by M. L. Broome
Ryder’s eyes widen as he shakes his head vehemently. “Take that back. You are not my sister.”
“I said practically your sister.”
“Would I do this with my sister?”
I don’t have time to respond before Ryder claims my mouth, his tongue gliding along the seam of my lips. With a soft moan, I grant him access, feeling every cell in my body spark as he pulls me onto his lap, his hands sliding along my spine.
The man’s mouth is magical, my pulse racing as the kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine in the most seductive of battles. I feel his hunger bubbling beneath the surface as he kisses me, his mouth making promises I pray he keeps.
The rooftop door slams as partygoers invade our private sanctuary. But this moment? This beautiful moment, our breath mingling as our hearts settle, belongs to us.
The brisk night air fogs our breath, but I’m not cold anymore. Not with my body pressed against Ryder’s, his hands refusing to pause in their exploration of my curves.
I’m not sure who taught Ryder to kiss, but they deserve an award. I can’t feel my legs after our lip lock. Hell, I can’t feel anything beyond the growing desire for him to keep kissing me and never stop.
He grazes his hands along my chin, peppering my jaw with kisses. “I’ve waited so long to do that, Gigi.”
“I told you to find me when you were older. Didn’t expect you to make good on the threat.”
His blue eyes blaze with intensity as his grip tightens. “Would you like me to stop?”
“Never. You’d better not make me wait that long again.”
Ryder smiles against my mouth before laying his claim. With every passing second, I fall deeper under his spell.
A peal of laughter carries over the air as a young couple strolls over, settling onto an adjoining couch.
“So much for private time,” I murmur, twirling a lock of his dark hair around my finger. “What to do now? I know, tell me all about your fabulous life. Start talking, Ryder.”
So, he does. It’s funny. Most people love to talk about themselves, but Ryder is different. Perhaps it’s the giddiness lining his face as he discusses his racing career or the fact I actually want to know everything about him. The man possesses a self-assured air. He’s confident but not arrogant, and confidence is sexy as hell.
Ryder is sexy as hell. So are his hands, which are intent on touching me at all times.
Not that I’m complaining.
When he talks about the upcoming year, I realize with his talent, he’s going places. Fast. “You’re going to be a star.”
It’s not even a question. He will be the biggest name in racing soon, an idea that is both exciting and terrifying. Exciting for him. Terrifying for me. Even though I spent countless weekends at the track, watching Ryder and Greg fly around the turns, I always worried something would happen. A split-second decision could end it all.
Could end him.
Reaching up, I slip a pendant from my neck, placing it around his.
“What’s this?” Ryder asks, trying to read the inscription.
“St. Christopher, the patron saint of travelers. Since you travel all over the world and practically at the speed of light around the track, I want you to wear this.” Running my fingers over the pendant, I rest my hand on his heart. “It will keep you safe.”
Ryder pulls me close, tucking my head under his chin. “I’d rather keep you. You can be my good luck charm.”
“Going to pack me in your luggage and take me everywhere?” I tease, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. When I glide my tongue along his skin, his grip tightens, a huff escaping his lips.
Glad to know I affect him, too.
“That’s the most tempting offer I’ve ever heard.” Tipping my chin up, I find myself transfixed by his heady blue stare. “Pack your bags and you can travel the world by my side.”
“My job would be so thrilled.”
“Who cares? Quit. Spend all your time with me.”
They might be lines, practiced in front of a mirror until he perfected their delivery. But for some odd reason, my skeptical brain believes every word from his lips as they flow through my heart to set up residence.
“Now that’s the most tempting offer I’ve ever heard.” My tongue swirls around his fingertips as they glide across my lower lip, my grip on reality loosening with every second.
“Then say yes, Gigi.”
Before I can answer, the voices of millions of New Yorkers fill the air, crowing out the countdown to the new year.
Snuggling closer on his lap, I wind my hands in his hair, unable to look anywhere but at him. “Seems I got my New Year’s kiss early. Whatever will I do when the clock strikes midnight?”
“I’ve got millions of kisses for you. I’ve been waiting for you to come to claim them.”
As raucous cheers erupt across Manhattan, Ryder’s lips claim mine. I try to hold on to any thought as the moment deepens, but my emotions win the battle. The din, the fears, and the noise fall away as I fall into Ryder, my hands fisting in his shirt.
“The perfect start to a new year. Kissing the woman I’ve dreamt about for over a decade.”
Any witty retort dies in my throat as I’m captivated, once again, by Ryder’s intense energy. It’s the way he looks at me, as if I’m the only woman in the world.
No one has ever looked at me that way before.
An icy breeze blows across the rooftop, and I huddle closer to his lanky frame.
“It’s downright frigid out here, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you did an excellent job keeping me warm against the elements.”
Pulling me tighter, he teases my mouth with featherlight kisses. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“I do.” There’s no question. My reunion with Ryder is unexpected and moving at warp speed, but I’m certain of one thing.
I don’t want it to end.
“Would it be totally presumptuous to invite you back to my hotel? It’s only a few blocks away.”
“Think you’re going to get lucky?” I tease, biting back a grin.
