Page 38 of Head Over Heels
When she got to the car she put her hand on the door handle and looked at him. One look at his gorgeous face, chiseled features, and broad shoulders had heat flooding her, pooling in her belly and tightening her nipples.
Oh, for the love of God. She was so screwed.
She needed to say something now. Right now before she stepped foot in his awesome car that just screamed have sex in me. “Ryder.”
He looked at her.
She shook her head. “What happened in the kitchen was a mistake.”
His gaze narrowed. “We’ll talk about it in the car.”
“I mean it, I’m not going to sleep with you.” Her voice even sounded certain. Good for her.
He put his hands on the hood and cocked his head. “You want me to argue with you about this, Sophie. And that’s all you need to realize.”
She bit her bottom lip. “What does that mean?”
His attention drifted to her lips. “It means you’re making these statements because you want me to prove you wrong.”
“I’m making these statements because they’re true. Because you and I are a bad combination. And there are a million reasons to stay away from each other.”
A muscle in his jaw tightened. “There’s no part of you that doesn’t want me to stalk over there, take you by the arms, push you up against the car and say, ‘You and I are going to fuck, it’s just a matter of when before I kiss you, slide my leg between yours, and show you exactly what I can make you do for me’?”
Well, of course she did. Her thighs clenched at his words and she might hyperventilate. The reasons were all true, but deep down, under all her justifications, that was exactly what she wanted. What she hoped for. But she couldn’t admit that—it was a horrible thing to admit. She shouldn’t want that. She was thirty-one, too old to be playing this game.
This time when she spoke, the word didn’t come out certain at all. “No.”
“You sure about that, Sophie?” His gaze bored into her and his tone was deep, slow, and seductive. “Because I think that’s exactly what you want.”
She cleared her throat. “You’re wrong.”
She held her breath, waiting to see if he’d prove her wrong.
They stared at each other, the knowledge of how easy it would be for him to do just that sitting between them, filling the air.
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
He got in the car, and Sophie tried to contain her disappointment.
She was so twisted.
* * *
Ryder turned over the engine and fought his baser impulses.
Sophie sat next to him with her bare legs and peaked nipples, in that little white dress with straps he could snap with the slightest tug.
In silence, he pulled out of the spot, down the drive, and onto the main road.
The tension was pulled tight, too tight, like a rubber band waiting to snap. If he pulled over, hauled her on top of him, she wouldn’t refuse. He’d have her dress above her hips, and she’d be riding him.
All he wanted was to get inside her.
But he didn’t pull over. He just kept driving toward home, his fingers tight on the steering wheel.
Because she was right. It was lust clouding his brain.
That kiss. It fucked with his head. He was supposed to be playing it safe now. He was thirty-three; it was time to start thinking about settling down, giving his mom and dad those grandkids they wanted. Sophie was here for six months, and then she’d go back to Chicago where she belonged.