“Ryder, please,” she breathes.
Covering my mouth with hers, I start sliding in and out. First slowly, then faster and faster as her fingernails are scratching my back. She raises her hips to meet each thrust, her legs around my waist pulling me deeper.
“I’m almost there,” she moans.
I feel her inner muscles tighten, and I go even faster, harder. And when she screams my name, over and over again, I feel her clench around me. It takes me over the edge and I come hard, harder than I have in a long, long time.
Wrapping my arms tightly around her, I pull her to my chest, the fast thump of her heartbeat matching mine. She breathes, “God, that was…”
“Out of this world?”
“Mmm.”
It was incredible, it was mind-blowing. It wasn’t like anything I had expected it to be. Kissing her softly, I stroke her silky hair. When our heartbeats return to normal, I pull out of her and get rid of the condom. After she finishes tying her robe, I take her hand.
“Come on, beautiful. Let’s go upstairs.”
She shakes her head. “Ryder, I can’t. You know that.”
“I know. But you don’t need to worry. Trust me.”
She nods, so I lift her up and carry her back upstairs to my bedroom and lay her down gently in the middle of my bed.
“Just wait here.”
Elle
I’m in his bed again, waiting for the familiar panic to kick in.
But it doesn’t.
Something is different. I am different. My whole body feels soothed and relaxed. What has happened?
I smile to myself, remembering the sensations that I’ve just experienced. I’ve brought myself to orgasm before, but it was a mere shadow of what I’ve felt with Ryder. It was explosive, incredible, overwhelming. I finally understand what the fuss is all about.
I didn’t expect this to happen. I thought the kitchen island would be the perfect place to have sex with him. It would be quick and detached; an easy and safe way to hold up my end of the bargain. But I didn’t count on Ryder—how he put my needs before his own. No other man I’ve been with has ever bothered with that. After they reach their climax, they’re quick to take off. And I never cared. I’ve always felt worthless. I’ve always felt like I didn’t deserve any better.
The bathroom door opens, and a sliver of light falls across the room, onto Ryder’s ripped body, naked apart from a towel wrapped low around his hips. I savor the sight of him, his muscles rippling while he walks towards the bed and stretches out his hand.
“Come on.”
I put my hand in his, and he takes me into the bathroom, where the fragrance of vanilla and lilacs greets me. The lights are dim, but candles are lit all around the huge space: in front of the mirrors of the twin glass sinks along one wall, and on the edge of the giant bathtub in the middle of the room. Standing behind me, Ryder slips the yukata off my shoulders, and he takes in a sharp breath.
“You have a tattoo,” he says, tracing its outline with his finger. “Why a phoenix?”
“According to Greek legend, the phoenix set itself on fire when it felt it was dying. But after three days, it emerged from its own ashes, and lived on forever. To me, the phoenix means renewal, rebirth. The beginning of a new life.”
This is my standard reply, and I hope Ryder won’t delve any deeper. I had the tattoo done last year, on the anniversary of my father’s death, when I felt I’d finally gotten my life together.
Ryder slides his arms around my waist, and his low, gravelly voice sends shivers along my spine. “So, are you ready for a new life?”
I swallow. Is he asking me if we can have a future together?
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
I step forward, dipping my toe into the bubble-filled tub. It’s the perfect temperature, exactly how I like it. I step in and lower myself slowly, savoring the warmth of the water. I turn around, waiting for Ryder to join me, but he’s standing at the edge, gazing down at me.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Of course.”
A moment later he steps into the bath, lowering himself behind me, his legs on either side of me. His steely erection is pressing into my back, so I reach behind me, intending to give him some relief, but his hand stops me.
“No, let’s just enjoy this.”
I sigh, lying back against his chest and gazing up at the ceiling. It is mostly made of glass, letting us view the stars twinkling above us. With Ryder’s strong arms around me and his soft mouth nuzzling my neck, which I tilt to give him better access, I feel almost—happy.
“What are you doing to me, beautiful?”
I smile. “I could say the same about you.”
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I’m just another screwup that you don’t need in your life.”
“You don’t know what I need.” His voice sounds gruff, and his hand cups my chin, turning my face towards him. His eyes are dark, sincere. “I need you.”
I close my eyes, snuggling closer to him.
He needs me.
The thought sends warm tingles all over my body. And if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit: some part of me needs him, too.
We enjoy the warm, soothing bath without saying any more; back against chest, fingers entwined. Only when the water starts getting cold, we untangle ourselves from each other, and step out. Ryder wraps a white fluffy towel around me, which feels so soft and comforting that I let out a yawn.
He gently pushes me toward the bedroom. “Go on, wait for me in bed.”
I walk into the room, dropping the towel on the floor and putting on Ryder’s shirt that I find on the bed before snuggling under the covers. I close my eyes. I’m so exhausted that I hardly feel him slide under the blanket—his chest to my back, his arms around my waist—and press a kiss in my hair.
Before I drift off to sleep, I’m thinking that I’ve never felt so safe and cared for ever before.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Elle
I haven’t slept so well in a long, long time.
