8. Ryder
The look in my wife’s eyes tells me that she is definitely not happy. Something draws me to her. I crave her. And after having tasted her only moments ago, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let her go. So much for my plans of revenge.
She looks at me expectantly. “Part of me wants to slap you.” Somehow, I know she is saying exactly what is on her mind.
“And the other part?” I ask.
“What do you mean the other part?” She walks past me to place her flowers on the vanity.
“You said ‘part of you’ wants to slap me. What about the other part?” I cock a brow, trying to read her as I approach. If she does try to slap me, I’m sure the sting will bring more pleasure than pain.
She turns to face me and we are only inches apart. Her eyes travel north to meet mine and just as I thought, the sparks that erupted during our kiss reignite and fizzle beneath the surface waiting to explode.
“I - I don’t know,” she stammers.
Until now, she has appeared to be nothing but concise, poised, and confident, but the desire to unravel her can’t make me falter. I need to maintain stature. Fighting the urge to devour her, I realize breaking her now will never be an option. Rather, keeping her will be my mission. Playing with her will be my new adventure. Watching as her walls shatter around us, around me, will be the ultimate victory.
I can tell she is hiding something. She is much too eager to stand her ground and put up a fight, but there is a reservation in her body language that she probably can’t tell that I notice. The hesitation in her eyes speaks volumes as I reach up to brush that pesky curl away from her face. God, her breathtaking eyes look like the entrance to the deepest soul I’ve ever encountered.
“I think I do.” I lean in, cradling her dainty face in my palm, ready to consume what is now mine.
I can sense her internal struggle as she blinks bringing her back to the moment before we are able to get lost in each other.
“I think you don’t.” She shakes her head and takes a step back. “You think you can just buy me this dress and pick out these flowers and I’ll fawn over you? I’m sorry to be a disappointment, Mr. Totaro, but I’m not one of the women you pick up at one of your clubs.” Her legs meet the stool behind her as she continues to back away from me until she is forced to sit.
“Mrs. Totaro,” I retreat a step to give her space, “I can assure you, I was never under the impression that you were one of those women. From what I’ve seen so far, you are well-spoken and aren’t shy about saying what is on your mind. You are elegant but insecure about something. Hence, your decision to pick a much less flattering dress than you wanted. But you go after what you want. I doubt it was your brother’s idea for you to enter into this agreement, and yet, here you are.”
A quiet gasp leaves her lips. I’ve struck a cord.
“How did you know about my dress?” Her eyes squint daggers at me.
I cross my arms, considering how much I want her to know. “I know a lot of things, little sparrow. What I don’t know is how you take your coffee in the morning.” I step closer and hold a hand out to her. A request. She accepts and I guide her up to me. “I don’t know what you love and what you fear.” I run my fingers down both of her arms as she stands radiantly before me. I feel her shiver under me. “And I don’t know why I feel like you are hiding something . . . but I can’t wait to know it all.”
A knock at the door turns both of our heads. Dammit. I forgot we have the rest of the wedding traditions to tackle.
When we turn back, she has composed herself again and I’m unable to read her. She steps out of her white heels and walks over to the sofa to sit before pulling a pair of white Converse shoes out of a bag.
“Black with sugar.” She slips one shoe on. “Fire.” She slips on the other and stands. “And I’m not hiding anything,” she states as she walks toward me and raises her chin defiantly.
“You love or fear fire?” I ask.
“Both.”
She’s an odd one, but one who is quickly becoming my new obsession. “Well, I don’t know how far we’ve gotten, but I’m pretty sure we’re far enough away from you wanting to slap me that we can go enjoy the rest of our wedding.” I give her my most charming smile.
She laughs, her hand reaching up to my arm sending a shock down my spine. “Don’t do that! Oh my God, please never do that again.”
She sees the confusion on my face.
“Look, I don’t want this to come off the wrong way, but that cheesy smirk is not going to win me over,” she chuckles, “If that was your intention, I mean.”
And just like that – I’m thoroughly embarrassed. I’m Ryder fucking Totaro. Women love me. Throw their panties at me – love me. But my wife, this five-and-a-half-foot woman – if I’m being generous, is standing in front of me making me feel like a love-sick puppy who just got a newspaper swat to the nose.
Seeing her in the store, talking to her earlier, watching her float down the aisle . . . she was a vision of grace. Her actions are sweet, and meek. But clearly, I was wrong. This woman is full of fire. The fire she both loves and hates.
I have a feeling I’ll enjoy trying to figure her out.