Page 4 of Unexpected Sweetheart
“You can get the hell out and put some clothes on is what you can do,” I say, moving my hand as she stands up and tries to move so I can see her.
“I’m wearing more than you.”
“And yet you somehow look more indecent.”
“How would you know? You’re not even looking at me.”
“Get out, Lorelei.”
“Look at me, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
I grit my teeth together and lower my hand, mentally promising my dick that I’ll cut him off myself if he dares stir before I lock eyes with her. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing. But whatever it is, isn’t happening. Get the fuck out of my room.”
“Whoa. Whoa.” She holds her hands up and steps back. “I thought this is whatyouwanted.”
I sit up straighter and knit my brows together. “How in the world did you getthatimpression?” Despite my body’s reaction—which I kept hidden—there’s no way I did anything that should have given her that impression.
“By the way you keep staring at me like you want to rip my clothes off.”
“What? When did I do that?”Did I stare? Fuck.
“Upstairs!” She gestures with her hand, her voice taking on a defensive quality. “When you were showing me my room.”Oh my god.
I run a hand through my damp hair and let out a sigh. “I was staring at you hoping to fuck you’ve brought some work clothes with you. Because you can’t shovel horse shit in hells, heiress. And digging out fence posts is gonna break those pretty nails.” I indicate the talons on the ends of her fingers that I’ll admit to looking at and imagining raking long lines down my back. But not once did I leer at her. I have way more control than that, and I don’t take advantage of people.
“You’re an asshole,” she blurts, seeming on the verge of tears as she flies from my room, slamming the door behind her.
“Don’t I know it,” I mutter as I flop into a prone position and drop the towel back over my head. At least my dick isn’t throbbing hard again. Wait. Yes, it is.Fuck.
Rory
“Stupid. Stupid.Stupid,” I mutter to myself as I swipe angrily at a tear that escapes my eye before it can make its way down my cheek.
I feel humiliated.
And what’s worse, I don’t even know why I did that. I’veneverdone something like that before, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have Ryan take me. Touch me.Claimme.
The moment he left me in my room, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to have those calloused hands rubbing up and down my thighs, his strong body covering mine and filling me with his manhood. When I look at Ryan, all I see is man. And by god, I want—wanted—him to make me feel like awoman.
Instead of a little girl.
Instead of a pawn to be moved around a chessboard.
Instead of a human being with pretty things and a chain around her neck.
Growing up, I didn’t meet men like Ryan Oakley. A man who works with his hands and looks…primal. Like he grew up rolling around in the dirt and banging rocks together to occupy himself. My life so far has been filled with trust fundboyswearing designer threads, and the onlymenaround wore bespoke suits and had no time for ‘silly girls’ unless they were on their knees or could get them somewhere coveted—like an audience with my father. But I refused to be used in that way and guarded my ‘pleasure garden’ from the many suitors who saw me, not as a person, but as an increase to their bank balance, an increase to theirprestige. In my world, it’s not only about how much money you have, but it’s also about how long you’ve had it. And my family has been rolling in it since day dot. Just being seen with us is good for business.
I hate that I’m a walking dollar sign. I hate that I’m athingmore than a person. I hate that even with all the money in the world, I don’t have the freedom to follow my own dreams and live my own life.
But out here on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, no one in my world can see. And I guess I wanted Ryan to help set me free.
I’d heard the way my father threatened him to take me. I’d heard the annoyance in his voice when he addressed me.
But despite all of that, I also saw the way he looked at me.
Ifeltthe way he looked at me.
Which is why I felt that my visit to his room would be welcome. I don’t want to learn how to work a ranch, but I wouldn’t mind learning how to please the one who did. I don’t know what it is about Ryan, but when I look at him, Iwantto get on my knees.
