His arm wrapped around me, and I might have leaned in and nuzzled his shoulder. His chuckle vibrated through my chest. He said, “Let’s get you home.”
“Are you coming with me?”
He shifted his gaze down to me and his brows pulled together. “I’ll make sure you get there safe.”
I bopped the edge of his nose, leaning most of my weight on him. “You know, you’re actually pretty sweet.”
“I’m glad you’re finally coming around and realizing this.” He smirked.
“That! Stop doing that!” I pointed at him.
His lips twitched in the corner. “Stop doing what?”
Dammit, why was he so sexy? It would be much easier to have a client I wasn’t attracted to. And as for those moments of complete sincerity that upped his swoon factor to thirteen, seriously, what was with this guy?
“That whole smirky thing. Girls eat that shit up.”
He chuckled. “I only care if it works on one particular person, Flash.”
It did.
We got into our ride, and I scooted toward the middle seat of the bench and rested my head on his shoulder. God, it was so comfy. All those muscles. All that warm skin radiating through his button-up. He really should wear less clothes. It’d be a gift to us all. My eyelids felt heavier by the second, and I spiraled into a darkness filled with visions of Ryder without a shirt and his lips on mine.
Chapter Twelve
Ryder
Zoey was toasted. We stopped at Taco Bell on the way back to her place, and she fell asleep with a bean burrito halfway to her mouth. I was doing my best to hold her up so I could get her into her apartment.
“I like your hands,” she slurred.
“My hands?” I’d get her in the apartment, make sure she guzzled a sufficient amount of water, and then get out as soon as I felt confident that she’d be okay on her own.
“Yeah. They’re strong. They feel so good on my body.”
Shit. Focus. Do not look her direction. Which damn key went into this door? There had to be at least twenty on the key ring.
“Ever since the night we got together, I’ve fantasized about your hands on me.” Her fingers walked down my chest, and I fought the shudder her touch elicited. She was off-limits tonight with a capital O.
“Zoey. As much as I’d love to hear what you fantasize about in regard to me, I think maybe we should save this for a different time.”
Find the damn key.
“That mouth of yours. You just talk, talk, talk so much. It’s so much better at other things.” She clasped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“Yes. But I’ll take the compliment.”
I finally found the correct key and turned the lock a few seconds later, breathing a sigh of relief. I just needed to put her down on the couch, make sure she was okay, and then I’d be out of here to take care of business in the safety of my shower.
“Oh, Jitters. Sweetie, did you miss momma?”
Her cat purred loudly while nuzzling against Zoey’s leg. He eyed me suspiciously as I helped Zoey onto the couch, propping her legs on a pillow. Murderous eyes continued to stalk me as I moved into the kitchen in search of a glass for water. Scary to think even the animals in this apartment had glares perfected.
After opening at least five different cupboards filled with enough ramen noodles to feed a small village—and the damn disgusting La Croix—I found the stash of pint glasses. I turned around to go to the fridge and almost stumbled over the cat. What was his name? Jibber? No, Jitters.
“Move it along there, pal.” I went to maneuver around him and his back arched, the hair on his neck standing in a stiff line. He bared his teeth and hissed at me.
Okay. It didn’t take a genius to know he was two seconds away from making a meal out of my leg.
His tail twitched from side to side, and his eyes widened, his pupils dilating to demon-level.
I thought back to the trick Zoey had shown me. “Bang, bang.” I pointed to the cat.
Hell, did he just arch a brow at me?
“Listen, I’m just trying to get water for your owner.” I tried to move toward the fridge again, and Jitters let out a low, don’t-screw-with-me growl.
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
Was I really talking to a cat? Last time I checked, I was the alpha species here, the one with the opposable thumbs. A creature that couldn’t even open his own can of food was not going to exert dominance over me.
“Move it, pipsqueak.” I brushed past him, working my way to the fridge. Just as I put my hand on the door, a sharp pain radiated up my leg. “Shit!”
I glanced down to find the cat latched onto my leg. Claws bit into my skin, and I let out a grunt, shaking my leg to extract him. The little devil clung on harder, kicking his back legs into me, scratching the shit out of my jeans.
I braced myself against the counter, kicking my leg, trying to get him to unearth his claws from my pants and my shin. The damn thing let out another low growl.
“What? Fine. I won’t go to the fridge. If I use the tap, will you let go of my leg?”
The cat narrowed his eyes at me, considering. This was ridiculous. Cats didn’t understand humans. Tormented them and probably scarred their legs, yes, but there was absolutely no point in running my itinerary by him.
A few of his claws retracted as I scooted to the sink. Okay, maybe we were on to something here. I inched closer again, and another couple of claws released from my jeans. By the time I made it to the sink, he was back on the floor and my jeans and the blood blooming across the fabric were the only evidence that he’d attacked my leg. “Dude, what did fridge water ever do to you?”
He let out another hiss.
I turned on the faucet and filled the glass, keeping the cat in my peripheral vision the entire time. As I turned to leave the kitchen, he sat in front of me, tail twitching, his pupils still large with the thirst for my blood.
