Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

Aelin sucked in a breath as Ryan's lips pressed against hers. His mouth was warm, slick from the rain. She pressed against his warmth, working to catch her breath, her head swimming. Her lips parted, her tongue flicking against his as his fingers spread into her hair.

She sighed against his mouth, and his whole body tightened against her. Her mind flaunted every image she didn't realize she'd carefully stored away, pulling them out like Polaroids. The one where Ryan reads a book half naked. The one where Ryan gives a high-five to a twelve-year-old on the ice. The one where Ryan pulls his shirt off on the boat in front of your whole family and you grit your teeth and pretend your thighs didn't suddenly transform into a flint and steel.

Her tongue reached for his then, her fingers threading through his hair. How many times had she wanted to touch his hair? Ryan pressed her back against the cabin wall, his hand dropping back to her waist, pulling her flush against his hips so fast, she gasped.

Aelin arched into him, and his fingers dragged over her hip bone, fumbling with the hem of her shirt. And then, as soon as his fingers hit skin, he suddenly jerked back .

Aelin dropped her arms, panting.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have?—"

Aelin was already moving. She burst through the back door into her room, heart thudding in her chest. Her breath came in short gasps as she scanned the room, her mind a jumbled mess. What the hell was she thinking?

Clark had cheated on her twice, and she'd sworn she would never have anything to do with that. Yes, Ryan's situation was different, but he still wore his damn wedding ring.

Aelin forced her feet to move before Ryan walked in behind her. She strode to the washroom, turned on the light, and closed the door behind her. She could barely look at herself in the mirror because if Ryan hadn't stopped . . .

She leaned over the counter, dropping her head in her hands. Maybe she would have? But the way heat still pulsed in every cell of her body, she doubted it.

Her hands shook as she peeled off her soaked clothes, fumbling with the fabric. She piled the heavy cotton on the counter, not even bothering to wring it out, then turned on the shower.

She trembled as she waited for the water to heat up. It was a cowardly move to disappear inside but what else was she supposed to do? How could she look him in the eye after this?

As steam rose around the glass door, Aelin stepped into the shower. No. That was the same thinking that had gotten her buried with Clark. She wasn't the one at fault in the situation. Ryan had kissed her first, and yes, she had kissed him back, but that didn't mean that she should be embarrassed. Both of them had been pushing the limit since they arrived.

What limits? What were they even fighting against? Aelin was getting divorced and Ryan . . . What was Ryan? He wasn't in a real marriage, but he definitely still felt a strong sense of loyalty and commitment. If she was being honest, even though it broke her heart, it also gave her hope. What woman didn't want someone to love her like that ?

Her eyes stung as she scrubbed her body and washed her hair. There were no easy answers here.

She ticked down the list of things she knew about Ryan. He loved his daughter. He showed up when he said he was going to or had a damn good excuse for why he didn't. He listened to her. He loved his wife. He knew how to fix things, and he smelled good, and his hair was long and soft?—

Aelin leaned against the shower tile, grounding herself.

She didn't know for sure, but Ryan was quite possibly the best guy she'd met in twelve years. And she was supposed to ignore him?

Being at the lake was messing with her. Ryan was right. It did feel like another world. What happens at Flathead stays at Flathead. She snorted and rinsed her hair. She could have had so much more fun had she adopted that mantra at sixteen.

It felt so damn good to be touched. To be held. She had endured twelve years with a man who only saw her as a reflection of himself. Didn't she deserve something better?

Aelin pressed her head against the shower tile, the water streaming down her face, cascading over her chilled skin.

She needed to get out of the washroom. It wasn't fair for her to hog the space, even if it was the only sanctuary she had at the moment. Aelin turned off the water and stepped out onto the bath mat. She grabbed her towel and started drying off when a jolt passed through her. The girls. They were still upstairs watching their movie.

She cursed under her breath and scrubbed the towel over her skin. As she was about to hang it back up, she glanced at the counter. Shit. She hadn't brought in any clean clothes.

Aelin clenched her jaw and ran a comb through her hair, then hastily wrapped the towel around herself. What were the chances that Ryan was still in the bedroom? Probably slim. He had most likely realized the same thing she did and gone upstairs to check on the girls.

