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  The Soul Mate

  Copyright © 2017 Kendall Ryan

  Copy Editing by Jennifer Echols and Tami Stark

  Cover Design by Sara Eirew

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  About the Book

  From New York Times Bestseller Kendall Ryan comes a sexy new stand-alone novel in her Roommates series.

  The smoking-hot one-night stand I was never supposed to see again? Yeah, well, I might be pregnant, and he’s my OB-GYN.

  Prologue

  Bren

  I rolled over, allowing my arm to fall onto the mattress beside me.

  Except there wasn’t a mattress beside me.

  No, when my arm fell, it landed on nothing but warm, solid muscle.

  Crap.

  I peered through half-closed eyes to see if the man sleeping beside me had noticed me move. If he had, he must have been doing the same thing as me, pretending to still be asleep, but based on the steady, rhythmic breathing, I had to guess not.

  Carefully I sat up a little straighter in the bed, then glanced at my companion again. His full brown hair was mussed from sleep and the rest of his body was mercifully covered by a white down comforter.

  Thank God for small blessings.

  Because if I had one more look at those abs, those powerful thighs, and his other…impressive qualities, there was no way I’d be able to drag myself from his bed.

  Which was exactly what I had to do. I just had to get up and get the hell out of here before what I’d done actually sank in. My car was still at the bar where we’d met, but I could take a cab…when and if I ever found my phone.

  Shit.

  I tried to mentally retrace my steps, thinking where it might have gone, but as I thought about the night before, my face flooded with heat and pleasure and just the tiniest hint of regret.

  Not for what I’d done. I’d needed the chance to get out and unwind far too desperately for that. And no one deserved a pass from the judgment police more than me.

  No, I regretted the idea that a night as hot and steamy as last night had been would never happen again. At least, not with this guy—whose last name I hadn’t managed to catch.

  My bad.

  We’d walked into the apartment, electricity crackling between us like some kind of freakish magnetic pull. I’d barely gotten a look at the high ceilings and the chrome fixtures before he’d walked up behind me and…

  I shivered and tried to get a grip.

  Okay, if I started thinking about what he’d done, I’d give up the good fight, sink beneath these sheets, and give him the friendliest wake-up he’d ever had.

  Which, again, I could totally not do with Mr. One Night of Fun.

  With an internal chuckle at his new nickname, I shifted my weight ever so slightly, I started again, trying to push him from my mind and replaying only the images that were most pertinent to my getting home this morning ASAP.

  My bra was on the floor beside me. My panties—I winced—were destroyed.

  A little ache ran through me as I recalled exactly how they’d wound up that way, but I forced myself to focus again.

  Okay. So, no panties. But my dress…my dress was crumpled on the floor in front of the front door. I remembered that much. So I just needed to hunt down my phone and purse.

  I slid a little way from the stranger’s heated skin, ignoring the pang of longing for a second—okay, fourth—time. Slipping on my bra, I tiptoed from the room, careful to open the door as quietly as possible and thanking everything that was holy for his silent, modern floors and doors that didn’t make a creak.

  When I opened the bedroom door and I saw one of the things that had impressed me about his place the most—the wall of solid glass overlooking the city—I realized I was standing in front of it with my hoo-ha hanging out for God and everyone to see.

  Heart thumping in my throat, I snagged my dress from where it lay on the floor and shoved it over my head, letting out a little yowl when the hook caught my hair and tugged. I held my breath as I heard a little thud from the neighboring bedroom. Please, you sexy beast, you, go back to sleep, I willed him mentally.

  My heart pounded against my chest as my ears strained, listening for the slightest sign of life. When it stayed quiet, I figured I was in the clear and went on the hunt for my shoes.

  Okay, so we walked in the door, I had admired the apartment, I went to get some water and…and I slipped off my shoes. On tiptoe now, I sprinted to the sink and found my strappy sandals, then slid them on. Beside the sink, I spied a little notepad and pen hanging from the fridge and I chewed the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to reach for the pen to leave my name and number.

  He probably would never use it.

  And even if he did?

  I thought again of that spark between us, the rush of animal need I’d felt from the first moment I’d spotted him looking at me from across the bar. He had a look in his eye that made me—probably made every girl—feel like I was the most important, luckiest woman to have been selected by him.

  And when he spoke?

  His deep, mellow voice felt like chocolate sliding over me, sweet and satisfying.

  A guy like him? He wasn’t looking for repeat visitors. In fact, he was nothing but a quick ride to Hurtsville, party of one.

  Which was perfect. Because after everything I’d seen of guys? I wasn’t on the lookout for more than a one-nighter anyway. But a girl still had needs. And if I could get them met while at the same time reminding myself about guys and their limitations? That was a win-win and if Mr. One Night of Fun were awake right now, he’d agree.

  I backed away from the fridge and bumped into the island, only to find my purse directly behind me.

  “Gotcha,” I hissed as I lifted it, then fished through the tiny bag’s contents until I found my phone and ordered a car.

  Five minutes until it got here.