My eyes still closed, I’m reveling in my warm, comfortable cocoon. The soft chirping of birds outside tells me I’m not at home, where my usual mode of waking would involve screaming neighbors and screeching cars. My eyes split open a fraction and get used to the semi-darkness.
It’s morning—a sliver of sunlight seeps in from a crack in between the curtains. It runs onto the bed until it meets a muscled shape—Ryder’s bare back. Cutting across his lower back, just above his boxers, it runs onto the length of his forearm to his large, warm hand that curls around my waist. His face is turned towards me, and his impossibly thick and long lashes are resting on his cheek. This is the last time I’ll see him, so I spend a few minutes just looking at him— innocent and sweet in his sleep.
Last night wasn’t at all as I had imagined it would be—at every turn he’d given me the choice to back out. As much as I should have, I never did, but I don’t regret it in the least—it was intense, incredible, mind-blowing—a real-life fantasy I will cherish for the rest of my life. Because that’s what this is: a fantasy. One where no one can see us or judge us, where it doesn’t matter who we are, how different we are, how we don’t belong together.
In the real world, we can never be together. And it’s not only because we live on different sides of the track. There’s a reason why my hookups normally involve bathrooms, alleys, and back walls. I like them to be a quick, fleeting moments that make me forget. Anything more, and I run the risk of getting emotionally involved—something I want to avoid at any cost. Not that the guys I normally hook up with are worth any more than the brief release they provide.
By staying here overnight, I’ve crossed a line I’ve set for myself. I’ve never, ever willingly shared a bed with a man. And to share it with someone I’m deeply, primally attracted to is dangerous—potentially disastrous. If I let my em
otions get the better of me, I will relinquish control, which means he’ll have a hold over me.
No, I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen. Even if I’d like to stay just a little longer, I have to leave here as soon as I can. Since Damon brought my bike back with him, I have no choice but to make the long trek into town and catch a bus back to the city.
Ryder stirs beside me, and the movement allows me to slide away under his arm and off the bed. While he turns and continues sleeping, I steal out of his room and into mine. After a quick freshen up in the bathroom, I gather my belongings and go in search of my clothes. Since Ryder mentioned he’d have them washed, they must be lying around in the laundry. I figure it would be downstairs, somewhere close to the kitchen.
It takes me a while to find it, opening door after door—library, sitting room, TV room, bedroom, bathroom—but finally it appears at the end of the hallway, a spacious tiled room with a washing machine, dryer, ironing board, and sink. Yes! My clothes, dry and vaguely smelling of Ryder, are still in the washer-dryer, and I don’t waste time getting changed, tossing the used t-shirt and shorts in a basket.
Ready to leave, I decide to grab something out of the fridge for a breakfast on the go. But before I reach the kitchen, a deep-sounding chime startles me. Oh God, it’s the doorbell. Will it wake Ryder up? I quickly make my way to the front door and open it before he comes downstairs.
“Good morning! Here’s your breakfast order. Enjoy.”
A plump gray-haired woman wearing a blue-and-white striped apron hands me a wicker basket with a red checkered cloth on top.
“Thanks.”
I carry the basket into the kitchen, breathing in the aroma of freshly baked goods. My curiosity piqued, I pick up the corner of the cloth with one hand. But the basket tumbles on the bench with a thud at the sound of Ryder’s deep, husky voice.
“Good morning, beautiful. I see you found your clothes.”
Thankfully he’s had the presence of mind to cover himself up, although the charcoal shirt he’s wearing does nothing to conceal his broad shoulders and sculpted chest.
“Um, yeah. Thanks for that. Someone delivered this basket.”
The corner of his mouth pulls up in a grin, and he walks around the bench until he’s in the kitchen, right behind me. The warmth of his body radiating on my back produces chills up my spine.
“Let’s have a look what’s inside, shall we?” he says in my ear.
His muscular arms slide around me and his hands lift up the cloth to reveal what’s inside the basket: croissants, butter, raspberry jam, blueberry muffins, fruit salad, an omelette, a stack of pancakes, maple syrup, muesli, a pot of fruit yoghurt, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
The delicious selection makes my mouth water, and I suddenly realize I’m starving.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just ordered a few things.” Ryder’s warm breath tickles my ear. “Tell me, what do you like?”
His lips travel down to my neck, brushing my sensitive skin.
“Muffin?” He breaks off a piece and puts it in my mouth. The mere brush of his fingers on my lips sends an electric current through me. Trying not to look affected, I also pull off a bit of muffin and pivot around to do the same to him. But before my hand reaches his mouth, he grabs my wrist and slowly brings my hand to his lips. He slips the muffin piece into his mouth and proceeds to lick off my fingers, one by one—setting off a tingling that rushes straight down between my thighs.
I forget all about going home, I forget all about how staying here is such a bad idea. The only thing I think of is his lips so close to mine. He is the first to lean in but I pull him close to me and press my mouth to his. Contrary to our frantic kisses of last night, this one is soft and tender. He brushes the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips, and when I open up to him, our tongues stroke and caress for what feels like hours. I don’t realize I’m giddy until we finally pull away from each other and I have to hold on to Ryder’s strong arms to balance myself.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you like some coffee? Cappuccino?”
