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My eyes shoot open.
What the hell am I doing?
I swallow thickly and slap my hands against my face.
“Snap out of it, Blaire,” I say to myself. “It’s too soon. Too soon.”
My words have no effect on my body, though. I’m still incredibly turned on, my core pulsing, and my nipples pebbled. I’ve never had a fantasy quite that detailed and with Ryder.
Tears leak out of my eyes, lost in the water. I feel like I’m cheating on Ben, even though that’s not true. He’s gone, and I have every right to move on, but I can’t seem to let go. I guess it’s easier to hold on.
“Fuck,” I curse, slapping my hand against the tiled wall. “Dammit, Ben, why did this have to happen,” I scream, still beating my hands against the wall. “It’s not fair! I hate you! I fucking hate you for leaving me! I hate you so much! I hate this!” I sob and sink down onto the floor of the shower. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I draw my legs up and wrap my arms around them. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” I repeat over and over again, but what I really mean is I hate myself.
“Blaire?” I hear pounding against the door. I cover my ears with my hands. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Is this a mental break? “Blaire?”
I can still hear the pounding even through my covered ears and the roar of the water.
When the shower curtain is torn back, I jolt away, covering my body.
“Oh, Blaire,” Ryder breathes. He grabs a towel and bends down to me in the bottom of the tub, cowering away like a wounded animal. He’s the last person I want to see right now after my fantasy or whatever you want to call it.
He turns the water off and wraps the towel around me. His strong arms wind around me and he lifts me up, cradling me against his chest. I hang there like a limp rag doll. I’m scared to touch him—scared of what I’ll do.
Ryder carries me down the hall to the guest room and lays me on the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me. The worry is evident in his eyes and his boxers hang loosely on his hips like he heard me screaming and put on the first thing he could get his hands on.
I’m so mad at myself, for breaking down like this, especially after such a good day, but I guess moments like this are unavoidable.
Ryder returns with the clothes he’d given me and helps me to sit up since I don’t have the energy to do it myself. He directs me to lift my arms and he slides the shirt down over the towel. When my body is covered he whips the towel away and it drops to the floor. He helps me into the shorts next and then stays bent in front of me while I sit on the bed. My hands find their way to his shoulders, needing the support to stay upright. Droplets from my wet hair drip onto his naked chest but he doesn’t move away.
He swallows thickly, his eyes flitting over every exposed piece of me. He’s looking for an injury—some sign to explain this.
“What happened?” he asks when the answer to his question isn’t obvious. I stay immobile. There’s no way I can tell him I had a fantasy about him and it set me off. “Blaire,” he says, “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. I thought everything was okay today. What changed? Is this too much for you?”
I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know,” I cry. “I’m so confused.”
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, tucking a piece of damp hair behind my ear. “It’s okay to be confused.”
“I want you in my life,” I tell him, biting my lip. It’s more of a confession than I meant to give.
“I’m here for you,” he says, his dark eyes flickering over my face with so much care. His fingers ghost over my cheek. “In whatever way you need, I’m here.”
I clutch at his chest and break down, falling off the bed and into his arms.
Maybe it’s wrong to seek comfort in his arms—he’s the reason for my breakdown after all—but I need to be held and I need him to be the one to do it. Yeah, it’s definitely wrong, but everything about this is wrong. Us, being together, it’s all because we lost the loves of our lives. What does that mean for us? Do we even have a chance for a future? A chance to love each other completely and as we are, without comparing the person to the one we lost? Right now, every time I get close to Ryder I have Ben creep into my mind and it confuses me.
My fingers shake against his skin and I murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he breathes.
“I ruined today,” I whine, pressing my forehead to his chest.
He lifts my head up. “No, you didn’t,” he assures me. “I’ve enjoyed every second.”
“Did you break the door?” I ask him.
“What door?” His brows furrow.
