Page 48 of Playboy For Hire

Tonight felt like a dream. Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow and discover it had been. But for right now, Ryder was in my bed, warm and solid, and I was in heaven.

I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face.

9

RYDER

Iwoke up with my head on one pillow, my arm flung protectively around another. I blinked sleepily. The light coming in through the cracks in the curtains gave the room a dim glow. The space was much bigger than my bedroom in the rowhouse I shared with Raf and Amir.

Where was I?

I turned my head to look towards the door, which was when I realized my arm wasn’t thrown around a pillow, it was thrown around someone’s chest.

A man’s chest.

Quinn’s chest.

My eyes went wide. Last night came pouring back.

Quinn had asked me if I wanted to stay the night. I hadn’t been able to sleep. I’d come into his room, sat on his bed, and then—

And then.

My cheeks flooded with heat as I remembered what we’d done. That single kiss had led to so much more. And fuck, it had been so hot.

I paused for a moment, thinking that over. Shouldn’t I feel weird or something, about hooking up with a guy? And not just any guy, but Quinn. My friend. Did that make it better, or worse?

I lifted my head off the pillow and studied him. His eyes were closed, and the ever-present worry lines between his brows were smooth. His lips were slightly parted, his head stretched back on the pillow, the long lines of his neck exposed. His Adam’s apple was right there, and I had the strongest urge to reach across and touch it—with my tongue. To put my hands on either side of his face and kiss him awake.

That thought sent even more heat to my cheeks—and to other parts of my body.

Fuck.

This wasn’t good.

Not the part about me being attracted to a guy. That was fine. Unexpected, and maybe I’d have some identity crisis later, but right now, I had more important matters to attend to, like the fact that hooking up with Quinn was a recipe for disaster.

There was a reason I was single. A reason I didn’t have a girlfriend to complain about my job. And it was because every single person I got close to ended up disappointed in me.

There were only so many times you could hear people say the same thing over and over—you’re so unserious—you need more direction—what do you actually want to do with your life—doyou plan on skating by on smiles and washboard abs forever—before you start to think they might have a point.

After Molly had dumped me, I’d just stopped trying. It had never been hard for me to meet someone at a bar and take her home, on nights when I needed a release. But I was always clear that it was just for one night.

It was easier not to get hurt this way.

The problem was, no matter how right my exes had been in the past, I hadn’t actually grown or changed. I’d always assumed I’d figure something out by the end of college. But here I was, months from graduation, and I hadn’t figured out a damn thing. I wasn’t very academic. Last summer’s internship was supposed to turn into a job offer, but they’d ended up letting me go early—and I couldn’t even blame them.

But Quinn was the opposite of me. He was smart, and educated, and fully employed at a real, actual adult job. He didn’t just graduate college, he’d graduated law school. There were a few plaques in his living room thanking him for his service on big projects.

He would never be interested in me, not once he knew me better. And I didn’t need to be kicked while I was down.

I wasn’t sure if I liked Quinn as a friend or as something more. But I did know the surest way toloseQuinn as a friend was to let this go any further. Because once he knew me better, the attraction would fade—and it was always so awkward, trying to be friends with someone you used to hook up with.

If I wanted him in my life—and I did—then this couldn’t happen again.

With a silent sigh, I pulled away from him and pulled my boxers back into place. I slipped out of bed as slowly and quietly as possible. I froze, halfway to the bedroom door, when he rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep. But he didn’t wake up, and I was able to sneak out the door.

That was an ugly word. Sneak. But it was the only honest way to describe what I was doing. I dressed hurriedly in the living room, then found a notepad and pen in the kitchen.

---