“I already got lucky, Gigi. I’m with you.”
The grin slides from my face as a wave of emotions surges through me. Grasping Ryder’s shirt, I crush his mouth to mine, claiming, without words, every inch of this man as my own.
Before the sun rises, he will be mine.
“Ryder, there you are. Dude, your date is pissed.”
Tearing my lips from Ryder’s, I turn my attention to the stranger standing to our left. “His what?”
“Shit,” Ryder breathes, and I waste no time scrambling to my feet. “I’ll be down in a minute, Sam.”
I wait until Sam disappears back inside before turning loose my famous Hammond temper. “Your date?”
Ryder huffs out a sigh, burying his head in his hands. “It’s complicated.”
He is not using that expression. “Don’t use my line on me, Ryder. You’re here with someone? That’s fucking perfect,” I mutter, grabbing my purse as I prep for a hasty exit.
Ryder grabs my arm, and I see the panic lining his face. “Please sit down.”
I shake my head, feeling like an idiot that I fell for his lines. “You’re good, Ryder. I actually believed you, but I guess that’s the point, right? Your delivery was perfect. No doubt you’ve done this hundreds of times before.”
He flies to his feet, but he’s a bigger fool than me if he thinks I’ll believe one word from his gorgeous mouth at this point. “You think this was some ploy to get you into bed? I’ve been hoping to run into you for years and then boom, here you are. No way in hell was I going to let this moment slip by, and I’m not letting it go now. I’m not letting you go.”
“Such a sweet sentiment, except for the fact you have a date downstairs,” I seethe, tempted to impale my heel in Ryder’s handsome head. “Thanks for making me the other woman. Appreciate it. I always swore it was the one role I’d never play, but you made certain I did.”
With a flip of my hair and a shaky sigh, I slip on my emotional armor. “I should have known better. You’re just a kid.”
Ryder stiffens at my barb, taking the coat I thrust in his direction. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
“Just because you can kiss, doesn’t make you a man. Goodbye, Ryder. Maybe we’ll run into each other in another twelve years.”
Twirling on my heel, I storm toward the door, intent on one thing—getting inside before the tears fall and I look like an even bigger fool.
Apparently, my footwear and physics have other ideas, as my heel catches on a cord and I tumble toward the ledge.
With lightning fast reflexes, Ryder snatches me to his chest, pulling me flush against him. My breath catches when I gaze over the side of the building. That’s right. Over the side of the building.
“Oh, my God,” I manage, my heart speeding like a runaway train.
You know the claim that your life flashes before your eyes right before you die? Totally false. All you have time to realize is this was not how you wanted to go out.
At all.
“Christ, Gigi, I know you’re angry, but could you let me explain before you hurl yourself off the building?”
I pull my head from his chest, glaring into his smiling face. “Aren’t you funny?”
“I have my moments.” Ryder smooths my hair back, and I hate how soothing his caress feels. “My situation with Jane is no different from you and Austin. We both know the host and although we split up months ago, we agreed to come to the party together. As friends.”
“I don’t think Jane sees it quite the same way you do.”
“Apparently not, but that was the stipulation. Greer, I planned on having a few drinks and some laughs with friends. I didn’t plan on kissing anyone tonight, but you’re not just anyone.”
There he goes with his impeccably timed one-liners again.
Huffing out a sigh, I realize I have two choices—continue to be mad or let it go, chalking it up to another dumb decision because of alcohol.
This is why I rarely drink. Alcohol and common sense are not good bedfellows.
“I’m still pissed you failed to mention your date for the evening, but I owe you for not letting my ass tumble to the pavement.”
“You can make it up to me.” Ryder grins, a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.
“I’ll have quite a list of IOUs if we hang out any longer, which is why I’m heading downstairs. I’m bound to have a hell of a time hailing a cab on New Year’s.”
I back away from the warmth of his embrace, stepping gingerly over the mess of hoses and cords tangled on the ground. Time for me to return to reality—a far colder experience than my previous few hours.
I walk back into the party, which is no quieter now than it was before the clock struck midnight.
I’m not three steps inside when Ryder pulls me to his chest, his breath hot at my ear. “If you think I’m letting you walk away from me, you’re crazy. I have to go deal with Jane and put her in a cab, but I’m coming back. Then, we are going to my hotel to spend the next few days together and plan for Paris.”
“Paris? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re coming with me. I’m showing you the world, Gigi.”
“Stop with the lines, Ryder.”
He spins me around, his gaze fierce with intensity. “None of what I said to you is a line. Know that. I’ve been waiting years for you.” Cupping my face, he drifts his mouth against mine. “I know you feel it, too. Don’t walk away from this. From us.”
Am I stupid to believe him? If so, hand me the crown, because I believe every single word. Hopeless romantic leading with her heart, at your service.
“Paris, huh?”
A beautiful smile lights up his face. “To start. But I plan on loving you in every city around the world.” Linking our fingers, he brings my hand to his mouth, dusting gentle kisses across my skin. “Will you let me love you, Gigi?”
