The Right Move: Chapter 21

It’s been a week since Ryan offered to help me out. It’s taken as many days for the words to sink in, for my body to come down from the hurried orgasm thanks to his thigh pressing into me. I’ve been fantasizing about that man since I moved in. Hell, I’ve been fantasizing about him since the day we met—the same day I caught Alex with someone else.

I’m not sure what it says about me or our relationship that I was looking at another man hours after my relationship ended with the person I thought I was going to marry, but I’m beginning to wonder if the love I had for Alex was genuine and true, or simply a convenient avenue to the life I wanted.

If I’m being honest, the notion has rocked me this last week because even though I’ve flirted with Ryan since I met him, it all became too real the night I went on a date with someone else. That date was meant to get me out there again. To prove to myself whatever I was feeling towards Ryan was fleeting. I couldn’t have genuine feelings for someone else only eight months after who I thought was the love of my life. Anyone would make me feel the same way as I was feeling towards the man across the hall.

Alarmingly enough, it proved the opposite.

Ryan came home this morning, but I haven’t seen him yet. He dropped his bags, made a coffee for me and stuck it in the fridge to cool down, then headed to get some shots in before interviewing with the media all before I was awake. A typical Saturday for superstar Ryan Shay. I wonder if he gets tired of it all. His life might seem glamorous to an outsider, but seeing the daily grind, I’m exhausted for him.

Stevie and I went shopping two days ago and I’ve been dreaming of the scarlet-red satin hanging in my closet ever since. Red isn’t typically my shade, but I’m in need of the boldness the color brings. Straps wrap into bows over my shoulders, and the hemline ends mid-shin. Conveniently, I need a second pair of hands to zip the dress up all the way, so I throw on my new pair of nude pumps until I can ask Ryan to help with the rest.

This secret party he refuses to discuss is in an hour and across town so when I hear his bedroom door open, I give myself one last long look in the mirror, take a deep breath, and head to the living room.

The click of my heels against the hardwood floor gains his attention, mid-drink with a glass of scotch in his hand.

Blue-green eyes follow a path up my legs, taking their time gliding up my body, lingering on my chest, not that I have much in that department, but this dress is doing a fantastic job of displaying what I’ve got. Ryan’s kissable lips part, wetting the bottom one in a slick slide of his tongue.

I watch his Adam’s apple bob in a swallow when he finally meets my eye. “Wow.”

“Hi.”

He nods, reminding himself to speak, and I’ve got to admit, having his undivided attention like this is quite the ego boost. “Indy, you look incredible.”

I turn around, giving him my back. “Could you zip me up?”

There’s a slight rattle in my knees from adrenaline coursing through me and my palms are sweaty with nerves. I don’t consider myself a nervous person, but the idea of seeing this restrained man lose control has had me on edge all week.

Gathering my hair above my neck, I hear his glass touch the counter before one, two, three leisurely steps pad towards me. Heat instantly warms my back from his proximity, and we share a sharp inhale of breath when Ryan’s palm slides against my hip.

The shift between us is evident, a new energy in the air around us. What was once a flirty friendship has turned into an awareness that there’s more going on. It’s only a matter of time before one of us decides to act on it.

Ryan’s fingertips dust the skin of my neck, pushing away any stray hairs. The sensation instantly floods my body with goosebumps and the bastard begins to chuckle from it.

“I hate you,” I tell him, though my breath is slightly labored.

“Mm-hmm. Seems like it.”

The fingers that were on my hip dig into my skin, the fabric of my dress bunching in his grasp. He zips me up with his other hand, tracing the column of my spine with his fingertips, and taking his time as he does. When the zipper reaches its destination, holding me secure, the pads of Ryan’s fingers snake around my back to my neck before curving around my throat.

A firm chest is molded to me now as his thumb traces the thrumming pulse point in my neck. “Did I buy this dress?”

I nod.

His throat releases a gravelly noise in satisfaction.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little possessive, Shay?”

His chest rumbles against my back in a silent laugh. “Never. But then again, no one else has ever made me feel quite as greedy as you do.”

