I can’t last much longer—she feels too good. Her teeth bite down against my shoulder as we hurtle toward the finish line, and when we reach it, I explode. Together, we sag against the wall, my hands holding her up, small puffs of her breath against my neck are sending jolts throughout my nerve system.
When I finally let her down, she’s grinning.
“God, you are insatiable,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “Was that good for you, sweetheart?”
She nips my lip. “What do you think?”
I laugh, holding her against me, loving the way her naked body feels against mine. I’ve never been a cuddler—again, it leads to attachment too quickly—but Andi is different. Perfect.
“I’m going to shower,” I say, maybe a bit too abruptly, needing some space. “Make yourself at home, climb in bed, raid the fridge, whatever.”
“Is everything okay?” Her eyebrows crinkle in concern.
She heard the shortness in my voice. Shit. I give her a long, lazy kiss to show her just how right everything is. “Some of us need a break, that’s all. We’re not all as energetic as you,” I say, heading to the shower. I stop in the doorway to the bedroom. “And Andi?”
She’s climbed into bed and looks up in surprise. “Yes?”
“I’ll be thinking of you.”
She turns red, but doesn’t let the embarrassment get to her. “Let me remind you that I’m not the one who needs a break, Mr. Pierce.”
I turn away, at a loss for words.
For the second, or third, or fourth time today, Andi Peretti has made me speechless.
CHAPTER 30
Andi
I’m woken by a kiss on my cheek.
“Sweetheart,” a voice murmurs against my ear. “I have to get going. You can keep sleeping if you’d like.”
I pull the pillow over my head out of habit. I’m a college student—resisting mornings is what we do.
“Babe, my flight leaves in just over an hour, I’ve really gotta run.”
The urgency in Ryan’s voice draws me out from under the pillow. The most emotion I can manage on my face is a raised eyebrow. “Why?”
He laughs, even though I’m not trying to be funny. I’m simply not a morning person. Apparently I’m especially not a morning person after a night—and morning—of fooling around in bed.
It didn’t help that we slipped in one last go-round before the sunlight came up, a new record for me. Turns out I like setting new records, I just don’t like returning to real life afterward.
“No…” I moan. “Stay.”
I’ve never felt so exhausted. I feel like I’ve been hit with a sack of bricks—a big, beautiful sack of brick abs attached to Ryan Pierce.
“Babe—”
“Oh, flight!” It finally registers. He’s leaving for Minnesota today, and I’m holding him up. “I am so sorry. I forgot!”
I fumble with the sheets, which is less than productive. My feet tangle, and I’m a hot mess as I fall out of bed and land in an oddly contorted yoga pose on the floor.
“Sorry,” I say. “Not a morning person.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed,” he says, reaching over to scoop me up. Once he plants me on my feet, he kisses my forehead. “I promise I didn’t plan things this way; I really, really wish I could stay.”
“It’s fine. We’re friends with benefits.” I rise up onto my tiptoes to kiss him back. “Breakfast not required.”
“Breakfast is desired, however.”
While I’m standing there with hair that appears to have been electrocuted, he apparently wakes up looking ready for a media interview. If I’m not mistaken, he’s showered again—his hair is damp and curly, falling in soft loops onto his forehead. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater that make him look like a cross between a Ralph Lauren model and the hockey player he is.
I look down in horror. Apparently I never found that shirt of Ryan’s, or if I did, it ended up on the floor with the rest of my clothes. I dive for my underwear first, shimmy into those, and then begin the search for my bra.
After a moment, I look up from examining the underbelly of Ryan’s bed to find it dangling from his fingers.
“Looking for this?” he asks. “Come and get it.”
“I thought you had to leave…urgently.”
“I do, which is why I was about to tell you to take your time, but then you bent over and I got all distracted. Don’t blame me.”
“My car!” I exclaim. “It’s in the parking lot on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“It’s fine there,” he says. “Boxer will take you up to retrieve it.”
“Boxer?”
“Big guy, missing a tooth—”
“I know who he is,” I say. “But why is he bringing me to my car?”
“Because I called him and told him to get his ass over here because I don’t want you paying for an Uber when it was my ass who dragged your ass back here.”
“I didn’t mind the dragging,” I say with a shrug. “Fair’s fair. I can Uber.”
“He’s waiting outside. Just leave the keys on the table when you’re ready to go, and Lawrence will lock up—”
“I’m ready,” I say, one leg still outside of my jeans. “Or I’m almost ready.”
“I’ll just leave you the keys—”
“Nope, I’m good!” In all honesty, I don’t want to be trusted with the keys to Ryan’s apartment, even for a short time. Too much could go wrong—I could lose them, break something, decide I love his bed and shower more than mine and never actually leave this place… “Let’s go.”
He clears his throat.
I glance down, realizing that I put my arm through the head hole of my shirt and things are all off balance. I make the necessary adjustments, ignore the fact that my hair looks like a bird’s nest, and march out of the room.
Ryan locks the door, and I see a huge SUV on the street—Boxer, I’m guessing.
“Is he here for both of us?” I ask.
“No, I have someone picking me up. They’ll be here in a second.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Boxer? I swear I can get a ride.”
“It’s fine,” he says. “Really. I’d love to see you longer—I mean, you can ride with me to the airport if you want, but I figured you have things to do.”
“Right,” I say, even though I don’t really have things to do. It feels too clingy to say otherwise. Even so, I have no classes, nothing until three this afternoon when I have to report to Peretti’s for work. “Well, have a safe flight.”
“Andi…” He pauses. “I had a really nice time last night.”
“Me too.”
He takes my hand in his, looking at the back of it as if there’s a message written there. Apparently he sees nothing because he sighs and brings his eyes to mine. “You’re coming to the wedding, right? Without a doubt?”
“Of course,” I say. “I owe it to your Ferrari.”
At first he looks dismayed, then he must realize that I’m joking because he smiles. “Whatever the reason, I’ll take it.”
There’s a moment of silence, a heavy moment in which both of us try to decide if there’s something else to say—at least, that’s what I’m doing. Do I tell him I’ll miss him? It’s the truth, but I’m not sure what the protocol is for our agreement.
“I’ll miss you,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
I let out a breath. “I’ll miss you too. I mean, after last night…I’ll definitely miss you. Let me just say, I had no clue what I was going to be missing.”
He looks proud of himself, and for good reason, too.
I follow his eyes as he watches my face, trails his gaze down to my lips, and then opens his mouth to say something else.
“Don’t worry,” I say before he reminds me that we’re just friends again. “I’m not attached or whatever. I just meant I had a good time.”