Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
noia
Frozen, I sit at my desk, staring at the closed door.
Holy. Shit.
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it everywhere—in my throat, between my legs. Ryder’s words echo in my head, each syllable vibrating through me.
“I want to grab you, throw you on the bed, and fuck you until neither of us can remember our own names.”
Damn.
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. This is insane. He’s insane. I’m insane for even entertaining the idea of...
Of what? Sleeping with a fictional character? Having mind-blowing sex with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, who also just happens to be a figment of my imagination?
I stare at my laptop screen, trying to focus on the words I had been writing before Ryder interrupted me. But all I can see is the intensity in his storm-gray eyes, the barely restrained hunger in them as he glared at me.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus on the words and lose myself in the story. I describe the look on Ryder’s face when he saw his truck—a mix of shock, joy and pure, unadulterated excitement—the way his whole body seemed to vibrate as he slid behind the wheel.
After a while, I stop typing long enough to take another bite of his amazing chicken. Then, fingers back on the keyboard, I start typing again.
Ryder’s hands trailed down her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered against her neck, “since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
I pause, chewing my lip. No, that’s not right. Deleting the line, I try again.
Ryder stepped back, creating some distance between them. “We should take this slow,” he said, though his body was tense with need.
A little better? Slow-burn is what I’m good at. It’s what—
Thundering footsteps pound up the stairs, and before I can react, my door flies open with a bang that nearly has me tumbling out of my chair.
“Fuck’s sake! Don’t you know how to knock? I could’ve been naked!” I screech, heart racing as I clutch the arms of the chair.
Ryder is breathing hard, eyes wild, dressed in jeans and a black Henley I’ve never seen before.
“My clothes…,” he pants. “...all of them…” Still panting. “...in the closet downstairs.”
“Say again?”
“My clothes. My wallet.” He holds up a set of keys, jangling them for emphasis. “The keys to my apartment. To my shop.”
“Your... shop?”
“Skin & Ink. My tattoo parlor? The one I told you about earlier.”
Legs shaking, I stand up slowly. “That’s impossible.”
“More impossible than my truck just showing up out of the ether?”
Suddenly, the laptop chimes with an email notification. I turn to check it, and gasp.
Immediately on alert, Ryder comes over to look.
“It’s from Skin & Ink Tattoo,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “Confirming my appointment for tomorrow at two p.m.”
Ryder goes still. “Holy shit.”
“But it doesn’t exist!”
“Apparently it does now.” He pulls out his phone—another item that must have materialized out of nowhere—and taps the screen. “Oh, fuck.”
He turns the phone toward me. On the screen is a website for Skin & Ink, featuring photos of intricate tattoos and a staff page with Ryder’s brooding face, front and center.
“This is getting too weird.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He grabs my hand. “Come on. Come see.”
Next thing I know, he’s pulling me down the stairs to the guest room. When I step through the open door, my jaw drops.
The closet that was nearly empty this morning is now stuffed with men’s clothing. Dark shirts, worn jeans, boots and a leather jacket that looks like it’s seen better days.
“You sure all of this is yours?” I whisper.
“Every last piece.” He runs his hand along a sleeve of the leather jacket. “I got this after my first tour. The zipper sticks sometimes.”
I move closer, touching the fabric. It feels real. It smells real—like sandalwood and leather and something unmistakably... Ryder.
“This is nuts.”
He paces the room, running his hands through his hair. “I’m telling you, Noia. My life here in your world is becoming more real by the minute.” He grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him. “I have more memories—real memories.”
His eyes are so intense, so sincere, I can’t look away.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a wallet and flips it open. “Look!”
I take it with shaking hands. Inside, there’s a driver’s license with his face glaring back at me, credit cards and a few hundred dollars in cash.
I stare at the wallet, then back at him. “What do you think this all means?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, dropping onto the edge of his bed. “But it feels like the universe is trying to tell us something.”
I shift on my feet. “What are you going to do?”
Leaning forward, forearms on his knees, he puts his head in his hands. “I need to go see it for myself. Are you cool with putting off our date tomorrow?”
