me. It was a look I was mesmerized by for hours. When we made it into his hotel room. When we stood in front of each other, out of breath. Right before we attacked each other’s clothes. Wanting to get the other one naked. Needing to feel the other one.
Right before I had the best sex of my life. When I felt complete.
“Do you think about it sometimes?” My voice is low but steady. “About our night?”
He rubs a hand over his face, and my eyes get stuck on his stubble for a second. It enhances his looks. Then his hand falls back into his lap, and he gives me a quick nod. “Yes.”
“Me too.”
Even though we’re not in the same room, the air is thick between us, despite the fact that thousands of miles are separating us. Why does this moment feel monumental? Is it just me or does Ryan feel the same?
“Do you regret it?” His words are like a slap in the face.
“What?” I almost screech, my heart beating wildly.
“I was wondering. I’m sure you weren’t planning on having this”—he waves a hand in my general vicinity—“to be the end result of that one night.”
I inhale deeply, taking a moment to think about his question. It’s not like I haven’t asked myself this exact question before. And there’s only one answer. I don’t know if it’s correct or false. Good or bad. But it’s my answer.
“No.”
He nods and releases a long breath. Is he relieved? Was this some sort of test before we continue doing whatever it is we’re doing? Because it felt like we were doing something. Like we were going somewhere with this. Beyond the attraction that is clearly still there. Maybe even beyond the friendship that has undeniably formed over the last few weeks?
Ryan Monroe.
Lover.
Baby daddy.
Friend.
More?
Eleven
Ryan
I finish a set of pull-ups when I notice Noah a few feet away.
His gaze stays on me when I walk toward him.
“Hey.” I take off the weighted vest and inhale deeply.
“Hey.” He waits, giving me a moment to catch my breath.
Pull-ups with dozens of pounds strapped to your upper body are killer. But so damn effective for my performance in the water. And that’s what it comes down to.
I’m thirty-five and was in my early twenties when I met the guys first at swim camp. They were all gangly teenagers, but I saw the same fire in their eyes that I’ve always had in mine too. Not everyone has it, not everyone will get it. It helped us bond.
Noah was fifteen when I met him. A happy teenager. Cocky, and a bit of a clown. When I went back a few years later, Hunter and Jace were still the same cocky assholes, but Noah had changed. He’s never told anyone why, and we’ve never asked because he made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it.
Since I was so much older, I took him aside one day and told him that I was there for him if he needed to talk. He’d nodded, thanked me, and took off.
Now, he’s a mixture of that old Noah and the new one. Still more on the quiet side but some of his humor shines through on occasion. It’s more passive now than before, but it’s definitely there.
He’s a good friend, always has been.
Fantastic swimmer, epic freestyle.
Observant as all hell.
And somehow, somehow, I know that’s going to bite me in the ass.
His chin tips up. “Something’s going on with you.”
Not a question. A damn observation. Shit.
We stare at each other before I look around the gym. The closest people to us are out of earshot.
He holds up his hands when I let my head drop, my fingers biting into my waist. My heart still trying to calm down. Or is it speeding up again?
“Yes.” That’s all I say. Am I ready to say more? Am I ready to scream it from the rooftops that I got someone pregnant? Someone I actually like? Things have been going so fast, but they feel right.
My dad always says that he was smitten with my mom from the moment he first saw her. “Her beauty was out of this world. It’s like someone put a spotlight on her so I could see her better. I wanted to whisk her away and never let her go.” He’s always been a smooth talker and a romantic. I definitely didn’t get that from him.
But is that how I feel about Harper?
It’s been almost two months since we first