“Really?” I arch a brow. “How so?”
He tilts his head, flashing me a teasing smirk. “Seeing as I haven’t been with anyone in over five months, I’d hardly say I ‘fuck anything that moves’.”
My eyes widen so much they might actually fall out of my skull. “FiveMonths?”
Ryan shoots me a glare. “Say it louder, will you? I don’t think people in Connecticut heard you.”
I let out a laugh, covering my mouth. “I’m sorry, I just…” I trail off, still staring at him, trying to process what he just said.
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs dramatically, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “My balls hurt all the time.”
I snicker, heat crawling up my neck as my alcohol-fueled brain conjures up a very vivid image of Ryan—frustrated as hell, sitting alone in his room, his hand wrapped around his hard?—
Nope. Nope.Abort mission.
I shake my head quickly, trying to rid myself of the visual. “Is there a reason why you’re… out of commission?”
Ryan scoffs. “No logical reason. Just… my fucked-up head,” he replies with a shrug. “All I can fucking think about is hockey, school, and my future. Girls are on the backburner for now, at least they were until…” His eyes catch mine, and he stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line.
Until what?
Until me?
The flutter in my stomach doesn’t help the ache growing between my legs.God, I need that rebound. “Then maybe we should scratch each other’s itches.”
He snorts, shaking his head like I’ve lost my mind. “Funny.”
“I’m not joking,” I say, my frown deepening. “I want a rebound, but the idea of sleeping with a random guy freaks me out. You want someone to get you out of that dry spell.” I lift my shoulders. “Seems like a win-win to me.”
Ryan stares at me, mouth open, eyes locked onto mine. Then, slowly, he lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Holy fuck, you’re drunker than I thought.”
“I’m not drunk,” I insist, though my words come out slurred. He raises a brow, giving me a dry look. I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Alright, maybe I’m a little drunk, but I mean it.”
Ryan exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella, you know we can’t. Your brother?—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” I cut him off with a roll of my eyes. “You look at me and see my brother, and it makes you feel guilty. I get it.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they’re the truth. Why did I think this time would be any different? “Forget I even said anything.”
I turn, hoping I can escape, find Aurora, and pretend this conversation never happened. But before I can take a step, his hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back. Ryan spins me around, and suddenly, I’m trapped against the wall, his body pressing into mine. The air between us thickens, my pulse quickens, and I can feel every inch of him against me.
A gasp escapes my lips when I feel his hard length brush against my stomach, and my body shivers involuntarily. His dark eyes lock onto mine. He’s taller than me by a few good inches, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze, my breath catching in my throat.
His hand reaches out, his fingers curling into one of my curls, tugging it gently. “Once again, you’re fucking wrong, Isabella,” he says, his voice low and damn near sinful. A shiver runs down my spine. “Your brother is the last thing I think about when I look at you,” he grits out, and oh god, he smells so good. Has he always smelled like this? My brain goes foggy, my legs turning to jelly, and my heart is pounding in my chest. “That’s the fucking problem.”
I swallow hard, my eyes still locked on his. “Ryan…”
My eyes flutter closed as my body sways, and I stumble slightly. But before I can even react, his hands are there, gripping my waist, steadying me.
“Fuck. Alright, time for bed,” he mutters.
I shake my head, a groan escaping me. I don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay right here, with him, and figure out what just happened between us. “No.”
“Yes,” Ryan says, his voice turning serious. “You’re drunk as hell and about to pass out. Christ, I should’ve cut you off earlier.” His hands settle on my hips, as he tries to straighten me up. “C’mon, where’s your roommate?”
I glance around the crowded room, my gaze landing on Aurora in the middle of the dance floor. She’s moving like she’s the only one here, arms flailing wildly, completely lost in the music. I envy her—how effortlessly she lets go, how she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone here judging her.
“Shit,” Ryan mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “I can’t carry two drunk girls home.” His eyes flick toward the back booth, spotting someone. “Cole,” he calls out. “Help me out, man. Isabella and her roommate are both trashed, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting them in a cab alone.”
Cole, who’s lounging in the booth with a girl draped over him, barely glances up before shaking his head. “Yeah, not fucking happening,” he says with a bitter laugh, his lip curling as he steals a glance at Aurora on the dancefloor. “She’s a snake. She’ll bite me.”