Oh God. I like him controlling like this.

Arching my back, I’m about two seconds from asking him to blow off this party, take me to bed, and take care of my every ache and need.

Ryan must sense my thought process, because he interrupts it to tell me, “We’ve got to go.”

I turn to face him, chest to chest with his navy-blue suit and white pressed shirt. He looks good in a lighter color than black. His blue-green eyes are leaning towards sapphire in this outfit.

“You look handsome tonight.”

His tongue sweeps out to wet his lower lip before it’s pulled between his teeth in a smirk. Attention darting to my mouth, I suck an anticipatory breath before Ryan steps back to create some distance.

“We can’t be late,” he reminds me.

“Can you tell me what this party is for yet?”

He checks the Rolex on his wrist, but then he looks back to me, hesitating for a moment. “Zanders is proposing to Stevie. This is their engagement party.”

“What?”

Ryan eyes me with concern.

“He’s asking her tonight?” I cover my mouth with both hands.

“He’s asking her right now. They’re on a plane headed back to Chicago.”

My chest heaves with a broken sob. “Oh my God.”

Once again, Ryan looks at me like I’m a fragile doll about to break. “Are you okay?”

My eyes burn with tears because even when I’m so overwhelmingly happy, crying is my emotional outlet of choice.

“Hey,” Ryan says, hands cupping my face, thumbs gently swiping under my eyes. “Don’t cry. You’re going to ruin your makeup.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Are you upset?”

“What?” I pause. “Why would I be upset?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would you say that?”

He holds eye contact and understanding floods me.

“Because it’s not me?” I surmise.

Ryan’s lips lift in an apologetic smile. “Everything is still so fresh for you, Ind. You’re going to a bridal shower tomorrow and now an engagement party tonight—”

“I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy for them. This isn’t about me.”

Every word is the utter truth. I don’t know if it’s the time I’ve had since Alex and I broke up, or if it’s simply that seeing my best friend happy holds no room for selfishness, but no part of me is upset from what I lost out on.

Ryan tucks my hair behind both ears before giving a final swipe under my eyes. “You’re a good friend to her, Blue.”

“Well, she’s a good friend to me. You could’ve told me. I could’ve helped with the party. I could’ve—”

“I know. Zanders thought about asking for your help, but I told him not to. I wanted you to have fun without worrying if everyone else is too.”

That’s my role, though. I’m the party planner, the host. I make sure people are taken care of and having a good time.

“Yes, Ind. You’re going to spend an entire night enjoying yourself without taking care of a single other human being. Shocking, I know, but I think you can do it.”

“Fine,” I resign. “But if this party sucks, I’m giving Zee shit for not asking my opinion.”

“It’s Zanders we’re talking about. This is going to be extravagant as fuck.” He pushes the hair out of my face, both palms bracketing my cheeks. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I nod in his grasp. “Yes, but thank you for asking.”

Once again, my attention darts to his lips, but just as quickly, he clears his throat.

“We should get going.”

Ryan opens my door for me once his driver drops us in front of an inconspicuous building with nothing but a small dimly lit sign over a black door. There are no paparazzi or media outside, which is something I was prepared for, and only a large man stands by the front entrance with a clipboard in his hands.

Zanders did a good job of keeping this under wraps. Even I had no idea this was happening tonight, let alone the local media.

Ryan’s hand slides against my lower back, leading me towards the front door.

“Indy Ivers,” he tells the doorman. “And Ryan—”

“I know who you are. This is wild.” The doorman’s brooding expression softens into a smile as he shakes his head in disbelief because even a bouncer who is getting paid to be discreet can’t help himself from fanboying when it comes to Ryan Shay.

He opens the door for us, leading us into a dark hallway, and Ryan’s hand continues to protectively overwhelm the small of my back.

Shedding my jacket, I turn towards him before we enter the main room. “Since your teammates and GM aren’t here, I guess we don’t have to pretend we’re together tonight.”

Ryan hangs both our coats with the rest of the guests’. “I guess we don’t.”

