He grabs the hem of my cami and yanks it over my head, looking down hungrily at my exposed skin. When he reaches for my pajama shorts, I stop him, remembering.
“Wait. I’m on my period,” I whisper.
Ryan laughs. “You think that would stop me, Pips? As if I’d care about a little blood. Besides, sex can help with period cramps, right? That’s what you said in one of your articles.” My heart trips over his words. I remember that article. Ingrid made me give it a stupid listicle headline and put in so many puns I almost asked to take my name off it. Ryan still read it, and he remembers it. It makes me want to close my eyes and say yes—yes to anything.
Ryan’s eyes are dark and hungry, and I know without a doubt that I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed. Ryan would treat me just the same today as he ever would, but it’s too much forme.I’m too sensitive, physically and emotionally. “I can’t.”
He lowers his head so his forehead touches mine. “Please, baby. Let me make you feel good.”
I just shake my head. Ryan sighs heavily.
“I have to make it up to you, Pippa. Please, let me. I know I fucked up. At New Year’s, I couldn’t stand seeing another guy touch you. It made me fucking insane, because I want you all to myself.”
I hate the way that makes my traitorous heart clench. My eyes squeeze shut, because it hurts too fucking much to look at his face, open and vulnerable like it’s never been before.
“Please.” Ryan’s voice breaks on the word. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? Can’t you see how much I?—”
He stops. Even now, he still can’t say it. It doesn’t matter how Ryan feels about me if he’s too much of a coward to fucking admit it.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t do this anymore, Ryan. You either want me, or you don’t. There’s no ‘close enough.’”
My arms are shaky when I push myself up from the couch. Away from Ryan’s warm body, the cool air makes my exposed skin stand up in goosebumps. I hug my arms around myself while I look into his dark, shining eyes one last time.
“I hope that one day, Ryan, you’ll find someone you actually feel is worth fighting for. I mean that—I really do.”
His face crumbles, and I stumble back to my bedroom, only stopping to pull on a pair of underwear and a pajama top. I crawl under the covers, but I can’t stop shivering, even though the duvet quickly feels smothering hot. I kick it off and curl up in a ball, wrapping my arms around my head like they could protect me from the cruel world.
36
RYAN
Beau
Raise your hand if you’re still fighting the New Year’s hangover.
Ryan
I’d raise both hands, if I felt capable of raising anything at all.
After yesterday, I’m a complete fucking mess, and the physical pain is the least of it. I’d take the pounding headache over fucking up my relationship with Pippa any day.
I’d also rather deal with the headache than the blow to my poker reputation. Not only did I suffer a humiliating loss at my own fucking poker tournament, I was apparently a raging asshole on top of it. The poker community is incestuous, which means word of my bad behavior got around.
Oh, well. At least I have the world’s best bed to wait it out in. I spared no expense purchasing the highest quality for me and my female guests. Turns out, my four-thousand thread sheets and luxury king-sized mattress are just as good for moping as they are for sex.
Luke
At least you don’t work in a distillery. I’m surrounded by hangover reminders.
James
I feel fine.
I shoot back a gif of some Spongebob fish throwing tomatoes. Jameswouldthrow the hangover event of the year and be the only one to walk away scot-free. Hell, he probably went to the gym on January first, the monster.
Luke
Good party, though.
