Page 112 of Battle of the Bookstores

I slide my hands under his dress shirt. His shoulders are broad, his arms thick, and he has these big, rounded pecs that make my eyes go wide as I spread my palms across them. No six-pack or V-cut abs here—his stomach is just the right amount of soft, which means this man doesn’t deny himself delicious things, like his beloved sugar-loaded coffees. I’m grateful; I have plenty of soft areas, too. If he was built like some action hero, I’d be intimidated.

I mime pulling a sticker off a sheet, then press it over his heart.

“Uh…what was that?” he says.

“A gold star.” I glance up at him; he’s smiling fondly. Then I glide my hands down his torso and start working on his belt.

“Josie, wait,” he says, tilting my chin up. I stiffen again, and he kisses my forehead. “Slow, remember? Please, I want to look at you.”

His eyes are almost feverish as he gazes down at my body. Big, warm hands come to my shoulders and my neck, searching for the zipper for my dress, so I turn around. He brushes my hair over one shoulder, and I swear he presses his nose to my head and inhales. Then he’s sliding the zipper down, fingers trailing along my back.

The dress puddles at my feet so I’m wearing nothing but my pale pink bra and panties and red high heels. Only an hour ago I put these on, wondering if RJ might see them—and the truth hits me again: RJ is Ryan and Ryan is RJ and somehow I’m here with them both.

The pad of his finger presses between my shoulder blades. “Gold star,” he whispers.

Another gentle press of his finger, below my bra strap, then another, star after star running down my spine, sending goose bumps across my skin.

He reaches around me from behind in a bear hug, cuddling me against him, and it would be sweet if there wasn’t a bulge pressing against my backside. I push back against it, and he clucks his tongue like he’s disappointed in me.

“What?” I say innocently.

“Slow,” he reminds me.

Then he takes my hand and turns me, guiding me toward him as he backs up and sits on the bed, facing me.

“I…” His face goes slack. “You’re so…” He licks his lips. “Josie, I’m…”

He’s glitching like a radio coming in and out of range, so I take his hands and place them on my waist. He was so urgent before—at the beach, in the store the other day—but now he’s tentative, sliding his hands up and down my hips, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. My body is lighting up, shivers running down my legs. He slides his hands up to encircle my ribs just below my bra, his fingertips teasing the clasp in back.

“May I?” he asks. So polite. As if he wasn’t the same man who roughly shoved my bra out of the way and palmed me like a dirty-minded teenager.

I nod, smiling.

“Say it.” His expression is grave.

“Yes,” I say obediently.

Slowly, he unclasps my bra, his eyes darkening as he takes in this new sight. His palms are warm and deliciously rough as he cups my breasts and leans forward, his mouth giving attention to one nipple, then the other. I run my hands through his hair and hum with pleasure. Everything is hazy and golden, sweet as honey on a summer morning.

Hands drift down to my hips, fingers playing with the elastic hem of my panties. “May I take these off?”

“What do you think?”

“I need to hear the word.”

He waits, and when I say “yes,” he starts sliding them down.

I step out of my panties, leaving my shoes behind, too, and then it’s just me, standing naked on the carpet as Ryan sits in front of me, almost fully clothed. I start to shrink into myself,but he catches my wrists and holds them out, turning me one way, then the other, letting his eyes linger.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. When I can’t stand this lazy perusal any longer, he looks up. Sharp eyes. Laser focused. “May I take you to bed?”

“Yes!” I shout, and he breaks into a smile and bends forward and throws me over his shoulder.

I yelp as I’m lifted in the air, inches away from the ceiling, but soon enough I’m being lowered, my back gently hitting the mattress as Ryan comes over me, grinning.

“You sounded pretty eager,” he says.

“You left me so hot and bothered the other day—”

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