“Yeah, I drive, Boss.”
“Don’t call me that. Carter’s your boss, not me. Take Bianca shopping. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
My gut twists once more, instincts rebelling against letting her out ofmysight.
Fuck. I should get a hold of that possessive streak.
She’s nothing more than a job. A task. Carter’s order.
An asset requiring protection.
Then why is a part of me screaming at the thought of not having her within reach?
13
Bianca
Ryder and I lasted a whole day without snapping at each other. The short, rushed grocery shopping spree yesterday ended with me forgetting half the items I needed to prepare my favorite dish, so we ordered in... Not what I had in mind after months of surviving on store-bought ready meals.
Today, I was smarter. I made a list, and Arthur took me shopping once more. He’s a pleasant guy. Chatty, funny, sweet. A complete opposite to moody, broody Ryder, who busied himself with installing cameras till late evening yesterday and was back at it by the time I woke up this morning.
True to his word, he’s completely ignoring my existence. It shouldn’t bother me, but I can’t do much about the heat wave that crashes into me whenever I look at him and find he’s already staring at me. His bad-boy aura, dark eyes, the tone of his voice... it all gets me hot and bothered.
His undeniable appeal vanishes when Arthur and I enter my apartment, two grocery bags hugged close to my chest.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I yell, spotting Ryder on a stepladder in my bedroom doorway, a bunch of cables in hand.
He doesn’t falter at my tone. Doesn’t even flinch, his deft fingers working overtime.
“I’m installing a camera,” he replies in a stoic, almost bored manner, my anger rolling off him like water off a duck’s back.
“In my bedroom?!”
My blood grows warmer, heating my cheeks. Not from the anger gunning through me, from my imagination running wild.
An enticing picture pops into my head: Ryder in my living room, sprawled in the loveseat, watching the screen of his laptop. With a glass of whiskey in hand, he stares, enjoying the show while I change into my night dress, desire clear in his eyes.
A shudder shakes me, my panties dampening on cue.
What the hell is wrong with me? How can I be aroused at the thought of him invading my privacy?
It’s been way too long since I had sex.
My last casual escapade happened eight months ago, and the whirlwind of the past few uncertain weeks has messed with my brain’s chemistry. Ryder doesn’t even like me very much.
He’s distant, seems annoyed with my presence, so why am I imagining him rising from the loveseat, his cock tenting his pants as he storms into my bedroom while I’m half naked?
“You were well aware of the security systems I’d be installing,” Ryder drawls, adjusting a camera right above the doorinsidemy bedroom.
Judging by the angle, it’s pointing at the window and my bed. He could watch me indulging in my silicone friend’s skills.
I shake my head softly, stopping the fantasy before it forms, and add a playdate with my vibrator to the list of things I should do tonight. This sudden, scorching need for Ryder is easily explained: proximity. It would have been Koby if he were here.
That’s a lie.
My body didn’t react with a butterfly-wings-in-tummy effect when I first saw Koby. The same can’t be said about my reaction to Ryder towering over me outsideScarlett.
Sexual attraction is instant. At least it always has been for me. When I spot someone attractive (and I’m this sex starved) the tension racks up at once. My adrenaline spikes, my hormones go haywire, and Iwant.
