Chapter 39
thirty-nine
RYAN
The day has left us both sun-drunk and salty, sprawled across the villa’s oversized couch like we’ve been shipwrecked and finally found ashore. Wren stretches next to me, her skin still warm from hours in the sun, and makes this little groaning sound that goes straight to my cock.
“I’m so sandy,” she complains, running her fingers through her hair. “And sore. I think I pulled something at the beach.”
“Where?” I ask, sitting up with interest. “I could take a look. I’m practically a medical professional.”
She gives me a look. “You play hockey. That doesn’t make you a doctor.”
“I’ve had a lot of sports injuries. I know about muscle strains.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m sure your examination would be very thorough.”
“Extremely thorough.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling, which I count as progress. “I should probably shower. Get all this sand and sunscreen off.”
“I could assist with that.”
“You could assist with a lot of things. Doesn’t mean you should.”
But her smile gives her away. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at me now, post-fight and post make up. Like she’s decided to stop overthinking everything and just let herself want what she wants.
“Actually,” I say, remembering something the villa host mentioned during the tour, “there’s a hot tub on the upper deck. Might be good for those sore muscles.”
Her eyes light up. “Now you’re talking.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re slipping into the bubbling water, the night air cool against our damp skin. Wren groans as she settles back against the jets, her legs floating over mine under the water.
“Okay, this was a good idea,” she admits.
“I have them occasionally.”
“Very occasionally.”
I slide my hands up her calves, massaging the muscles there. “Better?”
“Mmm.” Her eyes drift closed. “That’s nice.”
“Just nice?”
“Don’t fish for compliments, Haart.”
But she’s relaxing under my touch, the tension from our earlier fight finally leaving her shoulders. We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the heat and the bubbles and the fact that we’re alone. Really alone.
“So,” I say eventually, “on a scale of one to ten, how much did you hate parasailing?”
“Before or after I stopped thinking I was going to die?”
“After.”
She considers this. “Maybe a seven. The view was incredible.”
“Just the view?”
“Well, the company wasn’t terrible, either.”
“High praise from Wren Rustin.”
She opens her eyes and looks at me. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late. I’m already planning our next adventure.”
“What makes you think there’s going to be a next adventure?”
“Call it optimism.”
She snorts. “That’s not what I’d call it.”
“What would you call it?”
“Delusion.”
I laugh and pull her closer, until she’s practically in my lap. “Come here, you.”
“Ryan…”
“What? I’m just adjusting the seating arrangement.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Among other things.”
She’s straddling me now, her hands resting on my shoulders, and the playful energy between us is shifting into something else. Something charged.
“This is dangerous,” she murmurs.
“How so?”
“Because I’m starting to think you might actually be as charming as you think you are.”
“Only starting to think?”
“Don’t push it.”
But she’s smiling when she says it. When I lean up to kiss her, she doesn’t pull away. The kiss starts soft, teasing, but it deepens quickly. Her lips part under mine and I can taste the wine we had with dinner, sweet and intoxicating.
My hands slide up her back, tangling in her wet hair. She makes this soft sound that drives me crazy. I want to devour her, right here in this hot tub under the stars, but I force myself to go slow. To savor this.
“We should probably go inside,” she breathes against my lips.
“Probably.”
But neither of us moves. We just keep kissing, hands exploring, the heat building between us until I’m hard enough to cut glass and she’s grinding against me in a way that’s going to make me lose my mind.
“Wren,” I groan. “You need to either fuck me or I’m going to have to excuse myself to go upstairs and masturbate furiously for all of five seconds.”
She laughs, throwing her head back. “Five seconds? That’s optimistic.”
“You’ve been driving me crazy all day. I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
“All day?”
“The bikini. The sunscreen. The way you kept licking mango juice off your fingers. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She looks at me like she’s weighing a decision. Not just about sex. About whether to let herself want this. Want me. With nothing held back.
Her eyes go dark. “Show me.”
“Here?”
“No. Upstairs. In that ridiculous shower.”
“The one that’s bigger than my first apartment?”
“That’s the one.”
I don’t need to be asked twice. I lift her out of the water, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her toward the villa. She’s giggling and kissing my neck and generally making it very difficult to navigate the stairs without tripping.
“You’re going to drop me,” she says.
“Never.”
“You’re not that strong.”
“Are you questioning my athletic ability?”
“I’m questioning your coordination while distracted.”
“I’m not distracted.”
“Liar.”
She nips at my earlobe and I nearly stumble. “Okay, maybe a little distracted.”
We make it to the bathroom without incident, though I have to set her down to figure out how to work the shower controls. The thing has more buttons than a spaceship.
“Here,” Wren says, reaching around me to adjust the temperature. “Like this.”
The water starts flowing, multiple showerheads creating this perfect cascade of warmth. Steam immediately begins fogging the glass walls.
“This is ridiculous,” I say.
“Ridiculously amazing.”
“I feel like I’m in a spa commercial.”
“Less talking, more washing,” she says, pulling me under the spray.
The hot water feels incredible after the chlorine from the hot tub. Wren reaches for the shampoo, working it through her hair. I just watch for a moment. The way the water runs down her body, the way she moves, completely unselfconscious and beautiful.
“You’re staring again,” she says without opening her eyes.
“Can’t help it.”
“Make yourself useful. Wash my back.”
I take the body wash and start working it across her shoulders, down her spine. My hands slide over her skin, slick with soap and water. She leans into my touch.
“That feels good,” she murmurs.
“Just good?”
“Fishing for compliments again.”
“Always.”
I work my way down her back, taking my time, mapping every inch of her. When I reach the curve of her ass, she turns in my arms.
