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“Maybe,” I say, “You did.”
“And why would I do that?” His voice has turned dark and low and deadly, and it’s as electrifying as it is thrilling.
“I don’t know. Maybe this is how you get your rocks off.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t ask her there. And I didn’t plan anything.”
“And?”
“And? Do you believe me?
“Not on your life, fuck boy.”
His eyes narrow, then glitter with intent, like a hunter who’s just spotted his prey. I swallow and back away.
He follows. “Damned either way with you, is that it?”
I’m playing with fire. I know that, and I can’t stop. “You were born damned. Give me one reason why I should believe you.”
“Because, Elliot, I don’t operate that way.”
“What way?”
“The forceful way. The whatever way you think I do. Like luring a woman I’m keeping away from to meet me and attacking her in public. In front of the cameras. If I wanted her, she’d be here and you wouldn’t know it. If I wanted a woman, I don’t need to go that route.”
“Oh, you have super powers, is that it?”
“No. I’m just very good at seduction.” Suddenly he smiles and the charm is focused in on me.
Right now, I’m looking like a…what did he say? A banshee. I’m in lime green running shoes, Godzilla pajama pants and an oversize pastel pink Sparkle Warrior Princess T-shirt, courtesy of my niece. In short, I look a fright, and he’s looking at me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever seen and I don’t care it’s a game, I don’t care about anything but that look and the man who owns it.
I’m in his sights, and he comes toward me, slow and deliberate. The air crackles. He’s so close, so close I can see the shots of copper striations in his melting chocolate eyes. Flame is there, too, as he caresses me with his gaze and it licks inside me, slow and sensuous.
Ryder slides that gaze slowly over my face to linger on my mouth. My breath is uneven, and every slam of my heart is pure and unadulterated need for him.
He leans in, fingers touching me, setting me alight. It’s not high combustion. This is more insidious, this setting alight. It’s soft and warm and a different kind of flame.
I’m singing where he draws a path, and that gorgeous mouth comes in close, like he wants to kiss me.
“Elliot…”
The soft sound of my name does indecent things to me. And the longing and promises there make my sex throb.
My eyes flutter shut and his breath heats along my skin to my ear. “You think I need to get all forceful in public? And do you think, if I was messing with someone else, I’d hit on you like this? Or do you think I need to lie?”
I snap out of it at his word. I glare at him. “You’d never hit on me.”
“Then,” he says, keeping that same soft and seductive tone, “what was that?”
“You teaching me a lesson.”
I suck in air and twist away, digging in my bag for my notebook and pen. I almost forgot it was there, on my shoulder.
“Why do you think I wouldn’t hit on you?”
“Have you seen me?”
“I’m pretty fucking sure I’m looking at you right now.”
