Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I will. Let’s go.”
Rylan keeps hold of my hand as we head back to our blanket. He quickly packs everything up. My heart is racing. It’s not hot outside, but I’m sweating. I have no idea what’s going on, but I have a feeling I did something wrong—not because Rylan ever really makes me feel like that, but because I can’t help it.
Without a word, we walk back to the house. Rylan sets the things on a table outside, then goes straight for the outdoor shower and turns it on.
So…I guess we’re showering? Doesn’t he know I’m losing my mind here?
As soon as we’re naked and under the spray, Rylan pumps soap into a sponge and begins…washing me? I’ve never had a man wash me before, and I’m not sure what to think about it.
He still doesn’t speak, and I don’t either. I just let him do this, let him take care of me and move me around while he gets sand and ocean water off me.
My head spins with confusion.
When he’s done with me, Rylan does the same to himself, and I just stand there like an idiot.
Seconds later he shuts off the water and hands me a towel.
The moment we’re out, Rylan paces the deck, towel wrapped around his waist, running a hand through his hair.
And when he stops to look at me, my heart drops when he says, “I can’t do this anymore.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rylan
I’ve tried, really fucking hard, to ignore this frustrating crush I have on Hayes, but it’s not working. I knew it would be harder after our conversation the other night, when we talked but didn’t take the time to have sex, but today it’s too much to bear.
Sometimes the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me makes me feel like he wants more than friends with benefits too, but then he goes and talks about all the sex he’s going to have with other guys when this is done. He’s got my head all twisted up, and despite the fact that this could fuck everything up when it comes to how I’ve been playing, despite the mental upheaval of possibly working my way through my very first real relationship this close to the end of the season, I don’t have it in me not to go for what I want. That’s just not who I am.
“I’ll, um…get my things.” He turns for the door, and I’m totally confused.
“Where are you going?”
“You just told me you’re done with me!” He throws up his hands. “Sorry if I don’t want to stick around and listen to your annoyingly contagious laugh and see your stupid, cute smile that makes my pulse beat too fast while you tell me all the reasons I didn’t measure up. I realize I don’t have the right to be mad at you for that. At least you’re not pulling a Malcolm and you’re telling me, but—”
“I have a crush on you,” I interrupt him, sounding like a twelve-year-old. I have no idea why I keep using that word—crush—but it’s true.
Hayes frowns, wrinkling up his nose in that cute, confused way that makes me feel melty inside. “I don’t understand,” he finally says.
I walk over to him, Hayes also naked except for the towel around his hips. “I like you.”
“You said you can’t do this anymore.”
“Without strings.”
“Strings?” he asks, like he has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Yes. The things we said we wouldn’t have. I don’t want to just be friends with benefits with you. I want to be your guy.”
Hayes swallows. “My guy?”
I chuckle, hook my finger beneath his chin, and tilt his head up. “Yes. Are you going to just repeat the words I say?”
“Repeat?” he asks, and I grin at his joke, then see when what’s happening washes over him again. His breathing picks up, the pulse in his throat visibly beating against his skin. “I’m so confused.” He tries to pull away, but I take his hand.
“Shh. It’s okay. Let’s go inside and talk.”
Hayes nods, his eyes filled with insecurity, and again, I want to kill The Prick for what he did to Hayes. The truth is, what Malcolm did to him was terrible, but what makes it the worst is that he was the first person Hayes thought ever liked him, the first person he trusted in that way, the first relationship he had, so I understand why it did such a number on him.
We sit down on the couch, and surprisingly, Hayes speaks first. “What about hockey?”
I shrug. “What about it?”
“Aren’t you very specific about your routine?”
“Yeah, but really, what’s going to change except the label we give each other? We’re still going to hang out and text and video chat. Plus, we’ll still be having all the sex…like, so much sex,” I emphasize, making him smile. “I just wanna be able to call you mine, want to be able to introduce you to my parents—whom we have to thank for me realizing my feelings in the first place.”