“Oh yeah, I’ll hear from them.”
After spending the afternoon reminiscing, we’ve somehow managed to drink our way through two pitchers of Pimm’s. I don’t know about Molly, but I’m starting to feel a little buzzed with the mixture of sun and alcohol.
I watch as she pops the last bit of fruit from her glass into her mouth, and I’m mesmerised by how sexy she looks doing something so simple. When her tongue licks away the juice on her lips, I know I need to get up and do something. “Now that it’s cooling down, I think I’ll go for a run along the beach.” I stand and collect our glasses.
“Okay. I was thinking of heading in for a shower and getting dressed for dinner, anyway. I’m feeling quite cooked.”
She’s right; she has a lovely glow over her skin, and a bit of a pink nose. I watch as she stands and staggers a little. Yep, it’s not just me who’s buzzed, then.
I’ve been running for a long time. My legs burn and sweat’s pouring off me. Once I climbed over the rocks we thought were the end of the beach, I found a long sandy stretch that I ran the entire length of, despite it being more touristy than our secluded piece of heaven next door.
I’m now sat on those rocks, looking over the beach and watching a young family building sandcastles. The little girl can’t be more than two years old, and her parents are still in their twenties, I’d say. They’re having such fun. I know it’s stupid to feel it because I am in no way lonely, but that’s how I feel in this moment.
Actually, since I lost Hannah, I’ve felt lonely.
I loved sharing my life with her. It made me feel complete to wake up to her in the morning and hold her in my arms at night before I fell asleep.
That lonely feeling is soon overtaken by guilt. For the past six months, when I’ve pictured my future, I was alone. All of a sudden, a change in that vision has taken me by surprise and scared the fuck out of me. I now see Molly—and I don’t mean living downstairs. I see Molly everywhere.
“Fuck!” I shout as I run my hands through my hair and feel the tears burning behind my eyes. I promised Hannah I would move on one day. Every time I go to her grave, I tell her I will, because I know that’s what she would want for me. I was fine with that happening...one day. But how has that one day come so quickly, and why is it Molly? She made it pretty clear this morning that we’re just friends, and she sees me as her brother.
What would Hannah think about Molly and me? Molly was her best friend. Would she think it’s weird? What would she want me to do?
I sit there for a while longer, trying to get my head together. I come to the decision that I’ve got to put my new feelings aside—firstly so I can try to make sense of them, and secondly so I can be the friend she needs me to be. If I force anything, I’m likely to push her away, and I need her. If what I’m feeling is meant to happen, then it will.
With that little pep talk over, I head back to the beach hut. What I find when I get there almost makes me forget everything I’ve just told myself.
Chapter Seven
Molly
Ryan’s been gone ages. I’m starting to get worried. I called his mobile over half an hour ago, but it rang in the living room. I’m trying to stop myself from worrying by keeping busy. I decided, as we’re celebrating tonight, to wear one of the dresses I bought on my holiday shopping trip yesterday. It’s a full-length maxi dress with multi-coloured flowers printed all over the thin, sheer fabric. The top is cut low and square across my breasts, showing off my ample cleavage. I’ve left my hair to dry naturally, tucked a flower behind my ear, and kept my make-up light.
We decided to have Hannah’s favourite for dinner. I’ve prepped all the ingredients, so when Ryan gets back, it’s just the beef that needs cooking. I’ve also made a pitcher of margaritas to go with the tacos, but in the time I’ve been waiting, I’ve already had one too many. Add those to the Pimm’s from earlier and I might be having an early night.
I’ve just finished a pint of water to try to dilute it all when I hear footsteps on the balcony.
“Ryan, is that you? I’ve been worried sick. You should have taken your—” He appears around the corner. Oh, holy fucking hell. “Um…your phone…um…taken it…with you. Shit.”
He’s standing there in the doorway with the setting sun behind him. His body is tanned and glistening where the light is hitting his sweat, his hair sticking up in all directions, and his eyes…shit, his eyes look like they’re asking me to devour him. Um, yes please, I think as I stand here, close to drooling. I watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Oh God, I want those lips on me. I squeeze my thighs together to try to relieve the ache, but I swear the pressure makes it worse. I feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle on the floor.
Ryan distracts me from my almost orgasmic state. “Holy motherfucking shit.”
My eyes go back up to his after getting my fill of his half-naked body. They’re roaming all over me before they come to rest on my breasts.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
When I laugh, his eyes come back up to mine. His normally bright blues are darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“I’ve pretty much got dinner sorted, so if you want to go have a shower, I’ll finish it off,” I say as a way to distract both of us.
He’s sauntering towards me, an intention in his eyes that I don’t want to identify.
“I’ve already laid the table, so you can meet me outside once…”
He’s about an inch away from me. My breasts are so close to rubbing up against his chest, I’m worried I’ll go off like a rocket if he so much as touches them. His hand rests on my cheek, and he stares into my eyes.
“I don’t know what was wrong with all the guys you’ve been with before, because your body was designed to be worshiped,” he growls before swallowing. The muscles in his neck ripple, distracting me. He leans in and whispers, “For hours.”
