I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something crucial. Something that could put Cora in real danger.
Fifteen
CORA
The security camera dangles from the roof’s edge, its wires exposed like frayed nerves. I peer over the top of my book, watching Ryder’s muscular form silhouetted against the bright sky. He’s been up there for hours, and I’ve found ridiculous reasons to stay outside.
“You know,” I call out, trying to sound disinterested, “most people hire professionals for this kind of thing.”
Ryder glances down, his eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses. “Iama professional.”
I roll my eyes, though he can’t see it. “Professional pain in my ass, maybe.”
He doesn’t respond, turning back to his task. I pretend to read, but my eyes keep drifting to the play of muscles in his arms as he works. The sun beats down mercilessly, and a bead of sweat trickles down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. I follow its path, my mouth dry, wondering how it would taste if I were to trace it with my tongue.
“See something you like, Trouble?” Ryder’s amused voice breaks through my reverie.
I jolt, realizing I’ve been caught staring. “Just making sure you don’t fall and sue me,” I retort, heat rising to my cheeks.
“Sure,” he drawls, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
He straightens, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Damn heat,” he grumbles, peeling the sweat-soaked fabric away from his skin.
My breath catches as more and more of his torso is revealed—tanned, sculpted abs, powerful chest, shoulders that look like they were chiseled from marble. I’m staring, my mouth hanging open, but I can’t seem to make myself stop.
“You okay there, Cora?” Ryder’s voice, tinged with amusement, snaps me back to reality. “You’re looking a little flushed.”
I scramble for a response, my brain short-circuiting. “I... I’m fine. Just... The heat.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly unconvinced. His eyes roam over me, and I swear I feel the heat of his gaze like a physical touch. “Maybe you should go inside, cool off a bit.”
“I’m fine where I am,” I snap, more harshly than I intended, crossing my legs to ease the ache building there.
Ryder holds up his hands in mock surrender.
He turns back to the camera, and I try to regain my composure. But my body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending hyper-aware of his presence.
This is ridiculous. I’m acting like a lovesick teenager. I need to get out of here before I completely embarrass myself.
“I’m going inside,” I announce, standing.
“Suit yourself,” Ryder calls, not looking away from his task.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
My foot catches on the edge of the pool, and I lose balance.
I hit the water with a splash, the shock of cold stealing my breath. For a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure which way is up. Then strong arms wrap around me, pulling me to the surface.
I gasp for air as we break through, finding myself face to face with a very wet, very concerned Ryder.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rough with worry.
I nod, unable to speak. We’re chest to chest, his arms still around me, our legs tangling beneath the water. Droplets cling to his eyelashes, and I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss them away.
Ryder swims us to the edge of the pool, lifting me out with ease before pulling himself up. We lay there on the sun-warmed concrete, panting and dripping. I’m aware of every point where our bodies touch, of the rise and fall of his chest, of the way his eyes darken as they roam over my now-transparent white shirt.
“What happened?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. A droplet of water falls from his hair onto my collarbone, and I shiver as it trails down between my breasts.
