“Do you always have to play that blasted—” The rest of my sentence caught in the back of my throat as I realized Ryder was stark naked. He was standing, holding his guitar, but it didn’t cover much. It didn’t cover any of his … assets.
Don’t look, I chanted in my head, but of course, my eyeballs had a mind all of their own as they drifted down his body, over the guitar slung across his belly, and lower.
Holy hell, was his dick growing?
“Is there something you need?”
His words jerked my attention back up to his face. He had a knowing smirk as he waited for my response.
“I … ah …” Jesus, what happened to my brain? It was completely short-circuiting.
I’d always known Ryder was hot. I’d grown up with him as his twin sister’s best friend, so I’d seen him go from gawky boy to teen heartthrob to sexy man. But I’d never seen him naked, and while I was irked by it, I was also impressed. He was broad and firm through the chest. Lean and long through the hips. And his dick … oh God, it was growing.
He set the guitar down and moved closer to me. I was in a stupor as he reached me.
I blinked and finally managed, “Never mind,” and then turned and ran from the room like my hair was on fire. It had to be if the heat flushing my skin was any indication.
I reached my room, rushing in and slamming the door. I tried to lock it, but it was an old house with ancient door knobs that required a key to lock. Of course, the key was nowhere to be found. How this house was still standing I had no idea, as everything was old, tired and worn.
For a second, I leaned against the door, wondering for the umpteenth time what I was doing there, living with a man who irked me to no end. A man I now knew had the body of a Michelangelo sculpture. Good lord, he was sexy hot. No, don't think of him like that. He’s annoying, remember?
There was a knock on the door behind me, making me jump and move into the center of the room. I stayed quiet, hoping he’d go away. Of course, this was Ryder we were talking about. He lived to irk me.
The door opened and he came in. At least he’d put on some athletic shorts, although his chest was still bare in all its beefy glory.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Yes. How about we talk about how there should be locks on the door so people can’t just barge in?” I said, feeling relieved now that I’d found my voice.
“You didn’t bother knocking when you came barging in my room,” he pointed out quite calmly. “You might have avoided seeing me naked if you’d taken the time to knock.”
Crap. He was right.
“We’re living together for the time being. Married, even. You can’t freak out just because you see my dick.” His brows narrowed. “You have seen a dick before, haven’t you?”
Ugh! The man could be so annoying. “Is that what that was? I was worried you had a growth.”
He gave me a wicked grin. “It was growing, all right.”
Oh, for crying out loud. “This marriage is fake and that means no nudity.” It was time for me to lay down the laws of the land. We needed order. Rules. I needed Ryder to follow him.
He smirked like he always did when I tried to set boundaries. “I like my version of this marriage better. It sounds more fun.”
I had no doubt that his use of the word fun was to remind me how he and everyone else thought I was a stick in the mud. What was worse, my girlie parts agreed with him. They wanted to have fun. Fun with Ryder. Traitors.
Annoyed at my reaction, I pushed him. “Get out.”
His smile was amused, like I was some wild animal he was poking at. “This is my house.”
“If we’re fake married, half of it is fake mine.”
His eyes narrowed in question. “Have you noticed that this marriage is fake only when it benefits you?”
“It’s all fake,” I said, wishing he’d leave before I traced my tongue along the contours of his chest. I pushed at him again to make sure I didn’t.
He wrapped those long guitar-playing fingers around my arms and pulled me close to him. The heat of his body seared my skin.
“This isn’t fake.” His thick dick pressed against my belling, making me drunk with arousal, damn him.
I swallowed hard, knowing I was losing the battle. I was pissed that my hormones would betray me. Ryder was everything I didn’t want in a man. Unambitious. Lackadaisical about life. He didn’t take anything seriously, and instead lived like an eight-year-old boy in a twenty-eight-year-old body.
He gave me another slow, knowing smile. “I think it's about time I taste my wife again.”
My brain said no, but my body screamed, yes, yes, yes.
“You fight me on everything, Katrina. How about for once, you just let go and live?”
Dammit, I was powerless when he called me Katrina instead of Trina, like everyone else did.
He dipped his head toward me and my traitorous body leaned toward him too. His lips pressed against mine, at first soft and tentative. Perhaps he was afraid I’d bite him. But when I didn’t, he turned up the intensity of the kiss. His lips were firm and thorough as he settled into the kiss, like he planned to be there all day.
I moaned, partly in pleasure and partly in annoyance that I was helpless to do anything but accept his kiss. No, not just accept it, but fully participate in it. Ryder might be flippant about life, but he was serious when it came to kissing.
His tongue slipped through the seam of my mouth, and tiny little rockets went off in my head as it swept through in long, delicious strokes.
He groaned, and in an instant,
