I can’t speak. My throat’s dry, my body frozen in place. The nightmare, thememory, clings to me, an oily residue I can’t wipe away. All I can do is shake my head, trembling.
Arthur steps forward, his face softening. “No one’s here. She’s alone. Just a nightmare, right, Bianca?”
Slowly, Ryder lowers his gun, those dark eyes boring into mine. “Back in position,” he tells Arthur. “I’ve got this.”
Arthur hesitates a second. He shoots me a look of quiet reassurance and slips out of my bedroom and into the hallway. The door clicks shut, leaving me alone with Ryder.
He moves closer, his steps deliberate but unhurried, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. When he crouches beside my bed, his face is inches from mine, a wild look crossing his face, quickly replaced by worry.
I’m not used to people worrying about me...
“Bianca,” he says, his soft tone a far cry from his sharpness with Arthur. “Talk to me.”
My breathing is still too fast, too shallow, eyes darting every which way, searching for Vaughn. Rationally, I know he’s not here. He can’t touch me, but I feel like he’s hiding in the darkness, watching, waiting, touching himself.
I drag my fingertips down my thighs, grounding myself in the sensation of silk fabric against my skin.
“Hey.” Ryder drops his gun on the sheets and cups my face, forcing my attention on him and him alone. “You’re safe. Breathe with me.” He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching mine.
He takes a slow, deep breath, urging me to follow. It helps me regain my balance. That and the warmth of his hands. I stare at him, his expression shifting into something I can’t name. The room feels smaller, the space between us charged.
“There you go,” he coos when my breathing evens out after a few tries. “Good girl.”
From sobbing and scared to needy and horny in two words.
The praise hits me like a bolt of lightning. I shudder, unable to stop something inside me tightening. I hate how much I love it. How much I crave him.
“Tell me what it was. The nightmare. What did you see?”
I can’t tell him. It’s too embarrassing... too risky. What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he tells Hailey and she hates me for it? What if Carter calls off the security? I’d be left alone, waiting for all the bad things...
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “It was a stupid dream.”
“Bullshit.” His hands tighten on my face, not enough that it hurts, but enough that I feel held. Protected. “Stop telling me you’re fine, Bianca. Tell me what’s happening.”
“Nothing’s happening. I had a nightmare. It’s over.”
His jaw tightens, eyes searching mine for answers I won’t volunteer. “Okay, don’t tell me, but you’re not fine, Bianca. Not even close, so stop saying it.”
I hate that he sees right through me.
Hate it and love it at the same time.
His thumbs swipe my cheeks again, wiping away salt-caked drying tears I didn’t realize were there. “Whatever’s bothering you, when you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen.”
I lean into his touch, soaking up how safe I feel when he’s close. I pull back, breaking the contact. Ryder doesn’t stop me, but his hands hover a beat longer.
He’s not acting this way because he cares.
He wants answers.
“Get some rest,” he says after a long pause. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
15
Ryder
She gives me whiplash, I swear.