“We cool, man?”
I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me?
I probably had at least a good two seconds before he pounced.
Deciding to play it safe, I walked a safe distance around him, giving him the space he needed. He let out a loud hiss before I exited the kitchen. I glanced back and his expression was clear: I own you. You’re my bitch.
As I made my way out to the living room, Zoey lay there, softly snoring on the couch. Her arm was draped over the side, her fingers grazing the wood floor. Her eyelashes fanned across her face, and her blond waves draped over her cheek.
My chest tightened at the sight of her. She was stunning. And mouthy. And perfect in every sense—except for her taste in animals and beverages. I’d do just about anything to be hers, and for once that didn’t scare the shit out of me.
…
Zoey
My whole world tilted, and my eyes sprung open. I expected the interior of Ryder’s truck, and instead gazed at my living room. Alcohol tended to put me to sleep, but rarely before I made it back home. Last time that happened was during my trip to Europe when we’d had one too many glasses of wine at a restaurant in Tuscany.
Stupid. Damn that delicious dessert wine.
Ryder sat on the chair across the room, watching over me.
“How did I get in here?”
“I carried you in.”
Oh. Seriously, girl? Good thing Ryder was a nice guy, because if he’d been a slimeball… I didn’t even want to finish that thought. “Thanks. That was nice of you.”
He handed me a glass of water and I took a sip. “I couldn’t find anything in there but ramen and Doritos. Do you want me to get you anything to eat? I think there’s still a bit of the burrito in the car.”
I glanced at my surroundings, making sure I didn’t have anything embarrassing hanging around, like a bra or a box of tampons. Nothing as far as I could see, just Jitters sitting on his perch by the window, his tail twitching wildly. “Thanks. And no, I’m good.”
Sitting there, legs spread as he slouched in the chair, he looked so inviting. He’d undone the top two buttons of his shirt and it was now haphazardly untucked from his jeans. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows, and I desperately wanted to see the muscles jump under his skin as his hands worked over me. His lips were tinged a deep red that made me think of apples, and dammit, now I was hungry.
“I think you should get some sleep. And maybe more water.” He shot up from the chair. “I’ll be right back. Let me get that for you.”
“Is being nice a part of your master plan?”
“Plan for what?”
Toot toot. What was that? Oh, just the truth-bomb express heading straight out of my mouth. “To get me into bed.” Damn wine and its ability to turn me into Honest Abe. Next I’d be admitting that time in ninth grade where I slipped the answers to a chemistry test to my friend.
His expression hardened, like he was upset that I even suggested the idea. “I’m not an asshole, Zoey. And any guy who would try to put moves on you while you’re drunk doesn’t deserve your time.”
I pouted. “You’re a fun-sucker, you know that?”
“Zoey, I want you so bad it physically hurts. But I’d never take advantage of you. Also, I’m selfish, and want you to remember every damn minute I’m inside you.”
“I see what you did there.” I pointed at him. Or at least I thought I was pointing at him. Currently there were two of him, so I had a fifty-fifty chance. “Saying minutes instead of seconds. You’re just trying to entice me.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t know the bar was set so low,” he said, handing me a full glass of water. I downed it in a few gulps and set it on the end table.
“What’s with all the packages?”
I glanced to the stack of stuffed mailers piled on the counter, which I hadn’t had time to open before my date. “Leggings.”
“Wow. That’s an impressive collection.”
“Ha. Not even breaking the surface, my friend.”
“Friend?” He looked up, testing the word in his mouth like someone tasting a new wine. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too. I can talk to you. Although that may be the alcohol speaking.”
“Probably,” he said. He chuckled and sat back down in the chair across the room, opening a book. I glanced at the cover and realized it was mine, the one I’d left sitting on the coffee table before I’d left for tonight.
He pointed down to the page he’d opened to. “This lord does have major game.”
“Are you really reading my book?”
“Sure. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“And?”
“Not something I’d seek out and read on my own, but he has swagger for someone in the eighteen-hundreds. Although if I ever read the words ‘stiff rod’ again, it better be about a fishing pole or else it’s game over.”
I giggled. “Ryder?”
“What?”
“Will you cuddle with me?”
“Cuddle.” He cocked his head like I’d just spoken another language.
“Yeah, you know, big spoon, little spoon. You have cuddled before, right?”
He regarded me, his eyes wary. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I promise I won’t get handsy. Plus, don’t you need to make sure I’m okay from all the alcohol?” I batted my eyes at him.
His brows scrunched together. “Are you okay? Is something in your eye?”
I sighed. “No.” Well, shit. Drinking totally cramped my seduction skills. “Please, I would love some company.”
After a few moments of contemplation, he sighed. “Fine.”
“Just wait here a few minutes, okay?” I bounded toward my bedroom and grabbed a pair of leggings and a tank. After I brushed my teeth, I hopped in bed and pulled the covers over my chest.
“Okay, you can come in,” I called.
Ryder stood in the doorway, looking uncertain.
