“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Sure. We’re even.”
“Good.” He offers me a smile and a reassuring squeeze of my thigh. “Let’s go home.”
17
INDY
Indy
Daily update—that kiss you saw last week was fake, but I still had to change my underwear when I got home. So, kind of real?
Stevie
If I help you move out, will the daily updates from hell stop?
I’m too far in, sis. Reminder—I warned you.
“And you’re sure?”
“I am. I checked with our provider yesterday. Our insurance policy doesn’t cover fertility treatments, and that won’t be changing at the beginning of the year. That will have to be an out-of-pocket expense.”
Falling back onto my bed, I sigh a defeated exhale. “Thank you for looking into it.”
“Of course, Indy. Have a good day.”
The head of the airline’s human resources department hangs up the phone before I grab a pillow off the side of my bed and silently scream into it.
Goddammit. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.
Last week, I went to dinner with the flight crew while on the road for work and spilled the details of why I was wanting to earn some extra cash. One of my coworkers could’ve sworn our insurance packages were changing with the year to include fertility treatment benefits, but unfortunately HR finally got back to me this morning to snuff that hopeful flame.
I’m making enough with my salary now that Ryan isn’t allowing me to pay rent, but it’d be nice to offer him something. Honestly, I wish he’d take even a little bit so I could maybe go shopping for a new outfit and not feel guilty that my best friend’s brother is giving me a free ride while I blow some cash on fun.
Heading into the kitchen, I turn on the sink and get to work. Ryan’s been on a weeklong road trip, and I somewhat cleaned the mess I made of the apartment, although I’m sure it’s not to his standards. But last night I got burnt out and left the dishes until this morning. Honestly, I’m surprised Ryan didn’t start doing them when he got home from the airport around three AM.
He left on a road trip the morning after that kiss, and if you think I’ve thought of anything else since, you’d be sorely mistaken. The way his hands took charge, claiming me, one on my hip, one through my hair. The way his lips were commanding, but soft enough to yield to mine. Most of all, the reason he did it—because he didn’t want Alex to think he’d come out ahead.
Sure, it was all for show, but good luck trying to convince my body of that. If that was a fake kiss, I’m not sure I could handle knowing what a real one feels like.
Seeing Alex was a painful dose of reality. I had the privilege of forgetting about him until that night. Well, maybe I didn’t completely forget about him because the damage he’s done feels like a deep scar that’ll never heal, constantly opening for the rest of my life, but he has moved to the back of my mind over the last few weeks.
That night though, seeing him, realizing he views me as disposable, as a forgettable piece of his life when he had been my priority for so long, has made me desperate to try to move on the way he has.
If he can live his life like I didn’t mean anything to him, why can’t I? Why is he the last man I’ve been with? Why shouldn’t I be able to disconnect sex and love? I’ve never done it before, but I need to try. It’s only been seven months since I was living the life I thought was my forever. My heart shouldn’t be ready to move on, but that doesn’t mean my body can’t.
Maybe a physical relationship will flush him out of my system and there’s only one man I want to test that theory with.
As if he could hear my carnal thoughts summoning him, Ryan’s bedroom door opens while I’m mid-load of the dishwasher. I’m bent over, ass out, but since everything has been so fake between us, it shouldn’t be a problem for him. The attraction is all pretend, right?
When I look back, I’m pleasantly surprised to find his blue-green eyes hooded over and staring at my ass. My shorts are a little too short, but that’s what he gets.
That’s right, take it in, Roomie. And good luck blaming the drool dripping down your chin on acting.
But then I see the rest of him, my eyes coasting down his bare chest because the motherfucker is in nothing but a towel, water still dripping down his body, fresh out of the shower.
He leans against his doorframe, corded arms crossed over his damp chest, stupid fucking dimples concaving with a smirk. “Indigo Ivers, are you doing…dishes?”
I roll my eyes. “Is this what your wet dreams look like, Shay?”
“Essentially.”
He pops off the doorframe, sauntering into the kitchen, and the rarely seen smug smile across his lips tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Where are your clothes?”
“In my room?”
“Why aren’t you wearing them?”
“Because this is my house.”
I feel him behind me, watching me as I swirl a sponge around a dirty bowl. His hands brace the counter on either side of me, his chest to my back, and the heat from his shower radiates off him, warming me.
He’s naked under that towel, and every part of me wants to lean back and feel his body on mine.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Adding this image into your spank bank for your next lonely night on the road?”
His chest rumbles. “Yes.” His palm glides against my lower back as he backs away, giving me space. “Good morning, by the way.”
I swallow down the low moan from his simple touch. “Morning. How was your road trip?”
“It was all right. We split. Two wins, two losses. You’re leaving on yours today?”
Putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, I close it and turn to face him. Perfectly lean muscles across a broad chest, obliques tight and curving downward, creating a visual path I’d love to follow. Dusting of dark hair under his navel and—dear God, get it together, woman.
He laughs, breaking my trance. I love the sound but hate the haughtiness of it.
“Go put some goddamn clothes on.”
“You were the one who was obsessing over me being shirtless the first time you came over here.”
“Yeah, well, that was before I realized how annoying you were.”
A thumb dusts his lower lip as his wandering gaze works its way over my bare legs. He must know what he’s doing to me, and honestly, it’s not fair. He’s already turned me down once.
“Ryan.” I cock my head. “Really. What are you doing?”
“Just playing the game you started.” He pushes off the counter, taking two steps towards me. His index finger hooks under the hem of my shorts, igniting my skin with goosebumps. “Wearing these itty-bitty shorts and bending over in my kitchen. Don’t act all innocent, Blue.”