“Ryan...shower,” I manage to croak out, when his face moves closer again. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as conflicted as I am in this moment.
“Ryan,” I whisper again, breaking the trance. He flinches before kissing my forehead and leaving the room.
I walk out of the hut and lean against the balcony railing, looking over the beach below. What the hell is going on here? Where did all this sexual tension come from?
After Hannah died, we held each other while we cried. We had nights where we held each other in bed while we slept, but even then, not even a hint of anything sexual was evident. Then, I move in, and suddenly bam! He’s all I can see and think about.
Nothing can happen between us, though. Just thinking about how Emma reacted when she presumed something was going on is enough to scare me off. How would she react if it actually happened? What about Susan and Pete, or the twins? I could lose them all.
The sudden realisation has me panicking. If something happened between us and it didn’t work, I’d lose him as my best friend. There’s no way we’d be this close afterwards. The Morrisons might all act like Emma earlier, then I’d not only lose my best friend, but the people I see as my family, too. That cannot happen.
I need to control my feelings where Ryan is concerned. This has to stop. Maybe I need a date, to see someone else. Maybe it’s not Ryan I want, but it’s my body’s way of telling me I’m ready to get out there and find that great guy I’ve been waiting for.
Instead of going back to dinner, I grab my phone and call Susan to see how she’s doing before calling Emma back. I’m glad when she answers. I hope she can start being around a bit more. I really miss her. I also call Lilly and Dec to check up on them. They all sound sad, but they’re doing okay.
When Ryan reappears, I’ve only just started on the beef. “Sorry, I got distracted.” I glance over to see him run his hand through his wet hair, leaving it in a sexy mess. I run my eyes over him quickly. He’s wearing a black t-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and chest, paired with tan shorts.
“No problem. We’re on holidays, we can do w
hatever we want.”
Dinner was delicious and uneventful, except for the fact that I caught Ryan watching me a number of times. Maybe messy food wasn’t a great idea. It felt like every time I licked one of my fingers, his eyes darkened another shade.
As soon as we cleared our plates, I immediately started to clean up—I just couldn’t sit there any longer. The tension was killing me.
“I put the DVDs I brought by the TV. Do you want to pick one and put it on? I’m going to get changed.” I decided while I was washing up that this situation was somehow the dress’s fault, so it’s coming off in favour of a tank top and shorts.
When I come out, Ryan is already on the sofa. He’s also found the box of chocolate truffles we bought and placed them on the coffee table. As I walk over, I notice which DVD he’s chosen. The Friends with Benefits box is open with the disc missing. It’s like he knows how hot this film makes me. I mean, come on, Justin Timberlake practically naked…who wouldn’t get a bit hot?
“Um, why this film?” I try to ask as innocently as possible as I sit on the floor, leaning my back against the sofa in an attempt to keep my distance from him.
“I’ve never seen it, and you two were always going on about it. Plus, the main actress is fit.” He shrugs.
Brilliant, just what we need to add to our sexual tension.
We’re about halfway into the film and I think it’s going okay. I mean, yes, it’s awkward as fuck, but if I don’t look at Ryan at all, it makes it easier. I’m still sat on the floor and it’s really un-fucking-comfortable. I can’t feel my arse, and I’ve got pins and needles in my legs, but I’m adamant that I’m not sitting next to him on that small sofa. He continually tells me to come up, but I keep making excuses.
Eventually, it gets so bad that I’m constantly fidgeting. I feel Ryan get up from behind me and come to stand in front of me.
“What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, as his hands go to my waist and he lifts me up with no effort at all, practically throwing me on the sofa.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“Just get fucking comfortable. I can’t cope with the fidgeting any longer.”
I curl myself into the far corner from Ryan, and he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. He’s right to think this is weird; we’ve watched loads of films together and we usually sit quite happily next to each other.
“What the fuck now?”
He narrows his eyes. I just need to act normal. I think I’ve forgotten what normal is with us, though. I just shrug my shoulders in answer to his question.
“Come here.” He grabs me and moves me over until I’m up against his side.
I try to relax, I really do, but I know there’s a sex scene coming next and I don’t know if I can watch and be this close to Ryan without panting or doing something embarrassing. Being pressed up against his hard body and able to smell him is already hard enough.
“What’s wrong? You’re as tense as a nun at an Ann Summers party.”
“Nothing,” I mumble.
“Molls, are you uncomfortable watching this with me?” I know he’s smirking. Fucking know-it-all. “Fuck, you are. Seriously, we’ve watched worse than this together before now.”
I can feel him laughing, and I know he’s thinking of the night his mate left the TV on an adult channel and hid the remote. Admittedly, we were pretty drunk and curiosity got the better of us for about thirty minutes, but that was different. The sexual tension between us wasn’t as thick as fog on a winter’s morning.
“I know, but after earlier it feels a little weird.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise, standing there looking all hot and sexy. It won’t happen again, I promise. Actually, no, I can’t promise that. Just relax—it’s not like I’m going to jump you any minute. Molly, you might be my best friend, but you’re still seriously hot. I can’t help appreciating that.”
