Page 56 of Bone Deep
“Ryan!” I finally manage, laughing harder than I have in—Christ, I don’t even know how long. “Stop!” I shove him, stumbling free, breath coming fast as I point at him. “You’re an asshole.”
He barks out a laugh, completely unapologetic. I glance down, brushing at my shirt. “And you wrinkled my shirt.”
He steps closer again, but slower this time. Deliberate. His gaze drags over me, head to toe. Then back up.
Ryan’s expression softens and he meets my eyes, voice dropping. “I did not,” he says quietly. “And you look fucking delicious.” Heat creeps up the back of my neck, settling low in my stomach in a way I categorically refuse to appreciate.
I shift on my feet, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. My clothes, the space between us, the way he’s looking at me like I’m something he wants to sink his teeth into. “Are you ready to go?” he finally asks.
I clear my throat, forcing my brain back online. “Yeah.” I gesture toward the door. “Let’s go.” We move out into the hallway, and I lock the door behind me, focusing on the simple, mechanical action.
Anything but him.
“You really shouldn’t say things like that to gay guys, Ryan,” I say, keeping my tone dry. “Especially when you’re, well…you. They might take you seriously and cause you a public relations nightmare.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him turn toward me as I finish locking up. Before I can move back, he steps in close. Too close. I feel the heat of him at my back. The brush of his breath against the shell of my ear.
“Who says I’m not serious?” he murmurs as my pulse stutters. “And what makes you think I tellanyoneelse they look delicious?”
I don’t move. Hell, I don’t even breathe. For half a second, the world narrows to just that voice in my ear and the dangerous, electric weight of him behind me.
Then…
“Rawr.”
I jerk, spinning around just in time to see him already retreating down the hall, grin back in full force.
“Come on, Perfect!” he calls over his shoulder. “Your chariot awaits downstairs.”
“What did you just call me?” I shout after him, heart still thudding. My mind is racing and completely, utterly off balance. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath. Recovering from whateverthatwas, I straighten my jacket and square my shoulders.
I follow him into the elevator and it’s immediately too small. Too quiet. Too filled with him. We take opposite sides, both of us keeping distance, but it doesn’t help. Not when I can feel him there anyway. Not when the air feels thicker, charged with something I don’t want to name.
I try to keep my eyes forward, but I feel the weight of his stare. When I give in and glance over, he’s devouring me with his eyes. He’s not subtle about it either. Not even pretending to be. I cross my arms, shifting my weight. “Why are you staring at me?”
Ryan just gives me a toothy grin, those stupid fucking dimples taking up all the space in this elevator. Even his chin dimple is more pronounced. “I just like looking at you.”
My stomach flips, and I turn sharply, facing the elevator doors, hands in my pockets so that I’m not tempted to use them. My eyes lock on the floor counter above them.Could this elevator be any slower?I think, jaw tightening. Behind me, I can feel his amusement. The quiet, contained energy of it.
The bell finally dings and I’m out before the doors are fully open and I storm across the lobby, pushing through the frontdoors, needing to escape. Cool night air hits my face, grounding me—that is, until I see a black limo idling at the curb, the driver leaning casually against it.
Ryan shoots out from behind me like his shoes are on fire. “I got it, Tony. Thanks.” The driver nods, straightens, heads back to the driver’s side. Ryan turns to me, dimples back in full force as he grabs the door handle, swings it open, and gestures inside like some kind of overgrown puppy in a tux.
I shoot him a look. “I can get my own door, Ryan.” I get in anyway. Because apparently, I make excellent life choices. I slide across the seat toward the far side, putting as much space between us as the car allows.
Ryan follows, settling in beside me. “I know,” he says easily on a wink. “But I wanted to do it.”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t see brain. “Why did you even get a car? It’s not that far. I could have driven—”
“I know,” he cuts in smoothly. “But you deserve to arrive in style.” I scoff softly as I watch the partition behind the front seats rise. Ryan continues, voice dropping, “Besides, I plan on getting you drunk.” Before I can even process what the fuck that means, two of his fingers land on my knee.
And now he’s walking them up my thigh. My breath catches, but he keeps going. Higher. And higher. And—I grab his hand, ripping it off me. “What are you doing?” I look at him and catch it—a flicker. Panic. Quick, sharp, gone almost as fast as it appeared.
He turns forward, hands fisting in his lap. “Just teasing, bro.” I look out the window, jaw tight.
Great, straight boy panic.
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax.