  I glanced at the bedroom door again, wondering if it was rude not to say good-bye. After everything we’d done together last night? Lord only knew the kindest thing would be to let him sleep. Surely by the time noon came, I’d have forgotten all about him anyway.

  Besides, it wasn’t like I’d ever see him again. Nope. It was the kind of night that should be savored and then placed firmly in the past.

  Chapter One

  Mason

  “What the actual fuck, Mason?”

  I groaned as Trent’s voice echoed through my foyer, then lay back on the couch and tried to pretend like if I didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t be able to see me. Which, of course, was bullshit. But I was fresh out of ideas.

  “What day is it, motherfucker?” Trent’s voice was louder now, closer, and despite my better judgment I cracked an eyelid open to find him standing over me, his normally dark expression even darker than usual.

  “Leave me alone,” I croaked.

  “Nope.” He shoved my feet off the end of the sofa to take a seat on the buttery white leather. “It’s Sunday. And you want to know what happened? I was just fucking humiliated out there.”

  “Shit. Sorry about that.” I turned, pulling my feet up onto the ottoman, then yanked my blanket a little closer to my chin.

  “You are not,” Trent muttered. “You know Sunday is rugby in the park. How the hell are we supposed to win a game without our star player? Today was Medical versus Surgical, you piece of shit. You think the surgeons are going to let us live this
down? Ever?”

  I winced, knowing he was right. Fucking surgeons, cocky pricks. Fact was, they shouldn’t even have been playing rugby considering how precious they were about their delicate hands, but that didn’t seem to stop them.

  “Look,” I said, feeling slightly bad for the first time since he’d basically broken into my place, “I’m kind of going through something right now. It’s an emergency and—”

  “Not being able to find the contact info for your one-night stand does not constitute an emergency, no matter how many times you try to frame it that way, Mason.”

  “One man’s burden is another man’s gift. Tomato, tomahto. No crying over spilled milk.” I ran out of bad, inapplicable sayings and straightened up on the couch. Trent snagged the remote from my hand and muted the episode of Treehouse Masters I’d been watching.

  “Still no luck, huh?” Trent asked, a little less harshly this time—though still not by much.

  “Nope,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I checked every dating site I could think of. She wasn’t on any of them. I even looked on Tinder. Nothing. In fact, no one with the name Bren at all.”

  “Hey, here’s an idea.” His lips twisted into something resembling an encouraging smile. “Just go on a date with someone from Tinder and forget about it. It’s been a week, dude. Let it go.” Trent crossed his arms over his chest, and I reached for the bowl of lukewarm soup in front of me.

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “That you discovered the holy grail of pussy? The pussy to rule them all? The fucking one pussy that obliterates all the rest of the pussy?” Trent snorted. “I get it, I just don’t buy it.” He shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair. “There are plenty of girls out there. I could even set you up with one of Kayla’s sisters if you would just—”

  “No, I’m going to find this girl.” I clenched my fists, then blew out a ragged sigh. “It’s just going to take a little more work than I expected.”

  I already knew I was spinning my wheels in vain trying to explain her to a guy like Trent. For him, every woman he dated was the same—a chance to get laid and, if he was lucky, have a good time before, during, and for a little while after. Maybe.

  For me? It wasn’t so easy.

  Don’t get me wrong. I could have just about any woman I wanted. That wasn’t a cocky thing, either. It was just…well, the truth. Ever since I’d been old enough to know how sex worked, I’d been able to find willing partners, but for me relationships were about more than just a quick roll in the hay. Becoming a doctor hadn’t hurt the situation, and loving women on the whole didn’t hurt me any either.

  And still, I wanted something more. Now that I was getting older…

  Well, that something more seemed to be getting more and more important all the time. This girl had blown my fucking mind in the best possible way. She’d been gorgeous, of course. But she’d been funny, and smart, and unexpected. I’d gone to sleep totally satisfied and stoked to tell her exactly that in the morning, only to find she’d ghosted.

  Gone, without a word or a note, even.

  Trent slapped his knees and pushed himself from the couch before making his way to my fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off, took a slug, then eyed me over the bottle. “Okay, fine. I give. What’s so special about this one, besides the steel trap of a pussy, that is?”

  I cocked my head. “That’s the thing. I can’t put my finger on it. I mean, the sex was…”

  There were no words for the sex.

  From the moment I’d first kissed her, I’d been completely absorbed, lit with the need for more—to touch her, smell her, and breathe her in. It was more than chemistry—it was sheer animal connection, and I knew, even from that first, innocent kiss, that she could feel it too. Our connection was unlike anything I’d ever felt.

  “It couldn’t have been that good if she snuck out of here while you were still asleep. You’d think she’d want round two, right?” Trent shrugged. “Face it, maybe she’s just not that into you.”

  “See, this is what you’re not getting. She was into me. She was perfect.” I shook my head.

  Of course, I didn’t blame Trent for not understanding. Odds were that he’d never been with a woman who looked at him the way Bren had looked at me on our date—like every word I said mattered to her. Like I mattered to her. In a way, it reminded me of the way my mother spoke to and looked at my father—like nothing in the world was more important than that other person.