Neither of us hold much conviction in our tones.

“But,” I begin, and Ryan’s eyes dart to mine, a bit of hope flickering through them. “It could be good practice.”

“Right, and the wedding is coming up.”

“Right,” I quickly agree. “So, we should pretend tonight? For practice.”

“Yeah, that seems like the right thing to do.”

Without further hesitation, Ryan’s hand is in mine, fingers threaded together, leading us into the main room.

The space is small and quaint, just large enough for Zanders and Stevie’s closest friends and families to fill the room. But in true Zanders fashion, the lighting is moody and expensive, the bar is fully stocked with the best beer and liquor money can buy, and there’s a DJ and a dance floor waiting to be occupied.

Rio, Maddison, and the rest of the guys from the Raptors are the first faces I see. Rio’s green eyes go wide with excitement, his hand waving me over. Though I’m not so sure if he’s stoked to see me, or if he’s hoping the man at my side, who he’s utterly obsessed with, will join too.

“I want to go say hi to the team.”

“And my parents are here,” Ryan says. “I should go warn my mother that you’re not my actual girlfriend before she gives herself a heart attack from excitement.”

I would join him to say hi to my best friend’s parents, but Mrs. Shay isn’t my favorite person. Ryan and Stevie’s dad is a gem, a sweet and loving man, but their mom wasn’t great to Stevie for a lot of years. They’ve been in family therapy and are repairing their mother-daughter relationship, and clearly, things have been better between them otherwise Zanders wouldn’t have invited her here today.

I may be too lenient in my own life, but if you cross my friends, I’ve been known to hold petty-level grudges. So, for Ryan’s sake, I’ll skip out on speaking to his mom tonight, especially after I have few drinks.

“See you soon?” I ask.

“I’ll come find you.”

We pull away, but not before fingers linger a little longer than they should for two people who are pretending.

“So, you are fucking my celebrity man crush,” Rio says as he wraps me in a hug.

“We’re not fucking. We’re using this as a practice run. He has to be my believable boyfriend in front of my childhood friends in a couple weeks.”

Rio turns away from the group of his teammates, keeping his voice low. “There’s absolutely no way to convince me that you’re not sleeping with your roommate. Have you told Stevie yet?”

“No, because we aren’t. At least not yet. He did offer to help me with that problem I told you about.”

“Are you kidding?” Rio’s eyes widen. “That was a volunteer thing? I would’ve offered months ago!”

I shoot him a blank expression.

“Yeah. Yeah. I know.”

“How wild that we’re at Zanders and Stevie’s engagement party. Did you know?”

“Maddison filled us when we got here.”

I say hello to Maddison and his wife as well as the rest of the guys I fly around the country for work while we wait for the guests of honor to arrive. Ryan is still hanging out with his parents by the time the main doors open, and the place erupts with cheers and celebration.

Stevie looks absolutely radiant walking through the door, and I’m sure her smile is splitting across her face, but I can’t tell due to her palms covering her mouth in surprise.

Even from across the room, I can see the rock on her left hand and it’s fucking huge. The man who loves nothing more than to spoil her wraps her up from behind, endlessly proud that he pulled off this surprise and gets to show off his girl in the process.

I take a step towards them, but hold myself back, wanting to let their families congratulate them first.

Stevie’s eyes track the room, looking for one person in particular and when they land on her twin brother, she instantly takes off towards him. Ryan meets her halfway with quick strides, picking her up in a hug.

Surprisingly, I’ve kept my emotions in check. Instead of tears, I’ve channeled them into giddy smiles and bouncing toes, wanting to go wrap my girl in a hug. But when Ryan pulls away from his sister, wearing the most stunning smile, he also wipes at his eyes.

My roommate isn’t an emotional man. That much is clear, but Stevie is always his exception. He loves her fiercely, and the fact he’s unguarded enough to shed a few tears for her in public, gives me hope that maybe one day, someone else will make him just as vulnerable.

