12. June
TWELVE
June
He offered to do yoga, we all heard it, and that’s definitely something that’s going to come back and bite him in the ass. I’ve worked with guys like him. They think it’s easy. They think it’s no big deal. And then they end up having to practically drag themselves to their cars because they weren’t ready for a real workout.
I’m sure he was hoping I’d wave him off, not hold him to his offer, but I really do think it can help him on the field. It’s no different from football players taking ballet. Not to be biased or anything, but I do think yoga is leagues better.
Although I’d pay good money to see Ryan in a tutu. A light-pink one.
Plus, with the now-added financial strain, money is going to be tighter, paying for advertising will be harder, and I could really use some help. If he’s as famous as I think he is, he’ll be a great asset for the studio. Not me, the studio.
“Mom.” Oliver crawls out of the tent, his shoulders slumping forward as he yawns. Poor guy must be exhausted. He’s usually already taken a nap, but today has been such a clusterfuck that time got away from us. “Can I ...?”
Another yawn.
“Do you think it’s time for a nap?” As soon as I say the word nap , Oliver is shaking his head and telling me no. “If you take a nap, when you get up, we can convince your dad to order some pizza, and maybe we can have a movie night.”
“The one with the monsters?” He perks up, his eyes looking between Ryan and me.
“What one with the monsters?” Ryan turns toward me and whispers.
I don’t answer him; he’ll figure it out soon enough. It’s one of Oliver’s favorite movies, which means we watch it one to three times a week. I do, however, give Oliver a nod. “Sure. I bet your dad hasn’t seen it yet.”
“Yeah.” One more yawn and he points to the tent behind him. “Can I nap in here today?”
Ryan jumps to his feet, beelining for the closet. “Sure, Oli. I can bring you a few blankets and some pillows.”
“Can you nap with me?”
My chest swells with emotion and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. My damn throat clogs, and I can barely breathe. Time seems to stand still, and Ryan freezes right in front of the closet, his hand extended toward the door handle. I can’t see his face, but if he’s feeling an ounce of what I am, I’m not sure I need to.
I just ... I never thought this moment would happen. For years I was so worried Oliver wouldn’t have a dad, that he would be missing out on a huge part of his life.
I love him with all my heart, but it doesn’t make up for a whole person. It can’t. I hated thinking he would suffer for my mistake .
Oliver yawns again and Ryan spurs into action. He pulls open the closet, glancing back at us, his eyes going to Oli before landing on me. I’m not sure what this could mean, this indecipherable look he’s giving me, but it throws me off-balance. Should I stare him down? Should I look away? Do I pretend there’s fuzz all over the sweater I changed into earlier?
Before I can decide, Ryan takes my decision away, turning around and quickly pulling a stack of bedding from the closet. “I could use a nap. As long as you don’t mind me taking up half the tent, I’d love to nap with you. Do you snore? I bet you snore?”
“You might take up the whole tent.” Oliver laughs, extending his arms out to demonstrate. “And I bet you snore.”
Now that he’s gotten in his parting shot, Oli gives me a quick hug and dives back into the tent, making sure the stuffed dino goes with him.
Ryan chuckles, and while he may be across the room, it runs right through me. It’s deep, throaty, and just as sexy as those shoulders of his. Maybe more so because I can vividly picture him between my legs, that rumbly chuckle rolling across my skin, the warning I get before he lashes my clit with his tongue. He’s the only man to put his mouth on me like that, and I’ll never forget how good it felt.
I should, however, bury the memory of him deep in some dark recess of my brain. Thinking about having his mouth on me is not only gravely inappropriate, since I’m sitting in Oliver’s room, but will only work to soften my resolve. That thing needs to be toughened. I need to become immune to him. It’s the only way I’m going to survive staying here for any length of time.
Because right now, with these damn memories floating around my head, I’m not sure I’ll make it through tonight without being tempted to sneak into his bed.
This is why I’m weak. This is why I need to get stronger.
I can’t travel down this road again.
