“Your—”
Lexi’s words are cut off when Ryan walks into the kitchen, completely unaware we have company. He’s shirtless, and his hair is freshly wet from the shower. His skin is sun-kissed, and his chest and abs look like they were carved from stone. But more importantly, as he saunters up to me, he looks completely relaxed.
Georgia’s mouth drops in shock.
Lexi’s mouth forms a perfect O, her gaze swinging from Ryan to me.
I’m trying to think of a way to spin this, but before my brain can muster up an excuse, Lexi lets out the most unladylike snort and says, “So, this is why you look so great.” She nods her approval. “Nothing like getting under someone new to get over—”
“That’s not what’s happening,” Ryan says, cutting her off.
“Oh, yeah?” Lexi taunts with a devilish smirk. “Then what is happening?”
“We’re relaxing,” I tell her.
“And moving forward,” Ryan adds.
“Uh-huh.” Lexi smiles mischievously. “Well, how about you relax and move forward at Club Onyx tonight, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Alec has been promoted to lieutenant, which is a huge freaking deal, so you’re joining us to celebrate.” Alec is a firefighter in Los Angeles, and Lexi and Georgia’s best friend. Their parents are best friends, so they’ve practically grown up together in LA. I’m friends with him as well from the years of all our parents hanging out and them joining us in Breckenridge for the holidays, but we’re not close like the three of them are.
“I’m in,” I say as Ryan shakes his head. “And Ryan is too.”
He mock-glares at me, and I laugh. “You’re in. What better way to relax than with a beer and some good music.”
Without giving him a chance to argue, I turn back to Lexi and Georgia. “We’re in. We need to get ready, but we’ll meet you there.”
“Yay!” Lexi bounces over and gives me a hug. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whisper-yells. “We’re totally going to get our party on.”
And with a wink and a twirl, Lexi grabs Georgia and disappears from the house.
Ryan
I am completely out of my element here. In the grand scheme of things, at twenty-eight, I don’t consider myself old. But here at this club, where the median age must be twenty-two and still in college, I feel old as fuck. Since I didn’t have any “club clothes,” as Micaela put it, when I tried to leave in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I borrowed a pair of shoes and button-down shirt from Marco’s closet—at Micaela’s insistence. When she realized she didn’t have anything to wear, she insisted we swing by Lexi’s house so she could borrow a dress from her. I waited in the truck while she ran in, and thirty minutes later, when she came sauntering out with a face full of makeup, her hair down in waves, and in a skin-tight dark purple dress matched with a pair of tall-as-hell heels, I damn near lost my shit.
The organ in my chest tightened at the same time my dick swelled. I’ve seen Micaela in tiny bikinis all week. Her body is fucking banging. She’s got tits that would fit perfectly in the palms of my hands, and an ass that’s toned and plump. Her stomach is flat, and her hips are wide. A man could grip them and use them to—fuck. My point is I knew she was hot, but dressed the way she is tonight, she looks older, more mature. And not only that, but she also looks happy and confident. She’s done a complete one-eighty since the first night she showed up at the beach house. She’s no longer mourning, but instead choosing to live again. And I’m so damn proud of her.
As I sit here, watching the girls dance, I know without a doubt I’m out of my element here. I don’t do clubs. I don’t hang out and dance and get drunk. I design weapons and conduct demolition missions. I clear minefields. I don’t hang.
Yet, here I am at Club Onyx, with a beer in my hand, watching as Micaela shakes her perfect ass on the dance floor. We leave the day after tomorrow and I’ve almost made it without kissing her or touching her again, but if I have to watch her grind against her friends for another damn minute, there’s no telling what I’m going to do. I’d like to think I have a good amount of restraint. I was married for years, was propositioned a million times in several different countries, but I never cheated on my wife once. I never even considered it.
But right now, that restraint is hanging on by a thread. A man can only handle so much taunting and teasing. And I use those words because I know damn well that’s what Micaela is doing. It doesn’t go over my head when her hypnotizing eyes meet mine, mischief and seduction gleaming in her irises, that she wants me to know exactly what I’m missing out on. She might’ve agreed to no more kissing or touching, but that hasn’t stopped the looks she gives me. And as much as I try to act like the chemistry is one-sided, we both know damn well it’s not. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Micaela, and if I don’t get away from her soon, I’m going to lose all my restraint and give in to my baser instincts.