Her cheeks flush. “He’s... fun.”
“Fun?” I snort. “Sasha, you disappeared for almost an hour. What happened?”
“We just talked,” she says, but the way she’s biting her lip tells me there’s a lot more to it.
“Bitch, spill it.”
She takes a bite of her omelet, then sighs. “Okay, fine. We may have made out a little in the alley behind the bar.”
“Just a little?”
“A lot,” she admits with a grin. “Like, a lot a lot. He’s a really good kisser.”
By the look on her face, I’m pretty sure I know what happened next, but I ask anyway. “What else?”
“Then... he fucked me up against the wall.”
“Sasha!”
“I know! Then he asked for my number, but I told him I live an hour away and I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
I study her face. “But you wanted to give it to him.” I snicker. “Your number, I mean.”
She rolls her eyes. “Maybe.” She shrugs. “But you know me—I don’t do long-distance. And I really don’t do what we did more than once with the same guy. Too complicated.”
“Sometimes the best things in life are complicated,” I murmur, thinking about Ryder’s stormy gray eyes.
“Speaking of...” Sasha says. “What’s up with your Ryder sitch? I mean, long-term.”
Her question catches me off guard. “I... I don’t know. I guess I’m trying not to think too far ahead.”
“But you’re falling for him.”
There’s no point in denying it. “Yeah. I am.”
“Good. ‘Cause you deserve to be happy.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
noia
It’s justpast 2 a.m. when I hear the front door open and close.
Ryder’s back.
After tossing and turning for over an hour, I’m still wide awake, my body still humming with frustration from him edging me earlier.
His heavy footsteps move through the house. The refrigerator door opens and closes before I hear the water running in the kitchen sink. Then his footsteps head down the hall toward his bedroom.
Silence falls over the house again.
Thirty minutes later, still unable to sleep, I slip out of bed. My heart hammers against my ribs as I tiptoe down the stairs in nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts. The steps creak beneath my feet, and I freeze, but the house stays quiet.
I make my way down the hall to Ryder’s bedroom. The door is open a crack with a sliver of moonlight spilling through the gap.
Pushing it open just enough to slip inside, I quietly close thedoor with a soft click and lean back against it, heart thundering in my chest.
Sprawled across the bed, he has one arm thrown over his head, the other resting on his stomach. The moonlight streaming through the window bathes his tattooed skin in silver, highlighting every dip and curve of muscle. Wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, the sheets are tangled around his ankles.
