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Holly jolts up from the couch like I've just woken her up and scared the ever-living shit out of her. She has a deer-caught-in-headlights look on her face as she pulls a massive blanket around her. She wraps it so tightly around herself that I can only see her neck and shoulders like she's trying to swaddle herself. What the fuck? It's not that cold. It's like seventy degrees in here.
"God! I am not looking forward to tonight." I sigh, throwing my purse on the foyer table. Holly doesn't answer. She just stares at me with wide eyes.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Yeeeesss." Her voice is breathy, and her cheeks are flushed. Her hair is a disaster and if she grips that blanket any tighter her knuckles will pop through the skin.
I raise an eyebrow at her. What the hell is wrong with her?
"Oh god," she moans. And that's when I notice Luke's keys beside my purse and his feet sticking out at the end of the couch.
"Holly, is Luke on that couch with you?"
She nods, heat creeping up her neck and cheeks.
"Is he under the blanket?" She nods again, embarrassment staining her skin like a scarlet letter.
"Are you wearing pants?" She shakes her head guiltily, biting her lips as if trying to stifle whatever sex sounds about to pop out of her mouth.
"OH MY GOD, HOLLY," I shriek. "What the hell? You're supposed to put a scrunchy on the door! On our couch? Seriously?"
"I'm sorry! I'm, I'm, ohhhh, god, Luke, stop!"
"Oh my god, Holly! I do not want to see your come face! Even besties have their limits. This is where I draw the line!" I turn, backing out of this horror—whore?—show, grabbing my purse and Luke's keys.
"Luke, you better have decent food and good wine in your apartment."
With that, I slam the door and head towards the elevator, but not before I hear another muffled, "Oh god."
Seriously. I love them, but a girl can only take so much. I've been seven years celibate, with only my hand and a couple of battery-operated toys I purchased online because I'm too embarrassed to visit one of the many sex shops Toronto has to offer.
I can't stay mad at Holly. That poor girl was a virgin for over two decades before Luke popped her cherry. She has a lot of catching up to do. But she's loud, and my bedroom is beside hers. She thinks she's being quiet, but believe me, she's not. I don't know why they couldn't have scheduled sexy times at Luke's apartment.
Trying to erase the image of Holly's guilty but well-pleasured face from my mind, I open Luke's door and kick off my shoes. I'm going to demolish every fucking piece of chocolate and gummy bear in this apartment. Those two love candy; if I'm lucky, he has Skittles stashed away somewhere.
I immediately start rooting through his cupboards looking for sustenance. Luke's kitchen is impressive, and so is his view of the city. It pays to be a hockey hotshot. My brothers' condo is awesome, but Luke's is upgraded to the tits, and he's on the top floor. He's a penthouse man.
"Victory," I yell triumphantly, clutching a bag of gourmet gummy worms. Luke buys the expensive ones. There are like twelve different flavours, and they are all fucking fantastic. But my sugary glee is short-lived when I hear the floor creak behind me.
"If you'd rather have Skittles, I have a bag in my bedroom, Em."
The bag of gummies drops from my hands. I don't turn around. I don't need to. I'd know that deep timbre anywhere. I used to fall asleep listening to it. I used to dream about it. I used to think it would be the last voice I would hear at night and the first I'd hear in the morning.
No one calls me "Em."
No one but Ryan.
Slowly, I turn around, swallowing hard. Ryan is standing in Luke's kitchen, wearing only a white towel cinched around his waist. Seriously? Where the fuck is the justice in the world? He looks amazing, even better than I remember.
Fresh from the shower, his hair is wet and casually brushed back. It's thick and dark, almost black. I used to run my hands through it and give Ryan scalp massages as foreplay. It was always a clearcut indicator that I wanted to get it on. A smattering of hair on his chest and a perfect happy trail below his belly button leads to an ample package currently hidden by the towel.
Ryan is the same, yet different. He's older, and age has done wonders for him. He's one of those men that seem to get hotter as time passes. He's filled out in all the right places. His shoulders are wider, his chest broader, and his abs more defined. And that V! That delicious pelvic-V of muscle that leads down to my happy place makes my mouth water. Is there anything better than a man with a lickable V? Ryan's is so hot that all my executive functions are compromised.
Shaking my head, I start to notice subtle differences too. He has rough stubble growing on his jaw. His nose has a slight kink from when a high stick broke it a few years ago, but it only makes him look more rugged and handsome.
His eyes bore into mine. They're still the iciest grey-blue I have ever seen, and they're currently burning into me. Heat creeps up my neck, and my face flushes as my panties dampen. My body is such a traitor. God, this man can do wicked and wonderful things to my body with just a look.
"What are you doing here?" The words come out sharper than I intend, and I inwardly cringe.
