“I’m walking out of here and never speaking to you again.”
“You’re just stalling.” He brushes a finger down my cheek. “Tell me I don’t live rent free in your head twenty-four seven.”
I jerk away. “You don’t.”
“Liar.”
Just as I open my mouth to tell him off, a voice comes from somewhere behind him.
“Excuse me—sorry—but... Oh myGod, you’re Noia Wilde!”
Caught off guard, I blink in surprise.
A woman, who looks to be in her early twenties, is cradling a stack of books in her arms, looking like she’s trying not to vibrateout of her skin, staring at me like I’m made of magic or some shit.
“I am,” I say carefully.
“I love your books so much,” she gushes. “You’re literally the reason why I started writing. I—oh my God—is thishim? Is this the guy that inspiredRyder Blackwood?”
Ryder grins like he’s signing autographs at the gates of hell. “I get that a lot.”
The girl makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a squeal and a squeak and backs away. “I gotta go. Nice to meet you.”
Turning slowly, I look up at Ryder. “What the hell was that?”
He just shrugs.
Shaking my head, I walk toward the front with my book under one arm and my dignity slowly dwindling away as it trails along the floor behind me, barely hanging on.
When we walk outside, the afternoon air feels blessedly cool against my heated skin.
He nudges my shoulder as we head toward his truck. “Did you have fun?”
I shrug.
“Later tonight, we’re really going to test your boundaries,” he says, opening the door for me.
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“That, kitten, is also a surprise.”
I climb up into the seat. Trying to ignore how incessantly my clit is throbbing, I deflect. “How about I throw a book at your head instead?”
“Plot twist,” he growls, before shutting the door with a wink. “I like that kind of shit.”
TWENTY
ryder
After dropping Noia off,I head to the shop. My body is still vibrating with energy from what went down in the bookstore. The way she blushed when I read that sex scene out loud—fuck, I almost took her right there between the stacks. Just the memory alone makes my cock twitch, and I have to adjust myself before climbing out of my truck.
The sights and sounds are even more familiar today when I push open the door to Skin & Ink. Claire waves at me from the front desk, and I return her greeting with a nod as I make my way to my station.
There’s a client coming in at three for a cover-up—some ex-boyfriend’s name that needs to disappear.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on with you, or do I have to beat it out of you?”
I look up to find Jax leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
