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I take it. “So it’s just for show?” My gaze touches on the instruments, but I don’t say a thing about them and neither does he.
“I told you, I like beautiful things, Elliot. But no, it’s not just for show. It’s a great way to heat and look good and have low environmental impact. It’s a new system I put into a lot of my places I buy and sell and,” he says, lifting his glass of amber liquid to his mouth and taking a sip, “if you want an in detail discussion on how it all works, you’re shit out of luck. I do this crap all the time and couldn’t be bothered. Besides, I’m much more interested in this rebuffing thing.”
I’m standing close to him and while the heat’s not on, a warmth spreads through me that’s entirely to do with him.
“Fine,” I mutter, taking another sip of the whiskey, into which he’s added some kind of fruity syrup. It shouldn’t taste good, but it does. It’s like a sultry summer night on my tongue. “You’re hot. Let’s go home and have sex.”
Ryder approaches me and looks me up and down, then shakes his head. “Nope. As sexy as that was, and believe me, it was smoking, I think you might need to try harder.”
“I hate you.”
“No,” he says, coming in and unpinning my hair, “you don’t.”
“I don’t do this sort of thing.”
“That’s not working either.”
I jerk my chin at him. “I wasn’t trying, I was explaining.”
“Just, you know, put some feeling into it.” He moves around behind me, so close I can feel the heat of him, the slight buzz of electrical awareness flare, and I’m a throb of need deep down inside. “Say it like you mean it.”
I close my eyes. This was my stupid idea. Gulping down half the drink, I spin to face him. “Hey there, big boy, you’re looking mighty fine. How about it?”
A slow smile spreads and I know he’s having the time of his life. “How about what?”
“You know…”
“Chess? You want to play chess with me?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re not trying.” He takes my glass and sets it down on the bar with his. “Why don’t you say, ‘fuck you’re one sexy man, Ryder Sinclair. How about we get naked and do the deed?’”
“I’m not saying that.”
He nods, slips a hand around my waist and pulls me in and weak creature I am, I let him. “Fair enough. What about…I’ve been lost in the desert for weeks and you’re the oasis I need to survive?”
“Or how about do me now or I kill you?”
“I like your style, Perry,” he murmurs, the fingers of his free hands smoothing down over my hair, then winding the ends about them. “Sexy and scary and strong.”
“I don’t do this, Ryder.”
“Don’t do what?”
“I don’t go around propositioning men.”
His mouth skims against my ear. “Neither do I. Seems we’re both on a learning curve.”
“Focus, Ryder.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m focused.”
His words, that subtle thread running through them, wind about me and threaten to steal the air from my lungs. “How are you going to rebuff someone?”
“Thing is,” he says, “I don’t. Not usually.”
I go to pull away so I can gather my thoughts, but his hand tightens at my waist.
