Now, I want Ryder.
Just for a night, just one good, hard fuck that’d sate this infuriating, unnecessary need. No strings attached. There’s a difference between sexual attraction and catching feelings. I don’t do the latter. I don’t hand my heart over on a silver platter.
It always ends up backfiring.
Every time I’ve allowed myself to feel, care,trust, I’ve ended up hurt, crying, and picking up the broken pieces of my heart. My biological parents, my high school friends, my three boyfriends...
Every person I’ve ever let close has ended up breaking me further. I thought, I fuckinghoped, that Vaughn would end the cruel cycle. He seemed so pleased that I ventured into his life. That he could get to know his late wife’s daughter.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I allowed myself an ounce of vulnerability.
And once again, I ended up hurt. Crying.Running.
That visual helps me summon my anger. “Get that thing out of my room!”
Anger helps me hide; it keeps me safe. It allows me to take what I need—a few touches, kisses, a good orgasm—while blocking the less desirable emotions. The ones that leave me in tears every time without fail.
What I want from Ryder is hiding in his pants... and while the ache throbs whenever I get a whiff of his cologne, I can easily buzz away my little problem.
“You never said you’d install a camera in my bedroom.” I drop the groceries on the counter, marching across the living space to stop a foot away from the stepladder.
“I’m installing cameras everywhere,” Ryder says, still fiddling with the wires.
He doesn’t look at me, his tone toeing the line between bored and exasperated, like he’s talking to a misbehaving child.
“Even the bathroom?!” I explode, welcoming the searing wrath burning through my veins. “I thought you were here to keep me safe, not perve on me while I shower!”
Now he stops what he’s doing, his anger matching mine and raising the stakes. He glares at me, his chest heaving.
“There’s no camera in the bathroom,” he seethes, his control dissipating. He takes a threatening step down the ladder, pinning me with those dark, stormy eyes. “You might be pretty, Winter, buttrust me, I have zero interest inpervingon you. I’m doing my job and if you don’t like it, take it up with Carter.”
Winter.
Koby tried out a dozen pet names and none hit the right chord, butWinterhas a peculiar effect on me. As if Ryder dipped me in gas and threw a match in my face. The sensation amplifies further whenyou might be prettyfully sinks.
“Maybe I will,” I croak, grasping for control despite my blood flowing faster, warmer. “I doubt he’d allow Hailey’s privacy to be invaded like this, so—”
Ryder scoffs, the derisive sound halting my rant. “Hailey spent weeks in a safe house with cameras tracking her every move. She had one pointing directly at her bed and didn’t complain once.”
He stomps down the last two steps, though even when his feet are on the floor, I’m still craning my neck.
“There’s a fire escape right outside your window. And said window doesn’t have a lock. Anyone can climb into yourbedroom but have it your way.” He reaches up, snapping the camera off the wall. “Enjoy your privacy.”
He doesn’t wait for another bout of arguments. No, he shoulders past me, somehow folding the steps as he heads into the living room to wire up the cameras already firmly attached to my walls.
Words are stuck in my throat. I forgot about the fire escape.
Ryder’s right, anyone could ambush me in the middle of the night. It’s happened before, a few weeks after I rented this place. The situation was harmless: a teenager from the third floor miscounted the stairs he’d climbed in the middle of the night while sneaking into his room without his parents noticing.
Yes, it was harmless... but it might not be next time.
Wringing my hands and inhaling a calming breath, I push the mortification back. I feel like an idiot for running my mouth, but I lift my chin, nonetheless.
A camera in my bedroom is crossing a line.
A camera in my bedroom is crossing a line.
A camera in my bedroom is crossing a line.