When he goes in to hug her once again, I have to shift my attention to Zanders so I don’t break my ten-minute-no-crying streak. Zanders embraces his sister and dad, quickly followed by his best friends, the Maddisons.

Rio urges a gin and tonic in my hand, swinging an arm over my shoulders. “You good?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

There’s a lull once Stevie hugs her dad and she looks my way. I take that as my cue, setting my drink down and as quickly as I can move in my heels, I throw my arms around her shoulders in a squeeze.

“Did you know?” she asks in our embrace.

“I had no idea! Did you know?”

“I had no clue!” she bursts with a laugh.

“Is this why you didn’t text me back?”

“Yeah, about that—”

“Let me see that rock.” I take her hand in mine, interrupting because this moment is about her and not her brother and me. “Dear God, Zee.”

At that moment, Zanders swings an arm over my shoulders. “Do you like it?”

“I would’ve preferred you to ask for my help, but even if you did, I don’t think it could be any more perfect.”

Stevie is pulled in another direction, so I turn to hug her new fiancé. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Indy.” Zanders wears a content smile on his face, but it morphs to concern as he lowers his voice, speaking for no one else to hear. “Are you doing okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Well, because when we met a year ago, you had a ring picked out and a potential wedding date set. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier you’re not with that guy, but it hasn’t been that long.” He eyes me with caution. “Ryan said you’d be happy, and I don’t doubt that you are. I just want to check in, is all. I don’t want to be inconsiderate here.”

“Oh God, no.” I brush him off. “This has nothing to do with me. I could not be happier for you two. I promise. I’m good.”

“Good.” Zanders eyes my outfit. Of all my friends, he understands my appreciation of fashion. “Love the dress.”

“Love the suit.”

Stevie and Ryan are pulled back into their own little world as they clink their bottles of beer together, sharing a moment. Zanders and I watch the Shay siblings from across the room.

“You don’t think eight months is that long?” I ask.

“I think eight hours was too long to grieve for that idiot, but I know you, Indy. You feel things more than most people, so no, I don’t think eight months is that long. You’re loyal to a fault and when you love someone, every fiber in your body feels it.”

“But what if that sense of love and loyalty was all a lie? What if the feelings I thought I felt for Alex were simply pushed by my own narrative because I thought we would build the life I wanted? In that case, is eight months long enough?”

Zanders chuckles. “If you’re asking me if eight months is long enough to understand Alex didn’t deserve you, and maybe, just maybe there’s someone else you’re realizing might, then yes, I think eight months is eight months too long.”

Looking up, Zanders wears a knowing grin. “Now, I’m going to go dance with my fiancée. There’s another Shay over there who I know for a fact wouldn’t mind spending his evening with you.”

I chuckle. “Okay, matchmaker.”

“What can I say? I’m in love!” Zanders takes off, hands out to the side, but he turns around to walk backwards, facing me for a moment. “Just have fun, yeah?”

Just have fun.

Fuck it. That’s exactly what I need to do. Stop overanalyzing this whole situation. Stop wondering if I’ve honored my past feelings long enough to move on. Just have fun.

And the person I enjoy spending my time with the most happens to be here tonight looking like an absolute snack in that navy-blue suit.

I follow Zanders to the twins.

“We’re dancing,” he says to Stevie, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

Rounding Ryan, I lean my elbows back on the bar table, facing him.

His eyes take a lazy trail down my body. “And what are we doing?”

“Good question.” I take a swig of Ryan’s beer. “What are we doing?”

The question masks a far more important one: How much of this is going to be pretend?

He chuckles, one side of his lips tugging upward as the music shifts to something a little more sultry. “We’re dancing.”

Ryan holds out his hand for mine and as soon as my palm is in his, he ushers me to move ahead of him. He wraps an arm around my waist from behind as we walk together to the dance floor.

Over my shoulder, he leans in close to my ear. “You’re stunning, Ind. In case I haven’t mentioned it in the last five minutes.”

I cover his arm with my own and lean my cheek into his.

