Chapter Eighteen
Elliot
T he shock and dumbfounded expression on his face is laughable, or would be, if it was funny. But it isn’t. Because we have a problem.
“What?” He frowns. “Seduce? What ?”
“Is that the way to speak to your fiancée?” I can’t believe I just said that. People are around us and his hands are still on me
“You just accused me of hitting on another woman.”
“And you told me,” I say, drawing him even closer, so close the only thing separating us are clothes and I’m pretty sure that he might be getting turned on, “that she hit on you. So, considering we’re engaged—which telling me without a ring is pretty shitty and something to be rectified soon—why don’t you get that car?”
I’ve never seen Ryder move so fast in getting a car. It’s not smooth. But it’s flattering. And there’s that stupid part of me that wants to sink into the flattery. I won’t let it, because this isn’t real.
Me doing this isn’t real, either. Ryder didn’t see what I saw right at the end of our exchange, someone come up with their phone. So…a little show.
I’m not really into these shows, especially when I’m involved, but needs and all that. And it makes sense if we’re supposedly together, then after that we’d head home.
The car’s here in record time and we head to his place.
Ryder’s staring at me. “You were joking.”
“Was I?” Okay, I might be enjoying this a little. Having the great Ryder Sinclair off-kilter is fun. “We can just pretend I’m a woman you like, so try hard, and then you can rebuff me.”
“At my place. With no one around.”
“Yes.”
He starts to smile. “Okay.”
“There was some guy with a phone right at the end. I wanted to make it believable.”
He nods, but the smile’s still there. “Is that why you said we should go to my place?”
“Yes, Ryder.” I breathe out heavily. “And there’s a problem.”
“My scandalous ways?”
“This,” I say, “isn’t a joke.”
“Fine.”
I point at him. “We need to deal with the problem at hand. How you handle yourself in public. You need a strategy.”
“To repel women?”
With a nod, I say, “That’s the gist.”
“A strategy?” His gaze moves over me. “You’re gonna help? Role play? You’ll hit on me and then I’ll rebuff you?”
“If I have to. And unfortunately, you need the practice at rebuffing women.”
“Oh,” he says, leaning back in his seat, “I do.”
The car pulls up right then because let’s face it, Ryder doesn’t live too far from me. I know the car’s overkill, but it seemed a Ryder thing to do. And it’s all about the micro advancement of so-called change.
“Come on, my red-haired queen,” he says, taking my hand and sweeping us out of the car and up to his door. “I’m suddenly really into homework.”
I shoot him an uneasy look. He likes this a little too much.
Inside his place, we head up to the second floor and he leads me into a room I haven’t been in—admittedly, the brief periods of time have been in a guest room located the floor up, and the wide living area there.
This room is different. It’s industrial, but it breathes an unexpected side of Ryder I haven’t seen. There is a collection of paintings on the walls. A mishmash of huge modern pieces and portraits and cityscapes, and smaller pieces. The sofas are fat and brass and black leather. There’s a rug over the dark stained floor boards I know cost a fortune.
A big fireplace with neat stacks of logs lies in the center and there are guitars. Even a piano.
“The logs are for show in case you’re wondering. It’s an eco-fireplace.”
“A fancy heater?”
“Yes.” He strips off his jacket and waistcoat, down to his shirt, and rolls up the sleeves, the tattoo winding down one strong forearm. Then he unbuttons the top three and I almost salivate at the sight of smooth, golden flesh. He goes to the wet bar and pours two drinks, then holds one out to me.
I take it. “So it’s just for show?” My gaze touches on the instruments, but I don’t say a thing about them and neither does he.
“I told you, I like beautiful things, Elliot. But no, it’s not just for show. It’s a great way to heat and look good and have low environmental impact. It’s a new system I put into a lot of my places I buy and sell and,” he says, lifting his glass of amber liquid to his mouth and taking a sip, “if you want an in detail discussion on how it all works, you’re shit out of luck. I do this crap all the time and couldn’t be bothered. Besides, I’m much more interested in this rebuffing thing.”
I’m standing close to him and while the heat’s not on, a warmth spreads through me that’s entirely to do with him.
