by Mia Kayla
He shifted with unease and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“But it’s me,” I said, placing both hands on my chest. “And I want to know.”
A sweet smile touched his face. “It is you, and you are one tough cookie.” He blew out a long breath. “I just hate that I’m reliving this nightmare.” He focused on the passing cars in front of us, his stare going vacant. “At first, she was normal, sending me underwear, naked pics of herself.”
“That’s normal?” I raised an eyebrow, and as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was the stupidest thing to say.
Of course, that was normal in his line of work. He was People’s Sexiest Man Alive. The Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise of our current generation.
“Then, it got a bit freaky. She found out my personal email address and started sending me love letters, but they were really disturbing ones. Ones that indicated that she’d been where I had been, restaurants I’d been to, places I’d been hanging out with my friends.”
My heartbeat picked up, the hairs on my neck standing on end.
“She knew things. Where I worked out, what I ate for lunch.”
He rubbed at his brow and stared at me, searching my face for something … fear, maybe? So, I forced the eerie feeling away and kept my face steady.
“Then, it got fucking scary. She knew who I was with.” He tilted his head to the side, easing some of the tension in his neck. “When I was briefly talking to Celine, someone I used to date, the stalker would mention her. Her emails would get angrier and more cryptic.”
I swallowed the bile forming in the back of my throat.
“I increased security. I wondered if I should hire security for the girls I was seen with or those that I worked with. But I was never with a girl seriously, or for more than a couple of weeks, and the stalker has never contacted them.”
“That’s crazy,” I said, my voice a tremulous whisper.
“Yeah, you can say that again. I thought I could keep it under control if I beefed up security.” He paused, and then after a beat, a shudder ran through him. His stare was vacant, somewhere else. “But last year, she jumped the fence to my place and was outside my door.”
My hand flew to my mouth. This time, I couldn’t hide the fear in my eyes. “They need to find her.”
He nodded. “She can’t get within three hundred feet of me because of the restraining order, but that doesn’t stop her from being in the vicinity.”
Automatically, my fingers flew to the door to lock it. “Aren’t you scared?”
“No.” His response was firm, his eyes steady, and I believed him.
He shook our intertwined fingers, which were breaking all the rules. “I told you, I’m only worried about the people that I care about. That somehow, they’ll be collateral damage. Cade, Wyatt … you.”
“I’m scared for you.” For myself, sure. But for him too. Words that were in my head and weren’t meant to be said. Four words that revealed my vulnerability and that I cared for him more than I’d led myself to believe.
His eyes bore into mine, so steady, so fierce, so right.
My stomach fluttered with butterflies, and without warning, for the second time in the day, he leaned into me and met my lips. Slow and seductive was long gone and replaced with a fiery passion. He kissed me with a raw, animalistic need, so intense that my whole body tingled. Lips on lips, tongue on tongue. His hand was clasped against my neck, keeping me in my spot.
A fire ignited in my belly like an engine roaring to life. Our kisses intensified, and the windows fogged up. I wanted him more than I wanted my next designer bag, and I was addicted to designer bags.
I hopped over the console and straddled him, my hands threading through his hair, our lips never breaking contact.
“What are we doing?” I asked when he peppered kisses down my neck.
“Kissing,” he said, which made me laugh. “We should stop.” He lapped kisses up and down my neck, his words saying one thing but his body wanting another. “Because this won’t stop at just a make-out session.”
His lips met mine one last time, and with one last peck, he slowed our passionate tempo to a stop. “When I touch you, I don’t want to stop.” He cupped my face, his eyes tormented but beautiful at the same time. He ran one hand through my hair and massaged the base of my neck. “We haven’t eaten yet.”
I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t hungry for food. “Well, we can’t exactly go out to dinner now. Not after what you told me.” I inhaled deeply and exhaled a shaky breath, trying to catch my breath and get my pulse back to a normal beat.
He laughed, but there was no humor in his tone.
“Do you want me to cook you something?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She’s in town, and I don’t want to lead her to your place.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I figure you’ll be filming soon, and you’ll be pretty busy. Plus, when was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
“Not in a long while.” He nodded once, his eyes showing amusement. “Fine, but let me call my security team.”
He tilted his head toward the passenger seat. “I need to grab my phone in my back pocket, but I’m a little constrained right now by this beautiful girl straddling me.”
“You mean me?” I said, feigning innocence and touching my heart. I hopped over to my spot, holding his stare while he pulled the phone from his back pocket.
I couldn’t care less anymore that he wanted to stop. I needed him out of my system, and Christene Armstrong always got what she wanted.
And tonight was the night it was going to happen.
Chapter 13
We went a different route to my apartment, double- and triple-checking that no one had followed us. What normally took fifteen minutes to get to my place took us thirty.
Jordan was neurotic and relentless. He’d wait until the street was empty before making turns. He’d pull over and stall for no reason, and then two cars would flash their lights. One drove in front of us; the other waited for us to pass. His security detail trailed behind us and followed us home.