He turns, heading back this way, and gives me a smile. It’s a small one, but the dimples on either side of his mouth—the ones I’d completely forgotten all about—make an appearance, and good Lord. This time when my breath catches in my throat, it’s for an entirely different reason. There’s a throbbing between my legs, reminding me exactly how long it’s been since I’ve been with a man. My nipples harden to painful points beneath my bra, and while he won’t be able to see them under this knit sweater, I cross my arms anyway.
No one should be this sexy. This tempting.
I can get through this. I’m tough. I’ve resisted temptation for four years. What’s another couple of weeks?
Yeah, but you didn’t have to live with someone who looked like that .
I’m so screwed. I really am.
But then I remember he has a girlfriend. One I’m sure he loves and is very happy with. Yep. That’s right. See, most of my problems solved themselves. Now I simply need to deal with this burning desire, this hunger threatening to consume me.
If I were home, I’d have a battery-operated session or two with my vibrating friend and put this all behind me, but my friend is back at the apartment underneath water and debris, waiting to be uncovered by the cleaning crew. They’re going to love going through my nightstand.
Also I have zero clue where I’m sleeping, and while I have my trusty fingers I can use to get myself off, I’m hesitant to do anything here. What if I’m in the room next to his? What if he hears me touching myself?
What if it’s not enough?
For my own sanity, I’m going to need to get back into my apartment ASAP. Especially if those dimples are going to be making regular appearances. One showing and I’m already spiraling out of control, the walls I built around myself crumbling. If I were wearing a chastity belt, it would have spontaneously unlocked and clunked to the floor.
“Are you going to be okay?” Ryan crouches down in front of me, his fingers running along the underside of my chin, tilting my face to his. “You sure you don’t want to nap with us?”
My heart is about to pop out of my chest, and I’m more turned on than I have any right to be, but sure, I’m fine. I’m totally fine. I’m so wired, I couldn’t nap if I ate an entire jar of melatonin gummies.
“I’m good.” I swallow down the lump building in my throat. “I need to make a few calls anyway. You should definitely take a nap, though. And Ryan?” His thumb runs below my lower lip, and it’s a struggle not to react, not to let him know this has any effect on me. What is he thinking? Doesn’t he know how fragile I am? “Thank you for all this. I’m not sure how I can repay you.”
He makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, moving his hand away and swiftly standing. “There’s nothing to pay back. If anything, I owe you. You did this for three years on your own, and while I’m not sure how, I intend to make it up to you.”
I can think of several ways, none of which are appropriate, and none of which I’ll say out loud. He has a girlfriend, June. Let’s find some respect . “Don’t worry about it. Subjecting yourself to my yoga videos is enough.”
Which is true. I don’t want his money, even if he really has millions. Sure there’s a good chance everything in my apartment is toast and will need to be replaced, but I don’t expect him to pay for that. I have rental insurance for a reason, and I have enough money in my bank account to cover necessities and the studio’s rent. Next month might be tough, but if he follows through with those videos, my classes should start filling up.
Although I need to make sure we are doing completely separate poses, as in no touching. At all. Let’s hope he can follow directions and won’t need any corrections.
“It’s cute you think so.” He huffs a laugh and offers me another smile, this one a little bigger, and tosses me a wink, disappearing into the tent.
I need to get out of here. I need to take a fucking deep breath and fortify myself. And maybe, while I’m at it, change out of these soaked panties and into my new Target undies. He winked at me. He got me flowers and he winked at me. But he has a girlfriend. He’s being nice since you incubated and gave birth to his child.
Clearly I’m the only one overreacting. I’m the only one reading between the lines when the page is still blank.
With a mental slap, I push up from the floor and hightail it out of there. I’m not sure where to go, and I sure as hell don’t want to be found snooping around his bedroom, so I go back down the steps and step out onto the balcony.
The wind is cool and jolts me right back to reality. A reality where my phone is vibrating in my back pocket. Dang it. I’ve been so busy, I forgot to check my phone when it went off earlier, and as I snag it and swipe it open, the phone buzzed with another text.
Kinsley: I heard about your apartment. Are you okay? Where are you? Do you need a place to stay?
Poppy: Wait. What happened?
Poppy: Why would she need a place to stay?
