Chapter 6
Marina
I underestimated the power of Cash Ryatt’s charisma.
Now I understand why so many women crush on this man. At least he tells me they do. I’m taking him at his word until I have time to do my own investigative research when I return to Canada for filming.
What I do know is that it’s easy to get lost in his green eyes, especially when they’re locked on you like prey. I can’t tell if he wants to eat me in the most delicious way or kill me, for real. I’m okay hanging around him a bit longer to find out because he’s stupidly handsome.
A cross between a surfer with his sun-lightened brown hair, a GQ model, and well, a race car driver, he breaks the mold regarding expectations—physically and in personality.
That I find him so appealing is frustrating.
I shouldn’t want a man like him—someone who can’t resist challenging me at every corner, has no qualms about calling me out, and tips into banter that leans more toward finding me intolerable than desirable.
Does he find me desirable? Is that the problem he has with me, or is he just as unsure about me as I am about him?
Narrowing my eyes, I watch him standing at the sliding glass door, laser focused out the window.
Tall, hair perfectly sexy in its mussy state, broad-shouldered, cut jaw, and a late-night shadowing of scruff that has me rubbing my legs together like a cricket while wondering how it would feel against my inner thighs.
It’s been too long since I’ve been with someone.
Someone who made me a priority.
Someone who treated me like I was the world to them.
Someone who touched me in ways that would make me blush again.
Cash keeps causing me to blush, but that’s from anger, not from the heat of our proximity or because he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in a crowded room. No, it’s not from this ludicrous attraction I have to that man. At least, I don’t think it is . . .
He makes me feel out of control, but thoughts of seduction are the last thing I should be thinking about when it comes to him. Yet here I am. Thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t be.
Biting my lip, I turn away to collect myself.
I’ve had a lot to drink tonight and not enough to eat.
That’s all. But then my gaze finds him again, savoring every muscle that white shirt clings to, studying that incredible ass as if he’s a reference for a marble statue.
It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt anything for someone.
I slip into a chair because this is a doozy of a dose of reality. When was the last time? When was the last time I even made myself come since Corbin wasn’t doing the job?
More importantly, am I only eyeing up Cash like he’s a late-night snack because he was kind to me?
Short answer: Yes.
I didn’t know how sad and sexless my life had become until now.
Looking at him with his presence consuming the room and implanting dirty thoughts into my brain, I indulge before he opens his mouth again.
That’s when we tend to get into trouble.
He loves to disagree with me. I kind of love that he does as well. He keeps me on my toes. Who needs another yes man hanging around like a groupie in your life anyway? Not me.
Cash Ryatt is the kind of guy who doesn’t beat around the bush and tells the truth like his life depends on it.
Basically, he doesn’t take it easy on me, and I like that for some reason.
He’s refreshing in the most unassuming of ways and grumpy from a side that feels more like a bad mood than a personality trait.
None of that matters, though, now. I’ve never felt more protected or safe than when I’m in his care.
Cash is the opposite of Corbin and every other guy I’ve dated. They were pretty and predictable, from their upbringing to their schooling to the expensive haircuts and perfectly pressed jeans that their stylist picked out.
I never knew a troubled bad boy was my jam, but tonight, Cash Ryatt sure is.
My mind is fuzzy in the last rays of moonlight, and I’m tipsy in the early morning hour. Sucking in a breath, I slowly exhale, allowing my body to loosen the tension. “My dad always told me that nothing good happens after two a.m.”
Cash’s eyes find mine across the room when he turns around. “He’s right.”
Resting back against the leather, my bad decisions feel bigger in the back seat. “I shouldn’t have gone out.” Or maybe it’s just his presence consuming the airspace and my attention.
“Probably not, but you should have left when your friends did.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he studies me as if he’s seeing art for the first time—intrigued, delving as deeply as he can without touching.
My breath picks up under his heavy gaze as I stare at him, counting the tics of his jaw before he speaks again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
“I get that your agent told you to be seen, but what were you hoping to achieve?” he asks in a lowered tone, letting down his guard and defenses along with it.
“I wanted out of my head for a while. I wanted to be free without worries like I used to be.”