I really shouldn’t stay; this should be my cue to leave. But clearly I’m weaker than I give myself credit for. As a poor college student, I don’t get many chances of indulging in a luxurious breakfast, making do with a bite of cereal on days I can afford it. For someone who loves good food as much as I do, this decadent spread is a temptation I can’t resist. I vow to myself that once I’ve had my fill, I’ll be on my way.
“Sounds good.”
Ryder starts on the coffee while I take plates and cutlery from the cupboard and put them on the bench, where the array of delicacies takes up most of its surface. We sit next to each other while I attack item after item, relishing each bite. Ryder must think I’m some greedy freeloader for he looks at me with an amused smile that makes me feel self-conscious. “So did you sleep well? I missed you when I woke up this morning.”
Drizzling some syrup on a pancake, I nod. “Yeah, I slept okay. If it wasn’t for your snoring, I would have slept even longer.”
“Snoring?” He raises his eyebrows, and his face falls. I can’t suppress a grin. I know it’s mean to tease him, especially since I haven’t heard as much as a sigh from him all night, but it’s priceless to see him vulnerable like this.
“Did I? Well, maybe I was just exhausted because you kept me up most of the night kicking me and trying to take over the whole bed.”
“Pffft, that bed of yours is as big as a tennis court. Don’t tell me you didn’t have enough space.”
“Hey, you almost pushed me off. I had to get up and move to the other side in the middle of the night.”
I arch my brow. “Really?”
“No.”
I swat his arm, hard. “Well, you didn’t snore that much either.”
Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he lets out a breath of relief, and we both burst out laughing. I feel so comfortable around him, and my heart gives a little squeeze of regret that it will never work out between us. In another life, I’m sure we would have been good together. But in the here and now, it’s time to face reality. After breakfast I won’t have any more excuses to stay.
I take a last serving of fruit salad and say, “Hey, thanks for breakfast. It was great, but I think it’s time for me to go.”
“Actually, I was thinking of taking you out today.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve held up my end of the deal, so that’s it. I’m going.”
“Yeah, of course you’re free to go. But I just want to show you around. Have you been to the Hamptons before?”
“No, not really.”
“Come on, I’ll take you to just one place. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”
He leans in and traces the line of my jaw with his finger.
“Please?” He looks at me from under his long, dark lashes.
And that’s all it takes—one look, one touch from him.
I sigh. “Alright then. One place. And promise me you’ll drive me home straight after.”
“I promise, beautiful.”
And when he flashes his irresistible smile, I forget for a moment how weak, how stupid I am. What the hell am I thinking, spending another day with him? But somehow, I can’t seem to resist him; he knows how to break down my defenses.
It’s only a few minutes before Ryder bounds down the stairs and leads me down the hallway through a door that I hadn’t noticed before. He switches on the light, and I suck in a breath. We’re in his garage, which looks more like a car showroom, filled with six or so shiny sports cars, and one familiar bike in the far corner. If Damon had seen this, he would have gone insane with lust. But I’m disgusted, of course—the combined value of these cars would buy at least ten suburban family homes. Why in the world does one person need to own so many cars? I scowl at Ryder, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I thought we’d take the Porsche 918 Spyder today. It’s one of the fastest ca
rs in the world. And it’s a hybrid. Get in and I’ll show you.”
With one hand on his hip, Ryder opens the door to a dark-gray metallic convertible. I pass three red Ferraris to reach it and bend low to fold myself into the seat. As the smell of leather and new car hits me, I settle myself within the compact black-with-red-trim interior, fastening my seat belt.
When Ryder gets in, his tall frame just fits inside the car, filling it entirely with his warmth and his intoxicating scent. Trying to ignore the lurch this invokes in my stomach, I turn my attention to the opening garage door. Ryder roars the engine to life, and we drive into the bright sunny morning. But instead of going down the driveway as I expected, he steers us towards the narrow road that leads to the race track.
“I’ll show you what this baby can do.”
When we reach the track, he presses some buttons on the touchscreen panel between us and without warning, he accelerates. We tear off down the track, pushing me back in the seat. I’ve never been inside a sports car before, let alone such a fancy one, and I have to admit, the feeling of going really fast, so low to the ground, is exhilarating. It’s different from a bike, but no less exciting. I let out a little squeal when the speedometer reaches 180mph, and when I turn to Ryder he is grinning as broadly as I am. I feel happy and free, just like a kid again, and I begin to understand his love of sports cars.
After two laps we leave the estate and zip onto the highway, a straight road with bare trees on both sides. Between the shrubs, I catch glimpses of the ocean, the bright sun rays producing glimmers on its surface. The two-lane road splits and we approach a bend that leads to a high hill at the top of which stands a white-and-mahogany lighthouse.
To my horror, he parks the car in front of the path leading up the hill, marked by the sign “Montauk Point Lighthouse”. I hope he’s not thinking of climbing up because I won’t be able to deal with it—I’m afraid of heights, and the thought of being trapped in a confined space to get to the top isn’t my idea of fun, either.
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