Kinsley: The apartment above June’s flooded and the entire thing fell into her apartment.
Poppy: Shut the front door!
Kinsley: Furniture and everything. Thank God no one was home or someone could have really gotten hurt. They’ve shut off water to the building and are working on finding the source of the leak.
Poppy: Holy shit. June, we need to know you are alive.
Poppy: Annie, are you okay?
Poppy: I need a response from you like yesterday.
Poppy: Earth to June. Now is not the time to ignore your breast friends.
Kinsley: June!?!?!
Me: I’m here. Breast friends? Really?
Me: No need to get your panties all in a twist. Oliver and I are in Ryan’s penthouse.
Poppy: Wait. Rewind. Please repeat. Did you just say you’re in the football player’s penthouse? Please tell me he literally swept you off your feet and carried you across the threshold.
Me: Haha. Very funny. Also you watch WAY too many movies.
Me: Ryan was outside the studio when my class was done and when I told him we couldn’t hang out today, he offered us a place to stay. He wants to get to know Oliver and it seemed like the right thing to do. It was here or Mom’s.
Poppy: I’m sure you debated that one for a long time. Shack up with your very muscular and hot baby daddy or go stay with Mom, who will lecture you about your future on a daily basis. Such a tough decision. I almost feel bad for you. Almost.
Kinsley:
Me: I hate you both.
Poppy: So, what is football daddy doing right now? Is he shirtless? Please let him be shirtless.
Me: We are not calling him that! And no, he’s taking a nap with Oliver.
Kinsley: OMG, football daddy is taking a nap with Oliver. How freaking cute. I love this so much. What about tonight? Are you going to be napping with said football daddy?
Me: You’re both dead to me.
Poppy: Yes! Football daddy is going to need all the cuddles. Did you see his abs? Those are the abs of a man who lives to be the big spoon.
Me: I’m sure his girlfriend would love that.
Poppy: Fine, destroy all my hopes and dreams.
Kinsley: Yeah, kinda forgot all about her.
I did, too, for a minute, and I can’t let it happen again. I know exactly how it feels to have your heart ripped out of your chest and dropped on the floor in front of you, and it’s not fun. Definitely do not recommend.
Poppy: You can still look, though. He might be taken, but you have eyes. It would be a shame not to use them. Does she know about the kid?
Me: No idea. To be fair, I haven’t told Dad. Or Mom.
Poppy: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Kinsley: Good luck with that.
Poppy: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Me: You’re so helpful. But seriously, I need to tell her everything on Monday. She’s going to murder me. Oh God. We’re supposed to be going to her house for dinner in the next week or two. What if she wants me to bring Ryan?
Poppy: She’s not going to like football daddy, I can tell you that.
Me: No shit, Sherlock.
Poppy: Do you think he has any friends he can bring? There are some real hotties on the team.
Poppy: Don’t worry about Mom. She wants you to be with some douche who has a prestigious job, preferably a lawyer or a doctor, clean-cut, predictable, boring. Basically Paul but without the penchant for penis.
Me: We all saw how that ended.
Kinsley: In a blaze of gay-for-you glory. The MM book readers would have eaten that story up. Sucks in real life, though.
Me: Yeah, well, that’s exactly why dating is not on the table for me right now, if not ever. Paul was the only guy I dated and hell, aside from Ryan, is the only man I’ve ever been with. I can’t do that again.
Kinsley: Not all relationships will end like that.
Me: I know, but between Oliver and the studio, what time do I have? Dating is not a priority for me and I’m not sure when it will be.
Poppy: It’s never been on your list, June. You’re too comfortable.
Kinsley: She’s not wrong. You’re the poster child for playing it safe.
Me: You don’t get hurt playing it safe, girls.
Poppy: You don’t get to really live your life either.
Poppy: Just saying.
Well, they know I’m safe, and that is the end of that conversation. I don’t need to be lectured about how I live my life from my younger sister. Mom criticizes it enough, and if that was something I wanted to listen to, I’d have gone to her place.
Right now I need to focus on my family, on fighting this attraction to a taken man, and I need to clear my head.