“Is your life that awful, Marina?”
The absence of babe, sweetheart, and even princess is noticeable, making me wish I could hear them from him again.
If for no other reason than to fire me up in some form of irritation instead of sinking into the deep end of my emotions again.
“I like to dance. Have a cocktail and be with my friends. Not always having to think about everything. Just move to the beat and lose myself. That’s all.
No great mystery. It was fun until I turned around and discovered they were gone.
I got a text. What am I going to tell them?
No, you can’t have sex with the guy you were just making out with on the dance floor. We’re twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six? That’s your age?”
“Yeah.”
I watch as he crosses the room, rubbing his forehead. I can’t make out what he’s mumbling, but it seems to get the better of him because he’s now shaking his head.
Not sure if it’s the night or my age that bothers him more. “How old are you?”
“Too old for you.”
I laugh but then scoff when I realize he’s serious. “What’s too old for me, gramps?”
This time, he chuckles. Taking two bottles from the minibar and twisting the top off one, he returns to give to me. “Here. Water never hurt anyone.” He takes the top off his bottle. “I’m thirty-five.”
I have no idea why I’m grinning other than I’m enjoying myself .
. . at his expense. “Thirty-five?” I exclaim in a teasing tone.
“Geez, maybe I should be getting you the water and making sure you’re hydrating.
Need me to go out and get some prunes or maybe I have a piece of hard candy in my purse for you.
” I take a large sip, then watch as he tries so hard not to give in and laugh.
“Keep going. This is entertaining.” I finally get a smile out of him as he sits in a chair facing me.
It’s short-lived as he drinks his water, slow at first till he finishes the entire bottle.
Keeping me on the edge of my seat, I sit waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
I’m not sure if he’s trying to get me riled up with the great buildup during the silence, but it’s impressive how he doesn’t feel the need to fill the void.
Seems to be a party trick he’s mastered.
I’m too weak to stay silent for too long, so I ask, “Is the plan to stare at me all night?”
“It’s not the worst plan I’ve been involved in.” He grins. “You’re not here for the race, so why are you in Miami?”
The accusation stings, and my head jerks to the side, averting my gaze.
He sees me too clearly. I shift in my seat, thinking I’m playing it cool, when I know every move I make is a sign of discomfort.
Forcing my eyes to return to his, I reply, “I came to support my family.” Silence.
I bite the inside of my cheek and chatter on, “I was working in Canada, so I haven’t been able to travel across the world for the other races. ”
“Makes sense.”
Nothing about his response sounds like the matter is settled. Is he politely letting me off the hook? I’ll accept the reprieve he’s giving, releasing a breath. A coffee table, pestering silence, and a million secrets lie between us. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess tonight.”
“You can always call me.” He’s so sincere that my heart skips a beat.
Sitting forward, he sighs, then scrubs his hands over his face before resting his forearms on his legs.
“I don’t know what to think about you. You don’t hate me, but you also don’t like me.
We’re not friends, so what does that make us? Enemies?”
“You’re just too tired to fight with me.”
He chuckles before sitting back and sliding down a bit in the leather chair. His eyes still never leave mine. “So we stick with enemies or somewhere in-between?”
“The unknown might be easier.”
“Nothing with you is easy, it seems.” He cocks an eyebrow as if he’s waiting for the perfect comeback, but I’m out of snark at this hour.
“Corbin cheated on me with the wardrobe assistant on the film we’ve been shooting in Vancouver.” My throat feels dry, so I take another sip. “I guess they have been sleeping together the entire time because he wasn’t sleeping with me.”
His deep sigh says it all. I’m just as exasperated by this cliché of a tale. “Sorry to hear that.”
“He would say all the right things if I broached the topic, constantly reassuring me, but something was off. I felt it in my gut.” I glance over his shoulder as if I’ll find the strength in the corner of the room.
I don’t, so I look into his eyes instead, which are much more comforting.
“When I told him I have no desire to live life without sex with my partner, he accused me of cheating on him or wanting to. The thing is, sex wasn’t all I was missing from our relationship. ”
“Love?”