Stepping back, I give her space to breathe. “I brought snacks, but how about we go home and make some lunch instead? I’m starving.”
The relief on her face is almost comical. “Food. Yes. That’s… Um… a great idea.”
Knowing I’ve thrown her completely off balance, I grin. Good. That’s exactly how I want her.
THIRTEEN
noia
The drive back is tense.Ryder fiddles with the radio, stopping on a hard rock station playing ‘You Give Love A Bad Name’ and turns it up, drumming his fingers against his thigh.
I can’t help but steal glances at his full lips, and the shadow of stubble darkening the line of his jaw. His damp hair is curling slightly at the nape of his neck, and I have to grip the steering wheel tight to keep myself from reaching out to touch it.
What the hell is happening to me?
When we pull into the driveway, the sun is high in the sky.
Ryder hops out before I have a chance to cut the engine and stretches his arms over his head. His shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned skin and a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans.
My clit throbs in response, and I force myself to look away. How I managed to push myself away while he was on the verge of fingering me, I have no idea.
“Still hungry?” he asks as I follow him up the porch steps.
“Yes,” I admit, fumbling with my keys.
Inside, Goonie greets us with an indignant meow, winding between my legs like he’s been abandoned for weeks instead of hours.
“I’ll feed him,” Ryder says, already moving into the kitchen. “You want a sandwich?”
“Sure,” I nod, suddenly feeling awkward in my own home.
The tension from what almost happened at the hot spring clings to me like a ghost, lingering in every tentative glance at his muscular back and bulging biceps.
While Ryder rummages through the fridge, I slip upstairs to change, peeling off my damp clothes and pulling on a soft oversized sweater and shorts. When I come back down, he’s laid out a spread on the kitchen island—turkey, cheese, avocado, and some chips he probably found in the back of the pantry.
“This okay?” he asks, looking strangely domestic as he slices tomatoes.
“Perfect, thank you,” I murmur, sliding onto a stool.
We eat in companionable silence as Goonie purrs, winding between our feet, begging for scraps, until Ryder clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
“Are you going to write about what we did today?”
I take a sip of water. “Actually, yeah. Today was... inspiring.”
He gives me a slow smile as he puffs up his chest. “Good.”
Trying not to squirm in my seat, I ask, “What’s next on your ‘Help Noia Get Her Mojo Back’ agenda?”
He takes another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “I’m thinking we should—” His eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on something outside the window.
Spinning around, I follow his line of sight. “What is it?”
He stands so abruptly his chair nearly topples over. “What the fuck?”
Sandwich forgotten, he strides over to the window and presses a palm against the glass.
“What?” I ask, hurrying over to stand beside him.
