Page 107 of The Path to Loving Him
To my surprise, he doesn’t let go. He keeps holding me. “This can’t happen again.”
“It can’t,” I agree. “This was a one-off.”
“Definitely a one-off. No more.”
I shake my head against his chest. “Definitely no more because we are friends without benefits.”
“Exactly,” he says. “And we need to remember that.” His hand smooths down my back, just above my ass.
“Yes . . . we do.”
He sighs, then releases me. After helping me away from the tub, he wraps me up in my towel, tilts my chin up, and says, “I’m going to shower. But first, dry off.”
He moves away from me, and I watch his fine, tight ass trail into his bedroom. If he weren’t here, I’d melt to the ground and place my hand to my heart as I try to regain all the feeling back into my body, but unfortunately, I don’t have the privilege to do that as he heads back into the bathroom with a shirt in his hand.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s for you,” he answers.
“What do you mean it’s for me?”
“To change into. Unless you plan on me carrying you to your apartment in a towel.”
“Are you really going to carry me?” I ask.
“Yeah . . . I am.” And with that, he sets the shirt on the counter and moves toward the shower before turning toward me. “If you leave this bathroom, you won’t like what happens.”
And just like when he told me to take his cock . . . I listen.
Chapter Sixteen
RYLAND
That felt amazing.
So fucking good.
It’s safe to say that I’m addicted to her, and I don’t see that ending anytime soon. It’s only going to get worse.
But I won’t slip up again. This was a special occasion—if that’s how you want to phrase it. I felt like I needed that connection after what happened. It was . . . fuck, it was terrifying. I felt my heart racing as I was trying to find the damn ladder, only for her to slide down and fuck up her thighs.
I still hate myself for it.
So fucking her, giving her what she wanted—hell, what I wanted—it was as if I was giving myself permission to make sure she was okay. And that’s how I knew how to do it on a deeper level. I didn’t want her telling me she was fine—those are just words. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel her around me, squeezing me, letting me know she was okay.
And that’s exactly what I got.
Another taste.
Another moment with her that I’ll have to tuck away and not revisit because we do have to keep this platonic.
I finish up in the shower, and when I step out, Gabby’s leaning against the counter in one of my old baseball shirts.
And she looks damn good in it.
I grab my towel from the hook and keep my eyes on hers as I dry off. “Comfortable?”
She nods. “Your shirt smells good.”
