I was shaking my head before he even finished that sentence because it made a kind of twisted sense.
Lissawasn'tthe type to cheat. She was as wholesome as they came. She was sweet and loving and open and honest. She didn't judge a soul. She didn't hurt people. I musthave donesomethingto make her feel like I was pushing her away.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to think through the booze.
Hell, we rarely had sex anymore. Maybe that was it. We still spoke and laughed together though. Life was just busy, that was all. We had different schedules. She was always tired early and I didn't get up to bed fast enough. I got distracted and we missed our chances…”It’s my fault,” I said with more finality.
I was going to say more. I didn’t know what but didn't get to find out because Ryan leaned over me, practically on top of me, physically dragging my hands from my face so that I was forced to look at him and meet his annoyed gaze.
“Kamran,” he said fiercely. “If Melissa is cheating on you, it's because she's a fuckingidiot. You'reperfect.”
He said it with such certainty that for a moment I actually believed it. I took a shuddering breath.
Ryan was right in my face. There was no getting away. No hiding.
Just his warm brown eyes watching me. Even through the haze of alcohol, they looked so sure. His hand on my chest was like a steadying weight.
Why did it feel like the most intimate moment I could remember having? I wasmarried.
To a woman who wascheating.
“How could she do this to me?”I whispered.
Then, probably because I was still a pathetic mess, and only inches from his face, Ryan leaned onto me even more, letting his weight press me down.
And for some reason, his lips brushed mine, slightly parted and soft.
An electric thrill shot straight through my body.
I gasped, my eyes widening as he pulled back.
For a moment, we just looked at each other, eyelids heavy with booze and whatever else was happening. Then he was pressing forward again, crushing his lips to mine harder this time, kissing me desperately, and for some, fucked up reason that I didn’t understand, I was kissing him back.
His tongue pressed into my mouth, and I moaned. My hands tangled into his hair while his moved frantically over my body, under my shirt, hiking it up as high as he could, his palms skating over my skin.
I had no clue how the fuck we had gotten here, but Ryan felt like Christmas morning or some other sappy, warm, feel good thing, and I held on tightly, continuing to kiss him back like his mouth held all the answers.
Ryan pulled off me. His hands were shaking, but he reached down, pressing against my zipper, making me realize that I was already hard. The heat of his palm seeped through the denim and I pushed my hips up without meaning to.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Kamran.”
I'd heard him say my name a million times, but never like this. Never in a way that made me want to be a fuckinggood boyfor him and the thought was so shocking that for a moment I stilled, a hint of reality filtering through my foggy brain.
Then, we both heard it; the jangling of keys in the front door.
We stared at each other, unmoving until the door creaked as it was opened and then, like two kids with our hands in the cookie jar, we scrambled apart.
I landed back in my seat, my heart pounding like a drum solo as Melissa entered the house.
“Hey guys,” she said, walking in from the entryway, and bending over the back of the couch to kiss my cheek and then ruffle Ryan’s hair. “How was the game?”
“Shit,” I managed to mumble.
“Aw, your team lost?”
“Badly,” Ryan said, jumping in for me.
My gaze flew to the screen where the after show was still playing. “Where were you?”
