“So,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “on a scale of one to ‘America’s Next Top Model,’ how was my sexy mechanic debut?”
Ryder’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Let’s just say you shouldn’t quit your day job.”
“Harsh.” I laugh, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at my scratch. “But fair.”
“Come on, we need to clean that. Can’t have you dying of infection on my watch.” He pulls me inside and leads me to the small bathroom.
He takes out a first aid kit and pulls out a bottle of antisepticand some gauze. The bathroom is cramped, forcing us to stand close together.
He tugs at my shirt, lifting it over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, and his breathing quickens, his eyes fixed on my chest for a moment.
My nipples harden into small, stiff buds under the cool air.
He licks his lips but doesn’t touch me. “You’re making this very difficult.”
“What, treating my horrific, life-threatening injury?” I tease.
He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Behaving myself.”
He takes the gauze and pours some of the disinfectant on it. “This is going to sting. Try not to punch me.”
I nod, bracing myself. He presses the gauze to the wound, and I let out a shaky breath as the burning sensation hits me.
He finishes cleaning the area, then brings his mouth close and blows gently on the spot, his fingers ghosting over my skin, almost imperceptible. The contrast between the sting of the antiseptic and the softness of his touch sends shivers through me.
“Ryder,” I whisper, my voice thick with desire.
He raises his eyes to mine. They’re smoldering, full of emotion, revealing a piece of his soul to me. The air between us crackles with tension.
“We should probably bandage that,” he says, his voice husky.
“Probably,” I agree, not moving an inch.
We stand there, frozen in the moment, both of us aware that we’re on the edge of something deeper than we’ve allowed ourselves to acknowledge before.
Ryder steps closer, his hands gripping my waist as heeffortlessly lifts me. My breath catches as he sets me down on the bathroom cabinet, the cool surface beneath me contrasting with the fire between us.
His hands linger on my hips, and our eyes lock, the pull between us undeniable. We’re no longer just on the edge. We’re falling.
Twenty-Six
CORA
The Montana sun beats down on us as we stand at the trailhead, surrounded by towering pines and the scent of wild sage. I adjust my backpack, already regretting my decision to come on this “relaxing” hike.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I grumble, swatting at a mosquito that’s eyeing me like I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Ryder grins, looking chipper in his hiking boots and form-fitting t-shirt. “Because, Little Trouble, you said you wanted to experience the great outdoors.”
“I meant glamping,” I mutter. “With air conditioning and a mini-bar.”
He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down my spine despite the heat. “Come on. A little fresh air won’t kill you.”
“No, but the bears might,” I retort, eyeing the dense forest warily.
“There aren’t any bears around here,” Ryder assures me, then pauses. “Probably.”
“Probably?” I squeak, my eyes widening. “What do you mean, ‘probably?’”
