Page 175 of How to Lose at Love

But it can wait because I’ve waited all week to have her back, and I’m not going to piss away this moment to fetch myself a sandwich, not with those two knuckleheads downstairs to kill the buzz.

“You have to eat.”

“Oh, I plan to.” I haven’teatenin days, and I’m ravenous as a wolf, full of adrenaline and horny as fuck.

Ryann rolls her eyes at my attempt to sound sexy. “Knock it off, I’m being serious. When is the last time you ate?”

Nine this morning, but who’s keeping track?

I kiss her on the mouth. “For real, though, are we good?”

She kisses me back. “We’re good.”

Ryann has a hoodie on—as usual—but not for long. I reach for the hem and tug at it; in turn, she reaches for it too, fumbling to remove it. Goes for her pants—leggings—and awkwardly discards those as well.

“Don’t make me the only asshole lying here naked,” she warns in that tone I’ve missed, the sassy one that’s bossy and borderline sarcastic, though she never quite makes it there.

I’ve met my match.

Ryann is assertive without being aggressive.

Sassy without being sarcastic.

Blunt.

Cute.

Reasonable.

Reasonable—who wants to be described like that? Not me. I’d probably vomit in my mouth if anyone called me reasonable, but it’s the truth; when push comes to shove, Ryann Winters trusted her gut and turned her nose up when the world was telling her I was a bag of flaming dog crap.

Maybe there is such a thing as God.

Maybe he is looking out for me.

“Are you going to take off your clothes or am I going to do it for you?” She shivers. “I’m getting under the covers while you decide. It’s cold in here.”

I roll off the bed so she can duck beneath the down comforter my mother picked out for me freshman year, standing so I can remove my shoes, pants, T-shirt. Socks too because I bothered to put them on after my shower.

Ryann’s wrist appears from behind the sheet, flicking her pair of red thong underwear to the ground, followed shortly thereafter by the matching red bra.

“I’ll just take a nap over here. Wake me up when you’re done.”

She punctuates her sentence with a loud, fake snore.

Brat.

I pull off my compression shorts before diving onto the bed, mattress sinking under my weight, headboard slamming into the wall from the force of my jump.

Ryann lets out a playful squeal, burrowing deeper still as if she’s trying to play hide and seek and I have to find her.

Fine.

Good.

Little tease…

“Oh my God, your feet are like ice!” I gasp when her toes rub my calf, flinching but not rearing away, wanting her bared tits pressed against my chest, arms reaching for her.

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