What seemed like twelve years later, we finally ended up in front of my place.
It was silent as we got out of my car, but the air was charged with energy. The same energy I felt every time we were in close vicinity to one another. Electric, passionate, undeniable.
A minute later, a black SUV pulled to the front and parked by the street. The same tall bodyguard that I’d seen at Angie’s birthday party stepped out of the car and walked to the passenger side. “Mr. Ryder.”
Another one stayed in the driver’s seat.
Jordan smiled. “Dex, just wait out here.”
Dex replied with a tip of his chin.
“Do they follow you everywhere?”
“Basically,” he answered. “More so now.”
I gulped. She was here in Rosendell—not at my apartment—but here … in my hometown.
I rubbed at the back of my neck, unease heavy in my gut.
I started to walk into the building first, but he rushed toward the door and opened it before I stepped in.
“Such a gentleman.”
From the moment I’d met him, he’d been respectful and courteous, opening doors, pulling out my seat, letting me walk ahead of him. Chivalry wasn’t dead after all.
“I wasn’t always like that, but my mother taught me well.” He was talking about his adoptive mother.
Sometimes, I forgot he was adopted. Cade, Wyatt, and Jordan looked nothing alike but still acted like siblings when they were together. The banter, the disagreements, were the same for Angie and me. But I wondered about his biological parents, and it made me realize there was still so much I didn’t know about him.
Right before we walked in my building, he pulled a baseball cap from his back pocket and placed it on his head, pulling it low over his eyes.
“You okay?” he asked.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I turn into a puddle of goo whenever he gave me that look?
I shifted in my spot. The heat of my cheeks rose to my ears. “I’m so fine.”
He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me against him. “That you are. So, dinner and drinks?”
“I said I’d cook you dinner.” I tapped my finger against my chin. “But last time we drank together, I ended up practically naked in your bed.”
“Nothing happened,” he reminded me.
I tilted my head, wondering why.
“But if I’d had my way, lots of things would have happened that night.” He leaned in and kissed the tender part of my neck. “My brother never said anything about kissing you. He just said I couldn’t …”
This man is such a tease. “Do you always listen to whatever everyone tells you?”
“If it’s my family asking, yes.” He slowly pulled away, dropping his hands from my sides. The loss of contact and warmth was like a shock of cold water. “I had nothing before them, and I have everything because of them. What I do now, who I am, is all because of them.”
His fingers trailed lightly down my arm, and goose bumps followed.
“And if all I can do is kiss you, then I’ll take it. I’m going to kiss you every chance I get, but know that I’m using all my self-restraint to not go beyond that.”
My lips pinched together. He made no sense.
“What’s the point? You’re getting me all hot for nothing, and you’ve got a bad case of blue balls.”
“Because I like you, and I want to kiss the crazy-beautiful girl with a smart-ass mouth.” His gaze flickered to my lips, up to meet my eyes, and then back again to my mouth.
And there was that look again. My stomach flipped, my palms were sweaty, and my whole body heated.
My gaze dropped. I hated and loved the way he affected me. I was glad he wasn’t immune to my charm either and that he was using all his self-control. They were very admirable qualities, loyalty and respect, but the fact that he was loyal and respectful only made me want him more.
“Okay, dinner next,” I said
He intertwined our hands.
I let him hold my hand, and suddenly, I realized I’d missed the intimacy of hand-holding. The gentle touch of skin against skin, intertwined fingers, the connection wherever you went, walking hand in hand.
“We’re breaking all the rules here.”
He smiled, and his eyebrows scrunched. “Cade said I couldn’t sleep with you. Right now, I’m going to take those words literally, so we’re not breaking any rules.” His voice trailed off as though there should be a yet at the end of his sentence.
“Good plan,” I said under my breath.
He pulled me closer when we rode the elevator up to my penthouse suite.
“So, have you lived here long?” he asked.
“It was my first buy out of college.” An eighteen-story high-rise. I loved this place, and obviously, I lived in one of the penthouse suites that occupied half of the top floor and had the best view of Rosendell.
When the elevator pinged open, he held it, so I could walk out first in front of him. My heels dug into the plush beige carpet of the hallway. He placed a light hand in the middle of my back.
“Does this ever stop? Your gentlemanly behavior?” I peered back behind me, smiling.
He shook his head. “Nope. Mom taught us two things—manners and how to cook. Wyatt has always been a nice guy, but it took me a while to get used to her rules because I was always the troublemaker.”
“That’s hard to believe.” My tone was laced heavy with sarcasm. I was sure Jordan had been born with trouble written on his birth certificate.
He ran one hand through his hair, his face thoughtful. “Before the Ryders took me in, I was in and out of juvie.” He paused and eyed me before he continued. “That seems like a long time ago, but I remember when I almost killed someone with my fists.” His eyes turned distant, but in the next second, he shook it off. “That was a long time ago. I promised Mom I’d never end up in jail. Cade and Wyatt too. I owe it to them for helping me stay on the right side of the law.”
