Page 71 of The Most Perfect Wrong

He swallows, hard.

The elevator dings, and I step back, patting his chest like I’ve already won. “Good luck getting Liz to take me off your mind tonight. I’ll be waiting to hear all about it tomorrow,” I say, biting my lip to hold back a grin, my voice dripping with seduction.

I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, he grabs my arm and pulls me back, slamming the “close door” button with his fist. The doors shut, and in an instant, he’s pressing me against the wall, one hand pinning my wrist above my head, the other gripping my waist. His breathing is ragged, mirroring mine, his eyes wild and dark, blazing with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. Our lips hover close—if either of us moved even an inch, they’d meet.

Time seems to stand still. My head spins, and I can’t bear the anticipation. My free hand glides along his bicep as I tilt my head up, letting my lips brush against his as I murmur, “Ryan…”

His eyes squeeze shut, a low growl escaping as he pulls back just enough to mutter, “What the fuck are you doing, Cooper?” His voice is tight, raw with frustration. “You can’t keep fucking with me like this.”

His hand slides down my arm, his fingertips skimming my collarbone, grazing over the curve of my throat. My pulse hammers against his touch, and I can’t catch my breath. This is pure, agonizing torture in the best way. His finger trails lower, just skimming the edge of my bra, lighting fire under my skin. Instinctively, I arch toward him, my chest brushing his hand as his hard-on presses against me. Every inch of me is screaming for more of his touch—of him.

But just as quickly, he pulls back—just far enough that I can’t reach him. He’s taunting me, leading this push and pull like it’s a game he’s determined to win. His hand slides to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw. He leans in, whispering against my lips. “God, you turn me on.” And then, in one swift motion, his lips crash into mine, rough and demanding. He doesn’t just kiss me—he claims me, seizing control. It’s possessive. It’s fierce. It’s sexy as hell.

I forget to breathe.

His tongue sweeps across mine, his mouth crushing against me, deeper, hungrier. His hand finds my waist, pulling me roughly to him—his cock pressing perfectly into me, sending a surge of desire low in my stomach. I push into him, and he groans, a sound that sends shivers racing down my spine. His hand slides lower, fingers brushing my upper thigh, his thumb grazing that sensitive spot between my leg and the pulsing ache.

My breath catches, my body arching instinctively, desperate for more.

He obliges—barely. His fingers skim over the sensitive center, light as a feather, tracing the inseam of my pants with maddening slowness, teasing me to the point of trembling, nearly undoing me. I’m shaking, aching for him to go further, to let this spiral into exactly what we both want. A whimper slips from my lips, unbidden. “Ryan.”

But then he stops, his eyes meeting mine, dark and intense, his chest rising and falling as if he’s as affected as I am.

“Unless you’ve broken up with Brad…” His voice is low, dangerous, trembling with restraint. “Don’t. Fuck. With me, Cooper.”

He slams the “open door” button, and before I can say a word, he storms out, leaving me up against the elevator wall, breathless, stunned, and completely shaken. His scent lingers, and my heart races. Every nerve in my body feels wired—restless, unsatisfied, and craving more.

“Holy shit,” I whisper shakily. “Holy fucking shit.” I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I grip the elevator wall, my heart still pounding. The doors close, and I don’t even care where I’m going as the elevator rises.What the hell was that?I’m delirious, dizzy, still turned on.Jesus, I’m heading into my holiday break with that mindfuck? I’m so totally screwed.

Chapter 22

RYAN

I’m still reeling when I pull into the parking garage, with no memory of the drive back. The entire way, my mind replayed every second with Cooper, layering it with a hundred what ifs. Walking away just now was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My body’s a mess—cock raging, mind spinning, desire coursing through me like fire. I had to pry myself off her.

I sit gripping the steering wheel, trying to shake off the charge she left me with. What the hell is she doing? She just tore through every professional line without looking back. When she brushed her lips against mine—I was gone. If she wants me this much, why won’t she break up with Brad? Does she really plan to leave him? The not knowing… it’s going to kill me.

And now I’m supposed to go meet some random woman for drinks? That’s the last thing I want. After my talk with Leo on Sunday, I decided it was time to move on. Part of me hoped the date would make her jealous, and it seems like it did. Shit. I can’t believe I kissed her. I crossed the damn line. I’m only barely better than Beth’s boss. I’m practically having an emotional affair with Cooper. And I don’t know if that’s any better than the physical act.

Fuck.

When I finally step out of the car, the cold air hits me, grounding me for a second, but it’s not enough to keep my mind free from her. No. She’s a virus that’s planted herself in my brain, one that’ll slowly take me over through the holiday break.Not seeing her, but having that last encounter seared into my memory? I shake my head, muttering another “fuck” as I open the door to Leo’s.

* * * * * ?* * * * *

I follow Leo through the bar to our reserved seating, his hand resting on the small of Vivian’s back, a silent claim daring any man to make a pass at her. Leo’s one of the nicest, most generous men I know, but he strikes me as someone you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of—though I doubt anyone’s ever needed to find out. He exudes wealth and seems to be both liked and respected everywhere we go.

We’re at a members-only club,Tapped Out, where the dress code is strictly cocktail attire. Leo and Vivian reserved a larger space tonight for some close friends for a holiday get-together. Michael and his wife Stella will be here, along with Adam, Leo’s good friend Meredith, and her partner, Piper, who I’ve met a handful of times. We’re led to a corner with a large, rounded booth with a plush sofa. It’s dim, and in every corner there are dancers—not strippers but acrobatic performers who blend into the club’s upscale ambiance.

I have yet to see a cocktail waitress who isn’t attractive. They’re all wearing short, sexy black dresses that push their tits up. This place is classy—movie kind of classy. Average guys wouldn’t even know it exists, but for guys like Leo? Of course, he’s a member. I’m sure it comes with a hefty price, too. It’s a far cry from my usual scene, but I’m ready to take it all in.

Most of our employees have been out this week, and Cooper left yesterday. I fly back to Arizona tomorrow for the holidays, but tonight, I’m excited to unwind here with friends.

Leo lights a cigar, passing one to me, and Michael and Adam take one too. We order another round, and about an hour in, I’m on my third drink, feeling the buzz settle in, ready to kick off the holiday break officially.

“Ryan, that cocktail waitress keeps checking you out, and she’s gorgeous,” Vivian says with a subtle gesture toward a stunning brunette by the bar. The waitress catches me looking and arches a brow, a smile playing on her lips.

I grin, shaking my head. “You’re right, Viv. She’s gorgeous, but that’s just not the type of girl I’m looking for.”

---