Page 57

“No, that was all.”

Penny gets fed first because that’s just how things work in this flat. She has me very well trained. I heat up a veggie lasagne for myself and eat it in front of the television. It’s pleasant enough, right up until a shower gel advert comes on. One bare-chested man and a lot of suds, and my thoughts are straight back upstairs. Heat curls low in my stomach.

Ugh. The man in the ad doesn’t even look that much like Ryan.

No, my brain provides unhelpfully, Ryan has a much nicer body.

And just like that, I’m back on the landing, watching water slide down his chest and over his frankly ridiculous abs before disappearing beneath the towel.

Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not thinking about that.

I wash my plate, water the houseplants, have a quick shower, and change into leggings and a soft old T-shirt. Then I settle on the sofa with my book and Penny curled against my thigh. Peace and quiet and a fictional winged prince with an attitude problem. My perfect evening.

Except I keep thinking about a man without wings but with a considerably worse attitude.

I’ve no thought about it since.

His words stung me more than they should have. I’ve thought about the stairwell kiss while conditioning stems, brushing my teeth, and waiting for the kettle to boil. To him, though? It seems the whole thing was entirely unremarkable.

I turn a page then realise I need to turn back again because I’ve not been following the story.

I’ve no thought about it since.

I should be offended, but it doesn’t help that every time I picture him saying that, he’s in the towel. Damp shoulders. Folded arms. That little trail of hair below his belly button…

I pull my attention back to the book. Someone has betrayed someone else, and I ought to be concerned, but all I can think about is kneeling in front of Ryan to pick up Penny. My face level with his⁠—

Good grief.

After another few attempts to concentrate on the book, I give up and set it aside. Penny lifts her head as I get up, then stretches out across the warm patch I’ve left on the sofa.

I head into my bedroom, close the door behind me, then draw the curtains, even though it’s not dark yet. I open my bedside drawer and stare at my vibrator. It’s a rose, naturally. Apparently, I can’t even buy a sex toy without it somehow involving flowers.

I’m not proud of what I’m thinking of doing, but trying not to think about Ryan clearly isn’t working. Maybe if I stop fighting it for a few minutes and give in to it, I’ll be able to get him out of my system.

Besides, why should I be embarrassed? It’s not as though he’ll ever know. I’ve had a long day, and I want to relax. I deserve to relax.

I take off my leggings and knickers, lie back, and pull up the duvet. Then I switch on the rose and hold it against myself.

Oh. Yes.

My eyes close, and there he is again. Ryan in his doorway, looking far too pleased with himself. I try to imagine him without the smirk, but apparently even fantasy Ryan refuses to cooperate.

The towel falls, and…he’s hard, because of course he is. His lips find mine, and he kisses me exactly the way he did on Saturday night. He lifts me, pins me against the wall, and grinds against me, only this time there’s nothing between us but the thin cotton of my briefs.

This time, I don’t stop him. I let him tug my underwear to the side. He lines himself up. Presses into me.

“Oh!” I say aloud.

I imagine the delicious stretch of him. My whole body tightens at the thought.

Then the vibrator cuts out.

My eyes fly open.

“No. No, no, no!”

I press the button. Nothing.