Page 7 of Face Me Off

I dare to peek at him. He’s so freaking gorgeous. His chest rises and falls with each deep breath. Even the slight sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin screams perfection.

The potential ramifications of my actions hit me like a wrecking ball, obliterating any sense of contentment I may have felt.

What was I thinking having sex with Ryan Sorenson? He’s my nemesis, who happens to hang with my roommate.

One that denies anything romantic is happening, yet they always talk.

Did I just betray my best friend? My only true friend?

My stomach lurches as I scramble off the bed.

“What are you doing?” The seducer says as I snatch my bikini and sarong off the ground.

Flustered, I grab his jeans and shirt and toss them to him. “Get dressed.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion. “Why the rush?”

“Because. This shouldn’t have happened.”

He stands at all of his glorious height, towering over me, jeans in hand. “Oh, but it did.”

“This”—I wave my hand between us—“changes nothing.”

“This changes everything,” he says as he shoves a leg into his jeans.

“No, it doesn’t.” Panic creeps into my voice, but I tamp it down. Squaring my shoulders, I stalk to the bathroom. “This was a mistake.”

He pauses and turns to look at me. His jaw clenches. “A mistake?”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have…” I shake my head, unable to say what we did, and reach for the door handle.

“Babe, this was anything but a mistake.”

“No, we shouldn’t have done this.”

“You didn’t have any qualms when pleading for more.” Anger laces his tone, and I don’t blame him. I’m walking a thin line because he’s right. I did want to do this. I did want more, and boy, did he give it.

But what price will this indulgence cost?

Every action has a reaction, and I fear the consequences.

“Whatever, I didn’t beg.” I close the door behind me when the words, “Yet. You haven’t begged for me yet,” hit me straight in my core.

CHAPTER THREE

RYAN

Summer Break

“You got a minute?”My old man hovers by my bedroom door, surprising me. It’s not too often my dad makes the trek to my room. Even rarer that he wants to talk.

“Sure, what’s up?” I toss the syllabus to the side and sit straighter in my bed. Lame that I’m looking ahead at my classes, but physics worries me. I need to improve my grade point average. Otherwise, I can kiss getting into the physical therapy program goodbye.

Dad’s legs shake, barely holding him upright. If it weren’t for the support of the forearm crutches, he wouldn’t be standing, let alone walking. He can thank physical therapy for the progress he has made.

“I heard you went to a party at the Clippenger’s last week.”

Becky’s summer bash.

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