“I’ll stay for a little bit, but that’s it,” he announced.
“Fine.”
He tugged his shirt over his head, revealing a notch of muscled stomach inch by inch.
“Holy mother of Christ.” I didn’t know if I said this out loud or not, but those abs never got old.
A smile pulled at his lips as he eyed me. “Should I put it back on?”
“Only if you want me to weep tears of sorrow.”
He grinned. “I’d never want to make you cry, Zoey.”
“Does that mean the pants are coming off, too?”
“Not a chance. Damn, Flash—drunk you has a one-track mind.” He shook his head, but his face still held a smile.
“Are you at least going to join me on the bed? Or is that off-limits as well?”
“I think I can manage that.” He slid onto my bed, not getting under the covers, though. He was serious about not doing anything with me in my current state, which was both swoon-worthy and frustrating as hell at the same time because, oh, did I want him to do something.
Was it hot in here? Just laying a few inches from him turned my body into an inferno. I kicked the covers off one leg, cooling myself down.
“Are those cats on bicycles?”
I ran my hands along the pattern. I bought this pair two weeks ago, during a particularly frustrating email exchange with Ryder. “So what if they are?”
“They’re cute.” He chuckled. “I’ve never seen anything but black yoga pants.”
“Would you rather me wear my pair with hula-skirt-wearing rhinos?”
“I’d rather you wear whatever makes you feel comfortable. I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”
Damn him and his stupid, swoony mouth.
I turned on my side and propped myself up, my head in my hand. “You know you have the most gorgeous eyes?”
“The better to stare into yours.”
I snorted. “Where did you come up with that line?”
He grinned. “Just read it in that book of yours. Thought it was worth a try.”
I smacked him in the chest. “You can’t use a British lord’s words against me.”
“Never said I played fair.” He stroked his fingers through my hair, and I leaned into his touch, savoring every time his fingers grazed my scalp.
My head nestled into the crook of his arm, his bicep making an incredible pillow. “Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re working on the project with me.”
The skin around his eyes creased as he smiled. “Me, too.”
“CEO is a good look on you.” I turned and grabbed his other arm, draping it over my side. “But I think I might like this look even better.”
“Hey, Flash?”
“Huh?” My lids were getting heavier by the moment. I had to struggle to stay awake while I snuggled into the warmth of Ryder’s chest.
“Thanks for giving me another shot.”
“Just don’t hurt me, Ryder. I think I could fall for you.” Wait, did I say that out loud? But before I could retract the statement, the world went black.
Chapter Thirteen
Zoey
To Do List:
• Find different place to live once realization of last night’s events hits.
I woke up with the sun beating down on my face, which lay plastered against something warm. A wall of muscle enveloped my entire field of vision when I cracked open my eyes.
Oh holy crap.
I blanched at the stale taste of wine and the whole cotton mouth thing I had going. This was exactly why I stuck to Tom Collins. My trusted friend Tommy never left me with a hangover, and I always remembered what happened the night before. How did I end up in Ryder’s arms? Better yet, why was he in my bed? I peeked down at my fully clothed body. My bicycle-cat leggings? Jesus, just take away my license and never let me drink again. My only solace was the fact that drunk me opted out of the Bieber Believer shorts Lainey got me as a joke for my birthday one year.
Ryder was still asleep, his breaths coming out in long and slow huffs. He looked so peaceful laying there. His feet dangled off the end of the bed. I took my time perusing his muscles, his glorious muscles on full display. Today was officially deemed Man Candy Saturday. Or would that be Sexy Stud Saturday?
A smile spread across his lips, and his low, gravelly voice hit me square in the stomach when he said, “You checking me out?”
I quickly averted my gaze. “Am not.”
He cleared his throat. “I think you are. Or you were.”
“You don’t even have your eyes open.”
“Don’t need to. Everything you do has so much focus, Zoey. If you stare at me any harder, I might burst into flames. You do have a fire extinguisher, just in case, right?”
I smacked him on the chest. Always so in tune to my movements. I’d never met anyone quite like him.
I laid my head back down on his bicep and inhaled his scent, trying to pinpoint why I liked it so much, besides the fact it smelled delicious. It was more than that—it made me feel warm, safe. “Thank you for making sure I got home okay last night.”
“No problem.”
“I…” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t say anything too embarrassing last night, did I?”
“Nope.” He grinned.
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“A gentleman never tells.”
A very unladylike snort came out. “You, my friend, are not a gentleman.”
“True. So, I guess I shouldn’t say that you told me that my design game is on point. And you were impressed with my mad CEO skills.”
“That was the alcohol talking.” Okay, I could deal with random compliments. But I couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion I’d told him I could fall for him. Although if I had, he’d be long gone by now. Ryder may have managed to stay until sunrise, but his track record proved it wasn’t a habit.
“Was it the alcohol talking when you said you wanted your legs wrapped around my neck?”
I groaned. So it was officially settled—I would never be drinking a drop of wine again.
The Rule Maker (Rule Breakers) Page 15