Ryan doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lifts over my shoulder instead, and I feel the exact moment he spots him.
And then Jacob looks at us. Their eyes lock.
Ryan doesn’t look away. If anything, his mouth pulls into the faintest, almost mocking smile, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he’s trying to piss him off.
His hands come up, warm and steady as they settle at my waist. And before I can even think about it, he pulls me a little closer. My ass shifts deeper onto his lap. And shiver runs up my spine.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Jacob’s jaw tightening, his expression hardening just slightly.
“Yeah,” Ryan murmurs quietly, his voice lower now. “It’s okay.”
After a couple seconds, Jacob turns back to his friends, but every now and then, he glances back.
I stay where I am, turned slightly sideways across Ryan’s lap, one arm braced lightly around his shoulder.
We keep talking with his classmates. Ryan answers them quietly, his voice lower than usual. And I realize he hasn’t taken another sip of his beer. He’s just holding it loosely while his other hand rests at my waist, his thumb shifting slowly against the fabric of my hoodie.
More people arrive, music drifting through the warm evening air, our friends scattered nearby.
Ryan’s hand squeezes lightly at my waist—which makes me very glad I’m sitting down, because my knees might have started wobbling otherwise. And a low sound slips from Ryan’s throat.
I tilt my head toward him. “Are you okay?”
He clears his throat, and his voice comes out low and rough. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Do you want me to get up?”
“That’s definitely not what I want.”
My entire body gets hot as his breath touches my neck. And I don’t even know how to respond. Then someone nearby suddenly yells, “We’re going swimming!”
Great timing.
I shift to stand, but Ryan’s hands snap to my waist and pull me right back down.
“Maddy,” he mutters, his mouth close to my ear now, “you can’t just do that.”
“Do what?” I whisper.
He exhales slowly. “Stand up.”
“…Why?”
Another breath. His voice drops lower. “Because you need to give it a second.”
Oh.
Oh my God—is he seriously turned on right now?
I freeze. “Jesus, Ryan.”
“I know we’re pretending,” he mutters under his breath, his voice rough. “But I’m still a man, Mads. So please, give me a second.”
I try not to move. Which somehow makes everything worse, because I’m suddenly very aware of everything—the heat of his hands at my waist, the people around us, the fact that he is freaking hard under me.
“Stop moving your ass on me,” he mutters quietly. “Seriously.”
“I’m not moving!”