The most confusing part of tonight is wondering how much of this is fictitious. Sure, we agreed to act as if we’re together in order to get some practice in, but why does everything feel so authentic?

The dance floor is crowded already, but Ryan and I find our way in. Turning me to face him, he drapes both my arms over his shoulders, running the pads of his fingertips against my skin as he does. His hands overtake my waist before they curve around my hips and settle lower than I expected them to.

As he pulls me in closer, I can’t help but notice how well we fit together, how perfectly we mold even though we’re opposites in every other way.

I’m disorganized. He’s a clean freak.

I’m a romantic. He’s a cynic.

I’m an extrovert. He’s the dictionary definition of a recluse.

I want my future to involve love and family. He’s adamant about spending the rest of his days alone.

But here, with him holding me, we don’t feel all that different.

Tracking Zanders and Stevie on the dance floor, I rest my head on Ryan’s shoulder, swaying with him as I watch the newly engaged couple. They light each other up, brighter than I’ve ever seen two other people shine.

“What are you thinking about?” Ryan asks softly.

“They’re so in love.”

I feel Ryan’s neck turn to find who I’m watching. He chuckles. “I think that’s an understatement, Ind.”

“It looks nice.”

Knowing my roommate, who refuses to acknowledge any form of love, platonic or otherwise, I fully expect him to ignore me or give me a hard time for romanticizing my friends’ lives. Instead, he exhales a nostalgic sigh and says, “Yeah. It does.”

Pulling away to better look at him, I keep my arms around his shoulders, my fingers mindlessly tracing the fade of his haircut. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Once.”

“In college?”

He nods.

“Did it feel like that?” I motion towards his sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law.

“No, it didn’t.”

Ryan rarely talks about his past, and I don’t want to fuck it up by prying more, but at the same time, I want to know everything about him.

My laugh puts a small smile on Ryan’s lips. “What’s so funny?”

“All this time I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“I believe in love, but I’m a realist. You could love someone with your entire being, but it doesn’t guarantee they’ll love you in return. It’s a gamble, and I don’t like to make bets I might lose.”

It’s his version of control, I realize, never letting himself feel deeply enough to wager getting hurt. Never letting himself feel at all. I, on the other hand, just went all in and lost on a single hand, but I’m already thinking about taking a seat at the table for another round.

Did she not love him back? Is that what happened? Clearly not, knowing how she attempted to use him. I’m not sure how anyone who was given the opportunity to know this man, to be loved by this man, wouldn’t love him in return.

Did she realize how special she was to be chosen by him?

Did Alex not feel special to be loved by me? It sure seems that way, otherwise, why else would my unwavering love be thrown by the wayside?

Loving someone doesn’t ensure that sentiment is reciprocated, but even though I’ve tried and failed, I hope one day I find it again. I hope one day Ryan will wish it for himself too.

His thumb draws mindless circles on my lower back. “How are you still such a romantic, huh? After everything.”

“I’ve got to believe that there’s more than what I had, if you can even call that love anymore. And that’s exciting, hopeful even, to believe there’s better out there. Call me a dreamer. Call me naive, I don’t care. I call myself optimistic.”

He stills us on the dance floor, feet no longer moving. His ocean eyes track every inch of my face, lingering on my lips. “There is better out there, and if anyone deserves to get everything they want in life, it’s you.”

“You deserve to have your dreams come true too.”

“I don’t dream, Indy. I plan, and my life is going according to that plan. I have the career. It’s what I always wanted.”

His eyes can’t connect with mine as he says the words because I’m not sure even Ryan finds them true. I see the toll the sky-high expectations take on him. He might still love the game, but the pressure to be perfect weighs on him, stealing a bit more of him every day. He’s confined to the walls of the apartment unless he’s prepared to be scrutinized and idolized at the same time. He lives in a million-dollar prison on the twenty-second floor. I can’t imagine he wished for that part of his career.

Ryan pushes me out in an elegant spin, disconnecting our moment before I can pry any further. He’s surprisingly graceful on the dance floor, and for a man who hasn’t held a woman in years, he has no issues leading me here.

