Page 35 of Rival to the Billionaire

"Ryder…" I start, desire tinging my voice.

He looks over at me, a soft smile on his lips. “You said you wanted to dance. Now we're dancing."

He tugs me closer, one of his hands still on my hip and the other arm guiding me from the side. The feel of his body near mine makes me inhale sharply. He's all muscle, I realize.

Ryder's always been fit and trim, but this is ridiculous. And he feels much taller standing this close. I catch sight of his eyes, which are looking at me from under the shadow of his brow, making my heart thump harder.

I inhale and exhale, my hands digging into his arms.

"And you…you said you wanted to talk," I manage to get out. "So, talk."

"Are you sure you can concentrate?"

"Oh for Heav—it's just dancing!" I mutter under my breath. "Anyone can do this. Just move your feet in the right patterns. It's easy. I'm sure you can figure it out. So, talk."

"You think I can't dance?"

"Never said that."

"But you implied it. The other night at the charity event back in Seattle."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think that much about our conversations."

"You think too much. That's your problem, Forde."

"And you think too little. That's your problem."

Before I know it, Ryder spins me further and further down the dance floor.

I try to move. To get away from his gaze. To tune in to the beat of the music, not the heat of Ryder Anderson's stare. And before I know it, I'm lifting my arms and swaying in his direction.

My body feels light, moving with his. I'm having fun for once in a very long time.

"I'm listening," I murmur, my voice barely audible over the music.

"Good."

In the next moment, Ryder slips his hand around the nape of my neck, his fingers touching my skin in a way that makes me shiver. He starts talking.

He tells me about Chastity Sanders and her plans to have Devin Baxter take over our app…if we let him.

I can't believe my ears.

It's just the kind of break that I'd been looking for—a way to remove this headache for good.

But then I glance up and almost freeze.

Shades of panic color the hue of Ryder's ocean-blue eyes. Shock. Fear. Anger. And something else. Something that makes my heart pound in my chest.

Ryder's dancing slows as he moves us to the edge of the dance floor. He continues to tell me what Chastity has been up to.

"We can counter them somehow," he adds, the melody in the song overlapping his words. "Not just respond with a half-baked response of our own, but a strategic play. Our investors are impressed with our model for innovation, because we don't make trading models—we make mechanisms for the clickable markets. With our app, we can send out a release, capitalize on the traffic, and essentially grow our user-base over the next couple of months. And we can do it in ways that no one is expecting."

I stare at his face as his words fly fast, pouring out in a flurry. I can tell that he's in his element, and he's passionate.

He's also…confident. Like a man who knows exactly what he wants.

It's the same kind of confidence that comes after you've been the underdog, fighting your way to the top of the heap, passing people by and turning that one goal, that one vision, into a reality. That one passion, into desire and possibility.

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