supposed to break the rules.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I flush. Breaking the rules is apparently going around lately.
His lips lift into a smirk. “Neither are you. Can I sit?”
I wave at the pillows beside me. “It’s a free country.”
He sprawls close, not so close that I can feel the heat of his body, but close enough that I can smell the shampoo in his wet hair. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, casual as hell.
I nibble my bottom lip and close my book, squinting a little. “What I said earlier…” I trail off. I’m not exactly sure how to say what I mean.
But he nods like he already knows. “Yeah. Me too.”
I huff. “You don’t know what I meant.”
He studies me. “Try me.”
“That stuff I wrote on the card. I didn’t realize it would be read out loud. I’ve never actually said any of that before. Not even to myself.”
It’s terrifying to admit I meant every word. That the performance is blurring. That he’s starting to feel dangerously real.
Ryan absorbs my words. I can see it in the way he doesn’t rush to speak.
“It didn’t sound fake,” I say. “Because it wasn’t.”
I shift on the couch and my knee bumps his. I peer at his handsome face, like I’m trying to decode an enigma.
“Do you think I’m still pretending?” I ask softly.
He doesn’t answer. Just looks at me for a long time, his gaze steady on my face.
“Maybe I’m not,” I whisper.
The truth sits between us, heavy and unnamed. I want to believe he’s not just playing. But wanting and believing are two very different things.
My heart pounds. I reach out and touch his forearm, tracing a pattern on his skin with my index finger. “I’m tired of pretending. Aren’t you?”
His skin is warm under my fingertip, a low hum of tension thrumming between us. I don’t know what I’m asking for. Maybe I just want to be close to someone who sees me.
Ryan casts a glance around the room like he’s checking for hidden cameras. I keep tracing little shapes on his hot skin and add, “There are no cameras. No one to watch what happens.”
He leans in so slowly it’s almost painful. I guess he’s giving me a chance to pull away.
But I don’t want that.
I fist my hand in his shirt and pull him toward me.
He brushes his lips against mine. I kiss him back. My lips are hungry, searching. The kiss is deeper than before. Slower. More real.
His hand spreads out on my back and pulls me closer. He tilts his head and deepens the kiss.
I sigh into his mouth. He pauses for a moment before whispering against my lips, “I love that fucking sound you make when I kiss you. I swear I can’t get enough of it.”
His words make my breasts tighten and my nipples harden. I ache for him to cup my breasts. I kiss him and then whisper a plea, “Touch me, Ryan. Make me feel good.”
He meets my eyes for a long second before grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his thighs, his lips trailing down to caress my neck.
I throw my head back, releasing a guttural groan I didn’t know was hidden inside me.
His hands wrap around my waist, drawing me in tightly, while his big hand slowly explores my back. I unzip my hoodie and fling it off.
I arch my back and thrust my hips, a subconscious gesture driven by growing impatience. My pussy bumps against his hard cock, triggering a shuddering moan. He kisses my clavicle and murmurs, “I want you to make that sound again.”
“Yeah?” I feel a flutter of nervous excitement. Despite my reservations about many things in this world, I trust that if I do anything wrong, Ryan will tell me. I guide his hand to my aching breast. His eyebrows shoot up as he deliberately caresses it, molding my nipple through my shirt.
I rock my hips against him once more and murmur, “That feels good.” When his hand drifts near my breast, I let out an exasperated sound, only to realize he’s teasingly trailing his fingers over the strap of my tank top, tempted to pull it down.
I think if he doesn’t put his mouth on my tits soon, I’ll combust. I pull the tank top over my head, leaving my bare skin exposed to his intense gaze. My nipples, now proudly standing in the cool air, captivate him as if hypnotized.
“This is… something else,” he whispers, as if to himself.
Frustration bubbles inside me. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one who’s done all these things with so many girls?”
He responds softly, “Yeah, but none of them were you.” His eyes darken as he adds, “What if I fuck this up? What if I go too fast?”
I shake my head and offer a nervous smile. “You won’t. Just touch me. Please.”
He leans in and captures my lips with a passionate kiss.
His hand returns to my breast, teasing my nipple yet again before his mouth drifts downward, closing over the tip.
In that moment, a spark ignites inside me, as if a light bulb has gone off in my brain.
I buck against him as the sensation of his tongue, white-hot and deliberate, trails from my breast down toward the molten passion between my legs.
“Please, Ryan.” I squirm.
He pauses, then looks up at me and asks, “What do you need, sweetheart?”
I falter for a moment, my voice a soft whisper. “I… I don’t know. I want more. I want you to touch me here.” I guide his hand along the front of my silk shorts. He asks, “Have you ever been touched here by anyone?”
I shake my head. “No,” I admit, though I add, “I have masturbated, if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s not.” A faint smirk passes his lips as he cautions me, “If I do anything wrong or go too fast, promise you’ll tell me.”
I shrug. “Okay.”
He takes both my wrists in his hands, his gaze intense. “You’re so perfect, Wren.”
I bite my lip, finding his earnestness irresistible.
I brush my hand through his hair as he closes his eyes for a moment.
Then, with gentle deliberation, he starts pushing my pants down.
I help by shifting and kicking away the shorts, revealing that I was wearing nothing underneath except a white cotton thong.
He bites his lip. As I stand before him, he breathes, “Jesus, Chirp. Do you know how hot you are?” His words make me blush and I shake my head in disbelief. Locking eyes with me, he carefully peels my panties down my thighs.
Before I know it, he guides me to straddle his lap once more. Now that I’m completely bare, every sensation near my super-sensitive pussy is amplified. The soft brush of his cotton pants, the cool caress of the air, and the steady, hot throb of anticipation building deep within me.
His fingers, hesitant but sweetly curious, trace a path along my thigh.
A shiver runs through me as he gets closer to the source of my desire.
His eyes flicker up to mine, seeking permission.
I give it with a nod. I watch as he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
Then, with a shaky breath, he moves his fingers closer to my core, hovering right on the edge.
I let out a soft whimper of anticipation, pushing my hips forward in silent invitation. The moment his fingers graze over my folds, I gasp, a wave of pleasure washing over me.
“Ryan,” I whisper, my voice husky. “Oh god…”
He moves his fingers against me with a newfound boldness. “Does it feel good?” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.