“I can say we’ve crossed this one off your bucket list. I’m sure we can pull off a dance or two at the wedding.”

A soft smile runs across his lips.

The DJ shifts into the next song, which keeps the same slow and sultry vibe. “We should maybe practice a little more. Don’t you think?”

I love this type of practice. All of it. The dancing. The living together. The fake relationship. “Yeah. Practice is good.”

We move around the dance floor, our hands intertwined and held out to the side, our cheeks pressed together, suffocating but comforting. Once again, I spot my best friend on the other side of the room, radiating with so much happiness.

“Do you think they’ll have kids? Zanders and Stevie?”

“I’m not sure,” Ryan admits. “Stevie never talked much about kids. I was the sibling who always wanted them. My sister was too busy saving every stray animal she could find.” He chuckles lightly. “But I think they might. Zee wants them.”

I don’t miss the sentence he threw in nonchalantly. I was the sibling who always wanted them. Layer by layer, Ryan lets me see a bit more of him, as more of his confusing backstory pushes forward, eager to come to light. I want to see it. I want to know everything, but I don’t want to scare him off either, so I stay silent.

He eyes me cautiously, as if for the first time realizing he’s walking through a minefield talking about marriage and babies with a woman who might not get either but wants nothing more.

Thankfully, the music shifts, filling the room with a beat you can’t help but dance to.

Ryan peels off his jacket, tossing it on the back of a nearby chair before rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. It’s decided at that moment, with the veins running down his forearms and the watch on his wrist, that it’s just about the sexiest thing a man can do.

“Enough talk.” He taps my ass, steering me to the center of the dance floor. “Come on, girl. Let’s have fun.”

Countless songs in and I’m a sweaty mess. We all are. Most of Zanders and Stevie’s teammates and friends haven’t left the dance floor, and the DJ finally caught on to the fact that all we want to hear is ass-grinding music.

My shoes have been long discarded, and I hope I find them again. They were cute. Expensive too.

The dance floor in general is a chaotic mess of music, sweat, and grinding bodies. This once black-tie affair has quickly turned into a personal nightclub of overdressed guests.

Even through the madness, I track where Ryan is, whether that’s on the outskirts sharing a drink with his dad or taking a quick step outside for air. He only lasted two songs before he took off and call me needy, but I want him out here again.

“Dance with me, Indigo!” Rio grabs me, slinging my arms over his shoulders, keeping his hands at a respectful height on my back.

Our hips move together, but it’s completely platonic. There’s enough distance between us to make that clear.

Through the dim lighting, loud music, and over Rio’s shoulder, I find Ryan watching me from the edge of the dance floor. Drink in one hand, the other in his pocket. The last time he caught me dancing with Rio was at the fall banquet. This time, even though I can see the heat flaming in his eyes, it’s matched by a self-assured stance.

He watches me with suffocating intensity, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips, and even as I move with Rio, I keep my attention locked on him.

Are we still pretending? I’d love to know.

His gaze rakes my body, slow and sweeping, not missing an inch and all I want to do is tempt my jealous fake boyfriend enough to get him out here. So, I do it. Turning around, I put my back to Rio’s front, swaying my hips to the beat, all while keeping my eyes locked on Ryan.

“Just so you know,” Rio says into my ear, loud enough to hear over the music. “I’m well aware you’re using me to make him jealous and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

I chuckle. “I was hoping you would be.”

“Fuck it.” Rio grabs my waist, pulling me into him. “But if he hits me for this, he better at least give me an autograph too.”

His hands overtake my hips, his mouth next to my ear, and not even ten seconds pass before a pair of expensive dress shoes stop in front of me. I track the legs they belong to, long and muscular, finding an unimpressed stare on Ryan’s handsome face.

“You can go,” he says to Rio, keeping his intense ocean eyes on me.

Rio’s hands shoot up in surrender. “She made me do it.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“I’m gonna…” Rio tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, taking off.

“Nice little show.”

“Thank you. Got you on the dance floor with me, didn’t it?”