“My turn,” she says.
Her hands on my chest, sliding through the soap, is pure torture. She’s thorough, washing every inch of me with careful attention. When her soapy hands wrap around my cock, I nearly come on the spot.
“Jesus, Wren.”
“Too much?”
“Not enough.”
Her hand moves in slow strokes, her thumb brushing over the head. I have to brace myself against the shower wall to stay upright.
“You said you could go more than one round,” she says.
“I can.”
“Prove it.”
Her hand moves faster now, more confident. I’m lost. The heat, the steam, the feel of her touching me like she owns me. I come hard, spilling over her fingers with a groan that echoes off the tile walls.
I laugh, but inside, I feel a little unraveled. Like I gave her something I didn’t know I was holding onto.
“Five seconds was generous,” she says with a smirk.
“Smart ass.”
But I’m already recovering, already reaching for her. I lift her against the wall, the cool tile against her back making her gasp. My mouth finds her throat, her collarbone, working my way down.
“Ryan…”
“Say my name again.”
“Ryan.”
“Again.”
“Ryan, please.”
My hands slide between her thighs, finding her already wet and ready. She cries out when I touch her clit, her head falling back against the wall.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her skin. “Let me hear you.”
I work her with my fingers, my mouth on her breast, until she’s shaking and begging and saying my name over and over. When she comes, it’s with a cry that goes straight to my cock.
“I need to be inside you,” I tell her.
“Yes.”
I lift her higher, lining myself up at her entrance. She’s so wet, so ready. When I push inside her, we both groan at the sensation.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “You feel incredible.”
I start moving, hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the rush of water. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. I lose myself in the heat and tightness of her.
“Wait,” I pant, suddenly remembering. “Condom.”
“I’m on birth control,” she gasps. “Have been for years. I’m religious about it.”
I should stop. Should do the responsible thing. But she’s here, wrapped around me like a prayer. For once in my life, I want to believe in something without backup plans.
I know her well enough to trust that completely. Have known her long enough to know she’s careful about things that matter. So I don’t pull out. Instead I fuck her harder, deeper, until she’s coming again with my name on her lips.
I’m not just fucking her. I’m letting her see me. All of me. It scares the shit out of me.
I don’t stop. I just plow right through, and she does nothing to stop me. The second time she clenches around me, raking her nails down my back and screaming my name, I let her push me over the edge. I follow her down, spilling inside her with a groan that probably wakes the neighbors.
We stand there for a moment, breathing hard, the water still cascading around us. Then Wren starts laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“I can’t believe we just did that.”
“Which part?”
“All of it. Any of it. This whole weekend.”
I set her down carefully, my hands steadying her as she finds her footing. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Wren gives me a suspicious look. “Why?”
“Because I’m not done with you.” I kiss her neck, her collarbone, suck on that one spot between her neck and her shoulder that makes her shudder.
Her eyes open just a slit. “We should probably get out before we prune.”
“Probably.”
But first I kiss her again, slow and deep, tasting the water on her lips. When we finally step out of the shower, we’re both breathless and laughing, wrapped in towels that are way too soft and expensive.
I scoop her up again, carrying her to the bedroom, and toss her onto the massive bed with a growl. “You drive me crazy.”
She grabs my towel and pulls me down with her. “Good crazy or bad crazy?”
“The best kind of crazy.”
We should be exhausted. We should be done. But I can’t get enough of her. The way she tastes, the way she feels, the way she looks at me like I’m the only person in the world.
This time we take it slow. Face-to-face, hands everywhere, nothing held back. I tell her she’s beautiful. Tell her I’ve never felt like this before. She doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t pull away. Just lets me worship her body with mine until we’re both shaking and spent.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, her leg thrown over my hip, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, the spot just below her ear that makes her shiver.
“I don’t want to go back,” she murmurs against my chest.
“Then don’t.”
“Ryan…”
“I’m serious. We could just stay here. Forget about the show, forget about everything else.”
“And do what? Live in this villa forever?”
“Why not? The view’s nice. The shower’s incredible. The company’s not bad.”
She pinches my side. “Be realistic.”
“I am being realistic. This is the most real thing I’ve felt in years.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her fingers still moving across my skin. “What happens when we go back?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“I don’t have all the answers, Wren. I just know that I don’t want this to end.”
“You really think we can figure it out?”
“I think that what we have here, right now, is worth fighting for.”
“Even if it means dealing with Jay?”
“Even then.”
“He’s going to lose his mind.”
“Probably. But he’ll get over it.”
She lifts her head to look at me. “You sound very confident for someone who’s about to tell his best friend he’s sleeping with his little sister.”
“I’m not just sleeping with you.”
“No?”
“This is more than that.”
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. I can see her processing them, trying to decide whether she believes me.
“What is it then?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t know yet. But I want to find out.”
She smiles, soft and real. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Let’s find out.”
I pull her up for a kiss, tasting the promise on her lips. Outside, the night is quiet except for the distant sound of waves. The firepit on the terrace is still glowing, casting warm light through the open windows.
Her fingers rest over my heart. For the first time in years, I don’t feel haunted by all the things I’ve lost. I don’t feel empty or broken or like I’m just going through the motions.
I feel home.
Wren’s breathing evens out against my chest. I know she’s falling asleep. I should probably sleep, too. In two days, we have to go back to reality. Back to the cameras and the other contestants and all the complications we’ve been avoiding.
But for now, there’s just this. The weight of her in my arms, the scent of her hair, the way she fits against me like she was made for this spot.
I won’t think about tomorrow. All that matters right now is getting more of this girl, inhaling her, injecting her into my veins. I can’t think further than that.