Page 86 of The Most Perfect Wrong

“I do love it,” she admits.

“And you’re an incredible leader.” I pause, letting that settle. “I bet you don’t even know that I’ve spoken to everyone on your team about you. They all respect you. They think you’re amazing. And that says a lot about the kind of person you are.”

“They do?”

“Damn right they do.” I brush my thumb along her cheek, watching her search my face for any hint of insincerity. She won’t find it—not here. “I have fun with you. That one matters. And let’s not forget that you’re an insanely good kisser, among other things.” I grin.

“And most importantly,” I pause, letting the words linger, “I feel something when I’m with you. Something I can’t explain.” I chuckle, trying to ease the weight of the moment. “Maybe it’s vibes, who knows?” She laughs as tears run down her cheeks. I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You wanna talk about what happened? Or are you still too drunk?”

“Hmm. Not gonna lie, the room still spins when I close my eyes. But I’m not drunk. I heard everything you said, and I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Yeah?” I smile softly. “You going to be alright?”

“Yeah.” She reaches for my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine. “Thanks, Ryan.” Her expression shifts, becoming serious as her eyes search mine. “All I’ve ever wanted is for someone to see me—all of me… through to my soul and”—her voice drops to a soft whisper—”and to love me… all the way down to my bones.” Her fingers lightly toy with mine. Sheswallows, seeming a bit overwhelmed. “And I don’t know… for some reason, I feel like you do.”

I let her words sink in, feeling the depth of hurt behind them, even if I don’t know the whole story. It guts me—like a knife to the stomach. “I do,” I say, my voice low and rough. I reach for her, pulling her close in a hug. “I do see you.” I release her and roll onto my back, hands interlocked above my head. She shifts closer, resting her head on my chest, her arm draping across me. My pulse quickens, and as I glance down, the sight of her bare ass, long legs, and blue thong sends a jolt through me. My breathing deepens, a growing ache building. I’m in a terrible situation—one where, no matter what I do, there’s no winning. But at the same time—there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

“Good night, Ryan.” Cooper’s voice cuts through my conflicted thoughts.

“Mmm. Good night.” The words come out as a hoarse whisper. I take deep, steadying breaths, trying to manage the storm raging inside me. I don’t know what to fucking do. I haven’t had sex in ten months, and the last time was with her. Aside from that quick blow-job Beth gave me last month, I haven’t been touched by anyone but myself—and Jesus, at my age, that’s not normal. The dirtiest images enter my mind: Cooper’s mouth wrapped around my cock, my hands on her as I take her from behind. I can practically hear her moaning in my ear.

I grip my hair, tugging hard just to keep my hands off her. She’s not even doing anything—just lying here, not even touching me—and it’s still too much. “Fuck,” I mutter, letting one hand fall to her back, where I trace slow circles over the fabric of my shirt that she’s wearing. Just the sight of her in my shirt has me undone. I’ll never wash it again.

My fingers drift lower, grazing the hem and the warm skin beneath, drawing me closer, like a moth to a flame. Thetemptation’s too strong. I need to feel more of her—the warmth, the softness.

So I do.

I let my fingers drift farther down, brushing against the soft skin of her stomach, inching ever closer to the edge of her panties, where temptation beckons me. She shifts, pulling herself even closer until our bodies are flush together.

Then her hand starts moving. She slowly rubs it back and forth over my stomach, and I freeze—too turned on to move or think. Her fingers slip beneath my shirt, and Lord Jesus, I’m in deep shit.

Her fingertips trail across my skin, each touch burning into me like a match being dragged across my flesh. I squirm beneath her touch, unable to help myself.

I refocus on my own hand, needing to feel composure. My fingers grip her hip, my thumb brushing slowly over her hip bone, tracing along her panty line. I feel her breath hitch. Grinning, I hook my thumb around the fabric, giving it a gentle tug. She gasps and instinctively grinds against me.

My fingers dip a little lower, slipping just inside the top of her panties, toeing the line I’m so dangerously close to crossing. Her fingers slide under my waistband, teasing, taunting.

I trace my fingers back and forth, stopping just at her pubic bone. The smoothness beneath my fingertips sends a rush through me, knowing she’s bare—and that thought alone is almost enough to make me lose it. She stills.

“Ryan.” Her voice is a soft, steady breath.

“Hmm.” It’s all I can manage.

She props herself onto one elbow, her eyes locking onto mine. “We’re close to crossing lines I know you don’t want to cross.”

I swallow hard, my voice rough. “I’m guessing you didn’t break up with Brad tonight?” It’s barely a question—more like a lifeline.

She shakes her head slowly. “He wasn’t home, and… I didn’t want to see him.”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

“You need to leave,” she murmurs. “Unless… watching me touch myself isn’t crossing the line, because I’m about to lose all control.”

Is she serious? There’s nothing I’d want more than to watch her. Maybe even more than touching her myself. Goddamn, I can’t think straight. My mind races, my body aching.Pull yourself together.

“It’s probably crossing the line.” It’s the hardest sentence I’ve ever forced out. “But there’s nothing I’d want more than to watch you do that.” I shake my head, swallowing hard. “Fuck, Cooper.”

She holds my gaze. “Then you need to leave.”

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