The spark in his eyes dies. “Don’t compare me to that douche.”
“I thought you were friends and partners in crime?”
“We are, doesn’t mean he’s not a douche.”
I roll my eyes. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I practically sprint to my bedroom, slamming the door closed and leaning back against it as I take deep breaths in an attempt to calm my overactive libido down.
Just because Ryder is hot as sin doesn’t forgive his past behavior.
It seems my body needs reminding of that.
I hate that he still affects me so potently, and I wish he wouldn’t. Overindulging in wine hasn’t helped either, but I’m not letting him get to me. It’s obvious why he’s here. He’s on a mission to convince me to do this, and while Kayla almost persuaded me earlier, I’ve given it more thought, and there’s no way I can commit to this insanity.
He wounded me. As surely as if he’d taken a knife and sliced up my heart. Smiling, flirting, and professing love can’t ever erase that truth. And I need to always remember that. My priority here is protecting my heart from further annihilation and the only way I can do that is to stay away from him.
What happened today has forced me to face some facts. One: I’m still completely and utterly, irrevocably in love with Ryder Stone. Two: I’m still undeniably attracted to him on every conceivable level. Three: My willpower is seriously tested in his presence, and I doubt I’m strong enough to resist his allure if I’m faced with all that gorgeousness on a daily basis. And four: I’m pathetic beyond belief and seriously ashamed of how fucking weak I am when it comes to him.
I pull on a pair of yoga pants and zip a hoodie up over my flimsy tank before making my way out to the living room.
I don’t sit, and I don’t offer him anything to drink because he’s not staying long. “I know why you’re here, and you’re wasting your time. I’m not doing it.”
His leather jacket is draped over the back of my couch, and he’s leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, looking like he owns the place. He stares at me for a few seconds before responding, and his focused gaze raises all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.
“Let’s just sit and talk for a bit.”
I fold my arms across my chest again. “Let’s not.”
“Please, Zeta.” His voice is soft, and he sits up straighter, leaning his arms on his knees. His biceps roll and flex with the movement, and it takes colossal willpower not to drool. Ryder has some seriously hot arm porn going on, and that thought sends a shot of liquid lust straight to my groin. I mentally slap myself upside the head, reminding myself he’s no good for me.
“I know I hurt you, but if I ever meant anything to you, please just give me a few minutes of your time,” he beseeches.
His earnest expression matches his sincere tone, and I reluctantly nod, sitting on the other end of the couch, putting as much distance between us as I can.
He clears his throat, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous. “It was really good to see you today, and it made me realize how much I’ve missed your company and your friendship.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’ve wanted to reach out to you so many times—”
“Why didn’t you?” I blurt, cutting across him.
“I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the rejection.”
That stings, and I want him to know it. “Afraid I’d give you a taste of your own medicine?”
His yellow-green eyes bore into mine, and they’re suffused with guilt and regret. “I deserved that, and for what it’s worth, I’m so fucking sorry, Zeta.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug it off, adding another layer to the wall around my heart. “It’s in the past, and we were just naïve kids with foolish notions.”
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t dismiss what we shared.”
“I wasn’t the one who did that. That’s all on you, Rock Star.”
He sighs, dragging a hand through his dirty-blond hair. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Why did you come here?” I fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist, confused and conflicted and wondering why the hell I’m entertaining this conversation with the guy who broke my heart and left me bleeding out through open wounds that have never healed.
“Take the job, Zeta. It’s a fantastic career opportunity, and the money’s great. I don’t want you to turn that down because of me. I give you my word I’ll behave myself. I won’t lay a finger on you”—his lips kick up at the corners—“unless you ask me to.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together, Ryder. I just don’t see how it ends well.”
