The Right Move (Windy City, #2)

by Liz Tomforde

“Stop being nice to me or you’re going to make me cry.” I smile at that. “You always cry.” “I know! But that was really nice to hear, Ryan.”

“No, you’re not. You won’t date because of that. That’s why you have a hard time trusting people? This is the woman from college?” I nod, silently answering both questions. In a rare moment, Indy is speechless, maybe picking up on the fact I don’t want to talk about this any longer. But she gives me her silent support through the squeeze of my hand. “Will you tell me a secret now?” I ask. “I don’t have many secrets. I’m kind of an open book if you couldn’t tell.”

“No. No, it’s nothing to be secretive about and it’s nothing exciting. Just…promise me you won’t laugh.”

Okay, now I can’t help but touch her. Grazing my fingertips across her cheek, I push her hair behind her ear. “Why would I laugh at that?”

I let go of her hand and instead, tuck one arm under her body, pulling her into my chest. She hides in the crook of my neck, so I speak softly, my lips to her ear. “There’s nothing desperate about going after what you want most in life. So, fuck him for saying it because even if you don’t want to tell me, I know it was him.” “It might end up being a waste of money.” “Money comes and goes. This is your life. Be selfish for once, Ind. You spent six years catering to that guy’s timeline. It’s about time you do something for yourself.” She buries herself deeper into my neck. “And ironically, you want a child so you have someone else to take care of and therefore you’re not being selfish at all.” Her body shakes against mine with quiet laughter. “God, what’s wrong with me?” “Nothing. You’re a nurturer. It’s who you are.” “I think you’re a nurturer too.” An awkward laugh escapes me. “I don’t know about that.” “Yeah, because you’re not caring and protective and sweet at all. You’re just a selfish basketball player who only thinks about himself and his career.”

“And you’re probably mentally agreeing with me, but you’re wrong. One day, you’ll see it.”

Fuck me, I want her, and even though she’s made it clear she’s got nothing left to give, I find myself desperate to take even the scraps if they’re offered.

“To be honest, my stack of pillows is much more comfortable than your chest, but I guess you’ll do.” She readjusts. “Seriously, Ryan, it’s like sleeping on a goddamn boulder.” “You’re awfully whiney for a girl who’s practically burrowing her way into my skin right now.” “Shut up.”

“Ryan?” “Hmm?” “Why do you smell like coconut?”

“Blue.” My attention is torn away from Ryan’s backside to find blue-green eyes amused and watching me. He’s still bent over but looking back. “Are you checking out my ass right now?” A flush ghosts my cheeks and under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be embarrassed, but this guy has thousands of fans’ eyes on him, and many more watching from home. “It’s a nice ass.”

Trying to distract me tonight? With those heels and those lips? Because you look fucking stunning.”

Yes, I want to sleep with him, but I also want to have breakfast with him every morning. I want to sit on the couch and read with him. I want to spend my days off work holed up in that apartment. I’m not sure those are rebound feelings, but I might need a rebound to figure it out.

“Get your fucking hands off her.” Ryan shoves Connor. “Fuck you! You could've hurt her.”

The typical calm, cool, and collected basketball player I’ve come to expect is nowhere to be found at the moment. He stays as close to the sideline as possible while Connor shoots his free throws. Ryan watches the court but speaks to me over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” I quickly blurt out. Because I am and that was a far bigger scene than it needed to be. “I’m fine. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize. You’re not hurt?” “No.” “Promise me.” “I promise.” Ocean eyes sweep up my body, taking me in as if he’s double checking that I really am okay. I am, it just scared me a little. Finally, his eyes glide to mine and a soft smile graces his lips, those sweet dimples concaving into his cheeks.

“I like having you sitting so close.” I laugh. “Ryan, I just caused you to get a technical foul.”

“Worth it.”

“Daily update—I hope your brother wears his jersey when he fucks me.” I pop my shoulders. “Or I could wear it.”

