I can barely believe what I’m hearing. I go very still, almost too nervous to swallow, as if I could make the wrong move and ruin whatever is about to happen.
“So what are you saying?” I ask.
“I’m saying that I know what’s at stake here. We’re not wrong to be cautious,” he says slowly, as if he’s choosing every word with the utmost care. “But, god, Avery, I can’t ignore how I feel about you anymore. If I don’t tell you this now, I know I’ll regret it for a long time. I need you to know that I like you—really like you.”
There’s more urgency in his voice now, and he shifts on the mat to sit up straighter. He takes my hand in his.
“I’ve had a crush on you from the day we met, you know that?” Ryan says, flushing pink at the memory. “At some competition years and years ago? I recognized you in some arena hallway, and you told me where to find the vending machines.”
“I still can’t believe you remember that,” I say, grinning.
He nods. “Of course. You were hot and insanely talented and so entirely out of my league.”
If this were any other moment, I’d brush off the compliment and make a self-deprecating joke, but I’m frozen in awe.
“Trust me, the crush is still there,” he continues, squeezing my hand. “But it’s more than that now. I want us to give this a shot for real.”
Ryan’s gaze is brimming with exhilaration and hope, and I know I’ll remember the way he looks right now forever. Here’s this Greek god of athletic prowess and ambition, made suddenly and startlingly human—full of emotion and desire. He’s reached the pinnacle of human achievement, won one of the most coveted honors in the world, traveled the globe, and yet he’s here. And he wants me.
“What do you think?” he asks.
There’s a slight tremor in his voice—he’s nervous. I have a million thoughts swimming through my head right now, and it’s surprisingly difficult to pick just one to voice. Finally, I collect myself enough to speak.
“If anything real happens between us, I think we should keep it quiet, just so we don’t distract Hallie,” I say.
“Absolutely,” he says, nodding.
“But if we agree about that, then my answer is yes,” I say, scooting closer to kiss him lightly. “I want you. I want this. I want us. We’d be idiots not to give this a try.”
“Yeah?” he says, like he can’t quite believe I agree.
“Yeah,” I say, feeling so happy my heart could burst.
This time, when he kisses me, I can feel him smiling. He cups my cheek with one tender hand, and I get lost in the hypnotic way his lips move against mine. It’s like our bodies instinctually know that this is—finally—right. The kiss feels like a celebration.
He guides us down so we’re lying on the mat, which is now, thankfully, clean. Somehow, the athletic equipment and fluorescent light overhead fade away, so all that matters is him in front of me. We’re lying side by side, facing each other, with the rest of the world and all its distractions blocked out. As deliciously thrilling and tender as our kiss on New Year’s Eve was, this is even better. His hands roam from my hair to my hips to the spot on my rib cage he grazed before everything changed. His fingers slip across the hem of my tank top, and I press into him, encouraging him to slide his hand underneath the fabric, against my bare skin.
After keeping a polite distance from him for so long, it’s almost unfathomable to me that this is real. I don’t care if this is the right place to do this—I don’t want to think at all. I kiss the sharp edge of his jaw, then the soft curve of his earlobe, and then a trail down his throat. He groans softly and rolls on top of me, propping himself up on his elbows, with his legs intertwined with mine. I like the solid sensation of his weight on top of me. I let my hands wander across the taut, powerful muscles in his shoulders and down his back; they feel even better than I had dared to let myself imagine.
“Take this off,” I say, tugging at his shirt.
Ryan obeys, revealing an exquisite set of abs. I can’t help but reach out and touch them, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. They’re perfectly solid—this is real.
I pull my own top over my head, not bothering to make a disclaimer about my lack of abs. He wouldn’t have said all those things if he didn’t think I was beautiful, if he didn’t want me exactly how I am. And anyway, there’s a glint of desire in his appreciative gaze that makes it clear he likes what he sees. It’s intoxicating.
He lies back and pulls me on top of him so I’m straddling him. Now I can feel that there’s no question of whether he’s attracted to me. I lean forward and kiss him deeply; my hair falls like a curtain around us. He unhooks my bra and tosses it to the side. His touch is electrifying. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone, but that’s hardly the reason this feels so good. It’s because this is Ryan, and that feels like a victory. I want more of this—I want all of him.
I trail one finger under the waistband of his green track pants, then another. He grinds his hips up into mine, like he wants more, too. I start to tug his pants down, but he stops me.
“Is that too much?” I ask.
He shakes his head and bites his lip. “No, but wait.”
He stands up and extends his hand to me, pulling me up, too. He toys with the waistband of my black yoga pants.
“Can I take these off?” he asks softly.
“Yeah,” I say.
He slides them off my hips and down my legs. I step out of them and kick them to the side. Before I realize what’s happening, he’s lifted me up so my legs wrap around his waist. If Ryan were anyone else in the world, I’d probably be self-conscious about my weight in his arms, but there’s no reason to worry. I know he’s strong enough to handle me. He carries me to a tall block by the metal high bar, usually used for training, though obviously not tonight, and sets me down so I’m sitting at the edge of it. He maneuvers smoothly so my legs are hooked over his shoulders. He looks at me, gauging my reaction, then plants a soft kiss on my inner thigh.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.” I nod.
More than okay, I think.
He kisses me again, farther up my thigh, and then again, right at the edge of my underwear. He skims his hands over me, landing with his fingers curled around the lacy fabric at my hips.
“And what about this?” he asks.
I lean back on my elbows and tilt my hips up so he can fully undress me. When his mouth is on me again, I could melt. At first, I want to watch him. But before long, I relax fully, flat on my back on the block. I’m not surprised when, minutes later, Ryan proves that his talents don’t solely extend to athletics.
I slide off the block, not 100 percent sure that my legs won’t turn to jelly when they hit the floor, and steady myself with a hand against his chest.
“You. Wow,” I breathe.
I pull him toward me for a kiss, wrapping my arm around his neck.
“You’re pretty ‘wow’ yourself,” he says.
My instinct is to return the favor, but we wind up back on the mat. His pants and black boxer briefs are off now, and he kisses my hair. I reach for him, but then I realize we have a problem.