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I feel used and that’s not fair or right. I’m not being used. That isn’t Ryder. And what I overheard wasn’t anything I didn’t expect, wasn’t anything I don’t expect.
I’m not his type, I know that. He’s not going to change his ways, either, and if he were, not for me. I work for him, just like he said and he’s promised me not a damn thing… Yet it all burns. Right down deep where I can’t get at it.
“Fuck.”
Having sex with him was stupid, I know this. But try as I might, I can’t regret it. For a brief, shining moment he wanted me and I want him. I’d have to be an idiot not to want a sample of Ryder Sinclair. After all, everyone else has gotten a piece of him, why not me?
I’m aware how horrible that sounds, what it makes him sound like and that’s what I thought he was—a hot piece of man ass to admire and to indulge in if it ever happened. The crush…this is more than a crush, and I don’t know what it is except thinking he’s a man whore who’s good in bed and attached to the prettiest face I’ve seen on a man is completely wrong and unfair.
Ryder’s more than that. Not just in there’s a real boy down in the mix. But he’s more than what he might seem on the surface, more than the twenty-first century great lover, more than rich and wild and carefree.
He’s complex and as much as he frustrates me and gets me riled up at times, I like who he is when he lets himself shine. I like his humor and intelligence and the way he can sound as awkward as a teen. And yeah, I also like that smooth as butter side, too, because it’s got substance.
I sigh and flop down on the sofa. Damn him, anyway. “Asshole.”
“Elliot?” Ryder. My heart lurches. He’s outside my door. I sit completely still. “Perry? I know you’re in there.”
I don’t answer and he starts to knock steadily. It gets louder as he goes. I don’t think he’s going to go away.
Slowly, I rise from the couch and cross to the door, the floorboards smooth and cool under my bare feet. “In case you didn’t notice,” I say when I pull the door open by way of greeting, “I left for a reason.”
He scowls at me. “It’s a little early for a pity pajama party, Perry.”
“That’s a lot of alliteration.”
“Oh you’re funny.” Beneath the scowl and the anger there’s concern and hurt. He pushes past me into my apartment. Then Ryder turns and points. “You ran away.”
“You said some shitty things.”
He blows out a breath. “To my mother? She’s being an interfering busybody. What I do shouldn’t be her business. And that goes for who I sleep with, don’t sleep with and who I like.”
“It’s not my business either.” I snap the words and go to turn, but he catches my arm. “Let me go.”
“So you can run away again? No.”
“We’re in my apartment. Where am I about to run to, Ryder?” Our gazes clash and the fire in his burns low in my belly.
“Knowing you, you’ll think of something.”
“I work for you, end of story.”
He frowns. “That’s not the story, and you know it.”
“What is it? Unless you’re some kind of out and out liar, what you said comes from truth, just like what I’m saying. I work for you. Nothing more. We had a glitch or whatever you want to call it. So we get through the next two weeks and then off you go, being you.”
Ryder doesn’t speak. He lets me go and rubs a hand over his face. “That’s what it is, huh?”
“Yes.”
“I call bullshit.”
I raise my hands. “You don’t get to call bullshit on unfettered truth.”
“Well, apart from the glitch as you call it, that isn’t the truth. We don’t have a working relationship. At least, not for me. It’s something else. And because it’s something else, it’s personal.”
I don’t want to do this. I take a step back and he follows. “Client and make over queen, right here.”
“No, Elliot. This is you and me. We’re more than client and make over magic queen. Apart from anything else, I thought we were friends.”
