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She felt over-full... fat even. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want to run to the bathroom that veryminute.
But overshadowing her need to purge was a sense ofaccomplishment.
"How are youfeeling?"
"I can't believe you guys did that," shepouted.
Ryder smiled, unfazed. "Would you have finished on yourown?"
She didn't answer. There was no use incriminating herself. He knew the truthanyway.
"Listen, I need to go call Axel and fill him in on the newest threat. If there are any clues with the delivery, he'll figure it out. Can I trust you to stay out of the bathroom, or do I need to tie youdown?"
The sexy smoldering in his eyes challenged her to defy him. They also broadcast how much he'd love to tie herdown.
Trevor stood, clearing his throat as if he were an uncomfortable third wheel. He started clearing the dishes as he offered, "I'll keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't head in thatdirection"
"Traitor," she whispered under herbreath.
"Nope. Friend." A sad smile on hisface.
"Samething."
* * *
Ryder'd been gonefor almost two hours, and while Khloe was grateful to have Trevor there with her, she longed to be alone so she couldcry.
It didn't make any sense, really. She had every right to be upset about some asshole stalking her–scaring the shit out of her and disrupting her life. She had more than earned the right to be angry at the Kaplans and even the producers for being more interested in capitalizing off the danger than stopping it. And sure as hell, the feminist in her was furious at the way not only Ryder, but now Trevor too, had manhandled her, particularly when it came to her eatingdisorder.
But in her heart, those were not the reasons she fought back tears, or at least not the onlymotivations.
No. At the heart of her pending meltdown was a need so deep, she had no label for it. She'd been sitting curled up on Ryder's comfortable couch, a bestseller novel open in her lap, but her eyes didn't see the words on the page. Instead, her mind raced to retrace every moment of their time together, trying to understand how she could possibly feel so connected to someone she barely knew. Sexual chemistry aside, it didn't makesense.
Still, there was no denying that uneasy ball in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the food lodged there and everything to do with the man who'd put itthere.
Where had he gone? Why wasn't he backyet?
Why do I care somuch?
A litany of questions was on auto-loop in her brain. The most frequent being... when would he leaveagain?
He was as much of a mystery to her tonight as he had been the night they'd met. All she knew with any certainty was that he had changed her. He had drawn out desires inside her hidden so deep, she hadn't even known they were there, and it was throwing every part of her life into aspin.
"It's getting late. Why don't you go to bed?" Trevor was only trying to be helpful, but she resented his interference, especially because she suspected he only suggested it because her staying up to worry about Ryder annoyedhim.
"I'm not tired," she lied. She was exhausted. "But you can head to bed if you want. I'll be fine out here reading mybook."
The corner of her friend's mouth curled up in an attempt at a smile. "You actually have to turn the pages to read a book, youknow."
Busted.
She slammed the hardback closed in an exaggerated huff, leaning forward to throw the book onto the coffeetable.
"I know it's none of my business, but it's driving me nuts. I'm with you almost non-stop. Where the hell did you two meet? He's clearly not part of the Hollywoodscene."
Trevor was sitting in the chair across from her, his feet propped up on the ottoman. Despite having changed into jeans and a T-shirt, he didn't look relaxed. She'd been so wrapped up in her own worries, she'd missed that he looked to be wound tight enough toexplode.
She didn't owe her security guard answers to his personal question, but Trevor was so much more than anemployee.
