Thanks For Last Night: A Guys Who Got Away Novel

by Lauren Blakely

  I don’t give a fuck what anyone else is doing as I take Teagan’s hand and guide her to the dance floor.

  Her body glides against mine. We fit together like we don’t have to think about where hands go, where arms go.

  Because everything feels natural with her. Everything feels real and true.

  My arms loop around her waist. Hers rope around my neck. The lights twinkle, the music pulses, and our bodies sway.

  We’re on the edge of the hardwood floor, moving in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. My hand travels up the small of her back. Somehow she snuggles closer. “That feels nice,” she murmurs.

  “Nice? Just nice?” I tease.

  “Nice isn’t good enough for you?” she taunts in a flirty whisper.

  “Nice isn’t how I’m feeling right now,” I say as I bend my face into the crook of her neck, whispering those words in her ear.

  “Mmm.” She tugs me closer, her hands tightening around my neck. “How are you feeling, Ransom?”

  I press against her, the evidence hard and clear as my pelvis aligns with her body. “How do you think I feel?”

  Her breath hitches. “I could guess, but maybe spell it out.”

  I laugh lightly, pull back to meet her gaze, then break our hold for a few seconds to spell it out with my hands.

  “What did you say?” she asks, as I circle my hands back around her.

  “Something dirty,” I murmur.

  “I figured out that much,” she says, her fingers tangling in the back of my hair in a way that drives me crazy.

  “I love that,” I whisper.

  “When I touch your hair?”

  I nod against her. “Yeah, it turns me all the way on.”

  “That is very good to know, since I kind of love having my hands in your hair. It’s so soft and lush, and it gets me excited,” she says as she runs her hands through my hair again.

  My breath catches from her soft, nimble touch. “Now I’m getting more aroused,” I say roughly.

  “I can tell, and I like it.”

  “I think it’s chocolate milkshake time.”

  Her lips dust across my neck, journeying to my jaw. She leaves kisses there, and it feels like she’s marking me with gentle but still possessive kisses. “Are you sure you want to get a milkshake?”

  I slide my lips along her neck, traveling to her ear. “I feel like we could skip it. You?”

  She nods quickly, purposefully. “Yes.”

  We barely bother to say goodbye to our friends.

  I’m confident they won’t care.

  Actually, that’s not true.

  I’m confident this is what they want.

  And it’s what I want now too.

  Without reservations, without rules.

  16

  Teagan

  I take one last look behind me—a parting glance at the beautiful tableau.

  This is what I never want to lose.

  The friendships. The moments. The way these people have all become my family.

  My found family. The one I desperately needed.

  But seeing all of them, tangled up in each other, makes everything so clear.

  There are no guarantees for any of us.

  We walk down aisles.

  We pledge to love each other.

  We promise forever.

  We hope we get all the years.

  I’m not ready for those kinds of promises, but I’m ready to live again.

  To feel again.

  To knock down my walls and let the light in.

  I don’t want to lose what’s in front of me, but as I take a mental snapshot, I’m keenly aware that all these men and women took a risk to be where they are.

  Summer and Oliver risked friendship.

  After brutal divorces, Bryn and Logan chose honesty and trust for a second chance.

  Dean moved across an ocean for Fitz, who made it possible for them both.

  None of those happily ever afters were especially easy. But all are worth it.

  I don’t know what’s inside my story. But I’d like to keep turning the pages.

  Yes, I’ve been burned, I’ve been hurt, and I’ve lost.

  But in these months of being Ransom’s friend, I’ve tasted the potential of new chances.

  The possibilities that come with risk.

  The pluses of being more than the woman who likes to have a good time, more than the sassy chick marching to the beat of her single-in-the-city soundtrack.

  Because last week I told myself the greatest lie of all—that I would get him out of my system in only one night. A few days later, I learned that I don’t want him anywhere but in.

  This man is in my system, and I want him there, no matter the risks.

  With one last lingering look at all the happy people, I turn around and step toward the risk I’m choosing to take.

  I hold open the door to my apartment, then let it close softly behind me, kicking off my shoes.

  Ransom toes off his and steps back, looking around. “Cool digs, but can I please have the nickel tour later?”

  “Who said I was even giving you a tour at all?”

  He laughs, then follows me up the first flight of stairs, and when we reach the landing, his jaw drops. “Is this the second floor? You have two floors?”

  I hold up three fingers, smiling as we turn into the living room.

  “Hot damn. I would make an ice rink out of one of the floors.”

  I laugh. “Yes, admittedly, that was next in my plans.”

  “Good plan. I’ll get my skates.”

  “I’ll get the Zamboni.”

  “A woman after my own heart.” He wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me over his shoulder. “And now I will take the tour of your bed, please.”

  I pound my fists playfully on his back, taunting, “See if you can find my bedroom.”

