FIFTEEN
noia
Frozen,I sit at my desk, staring at the closed door.
Holy. Shit.
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it everywhere—in my throat, between my legs. Ryder’s words echo in my head, each syllable vibrating through me.
“I want to grab you, throw you on the bed, and fuck you until neither of us can remember our own names.”
Damn.
I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ease the ache. This is insane. He’s insane.I’minsane for even entertaining the idea of...
Of what? Sleeping with a fictional character? Having mind-blowing sex with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, who also just happens to be a figment of my imagination?
I stare at my laptop screen, trying to focus on the words I had been writing before Ryder interrupted me. But all I can see is the intensity in his storm-gray eyes, the barely restrained hunger in them as he glared at me.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus on the words and lose myself in the story. I describe the look on Ryder’s facewhen he saw his truck—a mix of shock, joy and pure, unadulterated excitement—the way his whole body seemed to vibrate as he slid behind the wheel.
After a while, I stop typing long enough to take another bite of his amazing chicken. Then, fingers back on the keyboard, I start typing again.
Ryder’s hands trailed down her spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered against her neck, “since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
I pause, chewing my lip. No, that’s not right. Deleting the line, I try again.
Ryder stepped back, creating some distance between them. “We should take this slow,” he said, though his body was tense with need.
A little better? Slow-burn is what I’m good at. It’s what?—
Thundering footsteps pound up the stairs, and before I can react, my door flies open with a bang that nearly has me tumbling out of my chair.
“Fuck’s sake! Don’t you know how to knock? I could’ve been naked!” I screech, heart racing as I clutch the arms of the chair.
Ryder is breathing hard, eyes wild, dressed in jeans and a black Henley I’ve never seen before.
“My clothes…,” he pants. “...all of them…” Still panting. “...in the closet downstairs.”
“Say again?”
“My clothes. My wallet.” He holds up a set of keys, jangling them for emphasis. “The keys to my apartment. To my shop.”
“Your... shop?”
“Skin & Ink. My tattoo parlor? The one I told you about earlier.”
Legs shaking, I stand up slowly. “That’s impossible.”
“More impossible than my truck just showing up out of the ether?”
Suddenly, the laptop chimes with an email notification. I turn to check it, and gasp.
Immediately on alert, Ryder comes over to look.
“It’s from Skin & Ink Tattoo,” I say, voice barely above a whisper. “Confirming my appointment for tomorrow at two p.m.”
Ryder goes still. “Holy shit.”
