I stand before him, panting, my hair wild, cheeks burning. My lips still tingle from the almost-kiss. “Ryder?”
“What are you doing to me?” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it messy in a way that makes my fingers itch to fix it. He circles the kitchen counter, putting the granite island between us like a fortress wall. “This isn’t— I can’t?—”
“Why don’t you want me?” The words come out smaller than I intended, vulnerable in a way I never let myself be. I blink hard against the burn in my eyes.
“Want you?” His laugh is harsh. “Christ, Cora. Wanting you isn’t the problem. The problem is I want you too much.” He gestures to the space between us. “This isn’t right. I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to protect you, not?—”
“There’s no law forbidding this.” I grip the edge of the counter, resisting the urge to circle around to his side. “Just your stupid rules.”
“My stupid rules keep you alive. They keep me focused. The minute I cross that line, I’m compromised. And I won’t risk your safety because I can’t keep my hands off you. I can’t mess this up.”
“Then don't mess it up. Just be with me.”
“You want a relationship, a boyfriend. I’m not that person. I’m not looking for a relationship. Is that what you want, a one-night stand? Could you look me in the eye afterward?”
I lower my gaze, the weight of his words crushing me.
“I can’t give you what you want, Cora.”
“Cora?” I say. “I don’t want you to call me Cora. I want to be your Little Trouble.”
“This can’t happen between us, Cora. Ever. You don’t want this.”
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I snap, anger replacing hurt. “You don’t know everything, Mr. Know-It-All.”
“You’re hurt and scared, and I’m here. I’m just available, that’s all. In a couple of months, I’ll leave, and you’ll forget about me. I’m trying to do the decent thing. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“It’s not like that?—”
“You deserve so much more than what I can give you. You’re…you, and I’m a nobody. I don’t want to be the one who takes away the future you deserve.” He gives me one last glance and turns and leaves my house, closing the door behind him.
I could go after him. But what’s the point? He’s made his choice.
He made it clear what he thinks, what he wants. Or rather, what he doesn’t want.
Me.
All these past weeks I’ve spent fantasizing about him, analyzing his every word, every touch. My dreams of a future with him are mine alone.
But he’s wrong. I wipe away the tears and force myself to stop crying.
I don’t want him because I’m hurt and scared. I want him because he sets me on fire with a single look. Because he has a heart bigger than his muscles. Because he’d protect me even if I wasn’t his job.
But he doesn’t want a relationship, and I do. We can’t bridge that gap.
“Can you help me change the sheets? My cleaner can’t come today,” I say, watching Ryder’s reaction.
Ryder bites his lip, his brow furrowing. “You can’t manage on your own?” His voice is gruff, but there’s a hint of something else. Nervousness?
He’s acting like I’ve asked him to disarm a bomb, not make a bed. The tension between us crackles like static electricity.
“Please?” I bat my eyelashes.
He sighs, letting out a deep rumble in his chest, and strides toward the bedroom. I follow, my eyes glued to the way his jeans hug his ass. My stomach ties itself in knots. What’s a girl supposed to do? Not look? That’s like asking the sun not to shine.
“I saw a method online for changing a duvet cover,” I say as we enter my room. “Raise your arms up.”
He doesn’t look happy, but he complies. His shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned skin, his chiseled abs, and that tantalizing V-cut disappearing into his jeans.
