Page 10 of The Most Perfect Wrong

“Like?”

“Hmm. Like… what’s your favorite city in the world?” Her hand finds mine, fingers weaving between my own.

I grin, glad she’s willing to play along—at least a little. “Rome.”

“Why?” she asks. “In one sentence.”

I raise a brow. “One sentence? That's tough—there are too many great things about—”

She cuts me off, pressing a finger to my lips. “Shh. One. Sentence.”

There’s a heat in her eyes as I take her finger into my mouth, sucking it slowly, savoring the taste of her skin.

She grins. “That was hot… Now, convince me to go to Rome… in one sentence.”

“Fucking impossible.”

She laughs, and it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard. “Just try. I’ve never been.”

“Alright… You should go to Rome because in one ten-minute walk, you’ll see ancient ruins, incredible art, sip espresso, and eat the best damn food of your life.”

“Sounds amazing… What about the sex?” she asks with a grin.

I chuckle. “Depends on who you go with, I guess. Whoever goes with you is having some of the best sex of their life, but I can’t guarantee the same for you… unless you were there with me, of course.”

She bites her lip, nudging my shoulder. “Are you saying you want to take me to Rome? God, get to know me first, Ryan. You don’t even know where I live.” She laughs at her own joke, and I join in.

“What about you?” I ask. “Got a favorite city?”

She pauses, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know if I have one favorite. Every time I go somewhere new, it feels like the best until I visit the next place. I love each city for something different.” Her eyes light up. “But my favorite trip would have to be a humanitarian trip I took to Africa when I was twenty.”

“That sounds cool. Tell me more about it… and feel free to use more than one sentence.”

“Alright. I went with three friends from college. We volunteered at an orphanage in South Africa, and it was… life-changing. It made me see just how much excess we live with, and it brought everything into focus—what really matters.” Her voice softens, almost wistful. “I wish I could carry that clarity with me every day, but you know… we come back and get swept up in the American way. It’s so easy to forget.”

As she speaks, I feel a surge of awe. And I know it’s crazy because I barely know her—Idon’tknow her—but there’s something here.

An unexpected ache of longing hits me. It’s like this irrational fear that I’ll never have the chance to fully know her before she slips away. I want to ask every personal question in the book. But I don’t. I reel it in, respecting her wishes.

“Sounds like I need to go to South Africa one day.”

“You definitely should.”

Silence stretches between us, thick with tension as my gaze travels over her face, committing every detail to memory. The freckle at the corner of her right eye, the bow in her lips, the rich, chocolate brown of her eyes. My thumb glides along her jaw, tracing up her cheek to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, my hand finally resting at her neck. I pull her to me, my lips claiming hers, drinking in the sweet taste of her. She meets me with equal intensity, her fingers digging into my back.

My hand slides beneath my shirt she’s wearing, her warm skin soft against my touch. My hand finds its way to her tits, and she gasps as I pinch her nipple between my fingers.

She arches into me, her voice a breathless whisper, but demanding in my ear, “Fuck me, Ryan.”

I chuckle against her mouth. “Anything you want, gorgeous.”

* * * * * ?* * * * *

My alarm startles me awake. I reach for my phone to hit snooze, but then remember Cooper, and I silence it instead. I place my phone back on the nightstand and turn to make sure I didn’t wake her.

The bed is empty.

I sit up slowly, blinking into the early morning light, running a hand through my hair, still groggy. My chest tightens as I scan the empty bed.Where the hell did she go?

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