His admission shocked me. Looking at his clean-cut demeanor, the Rolex on his wrist, and his newly pressed designer jeans, you would never guess he came from the wrong side of town.
“Seems like you cleaned up nicely.”
“It wasn’t without help.” His fingers brushed against my elbow, ushering me toward the door. “Ladies first.”
“I could get used to all this gentlemanliness.”
He chuckled and then wiggled his eyebrows. “How do you know I’m not letting you go first, so I can see that tight ass of yours bounce?”
I twerked my ass mid-step. “I knew it.” I pointed a finger in his direction. “You’re an undercover bad boy. So deceiving. Face of an angel, but I know the truth now.”
One of his hands dropped to my waist, and he tightly pressed four fingers into my skin. The contact was so sensual that my nipples pebbled against my shirt.
“I never said I was a good boy.” His breath was warm against the shell of my ear, and my breathing staggered. “But it’s too bad because you’re never going to find out.”
I flattened my hair and composed myself. This situation was out of control, and I needed to seize the reins, or I’d never feel steady. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I whispered under my breath.
“What did you say?” He laughed.
I spoke up louder, “I said, I’m sure about that.” I pushed the key into my condo door and flicked the lights on before stepping inside.
Jordan trailed behind me, and I could feel his every move. We walked down the hallway, passing pictures of my girlfriends and me on vacation; my family and me in NYC on New Year’s; Angie and me with smiling faces—all preserved in black frames that led into the main room.
The tension between us tightened like a double-knotted rope.
“Nice place.” He strolled to my kitchen island, and his hand brushed against the marble.
An array of fruit sat in the center, and overhead, pots and pans hung in order of size on a rack suspended from the ceiling. Otherwise, the kitchen counters were bare—the KitchenAid mixer, toaster, coffee machine hidden in their intended spots. If he opened the cabinets, he’d see all the dishes stacked in their respective piles. My cloth napkins were all folded, tucked in the drawers, and sorted by color.
One thing I prided myself in was hard work and the finer things in life that my hard work paid for.
His eyes widened, taking everything in. “I love your place.”
Floor-to-ceiling windows accented one wall of my living room, leading to my patio adorned with my mini bar and Jacuzzi.
“I hired this interior decorator because I wanted a professional opinion.”
He nodded and ran his hand over my Taurus custom-made dining room table that I’d had shipped from Italy.
“You own this building?”
I walked to the kitchen, grabbing two wineglasses. Wine first, and then I’d have to figure out what to cook for dinner since we hadn’t eaten yet. “Yep. Basically, every one of the surrounding buildings on this block belongs to Armstrong.”
“Your family is self-made.” His eyes assessed me with approval.
“Well, it was really Grandpa who started everything. He bought one house, renovated it, and flipped it. One house turned into three, which turned into apartment buildings, which turned into strip malls and now tiny skyscrapers in our tiny town of Rosendell.”
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be.” I placed the glasses on the counter. “Grandpa, now, he was one cutthroat businessman.”
The kitchen, living room, and dining room were one big open space. The only separation was the kitchen
island stove with a stainless-steel mount range hood hanging from the ceiling. I strolled to the counter and picked up a remote that lifted automatic blinds, exposing my view that overlooked the city.
“Nice view.”
“Thank you.” I surely paid for the view.
“I wasn’t talking about what I see outside.” There was a mischievous sparkle in his eye, and my stomach flipped like a pancake.
When I turned toward him, his eyes weren’t focused on the twinkling stars or lights from the windows from the skyscrapers on the horizon. His baby blues were directly on me.
My cheeks warmed. They never warmed, and I never blushed. I made men blush. I hated this feeling.
“Wanna drink while I cook?” I strolled to the mini wine cooler and pulled out the bottle of wine.
“What are we having?”
“Madeira. It’s red, and I bought it from Portugal.” I lifted the bottle and tipped my head toward the stove. “And for dinner, I think I’ll make some pasta. Let’s be Italian today, shall we?”
“Sounds good to me. If you’re serving, I’m partaking.”
I hid a smile. Little did he know, before the night was through, I’d be serving more than he ever thought he’d be taking.
Chapter 14
The stars twinkled in front of us as we sat at the table on my rooftop balcony, enjoying the breeze, good conversation, and finishing off our second bottle of wine. I was admiring the way the moonlight accented the hard planes of his jaw and the blond in his hair but more so the bluish gray in his eyes. My chicken fettuccine Alfredo pasta had been a success, and I was about to work on my second piece of cheesecake. Frozen cheesecake was a must in my freezer. That and mocha ice cream.
I took a swig of my drink and angled closer. “What do you mean? So, you were doing a love scene, and they had a little cover on your penis, and you got hard?” I coughed up my wine as laughter bubbled up my windpipe.
Just when I thought nothing would top his stories, he’d pull out another one to make me laugh harder.
