Page 67 of The Lessons

Ryan didn’t move as he watched Brad leave down the hall, but once Brad had safely rounded the corner, Ryan lunged at me.

Without saying a word, he grabbed one of my wrists, dragged me into a large powder room off the kitchen, and closed the door.

I looked around, taking stock of our location. “Seriously?” I laughed. “A bathroom? Again?” I hoped he’d get the irony and laugh, too. “We havegotto stop meeting like this.”

He did not laugh.

He was not amused.

“Natalie,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “What are you doing here?”

He was still holding onto my wrist, which I brought up to eye-level. “I can tell you, but will you please let go of me first?”

He looked down and immediately released his grip, only to move both his hands alongside of me, pinning me against the wall.

“Natalie, I don’t— It’s just—” He took a deep breath and looked long and hard at me. “Natalie.No.”

“What do you mean, no?!” I hissed. “I’m allowed to date. I checked the contract, remember? As long as I don’t…you know.” I bounced my head back and forth so he caught my meaning. “Besides, who’s Blondie McRockerston? I know she’s notBrad’sdate.”

“Yeah, she’sdefinitelynot Brad’s date. Jesus, Ainsley’s my sister,” he spat. “Look, Natalie…Brad’s a player. He’s got a different girl here every other day.” Ryan swallowed and looked down, pausing for a beat. Once he finally looked back at me, it was like a fire had erupted inside. His eyes were dark and full of heat. “You deserve better than that.”

Whoa.

We were close, really close, and inside probably the least sexy room in their entire house. But I didn’t care. Being this close to Ryan made all my feelings for him come crashing back. Maybe itwasa conditioned response; maybe I’d fucked up and fallen for my therapist despite all the warnings, but I didn’t care. Our eyes locked; we were caught in a standoff, and I could feel the magnetic pull, that pheromone-laced, animalistic reaction once again. And then we were interrupted.

“Nat? Ryan? Where are you guys?” a voice called out.

It was Brad. He was looking for us.Shit.

Neither Ryan nor I dared to move.

Brad called again.

Ryan was the first to pull back. “Cancel the date,” he quietly commanded as he opened the door.

“I can’t just cancel. I’m already here!” I hissed.

“Cancel the fucking date, Natalie. Make up an excuse. Say you aren’t feeling well.”

“Why?”

He paused, making it seem like something was on the tip of his tongue. As we rounded the corner to the kitchen, we almost collided with Brad.

“There you guys are. Where’d you go? Not trying to steal my date, are you, Andrews?” Brad pulled me into position by his side.

And then I saw it again. The ever-so-subtle twitch of Ryan’s jaw. Like he was burying something with all his might. It was exactly like when I’d run into him on the sidewalk with Josh. Ryan crossed his arms and his face was calm, stoic even.

I knew what I had to do, but my brain felt like it had been dipped in molasses. “Sorry, Brad. He was, uh, just trying to find me some Pepto-Bismol.” I blushed, probably about theshadeof Pepto-Bismol as I did everything I could to avoid locking eyes with Ryan.

Ryan the Sex God.

Sex.

“Oh, what’s the matter, Nat, not feeling well?” Brad pulled me in front of him and looked down with concern.

Uh, yeah, my panties are wet, and I need an infusion of Ryan Andrews’ cock, stat.

“It’s my stomach,” I lied. “Never trust a food truck for a decent tuna sandwich, you know? I should probably go home.”

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