Ryan’s eyes dart between Alex and me again, and maybe it’s the fact that I’m about two seconds away from crying or that he can physically see that I’m living out my worst nightmare, but he drops his gym bag and in a few quick strides, charges towards me. Before I can think any further, his palms cup my face, long fingers threading into my ponytail, and his lips are on mine. Soft lips, warm to the touch. Commanding yet measured, as I’d expect any kiss from Ryan Shay to be. My mouth yields to his, parting to take him deeper and his tongue ever so slightly sweeps across mine in an electrifying slide. One of his hands drops, curving around my throat to bracket the back of my neck as the other pulls my hips to his. His imposing touch makes me feel small and the deliciously domineering way in which he kisses me makes me feel entirely out of control. I knew I’d like it. I knew it would be good, but what I didn’t expect was to feel light as a feather from my fingers to my toes. To fall completely under a spell just from feeling his mouth, especially when he told me I’d never have it. My palms find his shoulders, sliding over his broad frame to hook around the back of his neck. A small, unpermitted moan creeps up my throat and I feel Ryan’s lips curve up against mine before pulling away. Moving his hand to my lower back, he presses my body into his. His lips dot a map of soft kisses along my jaw, until his mouth ghosts my ear, whispering. “Are you okay?” My chest is heaving...

“Hey, I’m Ryan.” Oh my God, Alex is here. Then Ryan continues. “How do you know my girlfriend?” An uncomfortable breath escapes Alex as he steps off the curb to his natural height. “I uh…we used to…” Now who’s fumbling? Ryan slides a forearm around the front of my shoulders, holding my back to his chest. He nods towards Alex’s jersey. “Oh,” Ryan says sweetly, patronizingly. “You’re a fan of mine.” I didn’t notice the Devils jersey he had on, but I especially didn’t pick up on the fact there’s a number five on the front and my fake boyfriend’s last name on the back. I have to bite my lip to keep it from curving.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes. “Do you?” Ryan levels me with a look, serious and stoic. “I think you’re smart.” Oh. “Kind. Chaotic. A bit of a smartass and too charming for your own good.” Oh, wow. I like that answer much more than the one I was expecting, but I divert because his response is far too detailed and knowing of who I am. “So, you don’t think I’m pretty, then.” He chuckles. “Indy, I’m not blind, but even if I were, I’m pretty sure I could touch your face and understand just how fucking stunning you are, but it’s not the first thing I see anymore.” Well, fuck me.

It was perfect, consuming, soft. Fuck, it was intoxicating, and I want to do it again. I think I might need to do it again before I combust.

Was it as fake as I claimed? Not in the slightest. As I told her, I don’t feel comfortable faking intimacy, so I didn’t. My body was boiling when I saw her standing with him outside the arena. I knew who he was the second my eyes landed on him, and my suspicion was confirmed when I noticed the frozen yet fumbling mess that was my roommate. Her kind brown eyes were shining with unshed tears, and yeah, that pissed me off because he deserves no part of her. I’d never let him see her cry over him, so you could blame the kiss on that, but the truth is when I walked out of the players’ entrance all I saw was Blue. My perfect fucking Blue with those strappy heels, leather pants, and an attitude consisting of the strangest mix of welcoming and sharp. But when I noticed him, all I saw was red. Call it possessive, protective, or straight-up caveman tendencies, I don’t care. There was no part of me that would allow for that sorry excuse of a man to think he “won.” So, yeah, I kissed her to prove a point. But I also kissed her because I’d been wanting to do it for weeks now.

I want the comfort of privacy, but I want her to be with me while I have it. The flowers I had delivered are shades of light purple and pink, so I know she’s going to love them. It’s impractical, constantly spending money on flowers that will die shortly after bringing them home, but every cent is worth it when I get to watch that beaming smile bloom when she sees them. The girl deserves to be spoiled, and I want to be the one doing the spoiling. I trim the stems down the way she taught me before adding the flower food to the water, trying to situate them like the professional florists do. Mine doesn’t look nearly as nice, but fuck it, I tried.

It seemed like something a normal man would do for a girl he likes. Because at the end of the day, that’s who this bookshelf is for.

As much as I tease her, I’ve found her crying, laughing, or even crossing her legs during certain scenes, and it’s beyond endearing that the love between fictional characters can bring her so much joy.

I’ve looked for any excuse to talk to him this week and I can’t blame it on being lonely. It’s because I truly enjoy talking to him more than I do most other people. I never thought my recluse roommate would become the person I most look forward to seeing, but here we are.

“Did Ryan Shay just steal my date?”

“Trust me, she was never yours.”

In surprise, I find him staring down at me, his chest rising and falling in rage, his nostrils flared, and his mouth set in a hard line. But then I look up. Brow creased and ocean eyes swimming in a world of…hurt. I hurt him. Oh my God, I hurt him. We face off, and I can almost see the words on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say something, but doesn’t, letting the silent anger radiating off his body do the talking for him.

Yes, he’s angry, but there’s a mixture of wounded feelings in there, and for a man who doesn’t let himself get emotional, there’s a whole lot of emotion going on at the moment. He exhales, his voice softer. “Let’s just go home, okay?”