  And that connection had been only the starting point. It stretched even further when I’d kissed her, like the push and pull between our bodies was one we’d done a million times before but was still exciting and new. She’d shivered when I touched her, and when I turned her around to unzip her dress…

  “Exactly. She was perfect. That’s why she wasn’t interested in you.” Trent grinned and I chucked a pillow at his stupid face.

  “But seriously, dude,” he pressed on. “What are you going to do, just wait for her to knock on your door? You’ve already looked everywhere. It’s time to give it a rest and try again. There are plenty of fish in the sea. And seriously, I’ve never seen you like this and you’re starting to freak me out.”

  He rejoined me on the couch and I glanced at the TV for a second, thinking over his words.

  It was true. When it came to women, I had…well…a history would probably be the most polite way to put it. But that wasn’t technically my fault either.

  I was raised with one belief, taught to me by my parents and reinforced by their actions toward each other—when you found the right person, you knew. With that one right person, all the trials and tribulations of life became easier.

  And me? I wasn’t going to stop until I’d found Mrs. Right.

  So, I’d experimented. A lot.

  “If you’d had sex like this with a woman like this, you would be acting the same way,” I said, fully confident in my words.

  “At this point I’m starting to think her vagina was made of solid gold,” Trent said. “What did she do? Blow bubbles out the damn thing?”

  I laughed. “It was good, man. Best sex of my life. Hot and intense, and that fucking mouth—”

  “Right. Well, special as it sounds, it’s time to move on. Got it?” Trent took another sip of his water and I nodded, though it was purely in the interest of placating him.

  In truth, I didn’t think there was a damn thing in the world that could make me stop looking for the mysterious Bren.

  Even now, a week after the fact, my mind’s favorite place to wander was the memory of her perfect, cherry-tipped tits and her smooth, pale skin. Her silky blond hair between my fingers. Her responsive, writhing body.

  And, of course, the taste of her pussy as I’d laved my tongue over her straining clit.

  At this point, even her name was enough to get me hard as a rock. But it wasn’t enough—none of it was.

  Because I was going to find Bren.

  And when I did?

  I was sure as shit going to make her mine.

  Chapter Two

  Bren

  I’d done it. I felt like high-fiving myself.

  Whistling the tune of “Baby Got Back” as I washed flecks of poo down the drain, nothing could dampen my mood.

  I’d had a one-night stand—a damn good one, in fact—and like a mature, responsible woman, I’d kept the no-strings promise I’d made to myself. Booyah. Smiling again, I felt proud of myself. And satisfied in a way I hadn’t been in a long time.

  It was only normal that my mind had wandered to Mason a few times throughout each day over the past two weeks. It was the only sexual experience I’d had in what felt like a decade, and so it was natural that I’d want to replay it—my own personal highlight reel, something to remember fondly and enjoy when I was in bed, alone at night.

  “Why are you in such a good mood?” Mandy asked, peeking into the gorilla’s night house.r />
  Hosing down one last oversized log, I turned and shut off the water. “Hey, lady. How was vacation?”

  Mandy was five-foot-nothing of pure sass and sarcasm. I loved her. She was technically my boss, but it never felt that way. I was grateful for her friendship and all the guidance she’d given me both at work and in my personal life.

  Mandy smirked and me and shook her head. “I’ll tell you all about our trip in a minute. When you bring two toddlers on a plane, it’s not a vacation—it’s a trip. But first, you’re going to tell me why you seem positively enthralled to be cleaning up shit. Isn’t Andy here today?”

  “Yeah, I told him to go have his lunch. I’ve got this.”

  Her eyes widened. “The hell you say? Let’s go catch up inside. You can fill me in on what happened while I was gone.”

  After coiling the hose and putting it away, I followed Mandy inside. The gorillas weren’t due back inside their enclosure until this afternoon, but I was happy to be done with that task early.

  I shucked off my rain boots, leaning for a moment to steady myself on the wall. Whoa. A wave of nausea washed over me, and I sucked a deep, cleansing breath into my lungs. That was the third time today that had happened.

  Shaking my head, I followed Mandy toward the workstations, and after washing my hands at the sink, I sat down on the stool next to her.

  “Now, spill it, Bren,” she said, grinning at me like she knew something I did.

  “Fine.” I shrugged. “I took your advice. Are you happy?”

  She pumped her fist in the air. “You got laid! I’m so proud. Give me all the squishy details. And leave nothing out. Todd barely has the energy for sex anymore, and when he does, I have to be in the mood to deal with his beer belly.”

  I inwardly shuddered. The idea of holy matrimony had never interested me, and Mandy sure as shit wasn’t selling it. Honestly, I didn’t want to fall in love. It just didn’t appeal to me. I saw all the negatives and none of the positives. Being single with a great career as a zoologist was more than enough for me. It didn’t take years of therapy for me to figure that my dad passing away when I was young and my mom falling into a deep depression had shaped that view. But, hey, I got lonely sometimes and a girl had needs. Hence my magical one-nighter.