Well, there is the frantic sensation he gives me every time he’s near …
He waits for me by the double doors as I approach him, sucking in a sharp breath when he touches my lower back and guides me outside. The car is waiting for us, as if he snapped his fingers and it magically appeared, and he opens the door for me, giving me a gentle push to help me slide inside. I do as he silently bids, my imagination running wild as I watch him enter the car behind me.
What would it be like to be possessed by him? Was he serious in his offer to let me … use him? That entire conversation on the drive over had been strange. Stranger still was the normal way we interacted at dinner. He confuses me. Sends mixed messages, when he would be the last person I’d think would do something like that.
The car pulls away from the curb and into slow-moving traffic. Ryder says nothing and neither do I, but I’m achingly aware of his nearness. I study his hands, which are braced on his knees. The wide sprawl of his long fingers, the way he flexes them every few seconds, then grips his knees once more. He seems tense. I can practically feel the emotion roll off his body. I don’t know what to say, what to do, how to act …
“Violet.” His quiet murmur of my name allows me to look at him straight in the eyes and see his solemn expression. “I want to apologize.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For making you uncomfortable. For offering myself up to be—used by you.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Ridiculous, right? And extremely unprofessional of me. I should’ve never said those things to you.”
For whatever reason, I can’t form words. And there’s a huge lump in my throat, making it impossible to swallow.
“Our relationship depends on this project. I can’t go fucking it up by propositioning you,” he continues, tossing out the profanity like it’s no big deal. I’m just … not used to it. Zachary watched what he said around me. Father isn’t one to curse. Lily can trash talk with the best of them, but she rarely does it around me. “And I probably shouldn’t have used that particular word, right?”
Still I say nothing. I can’t. It’s as if my tongue is stuck. My thoughts. My words. My … oh God, my everything is just stalled. I recognize what I’m feeling and though I want to deny it, I need to deny it, I can’t.
I’m disappointed. Disappointed that he’s being a gentleman. Disappointed that he doesn’t want me to use him. What’s wrong with me? Why should I be disappointed? I should be glad he took back the offer. Thankful he’s trying to be a decent man.
Instead I feel let down that I’ve somehow lost the chance to be possessed by this man. Owned by him …
“I hope you understand that I got caught up in my—dislike for your ex,” Ryder continues, oblivious to my tumultuous thoughts. “In my blind need for seeking revenge against him, I offered myself up to you in the process, and that’s just not … right.”
I clear my throat. Avert my head so I’m staring out the window and not looking at Ryder. I don’t think I can face him at this moment. I don’t want to. I’m afraid I’ll do something insane like beg him to touch me. And I can’t do that. Not after he just took back his earlier intriguing offer.
“Violet?” He touches me, his fingers settling on my arm, pressing into my flesh for the briefest moment before he lets go. “Did you hear what I said?”
I nod but don’t dare face him. Not yet. “I did.”
“I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
Leaning my forehead against the cold glass of the window, I close my eyes. “No.” The disappointment that tinges my voice is obvious even to my ears. “Maybe … maybe I wanted to take you up on your offer.”
The silence that follows my words is deafening. I feel him next to me, can hear him shift in his seat, exhale a low breath, thread his fingers through his hair. I can also watch him in the reflection of the window and I see him do all of those things. The struggle he’s having with himself. What to say, what to do, how to react. Does he ever feel uncomfortable? It’s a normal occurrence for me, but is it for him?
“You don’t mean it,” he finally says.
I face him once more. He looks conflicted. But there’s no disguising his hungry gaze and how it roams all over me, from my head to my legs and everywhere in between. A surge of power rushes through me and I lean toward him, the cool air nipping at my skin, making my nipples harden beneath the thin, sheer material of my bra. “I know what I want.” My voice is surprisingly firm and it echoes in the interior of the car. I’m thankful for the glass partition separating us and the driver. No way would I have said this with an audience.
Ryder studies my chest—most likely my hard nipples—as he speaks. “So what is it?”
The moment of truth. I can either be a coward and say nothing or be brave and tell him. “I want … to do something with no worries or repercussions.”
His gaze lifts to meet mine but he remains silent.
I lick my lips, forcing the nerves clawing within me to settle. “I want to know what it’s like to be selfish.”
He lifts a brow. “I’m an expert at that.”
His confession makes me laugh and he smiles in return. “Then maybe you could teach me.”
“Teach you how to be selfish?”
I lean into him, rest my hand on his shoulder and place my lips at his ear. I’m shaking, I’m so nervous, but I have to do this. I want to do this. Perhaps the wine at dinner is assisting me, but I need this. “Teach me how to give myself up to the pleasure and worry about everything else later,” I murmur close to his ear.