27. June
TWENTY-SEVEN
June
Oh my God, what was I thinking? What was I thinking? I’m in Ryan Devlin’s lap, and he just kissed me. Actually, scratch that. I’m pretty sure I kissed him first.
He crashed my date, offered Michael freaking football tickets to get the—excuse me—fuck out of the restaurant, and then pretty much told me he’d burn the entire world to the ground to be with me. Of course I kissed him. How could I not? It’s his fault, it really is. He should think twice about being so swoonworthy.
Now for the really important question—how do I get off his lap and out of the SUV without falling on my face or dry humping his dick? Again.
Do I want to dry hump him? Let’s see. Does a starving man want a bite of a delicious cheeseburger? Hell yes, he does. But I’m not starved, just a little sexually depleted. Not enough that I have any excuse for making bad decisions. You know, like I just did.
Sure, I haven’t been with anyone since Ryan, and although he doesn’t have a girlfriend, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a revolving door of women in and out of his penthouse. It may have taken me a few days to search him on the internet, but once I did, I didn’t see any shortage of women hanging around him.
He may want to have sex with me, but does that mean that he really wants me? Or am I just the only one in close proximity? It’s not like he can bring anyone home with Oliver and me cramping his style.
I’m a cockblock.
A tease.
I need to get out of here.
I shift back toward the passenger seat, but the second I move, Ryan’s fingers flex against my thigh. My bare thigh. And I rubbed his dick again. Let me shift. Gah! I did it again.
“You trying to run away from me again, Princess?” Ryan’s voice is gravelly, pained, and I suspect it’s because I’ve rubbed against him for a third time. I can’t help it. It’s big and down there and this seat is cramped.
“I, uh ...” My eyes widen, going back and forth across the front of the SUV. The dang SUV that he bought because it would be safe for our son. He really is trying to kill me here. “I ... I need to not be in here.”
Eloquent. Very eloquent, June.
I shift again, trying to open the driver’s-side door, and I freeze at Ryan’s pained groan.
“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get us out of here.” His laughter rumbles through him, which rumbles through me, because I seem to be stuck on his lap.
It’s not a bad place to be, but at the same time, it is. He’s so close, too close, and it’s hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything except feel how strong his muscles are, how the smell of sandalwood and clove transport me back to the night we spent together. Being close like this sets me up to forget all the reasons we shouldn’t be together and throw caution to the wind.
But I can’t afford to do that. I can’t let a little five minutes in heaven spill over and affect Oliver. There’s a good chance this will end badly for me. I know myself. I’ll get attached. I’ll catch feelings. And Ryan doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who dates anyone long-term.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
He studies my face as his hands, his very strong hands, leave my thighs and open the door. I try to keep my features impassive. I don’t want to give anything away, to let him know the turmoil I’m in after that kiss.
The seat belt clicks, and this time Ryan shifts, his face so close to mine, and I have to swallow down my emotions along with my heart, which has leaped into my throat.
“Put your arms around me.” His gruff demand sends a shiver of need down my spine, but I ignore it, focusing on my arms, which are weirdly hanging in the air, not touching anyone or anything. “June. Put your fucking arms around me.”
His voice deepens, and let me tell you, I should not find it so damn sexy, but I do. And before I can think about it too hard, I slip my arms back around his neck. Okay, and maybe I close my eyes, letting myself take in his cologne.
Ryan’s arms band around my waist, and before I can think twice, we are out of the truck and I’m latched around his body like a spider monkey. He even managed to grab the to-go bag, full of new food from his adoring fan.
“How did you do that?” I ask, widening my eyes and glancing around the dark parking garage.
Ryan smiles, his dimples coming out in full force, and if he wasn’t holding me, it might have knocked me on my ass. “I’m a professional athlete, June. These aren’t just gym muscles.”
Oh, I know. I’ve done yoga with him, and I’ve also seen him in action on the football field. And shit—shoot—my legs are wrapped around his waist, and I can feel his back muscles flexing beneath my calves. He’s big. Everywhere.
Please don’t drool on his shoulder.
I clear my throat, unwrapping my legs and slide down that hard body, regretting all my life choices. Why do I have to be so sensible? Why can’t I let myself live in the moment? Why can’t I just turn my brain off for a few hours?
I step back, taking a few deep breaths, trying and failing to clear my mind of him.
Ryan is watching me, probably making sure I’m not freaking out, and I give him a shaky smile. Crushed it. His lip twitches, but he doesn’t say anything as his hand finds the small of my back and he leads us to the elevator.
“Don’t worry, Princess, I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” He presses the button, giving me another one of those smiles.
I huff a laugh, my stomach flopping around, and dang it, I should say something. I should explain or, I don’t know, let him down.
“Listen, Ryan?—”
“I know, you’re not there yet. But please don’t think I’m giving up. This is only the beginning, Princess.” He hums a little something under his breath, stepping on the elevator, and I guess I have to say, I prefer “Princess” to “June bug.”
I hesitate outside, not sure how to respond when he raises a brow. After taking a few breaths, I join him on the elevator, making sure to keep my eyes on the buttons. “Why me? ”
His chuckle is dark, the look he pins me with intense. “It’s always been you. It just took me a bit to realize it.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression when I climbed into your lap, but I’m not sure anything happening between us would be in Oliver’s best interest. If, when, this ends, I don’t want any bad feelings bleeding onto him. I’m sure we’re imposing on your social calendar , but I talked to my apartment complex today, and they think I should be able to move back in a few weeks. Then everything can go back to normal. Well, kind of normal since you’ll have Oliver here sometimes.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Although the sarcasm lacing his tone isn’t exactly inspiring any confidence.
I guess I should be glad my traitorous sister is upstairs, because I need someone to talk to about Ryan, the feelings I can’t seem to control, and this quest he has to get me back into bed. I’m not sure what his end game is, but I’m not sure this is a game I should be playing.
He’s already pushed me out of my box, he’s already gotten me to take certain risks, but that’s not me. I’m safe. I’m trustworthy. I ... well, I’m boring, but boring keeps me protected, keeps me from getting hurt again. The yoga studio was a bit of a risk, yes, but one I had to make for my own sanity. What if falling into bed with him messes that up? I can’t risk that.
And Ryan?
I’m afraid if I fall into bed with him again, there’s no way I’ll be able to move on. If I’m honest with myself, I’m still not over him, and being with him a second time would decimate me.