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Ryder turns to place his bottle on the other night table.
“You still feeling stressed out?” His voice is gruff.
“Very much so.”
I move closer to him. I put my hand on his thigh.
He glances down at it, then up at me. Slightly amused.
“My hand is on your thigh,” I tell him.
“I noticed.”
He smiles, and my breath hitches at the sight.
Then he chuckles. “I love how you announce your move. ‘My hand is on your thigh,’” he mimics. “You know, most people would just make the move and then wait to see if it works.”
“What can I say? I’m a rebel.”
“Got it. So, what’s the next move, rebel?” he asks with uncharacteristic playfulness.
“Ask me if you can kiss me.”
His eyes grow heavy-lidded. “Can I kiss you?”
“No,” I reply. “I’m not interested.”
He barks out a laugh.
“Ha. See, I just did that to make you laugh.”
“What’s your obsession with making people laugh?”
“Not people. Only you. You’re scary otherwise.”
“Scary?” His voice thickens again. “Do I really scare you?”
“Sometimes. Not in that way, though,” I hurry to add. “I find it unnerving when I don’t know what someone’s thinking.”
“You wanna know what I’m thinking?”
“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re thinking now.”
I move my hand over his thigh in a slow caress.
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You’re thinking you want me to move my hand about, oh, two inches to the left.”
He nods in thought. “And then what?”
“Then you want me to unzip your pants. How am I doing? Am I reading your mind?”
“Completely wrong.”
My jaw drops in surprise. “Really? That’s not what you’re thinking?”
He inches closer and the familiar scent of him surrounds me. Woodsy and masculine.
“No, I’m thinking I want to slide my hand underneath your skirt and play with your pussy.”
“Oh,” I squeak.
“But first…” His face is close to mine. He’s so good-looking it makes my breath catch again. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod wordlessly and his mouth covers mine. His kisses are as addictive as I remember. Slow and teasing. Deep and drugging. His lips brush over mine, and every time I try to drive the kiss deeper, he eases away slightly. My breathing grows shallow. Next thing I know, he pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. My hands lock around his neck. His are around my waist, fingers stroking where the hem of my thin sweater meets the waistband of my denim skirt. He finds bare skin and my body sizzles.
This time, when I deepen the kiss, he lets me. He unleashes a soft, growly sound from the back of his throat, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. As my tongue slicks over his, I become aware of my phone buzzing.
“Ugh,” I mumble. “I need to check that.”
“No,” he mumbles back, holding the side of my face to kiss me again.
“I have to. Mya took the train to Manhattan this weekend and she promised she’d text me when she got home. Want to make sure she made it back safe.”
As I bend toward the nightstand for my phone, Ryder tortures me by kissing my neck, his face buried in my skin. I shiver at how good it feels.
“Let me just tell her—” I halt when I notice the screen.
CASE:
Want to hang out tonight?
“Forget it,” I say a little too fast. “It’s not her.”
Ryder doesn’t miss the change in my tone. “Yeah? Who is it, then?”
“Someone else.”
As I’m trying to shove the phone away, he peeks at the screen. Seeing the notification, he lets out a low, mocking laugh.
“Hmmm. Should we tell him?”
“Don’t be an ass.” Sighing, I put the phone aside.
“No, maybe we should.” His voice is silky. A rasp of provocation. “Let’s tell him all about how you’re in my lap—” He tugs me back onto said lap, then captures my surprised squeak with another blistering kiss. He lifts his lips slightly, his breath tickling me. “Let’s tell him how much you like having my tongue in your mouth.”
“Who says I do?” I’m breathless, because his lips are exploring mine, his tongue teasing me into oblivion.
He breaks the kiss again. We’re both breathing hard now.
“You love it,” he taunts.
“You love it too,” I taunt back.
“Yes, I do,” he growls before our mouths collide.
It’s the hottest make-out session of my life. Hungry and desperate. And just when I think my heart can’t pound any faster, his hands snake their way underneath my shirt. I gasp when he lifts it up and over my head and throws it on the pristine hardwood floor. He gazes at my thin bikini bra, as if captivated by it. My nipples are poking right through the barely there material.
Ryder bites his lip. He reaches up and toys with the outline of one rigid bud. “I want you naked,” he mutters.
“Then get me naked.”
Without another word, he pulls my bra over my head. It joins my shirt on the floor. Next thing I know, I’m on my back and his hands are on the waistband of my skirt and panties. He drags them both down my legs. Throws those away too.