I step my bare feet onto the tops of his shoes, slinging my arms around his neck. And even though this music is meant to grind and shake your ass to, he begins to move his feet, slow dancing with me once again.

“Do we need to add this to our deal? Put it on the fridge? Because as far as I’m concerned no one else gets to touch you.”

“Does that mean you’ll touch me?” Jesus. No filter tonight apparently.

Brows lift in surprise. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Yes. Yes, please.

“I’ve told you before,” he continues. “All you’ve got to do is say the word. Ask for my help, Indy.”

As tempting as it is to let the words slip out of my mouth, I hesitate.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just trying to figure out how good you are at acting.”

“You think I’m acting?”

“I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

His palm slides down my back, cupping my ass, and pulling my hips into his where I’m met with a bulge hitting just above the apex of my thighs. “Does this feel fake to you?”

My breath catches. “Jealousy turns you on?”

“Nah. No need to be jealous when I know what’s mine. I’m the one you’re going home with.”

As if every last feminist bone has left my body, I melt into him.

A beat passes, stares bouncing between eyes and lips. Fuck it, I don’t want to wait to get home.

Leaning up on my toes, I move towards his mouth, and I can sense him slanting down partway to meet me before my drunk best friend grabs my hand.

“Our ride is here! There’s room for you guys. Let’s go.”

Stevie.

Fuck.

I was about two seconds away from kissing her brother at her engagement party, and I’ve yet to tell her about my feelings for him. Sure, she gets my daily updates, but I doubt she realizes how serious I am in the majority of them.

As Zanders said, I don’t think she’d be upset, but Stevie has a track record of shitty friends using her to get close to her brother. I refuse to let her believe I’m one of them. I have to speak to her first. My friendship with her is far more important than the crush I’ve developed on my roommate.

Ryan’s expression matches mine, as if the exact sentiment went through his mind.

He steps back, creating distance. “I’ll grab our jackets.”

I say goodbye to the guys from the Raptors before heading out with Stevie.

“I barely saw you tonight,” she drunkenly reminds me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry. You were a little popular.”

“And you and my brother were a little obsessed with each other.”

I halt us in our steps, looking over to her, thankful to find a humorous glint in her blue-greens. “We were practicing. For Maggie’s wedding.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, unconvinced. “Dry-humping his leg was practice?”

“Now you take them seriously?! You never listen to my daily updates!”

She laughs. “Seeing you two tonight made it pretty clear that your daily updates are genuine. And in case tonight wasn’t just some pretend practice for Maggie’s wedding, and not that you need my permission, but I’m cool with it.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.” She pops her shoulders.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m violating our friendship or anything.”

“Oh God. Our friendship was violated from the first daily update.” She throws her hip into mine. “Of course, I don’t think that. You don’t have a bad bone in your body. You’re my best friend, Ind. All I want is for you to be happy. Just be careful with him, okay? He’s sensitive, even though he tries to hide it.”

Hearing the person who knows Ryan best call him sensitive, reaffirms what I already knew. He feels things. He’s emotional, even if he tries to play it off.

“I’m going to come over this week so you can give me all the details but give your girl a Cliff Notes version. How’d your flashy fiancé propose? I know it was extravagant as hell.”

“So over the top. Rented a private plane and flew us to different cities that mean something to us. Cities where we fell in love last year. Then in the most perfectly understated way, that felt as if it were meant just for me, he popped the question at home because he wanted Rosie to be there too.”

“Good God.” I throw my head back. “Book boyfriend material.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Just agree with me.”

Partway towards the exit we connect with Zanders, Maddison, and his wife. And all the way down the hall, in front of the exit, Ryan waits with my jacket slung over his shoulder and my heels dangling in his hand.

I wish I could take a picture and keep it forever, because he looks absolutely stunning with the slight neon glow of the exit sign illuminating above him. He helps me put my coat back on, delicately pulling my hair from the collar. Eyeing the heels in his hand, we silently and mutually agree that there’s no way in hell they’re going back on.