Every cell in my body comes alive at his question, my heart kicking any of my head’s misgivings to the curb. “Do we have to wait until Paris?”
Now his smile borders on smoldering as his lips claim mine in a fierce kiss. “Definitely not. You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
As he disappears into the crowd, I scope out a quiet corner to await his return. Hopefully, he gets back before my rational side has the chance to debate my spur-of-the-moment decision.
Paris. He can’t be serious. But what if he is? What if he means every word?
What if all he wants is to love me?
Or what if I’m absolutely off my rocker for considering his proposition?
“Does he belong to you?” Turning my head, I groan at the sight of Austin, barely upright, with vomit down his shirt. At his elbow is Patrick, this evening’s host.
Judging by the grimace on Patrick’s face, he’s none too pleased. With either of us.
With a sigh, I nod. “For tonight, at least. Let me call a cab.”
I search the crowd, but there’s no sign of Ryder. Looks like our private soiree will have to wait until I get Austin home. Nothing like babysitting a thirty-three-year-old man.
This is absolutely the last time I’m going anywhere with this lech.
Grabbing a pen and paper from my bag, I jot down my number, pressing it into Patrick’s hand. “Will you make sure Ryder Gray gets my number?”
Patrick scoffs at my request. “Sure, because you’re the first woman to use that segue.”
“I’m not a fan. I’m a friend.” At his cocked brow, I add, “I’ve known him since he was ten.”
A curt nod. The man doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
With an exasperated huff, I throw up my hands. “Just give him the number, please. If he doesn’t want it, tell him to chuck it.”
I figure the last line will drive home my point because I know Ryder wants to see me again. Hell, he wants to show me Paris.
Patrick shoves the paper into his pocket, motioning toward Austin. “No problem. Just get this guy out of here. He’s already puked on my rug.”
Austin, you are such an unbelievable pain in the ass.
I scope the penthouse crowd a final time, desperate to find the man who gave me the greatest kisses in all of my thirty years. A man who awakened feelings in me I didn’t know I possessed.
A man I want to know much, much better.
Ryder made me tingle. No one has ever done that before.
But luck isn’t on my side. Ryder is nowhere to be seen, and Austin looks like he’s ready to hurl again. With a sigh, I lead him to the cab, casting one glance over my shoulder as we pull away into the night.
The ball is in Ryder’s court now. I left my number with his friend. It’s up to him to use it.
Chapter 2
Ryder
Eight Years Later…
“Ryder Gray! Ryder Gray!” Fans clamor around me as I exit the restaurant, and I can’t help but wonder about the absurdity of it all. They think I’m a big deal, something more than human.
Maybe it’s because I’m an F1 driver, or because I win—a lot. My female fans claim it’s because of my model good looks and reported prowess in the bedroom.
I’m not denying any of it, but I still don’t understand the adulation.
What I do know is to the outside world, I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. I make a living—a damn fine living—doing what I love. Racing consumes me, which is a good thing, because when you strip away the tours, tracks, and endorsements, there isn’t much left.
The track has been my home since I was a kid; the bleachers and asphalt kept me company when my dad got sick. After he died, it was the only place I found solace.
I guess the women are a perk, too. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun as hell having my choice of beautiful bodies to warm my bed, but it never gets further than that.
How can it? I still carry a torch for the one that got away.
Greer Hammond. Eight ye
ars ago, she was in my arms, and those were the happiest moments of my life. I was only gone fifteen minutes, but it was fifteen minutes too long. By the time I returned, she was gone.
Worse than Cinderella at the ball.
I waited a couple of weeks, certain she would get in touch with me, but she never did. Then the racing season started, and it seemed no matter how often I tried to call Greg to finagle his sister’s number, we never connected. Let me tell you, time zones are a bitch.
Finally, after months and thousands of miles of travel, I spoke with Greg, my determination at an all-time high. I knew what I wanted and no matter how much shit he gave me; I was a man on a mission. Greg was thrilled to chat and fill me in on all the family gossip. Namely, that Gigi was dating a med student, and it seemed serious. He figured they’d get married soon.
The woman who claimed she wasn’t built for relationships was now firmly entrenched in one. And it wasn’t with me.
I didn’t care to hear anything more about Greer after that.
My mother still jokes with me occasionally about my feelings for Greer Hammond, but I claim it was a childhood crush. Nothing more. We both know I’m lying.
I dated a few nice women over the years and although I cared about them, it was never near the intensity of my feelings for Greer. But maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Hell, my feelings for Greer were likely more pie in the sky than based in reality. Who knows? We might have spent a week together and ended up hating each other.
Besides, I haven’t seen Greg or Greer in years. That’s how it works, right? You don’t intend to drift away from each other, but time and distance do their worst to break the bonds that once held you tight.
Greg and I still speak occasionally, but I never ask about his sister. Even when he slides in her name, I steer the conversation to an alternate topic. As I said, I don’t want to know about her wonderful life. A life without me.
Instead, we focus on his work as a mechanic, or his latest automotive gadget that’s guaranteed to make a car faster, smoother, or more economical. With cars, the man is a genius, even if some of his ideas are borderline ridiculous.