Page 28 of The Most Perfect Wrong

I scoff. “Not at the moment. I love my dad, and we have a great relationship, but he’s not the monogamous type, if you get my drift. He cheated on my mom, and he’s been married five times. And now, when he’s seeing someone”—I make air quotes—”‘seriously,’ it’s hard to want to build a relationship with them because I know she’s just the flavor of the week, you know? Casey and I were super close to his third wife, Jill. I loved her—we still keep in touch. But it gets old falling in love with someone, only to have them disappear from your life a few yearslater.” I blow out a breath. “Geez. Sorry, I just dumped all that on you.”

Ryan laughs. “Hey, I asked.”

“But you didn’t ask for a monologue.”

“I enjoyed it. I’m glad you vomited your entire life story on me,” he says, grinning.

We get back to work, but I can’t help glancing at him every few minutes. He really is so cute. I honestly don’t know how he’s single. I keep my eyes on my computer while casually asking, “So… really, no girlfriend?”

I can feel his eyes on me, burning my skin with the intensity. “Nope. No girlfriend.”

“Not the relationship type of guy, or what?” I keep my focus on my screen.

“I wouldn’t say that… I’m just not dating at the moment. Are we asking more personal questions now?”

I allow myself to look over. “I guess. I mean, isn’t that how you get to know someone?”

He grins. “Good, because I’ve been dying to ask you about your tattoo. You know… the one on your ass.”

I purse my lips to prevent myself from smiling. “I don’t know if that’s an appropriate question to ask at work.”

“Why not? You’re asking about my relationships. I can’t ask about a tattoo? It’s not like I asked you to show it to me. I can close my eyes and see it anytime I want to.” He grins again, and my God, his smile could melt anyone. He closes his eyes. “Ah, I can see it right now. Those little words… two, I believe, they’re definitely on the right cheek.”

“Okay. Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Open your eyes, Ryan.”

“No way in hell. Not until you tell me.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but you have to open your eyes first.” He opens them with a winning smirk on his face. “It says beach bum. And it was something my sister and I did impulsively when I turned twenty-one and I was staying at my dad’s. Satisfied? Now stop picturing my ass. Coworkers aren’t supposed to know these things.”

He sits back, folding his arms with the most cocky grin on his face. “Oh, I know a lot more than that, Cooper… I’ve seen you naked, remember?” He leans forward, looking around to make sure no one is close by, even though he knows we’re practically the only ones here. His voice drops to a low whisper. “And I’ve heard those sounds you make when you’re about to… you know.”

A tingly sensation spreads through my entire body as he locks eyes with me. My body reacts before I can stop it, the tension between us becoming almost unbearable. But he’s not the only one who’s seen the other naked.

I lean in too, lowering my voice to match his. “You sure remember an awful lot about that night, Ryan…” My lips curve into a playful grin. “You know, I can picture you naked too. And I remember the sounds you made that night as well.” I bite my bottom lip for effect, keeping my eyes locked on his.

His smile falters for a split second, and I revel in the brief look of surprise before he regains his composure.

“Really?” he says, his voice still smooth but with a hint of something that feels like a challenge.

I nod slowly. “Mhm. I have a pretty good memory.”

His eyes darken, his smirk returning but this time with more edge. “Yeah? You like what you see?”

I freeze for a second, my heart racing at the shift in his tone. His words send a confusing bolt of electricity through my veins, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he’s getting to me.

He leans in closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Go ahead, Cooper. Close your eyes. Picture it. It doesn’t bother me—in fact, I quite enjoy the fact that you picture me naked.”

I swallow, my throat dry. He’s definitely taking this further than I expected, but there’s a thrill in the way he’s challenging me. My heart pounds in my chest, and I know I should shut it down, push him away. But we’ve only just scratched the surface of the sexual tension, and it’s too tempting not to explore. I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to look away.

“Is that what you do?” I ask, my voice quieter, but steady. “Close your eyes and picture me?”

His smile widens. “More often than you think.”

Did he just admit to picturing me naked? Has he jerked off thinking about me? God, that turns me on. I stare at his lips, remembering what a great kisser he is—warm, controlled, commanding.I am engaged.I am engaged. I repeat it like a mantra. But the part of me that should stop this is nowhere to be found.

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