  “It can’t be that hard,” he teases, carrying me to the hallway, then stopping in his tracks.

  “Holy shit, you have a big hallway too,” he says, setting me down.

  “Hey, I thought you were carrying me.” I pout.

  “I was, then I saw more of your place.”

  “Gawker,” I tease as his eyes swing up and down the long hallway that leads to three bedrooms.

  He gestures wildly down the hall. “What do you do with all this space?”

  I shrug. “Not much. I don’t go into all the empty rooms. I should sell it, I guess, but I also like it. It’s where I grew up.”

  “I like it too,” he says, then waves a hand like he’s dismissing it. “But you know what?”

  “What?”

  He wiggles his brows. “Let’s go to your room.”

  I bump my hip against his. “Hello? I was trying to take you there.”

  “Take me there now, woman.”

  I lead him to my bedroom, open the door, and bring him to my bed. We strip out of our clothes, and when I run my hands along his carved chest, I let out a long, happy sigh.

  This feels right.

  This feels like where I want to be—taking this chance, wherever it leads.

  17

  Ransom

  What a difference a week makes.

  Sure, the vibe between us changed the night of the auction. Everything felt different as soon as the evening began, as we walked to the event.

  But now, as I sit on the edge of her bed, pull her on top of me, and thread my fingers through her hair, we feel different.

  In all the right ways.

  And I need to let her know.

  I need to tell her before we move on to the main attraction. “Teagan,” I say, steeling myself to say the hard stuff—hard for me, that is.

  “Yes?” Her voice is shuddery.

  “Let’s make a deal,” I say, using the same words we used last time we were together. Except not . . .

  She tenses in my arms. “What sort of deal?”

  I swallow roughly, pushing past my fears. “Let’s make a deal to let this be what it
’s going to be.”

  “The sex?” Her voice pitches up.

  I shake my head adamantly. “No. The us.”

  Us. I’ve avoided being an us for years. But I don’t want to stop coming together with her.

  Teagan’s lips curve into a grin, slow and warm. “You and me?”

  I nod, bringing her close, dusting a kiss across her jaw. “I don’t think it’s going to be just one night.”

  “And you don’t want to stay just friends?”

  “I want to be friends. But I also want to be more with you.” It’s a terrifying statement to say out loud, but a wonderful one to give voice to as well. “I want to see you. I want to date you. I want to spend time in and out of bed, just you and me.”

  “I want that so much too.” She sounds woozy, delighted.

  I grin wildly as I thread my fingers through her soft red strands. “Let’s see what this is between us. Let’s find out what the hell we’re all about. No rules, no limits. Just us.”

  “Count on it,” she says, then she grabs my face and crushes her lips to mine. Her kiss is fierce and hot. She’s full of passion and need, and she kisses me without inhibitions, without fear.

  I kiss her back the same way, pouring all the possibilities of us into the way we connect.

  The kiss spreads through my whole body, radiating in my bones. It’s intense and deep, and it feels like a whole new brand of kissing.

  It’s more than just the heat and need of last week.

  It’s something else entirely.

  It’s intimate and free. We are two people who don’t want to be hurt, but who are willing to jump anyway.

  And the kiss also makes me horny as hell.

  Because, well, the woman of my dreams is naked and wet and grinding against me.

  Our connection rockets higher, burning brighter as I adjust Teagan on my lap, sliding my fingers between her legs, gliding them through all that fantastic, delicious wetness.

  I break the kiss, groaning. “You’re so fucking wet,” I say, savoring the slippery feel of her.

  She reaches for my cock, stroking it. “And you’re so fucking hard.”

  “Seems we should do something about both these problems right now,” I say, and she grabs a condom from the nightstand, slides it on me, and then rises up, rubbing my dick against her center.

  She moans, a delicious, erotic sound that carries across the room as she strokes my cock against her sweet, lovely pussy.

  She drops her head back, letting her hair spill behind her as she lowers onto my length.

  “Fuuuuuck,” I groan as she sinks down, taking me all the way inside her.

  Exactly where I want to be.

  Her lips fall open, parting on a gorgeous O as she slams her hands down on my shoulders, curling them over me, clutching tightly. “I want to just sit on your cock all night.”

  I laugh lightly, then give the only right answer. “Please do.”

  “Dear God, you feel incredible,” she says, barely moving, just adjusting, rocking, taking.

  Then, after a few deliriously sexy seconds, she swivels her hips.

  It’s mind-bending, watching her seek her pleasure. My skin sizzles. I’m burning up from the vision of Teagan taking me deep, finding her own pace.

  “Ride me, sunshine. Just fucking ride me till you come so damn hard,” I tell her as I grip her hips, my fingers digging into her flesh as she grinds down, then rises up.

  She moans and groans, her hands tightening around my neck, her tits bouncing so beautifully against my chest.

