Chapter 22
The buzz of the evening hummed through me–a heady mix of alcohol, the warmth of good company, and the lingering, electric memory of Ryan’s hands on me.
I felt weightless, lighter than I had in years.
What had happened between us in that bathroom had been something entirely new–intense, consuming, and utterly addictive. I wanted more. Needed more.
And Ryan… God.
He had looked almost unfairly good tonight.
His long, dark hair was slicked back, the ends brushing just past the nape of his neck in a way that made my fingers itch to tangle in it.
And that shirt–a dark button-up that clung to his muscles in all the right places, the fabric pulling slightly with every shift of his body.
He was all rugged edges and effortless confidence, a perfect balance of refined and rough.
Every time I’d glanced at him, heat bloomed low in my stomach, slow and relentless.
Hot didn’t even begin to cover it.
I glanced over to where he stood with Shane, a beer in hand. I’d noticed it was only his second or third of the night–impressive, considering the rowdy energy around us. My lips curled into a small smile. Responsible and considerate. God, this man was ticking boxes I didn’t even know I had.
As the night began to wind down, I decided it was time to head home. When I caught Ryan’s gaze across the room, it took him all of three seconds to cross the space between us.
“You heading out?” His voice was low, smooth, a quiet contrast to the noise around us.
I nodded, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to call it a night.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” he offered, his tone casual–but his eyes said everything his words didn’t.
The thought of being alone with him again sent a slow, spreading warmth through me.
I wanted to say yes immediately, but my gaze flicked toward Nina.
She was in the middle of a circle of hockey dads, all of them laughing a little too loudly at something she’d said.
She didn’t seem to mind the attention, her easy grin lighting up her face.
I turned back to Ryan. “Let me just check with Nina first.”
He nodded, his fingers grazing my arm briefly before he stepped back, the touch fleeting yet enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I swallowed, shaking it off as I made my way across the room.
As I got closer, I spotted Shane standing off to the side, engaged in what looked like a conversation with one of the hockey moms–or at least pretending to be.
His attention kept flicking toward Nina and the men surrounding her, his expression darkening with every burst of laughter that echoed from her group.
He looked pissed.
And honestly? Territorial.
Biting back a grin, I turned my focus to Nina, lightly touching her elbow to get her attention. She glanced my way, her eyes bright, cheeks flushed–whether from the wine or the attention, I couldn’t be sure.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m thinking of heading out. Ryan offered to give me a ride unless you want me to wait for you.”
Nina’s grin widened instantly. Her gaze flicked toward Ryan, then back to me, her enthusiasm cranked up just a little too high. “Oh, you should absolutely go with him.”
I gave her a look. “You sure? I don’t mind waiting.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled me in for a hug, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, “Go with Ryan. Have fun tonight. You deserve this.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I pulled back, trying–and failing–to play it cool. “Thanks, Nina,” I muttered, already bracing for the teasing I knew was coming later.
She gave me a knowing wink before turning back to her admirers, effortlessly slipping back into the conversation. I exhaled, smoothing a hand down my dress as I turned and made my way toward Ryan, who stood waiting near the exit.
This night wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
We stepped out of the party into the crisp night air, our laughter curling into the cold, clouding between us.
Snowflakes drifted lazily under the glow of the parking lot lights, dusting the pavement in a shimmering layer.
The icy bite seeped through my coat, and before I could even react, Ryan shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
“Chivalrous,” I teased, tugging the jacket closer, the lingering scent of his cologne wrapping around me–warm and grounding, like cedarwood and amber after rain, with a faint spice that curled in my chest.
“Just practical,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, my mom would’ve had a thing or two to say if I didn’t offer my jacket.”
“She sounds like a smart lady,” I said with a grin, but my words faltered slightly when I caught the flicker of something in his eyes–fondness, maybe a touch of sadness.
“She was,” he said simply, his voice soft.
A beat of silence settled between us, filled only by the muffled music and laughter still drifting from the civic centre.
The crunch of snow under our boots was the only sound as we crossed the parking lot, our breath hanging in the air.
Ryan reached for the truck door, opening it smoothly before his hand brushed against my back, a barely there touch that sent warmth curling low in my stomach.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I climbed in, glancing at him.
As he slid into the seat beside me, he reached over, his fingers grazing mine before he took my hand completely. His touch was rough, warm, steady. He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a quiet intensity.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and warm.
I nodded, my cheeks warming as he started the engine, the truck rumbling to life beneath us.
The cab filled with the steady hum of his playlist–a mix of country and classic rock that somehow suited him perfectly.
Adjusting his jacket over my lap, I ran my fingers along the worn fabric, letting the scent and feel of it settle around me.
For a moment, we sat in comfortable silence, the truck rocking slightly over uneven patches of snow.
I leaned back against the seat, watching the glow of streetlights blur past, the town quiet and still beneath its fresh dusting of white.
The snowfall had slowed, leaving everything peaceful, almost untouched.
He glanced over, a small but genuine smile curving his lips, and then his hand found mine again. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, the slow, deliberate motion sending a shiver up my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
It caught me off guard.
For the briefest moment, I let myself wonder if this could be more than stolen glances and easy conversation–if maybe there was something here worth holding on to.
But the thought brought Reid’s shadow with it, and I remembered exactly why I’d built walls in the first place.
I couldn’t risk putting Connor–or myself–through that kind of wreckage again.
I was getting ahead of myself. I doubt Ryan would want anything serious with me anyway. Why would he? I was a difficult person to love.
I forced myself to focus on the warmth of the cab and the quiet hum of the music, the solid weight of his hand in mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ryan watching me, his mouth twitching into that lopsided smile–the one I was starting to recognize as his Harper smile.
The truck slowed as we turned onto my street, my house coming into view. Anticipation crackled in the air, thick enough to drown in.
By the time we reached my driveway, the tension between us had stretched so tight, it snapped the moment we stepped inside. I barely managed to kick the door closed before I was on him, fisting his shirt and pushing him back against the wood.
His eyes darkened with surprise, then hunger.
And then I was kissing him–hot and desperate and too much in the best way.
His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I melted into the solid heat of his body.
The air between us was charged, frantic, every movement pulling me deeper into something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to come back from.
I broke the kiss, chest heaving, and before he could stop me. I dropped to my knees.
Ryan let out a low curse, his fingers flexing in my hair. “Harper–”
I looked up, meeting his gaze with quiet insistence. Let me.
His throat bobbed. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the war between wanting this and wanting to make sure I really did too. That alone made something tighten in my chest.
I pressed my palm to his thighs. “I want to,” I whispered.
The breath he released was shaky, his fingers threading through my hair.
This moment–it wasn’t about obligation or expectation. It was about him. About wanting to take care of him the way he had taken care of me.
I reached for his belt, unfastening it with deliberate slowness, anticipation humming in my veins. And when I finally freed him, I paused, my breath catching.
I knew he’d be impressive. But still.
Ryan smirked slightly, shifting under my gaze. “You good?” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was a hint of uncertainty underneath it.
That made me smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Oh, I’m very good,” I murmured, dragging my gaze back to his.
His fingers tightened in my hair as I began, and the sharp inhale he let out sent a thrill through me. Every sound, every involuntary twitch, felt like a reward. And so I gave myself over to the moment completely.
Ryan’s grip tightened in my hair as he tugged me up, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands found my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones as he met my gaze–heated, intense, needing.
“Fuck, Harper.” he rasped, his voice thick with restraint.
His forehead pressed against mine for a brief moment, his breath warm against my lips. Then, his grip slid to my waist, pulling me flush against him as his voice dipped lower.