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“Well, I jinxed that, didn’t I?”
“Definitely.” He laughs. Damn, it’s dark in here. I can’t see him, or anything. “I’ll make a fire.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, Ash. We’ll be alright.”
“I’m not worried.”
“I hear it in your voice. You’re safe with me, though. I have a fireplace, candles, food, and alcohol. We’ll survive.”
I breathe out a lungful of air. “Okay.”
It’s not surviving I’m really worried about, though. It’s being alone in the dark with Ryan. With nothing to do but sit with him, I know I won’t be able to resist his charming sexiness for long.
I hear him strike a match, and a flame lights up his face–his chiseled features even more sharp in the flickering light.
As he gets the fireplace going, the living room is cast in a soft, warm glow, and I feel the heat lapping at my exposed skin.
Sipping my wine, I watch Ryan as he moves around the room. He takes out a few white pillar candles from a hutch in the corner and places them on the coffee table. Lighting them, he sits back down on the couch, smirking, patting the spot next to him.
“Come here,” he says in a low, seductive voice that makes my stomach clench. I’m sure he’s charmed many women into doing just about any and everything with that voice. And the fact that it’s working on me right now shouldn’t be a seen as a sign of weakness.
Nope. I’m not weak.
But…just maybe I am a little for this man.
It’s like my body has a mind of its own, and I stand, walking the few steps towards him. Sitting next to Ryan, I feel the sliver of space separating us charged with electricity. It’s like the second I come close to him, I’m immediately sucked into his atmosphere, and I feel as if I no longer have control over anything.
Sitting rigidly, I sip my wine, and take shallow breaths so my shoulder doesn’t touch his.
“Relax, Ashley,” Ryan murmurs close to my ear, his warm breath blowing against my exposed shoulder and neck.
“I’m relaxed,” I say, even though every muscle in my body feels tense.
“Come here.” Reaching out, Ryan puts his arm around me and pulls me against his body. With one touch, I sigh, relaxing into him. And despite being a solid wall of muscle, he’s the most comfortable thing in the world.
The minutes pass by, and I watch the flames dance in the fireplace–listening to the crackle and pop of the wood as the sparks and embers fly.
“What’re thinking about?” he asks softly.
“Just that the fire is really pretty.”
“Huh. I didn’t peg you as a pyro. But then again, it’s always the good girls that like to play with fire.”
“Who said I’m good?”
“I read people for a living, sweetheart. You’re a good person. You try and come off as rough and tough, but you’re loyal and fiercely protective of your friends, and you put other people’s happiness ahead of your own.”
“You can read all of that from me?”
“Yes. And I can also read that you want me,” he adds, stroking my arm.
Laughing, I hit his chest playfully, and he reaches up and captures my hand with his, curling his fingers around mine. Raising my head, I rest my chin on his chest–my eyes meeting his. And it’s what I see there that makes the smile fade from my lips.
Ryan’s eyes are serious, yet soft. They’re heated, yet muted.
Taking my glass from my hand, he puts it down on the table.
