Page 267 of Power Play

Ryan stared at me over the top of the frames, and I lost it again.

“You done?”

“Absolutely not.”

He started closing the book, and I grabbed his arm.

“No, wait.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I tried to stop laughing. “They’re cute.”

“They’re functional.”

“They make you look like a hot professor.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Careful.”

“Even that looked professor-ish with the glasses.”

Ryan shook his head and opened the book. “If you read as much as I do, your eyes would bug the fuck out too.”

“I read.”

“You skim.”

“I study fashion.”

“You look at pictures.”

“That is offensive.”

“You want me to read to you or not?”

I settled immediately onto my side. “Yes, please.”

His mouth curved.

I moved closer until my head rested against his hip, then adjusted again until Ryan sighed and lifted his arm so I could fit properly against his side. One hand held the book while the other settled against my hair.

His voice changed when he read. The difference was subtle, his tone lowering and slowing into the rhythm of someone who loved the words instead of trying to get through them.

I listened while rain tapped against the window and the anger from earlier gradually dissolved into the warmth of his body beside mine. Every few pages, Ryan’s fingers moved absently through my hair.

Thanksgiving slipped out of my thoughts. So did my mother’s promises, my father’s fear, and every question about what would happen when Ryan walked into the Harlen house and refused to shrink for anyone inside it.

The words began drifting together as exhaustion pulled me under. I barely noticed how close I was to sleep until one line came clearly through the haze.

Ryan turned another page, scanning until his expression changed slightly. Then he read more quietly.

“‘He’s more myself than I am.’”

Something tightened inside my chest.

Ryan glanced down at me over his sexy five-dollar glasses, his fingers brushing through my hair once more before he closed the book around his thumb.

His voice, quieter than the rain, was the last thing I remembered before sleep took me.