  Her eyes fall shut as she uses my dick for her pleasure.

  My dick likes to be used for that so very much.

  “That’s right. Use me to get yourself off, sunshine,” I say, urging her on as she rides me hard and deep.

  She’s fierce and wild in bed, seeking what she wants, owning her desire, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. It turns me on everywhere in my body, my cells sparking, my bones vibrating as I watch her chase her bliss.

  Her noises grow louder, more erratic. Her breath comes faster, harder.

  Then her nails dig into my shoulder, and she freezes, then keens, shouting “Oh God” over and over as she shudders, coming on my cock.

  And her orgasm unlocks my own as I climax so damn hard, I swear I see stars.

  And maybe I see a future with this woman too.

  That’s something I didn’t think I’d want ever again, but I’m sure I want it desperately now.

  18

  Ransom

  I didn’t think I was a gawker, but maybe I am. Because, holy shit . . . this house is insane.

  I could get lost in here. There are probably trapdoors and secret attics. Underground bunkers maybe.

  The next morning after I put on my boxer briefs and hit the little boys’ room, I wander down the hall, amazed at the size of everything. I think the hallways are sprouting hallways and the stairs are giving birth to more steps.

  Not wanting to spy, I return to her bedroom, standing in the doorway. Teagan’s still sound asleep, flat on her stomach, splayed out like a starfish, her red hair a fan around her head.

  Snuggling would be nice, but I’m pretty wired, so I quietly snag my phone from the nightstand and head to the living room.

  As I survey the spacious digs, I consider whether to sit on the couch or the chaise longue. Or the other couch.

  Or the window seat.

  I shake my head in disbelief. She has a fucking window seat.

  Well, there is no contest.

  I am sitting in the window seat. Bring me a cup of tea and a well-worn book, and I might as well just spend a rainy day here. If I were good at selfies, I’d snap a shot of myself and title it “Reading Nook.”

  But it’s June, and the sun is already rising in a blue sky that promises a perfect New York day.

  I settle in against the green, purple, and blue pillows spilling across the window seat and click open my phone.

  My screen is bursting with notifications.

  Text after text.

  * * *

  Logan: And good night to you too.

  * * *

  Logan: I mean, not that I need a goodbye, but holy hell. That was one hell of an exit. You took off like a fighter jet.

  * * *

  Smiling, I tap out a reply.

  * * *

  Ransom: Why, thank you. I consider that the highest of compliments.

  * * *

  But that’s not quite enough for the man who set me straight last night. Every now and then, a guy needs to speak a different language with his buds. I send another text.

  * * *

  Ransom: And I hope you know that this is the highest of compliments—thank you for the bro talk last night. I needed it, and I appreciate it.

  * * *

  Logan: Well, then, I couldn’t be happier.

  * * *

  Ransom: Bet you’ll be happier after you ask Bryn to marry you. Let me know when she says yes.

  * * *

  Logan: Aww, you’re sweet. Did it pain you to be honest like that?

  * * *

  Ransom: Like ripping off a limb, but every now and then, I gotta be up-front.

  * * *

  Logan: Wish me luck. Also, good luck to you, man.

  * * *

  Next, there’s a message from Fitz. I furrow my brow, wondering what the hell he’s doing texting me when he’s taking off for his honeymoon.

  * * *

  Fitz: Say it. I was right. I was motherfucking right.

  * * *

  Fitz: I’m waiting to use my I told you so and receive my thank you, all rolled into one big mea culpa from you, dickhead.

  * * *

  Fitz: I told you she’d be good for you, and I told you to go for it.

  * * *

  Fitz: And I was right. Also, did you or did you not score on my wedding night? I’m like a good luck charm.

  * * *

  The flurry of messages was sent an hour ago. It
’s nine thirty, so I reply.

  * * *

  Ransom: What the fuck are you texting me for? Don’t you have more important things to do . . . like, say, fly to Copenhagen for your honeymoon?

  * * *

  Fitz: I was in line grabbing coffee at the airport, asshole. SINCE I WAS UP ALL NIGHT. Also, I can almost always make time to give you shit. Now, we’re about to take off, and inquiring minds want to know. WHEN DO I GET MY THANK YOU?

  * * *

  Ransom: Thanks for last night, you jackass. There, happy?

  * * *

  Fitz: Yes! I knew it. I was right. I was motherfucking right. You and Teagan are a thing. Called it.

  * * *

  Ransom: Go to Denmark, cupid. Just go to Denmark and have fun with your hubby.

  * * *

  Fitz: Obviously.

  * * *

  One more note from him lands on my phone.

  * * *

  Fitz: Also, I might have been part of that bet with Martinez and Carnale at the auction.

  * * *

  My brow creases as I think back to the night of the auction.

  * * *