The storm.
The cold.
The loneliness.
All of it swallowed by the way Ryder pulls me closer, like he cannot stop himself.
Like he has been waiting for something warm to touch him for far too long.
When he finally pulls back, only an inch, his breathing is uneven.
So is mine.
His forehead rests against mine.
"Nikki," he murmurs, voice thick, "I should not..."
But his hand is still on my cheek.
His thumb still strokes my skin.
His lips are still close enough to taste my breath.
"You did," I whisper.
He swallows hard.
His thumb brushes my lower lip.
My breath catches.
“Nikki,” he murmurs, voice thick, “if I kiss you again, I’m not going to stop.”
My pulse stutters.
He looks at me like he’s fighting a war with himself. Then turns away sharply, dragging both hands through his hair.
“Go to bed,” he says. “Before I forget the line I’m supposed to hold.”
And just like that, nothing is the same.
Not anymore.
Chapter 4
Ryder
Idon’tknowwhat’sgotten into me.
Don’t know why my blood is running hot enough to burn through every line I’ve drawn for myself.
Maybe it started the second she showed up at my door, all wide eyes and trouble I didn’t ask for.
Maybe it was the porch.
Snow in her hair.
That helpless little shiver running through her small frame.
