Page 42 of Rival to the Billionaire

"If I could keep us from this denial,” he mutters, his lips kissing just below the fabric of my dress. "If I could play God and erase this from history… A thousand times over, I would do it." His fingers dance up my thighs, the tips teasing my upper thighs, and I yearn to press them in deeper. I groan, and he smirks, his eyes growing serious with each passing second. "But I'm not in the business of forcing someone to do something they desperately do not want to do."

He stands from his knees. Leaning forward, he kisses my lips, long and slow and deep.

The next thing I know, he is pressing soft, open-mouth kisses up my cheek to my ear. His fingertips are tugging at the hem of my dress, adjusting it to modest levels.

I exhale. "Wait, Ryder…"

"Hush," he whispers, his lips graze the shell of my ear. “No excuses. I want to hear you say it. I'm not touching you the way I want to, Jenny, the way you know we both want me to, until you tell me you want it."

He kisses the skin below my ear, and I feel him smile against me. He moves to my lips and kisses me long, hard, and deep. I whimper into his mouth, and he groans, pressing his forehead to mine and gripping my jaw with his hand.

Ryder looks down at me, his eyes hooded and hazed with the darkest need I've ever seen. I've felt that need a thousand times through the years and I know now, even more so than I knew then, that it terrifies me. To be vulnerable against it.

To feel so naked and exposed, here and now and like this, the way his eyes are exposing me.

It's my worst nightmare—and greatest temptation—written out in front of me on his face.

"Say it," he whispers, grasping my waist and pulling me close once again. "Now."

He pulls away, his lips against the line where my neck meets my cheek, and his eyes stare into mine, growing darker.

I swallow and stare at him. Blink.

I want this. I want this. I want this.

"Tell me, Jenny." Those eyes are not letting me go. Not blinking. Not closing.

I immediately break our eye contact when a knock falls at the door.

"Hello?" a woman calls out. "Is anyone in there? The door is locked…"

"We hear you," I hear Ryder sigh. "Let me get it."

He turns around, walking to the door and pulling it open, revealing a woman in her late fifties, with brown hair and a thick southern twang to her accent.

"I thought for a second I was in the wrong place or something!" she exclaims.

I pull the hem of my dress down further, clearing my throat and fixing the loose tendrils of my upswept hair. Ryder grins good-naturedly and flips on the charm switch inside him, welcoming the woman inside.

"No, ma'am," he answers, holding the door open. "You're in the right place." He stares over at me. "It's the two of us who are in the wrong place."

He puts one hand in the pocket of his slacks as the smile falls. "And Forde?"

"Yes?"

"You let me know when you're in the right place. I'll be waiting…whenever you're ready."

With that, he exits the room, the door shutting behind him.

I catch my breath. The woman stares at me and takes a step forward.

"Honey, any place that puts you near a man like that has gotta be the right place," she says, smiling. I smile in return, snapping myself out of my daze.

"I haven't figured that part out yet, ma'am." Another breath. "But when I do, I'll be sure to let you know."

The woman's smile grows, and I force mine to do the same as I exit past her, closing the door behind me, trying to ignore the way my knees are shaking.

Because I haven't quite figured out what the hell just happened, but I do know it was something big. Something I need to sort through. Something else I'm not quite sure I'm ready to face again.

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