My breath hitches in my throat. Before he can stop me, I lean in and kiss him. Carefully. With all the tenderness I can summon. It’s nothing like our first kiss. Not desperate or devouring. I press my mouth to his like I’m sharing a secret. My tongue skims his swollen bottom lip, tasting blood, then moves up to suck ever so lightly on the uninjured top one. He groans, deep in his throat.
“Felicity,” he mutters, holding himself rigid to keep from touching me. “This isn’t…”
“Shhh,” I breathe against his broken mouth. “Don’t say anything.”
I lace my hand with his, holding fast. Rising to my feet, I pull him up after me and start walking. We don’t say a word as we make our way up the stairs to my room. He pauses on the landing to retrieve my guitar before following me in. I watch his expression as he steps inside, how his eyes sweep around taking in every detail. They linger on my rocking-chair-slash-door-barricade for a long time.
“I know it’s not much…” I shrug. “But it works for me.”
He closes the door behind him. The small room suddenly feels infinitely smaller.
Swallowing hard, I backpedal toward my unmade bed. He watches me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe as though he’s memorizing the sight to recall later, when he’s far out of reach.
I don’t want to think about that, so I bury the thought away.
“I’d offer you ice or first aid, but I don’t have any.” My voice trembles. “The best I can do is Advil and water. You must be in pain.”
“I’m fine.” He’s three strides away, but it feels like three miles.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
There’s a flicker of life in his eyes; I take that as a good sign. “There’s one thing.”
“What is it?” My heart is pounding. “I’ll do anything.”
He takes a step closer, halving the space between us instantly. “Anything?”
I nod, suddenly out of breath. I feel my nipples hardening against the fabric of my sleep shirt as a bolt of lust shoots through my system like lightning.
Yes, anything.
I will do anything for this man.
Ryder’s throat convulses as he swallows hard. He takes that final step, until we’re standing chest to chest, mere inches from my bed. One short fall away from messy sheets and tangled limbs. I lick my lips as he leans in, his stubble scraping the shell of my ear as he whispers what he wants.
“Sing for me.”
“I… I…” It’s not what I expected at all.
“You saidanything,” he reminds me, pulling back so he can meet my eyes. “This is what I want.”
I swallow hard. “Any song in particular?”
“How about the last one you wrote.”
Heat floods my face when he mentions my latest song. The one I wrote the night after I found him sleeping in the bar.
“That one’s not finished.”
“Don’t care. That’s the one I want.”
“You know, if you weren’t already so beaten and bruised, I’d have to hurt you for reading my journal without permission,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “That’s a serious breach of privacy, Ryder.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I promise, I barely peeked.” His mouth twists and he winces at the pain it causes his sore lip. “But I couldn’t resist a look inside this mind.” His thumb brushes against my temple in a soft caress. It takes all my willpower not to lean my head into his hand.
I can’t stay mad at him about the journal. Not now. Not when it’s our last night together, maybeever. Even a minute spent fighting would be an unforgivable waste.
“One song,” I agree.