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I end the call and nearly fumble my phone trying to wedge it into my back pocket.
“Running from me, sweetheart?”
“I’m nobody’s sweetheart.” Just because my core tingles with desire each time that pet name slips seductively from his lips does not mean I’m surrendering the upper hand this easily. Never mind that my fingers reach for his stubble covered cheek without any conscious thought. My attempt to drag his mouth closer to mine, however, fails.
The jackass actually laughs. A low, gravelly, unfairly sexy laugh.
I shove at his chest, but his body is solid as stone and refuses to budge. “This funny to you?”
“Last night you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” Ryder says, reaching for my cheek. His thumb lightly brushes the edge of my jaw. He catches the pad of his thumb beneath my chin and tilts my face up slightly. Our lips are barely an inch apart. My palm flattens against his hard chest. I can’t stop staring at his mouth. “Tonight, you keep running away from me. So, which is it, Macy?”
“I’m not running away from you.”
“Liar.”
It should feel unsettling that he can see right through me, but my flight risk is lowering by the second. I can’t quite pin what it is about this man, but I feel safe with him. Safer than I’ve ever felt with anyone. It doesn’t make any sense. Before my overthinking brain can start to pick this apart, I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him as close as he’ll let me.
“Shut up and kiss me before I run.”
Ryder moves to close the gap between our eager lips but pauses when they’re a feather’s width apart.
“What?” I hiss.
“I was waiting for Gertie to let out one of those eardrum bursting screams.”
For a single beat, we share a laugh and search for signs of the world’s cutest escape artist.
Then Ryder returns his gaze to mine and holds it. The air between us shifts from amusement to serious, white-hot passion. One moment, the anticipation to taste his lips is threatening to be my undoing. The next, his mouth is fused to mine with a hunger I’ve never experienced, melting all my bones at once. My guess was half right. He tastes of coffee and caramel ice cream.
I wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him tighter against me as our lips refuse to be separated for any reason, including the need for air. I decide in this moment that I’m okay dying of oxygen deprivation. Nadia would be proud that I went out this way.
Ryder’s warm, calloused hand slips beneath the back of my shirt, flattening against my lower back. My hips automatically arch against him at his touch. I don’t recall bending a leg before I discover one is propped over his hip, my heel dug into his perfectly tight ass. I could kiss this man forever and forget all time and space exists outside of his perfect mouth.
His fingers dig into my bare hip, the touch possessive in a way that begs me to surrender.
“Stay with me tonight.”
My heart leaps into my throat, equal parts thrill and fear.
“You know I’m not staying, Ryder.”
“I’m only focused on the present moment, sweetheart. No reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company before you go.” His lips find mine again, making me dizzy in half a second flat. When he comes up for air, we’re both panting harder than before. “Unless you have something against cowboys and their wicked ability to give the best orgasms.”
Damn, the man is good.
“That’s a pretty bold statement. Sure you can back it up?”
“Guess you’ll have to come over when the party’s done and find out for yourself.” He presses his lips against mine, and for several minutes or hours—what even is time?—we lose ourselves all over again. If I’m not careful, I’ll find out if that orgasm promise is true, pushed up against the side of the barn, at risk of any number of Emerald Creek residents discovering us.
Ryder is the one to pull back, pushing himself off the barn to put distance between us. “Don’t want your brother to arrest us for indecent exposure.” He trails his fingertips down my arm until he reaches my hand. I’m too wobbly on my feet and scrambled in my brain to find a reason not to intertwine my fingers with his as he leads us back to the party.
CHAPTER 8
Ryder
I’m a fucking liar.
That’s the prominent thought on repeat in my head as I lead Macy back into the crowded barn, our fingers still interlocked.
