Free In Bed with Mr. Wrong by Katee Robert

into a pan and then grabbed a box out of the cupboard.
     As he started adding ingredients, she reluctantly climbed to her feet and went to
     investigate. There’s no other form of entertainment in this place. I might as well see what he’s
     up to . Her questionable logic firmly in place, she slipped onto the barstool across the
     island from him.
    Bri stared at her fingernails, the dark-pink paint she’d put on for her blind date
     already starting to chip off. She wanted to make a smart comment, but nothing came
     to mind except how good he looked in that fitted white thermal shirt. It clung to
     his shoulders and biceps, highlighting them in a way that seemed designed to remind
     her of how his muscles felt under her fingers. So she went with a generic, “What are
     you doing?”
    “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
    This was why she should have stayed on the couch. Every interaction they’d had fell
     to extremes—they either ended up fighting or throwing themselves at each other.
    Not that she needed those particular memories at this moment. Bri took a tie off her
     wrist and pulled her hair up, mostly to give herself a moment before she went off
     on him. The extra five seconds didn’t help her temper any, but at least she wasn’t
     ready to throw something. “My friends are terrible people.”
    Ryan glanced up from where he was dumping the mix into an eight-by-eight pan. “You’ve
     known them for a year and you’re just now figuring it out?”
    “They haven’t exactly made a habit of stranding me in deserted cabins with strange
     men before now.”
    “I hardly think I can be considered a ‘strange man’ since I’ve been inside you.”
    She choked, air not quite making it to her lungs. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
     Even worse was her reaction to his words. Her nipples pebbled, rubbing almost painfully
     against her bra as she shifted, and her thighs clenched together, as if that would
     do anything to ease the unnameable feeling centering between them.
    As she’d found over the last week, the only way to ease that feeling was to utilize her buzzy friend. It hadn’t helped that he seemed to know
     she’d been doing just that. He’d completely called her on it the day of Avery’s birthday
     party. Of course she’d pictured his face above her and his hands on her—he was the first man she’d been with in years. Her being borderline-obsessed
     with him was a perfectly natural response. She hoped. Because any experience she had
     from here on out would be compared to how things had been with him, and like it or
     not, he’d set a high bar.
    Oh God, what if he really did ruin me?
    Seeming oblivious to her mortification, he put the pan into the oven and then used
     a wooden spoon to stir the pot. “It’s just sex. What’s the harm in talking about it?”
    When he put it like that, he made her sound like a frightened virgin. They needed
     to talk about something—anything—else. So she blurted out the first thing that came
     to mind. “I’m worried about my fish.”
    Ryan frowned, his mouth twisting as if he wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. “Your
     fish?”
    “Mr. Smith. What if he starves while I’m gone? I didn’t get a chance to feed him today.”
    He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Bri, your fish isn’t going to starve.”
    “How do you know that? I’ve never left him alone for this long.” What if he gets lonely? Sure, she’d put the mermaid statue in the tank with him, but a statue wasn’t going
     to check in on him or read to him. She managed to keep that last bit inside. There
     was no reason to give him more ammunition to make fun of her.
    He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Fish are hardier than you give
     them credit for. Drew and I had a goldfish when we were kids. That thing went six
     years without being fed and it still managed to survive.”
    “ Six years ?”
    He shrugged. “We were