“Fine,” I mutter, taking another sip of the whiskey, into which he’s added some kind of fruity syrup. It shouldn’t taste good, but it does. It’s like a sultry summer night on my tongue. “You’re hot. Let’s go home and have sex.”
Ryder approaches me and looks me up and down, then shakes his head. “Nope. As sexy as that was, and believe me, it was smoking, I think you might need to try harder.”
“I hate you.”
“No,” he says, coming in and unpinning my hair, “you don’t.”
“I don’t do this sort of thing.”
“That’s not working either.”
I jerk my chin at him. “I wasn’t trying, I was explaining.”
“Just, you know, put some feeling into it.” He moves around behind me, so close I can feel the heat of him, the slight buzz of electrical awareness flare, and I’m a throb of need deep down inside. “Say it like you mean it.”
I close my eyes. This was my stupid idea. Gulping down half the drink, I spin to face him. “Hey there, big boy, you’re looking mighty fine. How about it?”
A slow smile spreads and I know he’s having the time of his life. “How about what?”
“You know…”
“Chess? You want to play chess with me?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re not trying.” He takes my glass and sets it down on the bar with his. “Why don’t you say, ‘fuck you’re one sexy man, Ryder Sinclair. How about we get naked and do the deed?’”
“I’m not saying that.”
He nods, slips a hand around my waist and pulls me in and weak creature I am, I let him. “Fair enough. What about…I’ve been lost in the desert for weeks and you’re the oasis I need to survive?”
“Or how about do me now or I kill you?”
“I like your style, Perry,” he murmurs, the fingers of his free hands smoothing down over my hair, then winding the ends about them. “Sexy and scary and strong.”
“I don’t do this, Ryder.”
“Don’t do what?”
“I don’t go around propositioning men.”
His mouth skims against my ear. “Neither do I. Seems we’re both on a learning curve.”
“Focus, Ryder.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m focused.”
His words, that subtle thread running through them, wind about me and threaten to steal the air from my lungs. “How are you going to rebuff someone?”
“Thing is,” he says, “I don’t. Not usually.”
I go to pull away so I can gather my thoughts, but his hand tightens at my waist.
“What I mean is I tend to see someone I like. They see me, and they get the message. They send the message. Otherwise, I just don’t.”
My gaze darts to him. “Your ego knows no bounds.”
“Maybe, but it’s the truth. Other times, it’s just talk and one thing leads to another.”
“So you’d have slept with her?”
He’s silent. Then he says, “No. I’d have talked, found a way out, probably gotten a number I’d never use, and that would be that.” Those dark eyes search mine. “I was distracted.”
This man should never be allowed out alone. He looks at me like there’s no one else on the planet worth his time and no wonder that blonde went for me. No female wants to lose that to another.
“Trying to be good?”
“By you.”
Ryder lets go of my hair and slides his palm against my face and he kisses me. It’s a different kiss to the others. This kiss is deliberately slow, and the onslaught is deadly and delicious, and I can’t stop myself from kissing him back. My mouth opens to his and he takes that offer and runs.
The kiss is pure heat and fantasy, it’s wet and hot and night. It’s seduction at its finest and I’m helpless against it.
I know all the reasons I shouldn’t. But I can’t stop myself. I wind around him, making a noise in the back of my throat, one that gets a response from him. And it’s not until it’s like we’re flying down I realize he’s got us sprawled on one of the sofas. The kisses are a hot, dark onslaught now. And he moves down my throat to bite and suck at my jugular, and then back up to claim my mouth.
And I’m helpless to anything but respond. I’m his. In that moment, I’m his.
I want everything there is.
His hands move over me, touching and caressing and I’m just holding on, a mess of need and throbbing pleasure. Everything in me is alive.
On fire.
He slides his hand up my thigh, then up along my hip, and he’s touching the bare flesh of my torso. It flutters beneath that attention. And his fingers move higher, beneath my shirt, to the lace of my bra and then he’s inside it, his touch magic and I almost come from that.
When his fingers catch my nipple, I’m not lost. I’m surrendering.
Whatever happens next, I’m his.