Ryan’s hand brackets my throat, pinning me to the wall with his hips, stealing the rest of my words when his mouth takes mine. Instantly, I’m compliant, pliable, letting him take me however he wishes. On the other hand, he’s commanding in his standard controlling manner, but there’s a juxtaposition in the way he kisses. Rough but thoughtful. Hurried but enjoyed.

I’ve never been kissed like this. Desperately. Longingly. As if he’s needed to do this since the day I walked into the apartment in the same way I have.

“You’re not broken,” he rasps against my skin. “You just didn’t have the right distraction.”

“Please don’t stop.” The words are more desperate than they’ve ever been. “Never, baby.”

Because trust me, after the night I pinned her to the wall and made her come, there’s no way in hell another man is going near her without me losing my goddamn mind. Or going to prison.

She thinks she’s broken. Broken. As if her ex-boyfriend wasn’t already the first name on my shit list, the fact that he made this woman think she’s anything less than perfection personified has me close to seeking him out and destroying his life by any means possible.

Actually, do you need anything while I’m here? I can get some things to make dinner when you’re back. Anything you’re in the mood for?” “Indy,” I sigh. “That’s the opposite of what’s on the bucket list. You’re only allowed to buy what you want. And I can cook for myself. Breakfast is different because it’s…well it’s…” It’s special. “It’s our thing,” she says for me. “Yes. It’s our thing and we trade off, but the whole point of this bucket list is for you to be selfish for once.”

“There’s my girl.”

“Hey, Blue, I kind of missed talking to you for three days. Let’s not do that again.” “Deal.” “Add it to the fridge. With all the other deals we’ve made.” We both stay silent for a moment, neither of us hanging up just yet. Indy clears her throat. “See you at home.” And fuck do I love the way those words sound rolling off her tongue. “See you at home.”

Who is that tall one? Is he single? They’re all tall. Perfect, any will do then. Are you trying to make me jealous? Is it working? I know flirting with my sister’s best friend is very much blurring the lines of my fake relationship, but I can’t exactly help it with Ind.

Well, now I’m the one without words. In true Indy fashion, she says whatever the hell is on her mind, and I can barely catch up let alone catch my breath.

I’m not sure what it says about me or our relationship that I was looking at another man hours after my relationship ended with the person I thought I was going to marry, but I’m beginning to wonder if the love I had for Alex was genuine and true, or simply a convenient avenue to the life I wanted. If I’m being honest, the notion has rocked me this last week because even though I’ve flirted with Ryan since I met him, it all became too real the night I went on a date with someone else. That date was meant to get me out there again. To prove to myself whatever I was feeling towards Ryan was fleeting. I couldn’t have genuine feelings for someone else only eight months after who I thought was the love of my life. Anyone would make me feel the same way as I was feeling towards the man across the hall.

The shift between us is evident, a new energy in the air around us. What was once a flirty friendship has turned into an awareness that there’s more going on. It’s only a matter of time before one of us decides to act on it.

“Did I buy this dress?” I nod. His throat releases a gravelly noise in satisfaction. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little possessive, Shay?” His chest rumbles against my back in a silent laugh. “Never. But then again, no one else has ever made me feel quite as greedy as you do.”

“You’re a good friend to her, Blue.” “Well, she’s a good friend to me. You could’ve told me. I could’ve helped with the party. I could’ve—” “I know. Zanders thought about asking for your help, but I told him not to. I wanted you to have fun without worrying if everyone else is too.”

My roommate isn’t an emotional man. That much is clear, but Stevie is always his exception. He loves her fiercely, and the fact he’s unguarded enough to shed a few tears for her in public, gives me hope that maybe one day, someone else will make him just as vulnerable.

Zanders eyes my outfit. Of all my friends, he understands my appreciation of fashion. “Love the dress.” “Love the suit.”

His eyes take a lazy trail down my body. “And what are we doing?” “Good question.” I take a swig of Ryan’s beer. “What are we doing?” The question masks a far more important one: How much of this is going to be pretend?

“You’re stunning, Ind. In case I haven’t mentioned it in the last five minutes.”

As he pulls me in closer, I can’t help but notice how well we fit together, how perfectly we mold even though we’re opposites in every other way. I’m disorganized. He’s a clean freak. I’m a romantic. He’s a cynic. I’m an extrovert. He’s the dictionary definition of a recluse. I want my future to involve love and family. He’s adamant about spending the rest of his days alone. But here, with him holding me, we don’t feel all that different.