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“Sophie, you have to know I want you.”
She did. She wanted to say something light, something that didn’t reveal how emotionally on edge she was, but instead said, “I couldn’t have stopped.”
His expression searched hers. “It’s not because you want me more.”
“Then why?” She hated asking the question but couldn’t help herself.
“I want you to eat.” He let her go and she pulled away.
That explained nothing.
She sat down in her chair and stared at the food in front of her. She wanted to protest, but that was childish. Eating seemed like a concession. So she just sat there, damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.
Which pretty much summed up her entire relationship with Ryder.
“Eat. I can’t stand watching you waste away.” His voice was strained, worried and concerned.
She didn’t look at him but knew he watched her. Instead she stared at the food. This, right here, was something she could do for him. So she picked up a french fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing mechanically. Her stomach felt hollowed out when the food hit it. He was right. She was wasting away. And it was hurting him.
She picked up the hamburger and ate every bite, even though she felt like throwing up.
When she finished, she finally looked at him. She couldn’t deny she felt clearer. Not good, but not so much like she walked around in a fog, removed from the world. “Are you happy?”
His jaw hardened. “No, I’m not, but at least I don’t have to worry about you passing out for a couple more days.”
She crumpled up the hamburger wrapper, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Uncomfortable silence, now thickly laced with sexual tension, filled the air. Their gazes caught and held. He glanced at her mouth, at her chest, and then back up again. “I need to go.”
“Okay.”
He stood and she went to stand too, but he shook his head. “Don’t walk me to the door, Sophie. Just stay here until I’m gone.”
She did. Not because he asked, but because she didn’t trust herself not to throw herself at him and beg for him to take her. So she could feel him at least one more time.
To be connected to him for just a little longer.
How could he not want that too?
* * *
Ryder went home, changed, and went running to deal with his sexual frustration.
It didn’t work.
He took a shower, tried to read, but gave up, throwing the book against the wall in his agitation.
Now he lay here in bed, in the dark room, wanting Sophie like he’d never wanted anything in his entire life.
He knew she thought he’d rejected her. That he had some willpower over their attraction she lacked, but it wasn’t the truth.
He’d fought a mental battle of epic proportions in his head.
It was just too hard to be around her. And he’d been too worried it would set them right back to square one, so he’d managed to resist. But it hadn’t been easy.
He dragged his hand through his hair, remembering the last time she’d been in his bed. She’d been on top of him, her head thrown back, circling her hips as she rode him, driving him crazy. She’d kept stopping when they got close, slowing to a crawl to stave off—Fuck!
