That is until I’m distracted once again, my attention falling on a little white bookshelf sitting next to Ryan’s. An empty cardboard box and single screwdriver lay tossed aside on the floor.
“Did you build me a bookshelf?” I squeak out, trying to swallow down the emotion sitting in my throat.
He was home, thinking of me, while I was being selfish, thinking of me too.
Blue-green eyes dart up from where they were mesmerized on our connection, finding me staring over his shoulder.
He grasps my chin, forcing my attention back on him. “Focus on me.” That’s met with another searing kiss, my body rolling against the muscles in his leg. “Focus on us. Fuck,” he exhales against my lips, sharing breaths before his eyes drop south. “Are you going to come on my leg, Ind?”
Grinding, I moan into his mouth.
Yes, I’m going to come because if I wasn’t close already, now I’m teetering on the edge, ready to fall. I’d love to think I could disconnect sex from emotion, but I can’t, and knowing Ryan was thinking of me tonight, has me coming undone.
I pull his shirt up, needing to feel the warmth of his stomach, my fingers whispering against the hard planes of his muscles until they tighten and coil under my touch.
He hisses an inhale through his teeth. “Keep touching me.”
His words are just as desperate as mine, silently begging me to want him.
My palms slide around his back, under his shirt, holding him to me as close as possible. He’s warm and hard and so perfect it hurts.
In reply, Ryan presses his thigh firmly against my clit, rubbing, and my body’s response is immediate and electrifying.
His name rolls off my lips like a desperate prayer as the beginning waves of my orgasm rip through me. Needy fingers turn into white knuckles grasping at his shirt, hoping it has the strength to keep me upright. Euphoria sparks in the back of my eyes, stringing me along as wave after wave flutters through me.
I can barely focus on Ryan’s admiring gaze watching me work through my release, but it’s there, nonetheless, watching me unravel for him.
Catching my breath, my head falls, finding the wet spot I left on his pants but unable to care in the slightest.
After almost eight months, all it took was Ryan’s fucking leg to make me come.
Grasping my chin once again, he kisses me more tenderly than before. Reverently. Passionately.
“Next time you decide you need help with your…situation,” he murmurs against my lips with an aching rasp. “Ask me.”
With that, he leaves me dazed and satisfied, slumped against the entryway wall before he closes his bedroom door behind him.
20
RYAN
As of the last four years, basketball has been my entire existence and I have the privilege to play in the NBA. I’m grateful for my opportunities, yes, but I’ve never disliked my job more than I do right now.
My profession took me away from home and put me on an airplane just twelve hours after my Indy came all over my leg. Twelve hours after I told her the next time she needs to come, I want her to ask for my help.
It’s been three days and we haven’t spoken since.
I’m not sure if I freaked her out or got her thinking, but we’ve been flirting in our own way for weeks. She’s blatantly told me she’s attracted to me multiple times, so I’m not going to lie, I was half expecting her to knock on my door and ask for another orgasm right then.
I’ve been celibate for more than two years, but I’ve imagined how her legs would mold around my waist or how it’d feel to slide against her sweat-soaked skin since the day she walked into my apartment, so there’s no way in hell I was going to let someone else get the job without throwing my hat in the ring.
Making sure she gets hers doesn’t have to change that for me. I can take care of her in that department without compromising on the rules I’ve set in place for myself. In fact, we could add her orgasms to our fake dating arrangement if she wants. I’ll make sure she comes so many times she won’t be able to see straight as long as I’m the only one with the privilege.
Because trust me, after the night I pinned her to the wall and made her come, there’s no way in hell another man is going near her without me losing my goddamn mind.
Or going to prison.
She thinks she’s broken. Broken. As if her ex-boyfriend wasn’t already the first name on my shit list, the fact that he made this woman think she’s anything less than perfection personified has me close to seeking him out and destroying his life by any means possible.
An afternoon game in San Antonio got us to Dallas early enough for the boys to take it easy and have the evening off. I, however, have been in my hotel room watching game film since we landed, and I’ll stay right here until our morning practice tomorrow, inevitably checking my phone every thirty minutes for a text from my roommate.
A page full of notes and a quarter and a half into some Dallas film, my hotel phone rings. The sound is obnoxiously loud, and there’s no way to really silence the thing without answering. Unfortunately, even as secure as these hotels are, at least once a road trip, someone from the front desk will call, needing absolutely nothing other than wanting to hear me speak on the other end.
Exasperated and wanting to get this over with, I answer the phone. “Yeah?”
“What a greeting.”
“Ethan? Why are you calling me on the hotel line?”
“Because you ignored me on your cell. The boys are grabbing a round at the hotel bar. Let’s go.”
“I don’t—”
“Private bar. No fans. I’ll even threaten the bartender with an NDA if you want.”
“I’m in the middle of watching game film.”
“And it’ll still be there after you hang with the team for an hour. Ryan, this is the kind of stuff Ron is talking about. It’s the perfect opportunity to bond with the guys and you’re at the hotel. You can go back to your room when you’re ready.”
Before I can deny him one more time, my cell begins buzzing on my bed. With the hotel phone tucked under my cheek, I reach across the mattress to find Indy’s name on the caller ID. I haven’t heard from her in days, and she’s never once called me.
“Ethan, I’ve got to go. Indy is calling me.”
He laughs without humor. “Oh, so you’ll answer your phone for her but not for me.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a lot cuter than you. Talk to you later.”
Simultaneously, I swipe to answer my cell while hanging up the hotel phone.
“Indy?” There’s too much excitement in my voice, so I clear my throat and settle myself. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Hi. Sorry. Are you busy? Am I bothering you?”
A chuckle escapes me. “No. But why are you being so formal?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitates. “I guess I’m nervous.”
Taking a seat on my bed, I lean against the headboard. “Why would you be nervous?”
“It’s just… I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
There’s a small smile sliding across my lips from the unsure tone in my confident roommate’s voice. Nervous Indy is endearing.
“I haven’t heard from you either, Ind. I was giving you some space. Putting the ball in your court after I offered to help you come. After I did make you come.”