I’m completely sober, but I refuse to stuff my feet back in stilettos at this time of night.

The blacked-out SUV pulls up to the curb outside and without a moment of hesitation, Ryan scoops me up with one hand, my legs wrapping around his hips. I hold on to his neck to keep steady while he carries both me and my shoes to the car.

Leaving the third row to Zanders and Stevie, Maddison and his wife as well as Ryan and me pile into the middle. There are only three seats for four of us, so as soon as Ryan closes his door behind him, he pulls me onto his lap. Maddison’s wife is hauled into his, leaving the center seat empty.

“There’s room for you now, Indy,” Maddison says before distracting himself with the red-haired beauty he’s married to.

The engine starts and as we take off down the road, I move to slip off Ryan. But instead, one large hand grips my hip, keeping me in place.

“Don’t,” he grounds out in my ear.

The rest of the car is too distracted to notice I have yet to move, so I settle back into his chest. His palm slides over my thigh, and as I lean back, I turn to face him, finding hooded eyes and parted lips.

He’s turned on and goddamn so am I. This entire night has felt like foreplay.

I glide a hand around the back of his neck as he ever so slightly rocks my hips against him, pulling the softest, almost silent whimper from us both. His lips are centimeters from my own, and no part of me cares that others are in this car to see.

“I just want everyone to know,” Zanders announces from the backseat. “I joined the mile high club today.”

The car erupts with drunken laughter and congratulations.

“Dear God,” Ryan mutters for no one else to hear, shaking his head. “That’s one way to kill an erection.”

I giggle, leaning back into him.

“He got down on one knee, so I got on two,” Stevie cuts in with a casual shrug.

“That’s my girl!” I exclaim.

“Sir.” Ryan leans forward to the driver. “I’m going to jump out real quick so if you could pick up speed that’d be great.”

I give him a playful swat in the chest before he leans back into his seat, pulling me with him.

“That was a good pickup line, Vee.”

“Thank you.” She pops a shoulder. “I’ve been waiting all year to use it.”

“Do you have any pickup lines?” I quietly ask Ryan for no one else to hear.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’d rather pin you down than pick you up.”

My mouth gapes because that wasn’t cheesy at all. Not with the confidence in which he delivered it. Holy hell.

His laughs from my blatant shock.

“You have an early morning tomorrow?” he whispers.

“Yeah, and a long day.”

He exhales a deep sigh before placing a soft kiss on the top of my shoulder, leaving his chin to rest there. “Okay.”

By the time we make it home, I understand what that “okay” meant.

He’s not going to try anything. He’s going to let me sleep.

What he might not understand is that due to the hours of foreplay and only a single orgasm in eight months, there won’t be any sleeping for me tonight. At least, not unless something happens.

He closes and locks the apartment door behind him, leaving my shoes by the entryway. We shed our coats, hyperaware of the other’s proximity, standing in tension-filled silence.

“So, I um…” He tosses his thumb towards his bedroom. “Good night.”

He hesitates in the entryway for a moment, and like the coward I am, I stay silent.

Head down, he takes a step in that direction.

“Ryan,” I interject, halting him. “My dress. Will you unzip me?”

He takes his time moving the zipper down my body, as if knowing this is the end of our night and wanting to make it last. His breath lingers on the back of my neck, his fingers skim the spine of my back, and my body is ignited with goosebumps once I realize his proximity.

With the back of my dress hanging open, Ryan curves his palms around my hips, fingertips digging in. “There you go.”

He doesn’t leave, doesn’t move until I stay silent for far too long.

What am I doing? Why am I hesitating? If I’m being completely honest with myself, as much as I openly talk about sex, I haven’t been properly touched since Alex and that scares me. Getting naked, being at your most vulnerable with another person, can be terrifying, but I’m tired of Alex being my last and only. He doesn’t deserve the title of the last man to have that part of me.

“Ry.” I stop him at his door. He looks back to me, eyes desperate and begging. “Will you help me?”

His head falls back, exhaling a sigh of relief. “Fucking finally.”