Page 118 of Face Off
“I know our friends.”
Ryan took a drink before holding the flask toward me. I accepted it without pretending I intended to refuse.
“Hangover juice?” he asked.
“Medicinally necessary.”
The mezcal burned across my tongue before settling warmly inside my stomach. Ryan watched my lips close around the edge, then took the flask and deliberately put his mouth in the same place.
“You rotated it again.”
“The flask moved.”
“Into the exact position my mouth touched.”
“You’re unusually observant.”
“You weren’t subtle last night either.”
The humor in his expression shifted, exposing the memory beneath it. His hands stripping away my dress. My body caught between his and the door. The completely unfiltered version of Ryan I had spent our entire relationship being too frightened to meet.
Ryan tucked the flask away. “You’re starting early.”
“My campaign?”
“You said you weren’t going to fight fair.”
“I’m wearing tiny white shorts and drinking from your flask. I haven’t committed any serious offenses yet.”
His gaze traveled down my body before returning to my face. “Those shorts are a fucking felony.”
“Then arrest me.”
“I have plans for you that involve considerably less clothing and no paperwork.”
Heat moved beneath my skin. “Is that part of your closure strategy?”
“That’s part of me taking advantage of an agreement you willingly made.”
“You remember that I’m trying to win you back.”
“I remember everything.” Ryan stepped closer, his fingers sliding beneath my chin. “You can flirt, touch me, and make whatever argument you think that body is capable of making. I told you to do you, mami.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to enjoy watching you try.”
“You sound very sure it won’t work.”
“I am.”
His thumb moved across my bottom lip with enough possession to contradict the certainty in his voice.
I smiled. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Exactly.”
He kissed me before turning toward Bliss and the starting line as though he hadn’t just left me struggling to remember why beating him mattered.