I move to sit beside him on the bed, hesitating only a moment before placing my hand on his back, tracing small circles between his shoulder blades. Breath catching, he stiffens, but after a moment, he relaxes, leaning into my touch.
“Of course,” I say softly. “This is important. Do you want me to go with you?”
Ryder shakes his head and flexes his jaw. “No. This is something I need to do on my own.” He runs his hands through his hair again, leaving it sexily disheveled. “I need to see if it’s real. If they know me. If I have clients, a history there.”
My hand stills on his back. “I understand.”
When he turns to look at me, our faces are inches apart. His eyes drop to my lips, and for a breathless moment, I think he might kiss me.
But then he pulls away and stands. “You should go get some sleep,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s been a weird day.”
I let my hand fall to the bed, feeling oddly dejected. “Yeah. Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says, backing toward the door. His eyes never leave mine and then something flashes in them—Regret? Desire? Fear?—that makes my heart stutter. “I’m gonna go for a drive. Clear my head.”
“Okay. Goodnight,” I whisper.
He pauses at the threshold, turning back with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Goodnight, Noia. And thanks. For understanding.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone, sitting on his bed, the ghost of his warmth still lingering beside me.
Goonie appears in the doorway, meowing softly as he pads over to rub against my ankles.
“You saw that, right?” I ask as I pick him up, cradling him in my arms like a baby. “I’m not going crazy?”
Unconcerned with my existential crisis, he blinks up at me and starts to purr.
Rising from the bed, I make my way back up to my room. I can’t help feeling that with each passing day, and with every new item that materializes, Ryder is becoming more firmly anchored in this world.
My world.
And the scariest part? I’m starting to think that not only could he be real—but I might actually want him to stay.
The next morning, I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon again. Some things, at least, are becoming routine.
I pull on my robe and pad downstairs to find Ryder fully dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal Henley that hugs his broad shoulders and arms perfectly. Hair still damp from the shower, he’s pacing the kitchen like a caged animal.
“Morning,” I mumble, making a beeline for the coffeepot.
“Hey.” His voice sounds tight and distracted as he glances at his watch and then back at me. “I’m heading out soon.”
“Alright. Are you okay?”
He nods, jaw ticking away. “My appointment’s at noon. Apparently, I have a client coming in for a full sleeve.”
“A client you’ve never met?”
“Technically. But I remember meeting her. Not only that, I somehow remember designing the tattoo of a dragon, too.”
I take a sip of my coffee, thankful for the much needed jolt of caffeine. “Her?”
He tilts his head at me and grins, transforming the nervous expression on his face to one of mischief.
“Jealous?”
“What? No.” I scoff, hiding behind my mug. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His grin widens as he reaches for his leather jacket, shrugging it on with that effortless grace that makes my stomach flip. The worn leather stretches across his shoulders like it was made for him—because, apparently, it was.
“So what are your plans for today?” he asks, adjusting the collar.
I lean against the counter, trying to look casual when there’s nothing casual about any of this whatsoever. “All the fun stuff. Clean the house, go food shopping since we’ve pretty much demolished most of what was here. Oh, and I need to call Sasha. She’s been texting me non-stop, wanting updates.”
“Updates on what?” he asks, popping an eyebrow.
“On you, obviously.” I take another sip to hide my blush. “She thinks I’ve either gone completely insane or hit the jackpot.”
He chuckles, checking his pockets for his keys. “What do you figure?”
“Jury’s still out,” I mutter, a small smile tugging at my lips. “When will you be home?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I immediately want to take it back.
Home. Like this is his home now, too?
He pulls his keys from his pocket, jingling them thoughtfully.
“Probably not till late,” he says, pocketing his wallet. “Depending on what happens when I get there. Just starting a full sleeve can take a few hours, at least.”
I nod, trying to appear casual even as my stomach knots with anxiety. What if he leaves and never comes back? What if this is where our story ends?
“Well... good luck.”
He moves toward the door, then pauses, turning back to look at me. In three long strides, he’s standing before me. Before I can react, his hands come up to firmly cup my face.
“I’ll text you.” His eyes lock with mine. “Try not to miss me too much, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice like gravel and honey.
Then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
Frozen, I stand in the middle of the kitchen, coffee cooling in my hands, my face tingling from his touch.