“Ryder? Come see the sunset.”
When he doesn’t answer, I head back inside. “Ryder?”
I walk into the bedroom and freeze. Ryder stands in the shower, his back to me, toweling his hair.
Holy hell.
I take a step to the side until the pile of suitcases I placed earlier no longer blocks my view. Yeah, putting them there was a ridiculous idea. But the sight of a naked Ryder in front of me is anything but that.
My eyes trace the hard lines of his muscles. His back isbroad, with marks of an old injury on his shoulder. His round, muscular ass makes me lose my breath and sends my heart racing.
Turn around. Turn around, my brain screams, and as if he hears me, he does, his eyes locking onto mine.
He’s a masterpiece of muscle and power. Every part of his body is sculpted. Light hair dusts his chest, trailing down between his chiseled abs to an impressive cock. I imagine myself licking that trail, going down to take him in my mouth and I shiver.
I lick my lips. “Ryder,” I whisper.
He takes a deep breath. His body reacts. But then he wraps the towel around his waist, creating a barrier between us.
It’s more than physical. He’s closing himself off.
Why is he refusing me when it’s clear he wants this too? When it’s obvious we both want each other?
“You should leave, Little Trouble.”
“Why?” I take another step forward, ignoring his request. “Because you’re afraid of being tempted? Because you’re scared to admit what you want?”
“I’m not afraid,” he says, his voice low.
“Is that why you look at me like that? Drink me in with your eyes when you think I’m not looking?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s not about saying what I want. It’s not about what I want at all.”
“Why not? Why don’t your needs count?”
“Because it’s not whatyouwant,” he shouts. “What do you think will happen when this assignment ends? When I have to leave?”
I hold my breath, biting my lip. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“You’ll get hurt. And the last thing I want is to hurt you.” He turns his back to me.
I exhale. He keeps his walls so high that no one can get through. Every time I think I’ve found a crack, he seals it with concrete.
I shake my head, go back to the living room and start unpacking the products I brought.
Ryder emerges from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that sit low on his hips and a t-shirt. His hair is wet and messy on top. Good enough to lick.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice husky.
I pretend as if nothing happened. “I’m preparing all the products for tomorrow’s meeting.” I scan the room with my eyes. “It’s not ideal. The lighting here isn’t right. Nothing here looks like wedding tables, but we’ll have to make do with what we have.”
“Can you put this vase on the table?” I hold out a large, heavy glass vase.
He takes it from me and places it on the table as I asked.
“You’re bringing her here?”
“Of course. What did you think would happen? That I’d lug boxes full of products to her room and unpack them there? What am I, an amateur?”