I relax into him a bit more, and he strokes my arm gently. I may have relaxed, but I’m still stupidly aware of my body. I suddenly realise that, the way I’m lying, I’m giving him a great view of my tits again. I try to discreetly pull my top up, but I stop in my tracks when I hear him laugh, “Are you trying to ruin all my fun?”
“Fuck off, Ry.” I move back to my side of the sofa, grabbing my drink.
When the film finishes, I get up to put the next one in while Ryan gets us fresh drinks. Surely Bridget Jones’ Diary is a safer choice than the last one.
By the time the credits come up, we’re both well past the point of being tipsy. Luckily, the tension has drained, and it’s back to being like it always has been. Ish.
“What are you doing?” I ask Ryan as he gets up and starts to move the coffee table.
“Making some space. You said you brought Twister.”
“You’re kidding. You actually want to play?”
“You bet your sweet arse I do. Come on, Molls, don’t be a spoilsport. It’s that or strip poker,” he says with a smile.
“I’ll go get it, then,” I say, sounding less than enthusiastic. There is no way this can be a good idea.
I come back with the game for Ryan to set up, the bottle of Apple Sourz, and a couple of glasses. We have a shot each and get started.
We’ve been playing for twenty minutes, and so far we’ve avoided any contact and remained on either side of the mat. I’m thinking I might accidently fall over soon to end the game and stop the inevitable. I have my back facing the floor and am looking up at the ceiling, waiting for Ryan to spin and move. He’s sort of on his side next to me, with both hands next to each other, but his foot is between mine.
“Right hand, red.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, because this means he can just move his hand one spot to the right from where it is now. Unfortunately, Ryan has other ideas. He moves his hand over my body so that he’s hovering over me, his face right above mine. His breath caresses my neck, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. My chest heaves as my breathing intensifies.
“Are you going to spin, Molls?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I reach out for the spinner. “Right leg, green.”
Fuck.
I move my leg to the other side of his, so that now I’m totally underneath him. This is exactly why I didn’t want to play.
I hear a small moan come from the back of Ryan’s throat and I turn to look at him. His eyes are as dark as they were earlier, and he’s just less sweaty. His lips are parted where his breathing is coming out in fast pants, and his chest moves dramatically. I look back to his face in time to see his tongue sneak out and wet his bottom lip.
My heart pounds and my temperature is nearly at boiling point. I know that if I don’t move, we’re going to end up doing something we’re going to regret.
I can tell by the determined look in Ryan’s eyes that he’s not backing down. It’s up to me.
I make a snap decision and let my limbs give way so my back hits the floor, and I scramble out from under his body.
Chapter Eight
Ryan
It’s been three days since our game of Twister. What a stupid fucking idea that was. Yeah, I pretty much knew it would be when I mentioned it, but the thought of being that close to her was too much of a pull. Thank God she didn’t come back out to the living area after she ran away, because I would have been caught red-handed jacking off after that little episode.
We’ve had a great few days. Every morning, Molly has worked on designs for different clients. I love watching her sketch. She gets so engrossed in her thoughts and looks really sexy chewing on her pencil. All she needs is a pair of glasses to give her that sexy secretary look. I’m trying really hard to curb my feelings for her, but it’s not as easy as I initially thought.
We went for a drive yesterday for a look around. It was a typical Cornish town, and all the people were lovely to chat to. Molly dragged me into nearly every shop we came across and we spent longer than I thought possible insid
e a little art gallery full of paintings of the surrounding countryside. There was one painting in particular that caught her attention, and she spends an inordinate amount of time considering its smallest details. I’m captivated watching her studying the painting and the way she bites down on her bottom lip and moves her finger gently over the paint as if she’s experiencing what the very act of painting it might have been like.
I didn’t mind following her around, because it made her happy. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face all day. She came back with a number of bags full of bits and bobs for her bedroom at home, and small souvenirs for the Morrisons and Megan’s little boy.
Our time here has been amazing, but it’s gone so fast. Tomorrow is our last full day. I’m so glad I asked Molly to come with me, even with the odd awkward moment between us. We’ve done exactly what I wanted us to do. We’ve celebrated Hannah, and we’ve relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. I would have been bored here on my own.
We’ve decided to go out for a meal at the local pub tonight so we don’t have to cook. It’s a bit of a walk, but from what the locals have said, it’ll be worth it.
Molly is lying on her front on the outdoor sofa, sketching ideas for something on her pad. I walk over with a glass of water and sit next to her.
“What are you working on?” I ask. They look a little suggestive, to say the least.
“A burlesque club—they’re doing some bondage-themed nights in a few months and want some promo stuff.” I look back down at her sketches, and they start to make sense a bit more now.
“These are amazing, Molls,” I tell her honestly. She has hand-drawn a range of bondage items and used the markers to really make them stand out. “I think the whip, blindfold, and the one with the side of a corset on are my favourites.”
Falling For Ryan: Part One Page 7