Aelin put her hand on the door knob and hesitated. She drew a breath and twisted, pulling the door toward her. As soon as the room came into view she froze. Ryan was sitting on the bed in dry joggers, his chest bare, his hair still wet.

His head snapped up, his eyes locking on to hers. "Hey," he rasped.

"Hey." Aelin stepped out into the room, her toes curling against the carpet. She took a step toward the dresser and paused. What was she going to do? Get dressed, put the kids to bed, ignore him the whole night, and somehow avoid talking about this for an entire week? Maybe in her twenties she would've tried that, but in her thirties, she was over the games and the drama. She drew a breath. "I'm sorry I bolted."

Ryan exhaled. "I'm sorry I . . . " He trailed off. "No. I'm not sorry." He lifted his head to look at her. "I know I should be sorry, but I'm not."

Aelin twisted the edge of the towel. "I want to talk about this, but the girls are still?—"

"I put them to bed. While you were in the shower."

Aelin pressed her lips together. "Oh. Thank you."

"They said I wasn't allowed to read the story because I can't do the voices."

Aelin grinned, her cheeks heating. "It is a very advanced skill." She walked over and sat next to him on the bed, suddenly not caring that she only had a strip of cotton covering her. "I know exactly what you mean, by the way. I've felt so guilty for so long for so many things, I've used up all my credits."

Ryan dropped his head, looking at his hands. He twisted his wedding band around his finger. "I sometimes wonder what the point is."

"Of what?"

"Of anything." He exhaled in a rush. "Sorry. This definitely isn't Fun Ryan."

Aelin laughed. "He was out there on the porch, I think."

Ryan grinned, but his eyes were still sad. "I felt good about that. Kissing you. I haven't . . . " He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Embarrassing."

Aelin grabbed onto his wrist. "Can you stop that, please? It's not embarrassing that you loved someone. It's not embarrassing that you had that taken away from you, and it's not embarrassing that you didn't want to move on."

Ryan dropped his hands, twisting his arm to flatten his palm against hers, and heat flashed under her skin. She stared at her fingers twining with his. "I feel good about this. I felt good about it on the boat, too."

Ryan nodded. "Yeah."

"I don't think—" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "There's not a manual for this. I remember when I had Bailey, I checked every book out from the library. I scoured the internet for blogs—remember people used to do those?"

"No, but continue."

She bit her lip. "I was sure that I could do it right, and since I was obviously doing marriage wrong, I put all my hopes in that basket." Aelin ran her thumb over his. "I got some good ideas, but the experts never had answers for my exact situation. What do you do when your husband yells at your three-year-old when she draws on his shoes with a pen?" She shook her head. "The only way I got away from Clark was by trusting my gut more than everyone else's opinions."

Ryan tapped her knuckles. "And what if . . . " He cleared his throat. "What if your gut is the problem?"

Aelin looked up. "Maybe then you go back to the basics." She pulled her hand from his and brushed the hair from his cheek. Ryan's eyes shuttered. He leaned into her touch, pressing his lips against her palm.

She swallowed, her throat constricting as words pooled in her mouth. "Are you ready for bed?"

Ryan shook his head. "I need to brush my teeth."

Aelin nodded. "Me, too. Meet back here in three?"

His brow twitched. "Oddly specific. "

"I don't want to wait for five."

Where the hell had that come from? Ryan's pupils dilated. He stood and stalked into the washroom, and Aelin went to the dresser. She pulled on a pair of cotton underwear and a tank top, then took up residence next to him at the sink.

They brushed, rinsed, then made their way back into the bedroom. Ryan stood at the foot of the bed, and Aelin walked to the headboard, pulling off the decorative pillows and tossing them on the floor. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor tonight."

His jaw worked, but he didn't refute the statement. His eyes dropped to her hips, then dragged over her torso. She pulled back the covers, then walked to stand in front of him.

Her pulse picked up speed. "I want—" She paused, not sure if she could say it out loud. "I want you to hold me. If that's okay." The idea of going to bed alone after feeling him next to her made her insides feel like overbaked clay.

He wet his lips. "Okay."

Aelin nodded once, then walked to the door. She closed it and flicked off the light, then padded back to the bed.