Текст книги "Chasing Mr. Wrong"

Автор книги: Joya Ryan

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

Chapter Five

What. The. Hell?

If Ryder hadn’t been sure, he was now: Whitney was toying with him. Either that or she was the ballsiest woman he’d ever met. And heaven help him, he was ready to take the bait of all the sinful promise those dark eyes held.

She didn’t want what he was offering. That stung a tad. Until he thought more about it and realized that she didn’t want the side of him that most women wanted. She wasn’t looking for safe, stable, or secure. And she sure as hell didn’t want his money.

She wanted the animal he’d unleashed the other night. That side of him no one ever saw. The passion that was bubbling inside him. But Ryder didn’t know what to do. Because if he gave in, he’d be right back where he started.

He needed to maintain control.

Prove that he could handle himself and not give in to the wild Whitney.

She already was clouding his judgment, making him hum with the need to play her game and rise to the challenge she’d laid out there. The way she swung her hips a little extra when he was around, like she knew he was watching, made his dick strain against his jeans. Because every red-blooded man in the diner tonight had noticed her, and whatever hesitation he might feel about going after her again, he’d be damned if he let another man touch her.

Except he couldn’t expect her to stay celibate if he wasn’t offering her the person she most wanted.

Him.

So he sat there, beer in hand, waiting for her to come back. Fuckin’ brilliant plan.

Keep. Calm.

He would, damn it. He could outlast Whitney’s sexy smiles and sinful swishes. When she removed the rag from her shorts again, her tight shirt shifted, and he caught the briefest sight of her midriff. He remembered instantly how perfectly his hands fit around that trim waist, where her ribs curved into her hips. Right, dead center. He could clamp her in his hands, lift her, position her over his cock—

“Well, hello there, stranger,” a lyrical voice rang out. Ryder looked over his shoulder, and standing next to him in a bright yellow dress, beaming like the damn sun, was Clara Davenport.

“Hello, Clara, You look lovely.”

“Aw.” She patted his chest.

He rose to offer his seat to her. Much as he wished she’d leave him alone, he couldn’t afford to be anything less than polite to her, not when he had so much work riding on her father’s good favor.

She took his seat, shimmying a little, and put her yellow mini purse on the bar.

“My daddy says the old hall is coming along. I can’t wait for the grand opening.”

Ryder nodded. Milton Davenport was not only Clara’s father, but a member of one of the early families of the area. Judge Davenport had been friends with Ryder’s grandfather, so it had been natural for the two families to mingle. Ryder had grown up with Clara, even dated her in high school. But they were grown now, and while Clara’s family had money, and she appeared to radiate sunshine, he knew she was a lot colder and meaner than most. The woman held a sense of entitlement like a blue ribbon.

“It’s coming along,” he said. He’d been working long days on that hall, pausing only to catch a few hours of sleep or to work on other odd jobs around town whenever someone asked. The big money that summer—and beyond, if Davenport found him worthy—was coming from renovating the Davenport Hall, but Ryder couldn’t refuse anyone who needed his help. It wasn’t just his duty as a Diamond. He genuinely loved this town and its people, and he would do anything to hold it together.

“I’ve been slaving away planning the event of the year,” she said, and did some kind of jazzy flick of her hands. “I still don’t have a date for the party.” She spun on the barstool a tad to face him.

Ryder gave a tight smile. She’d dropped hints several times about attending the grand opening with him. He had evaded and given the nicest “no” he could without pissing her off. No sense in rocking the boat with the daughter of the man his livelihood depended on. If Davenport chose to spread word that Ryder or his business was lacking in any way, that could harm future jobs, not just from Davenport, but others who listened to his opinion. And a surefire way to piss off Davenport was to piss off his one and only daughter.

“I’m just focusing on the job right now. You should have no problem finding a date, Clara.” He took a drink of his beer.

This was where nice and polite got him. A coy smile from a woman who was as shallow as she was mean. But he had a whole crew that depended on him for their living wage. Most of the guys on his team had families to support. It was all about the bottom line. And bottom line was that Ryder wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the business he’d worked hard to build, or the people that relied on him.

“You’re such a flatterer.” She giggled then turned her attention to Whitney. “Hello, miss?” She snapped her fingers twice.

Whitney’s head popped up, and a glare lit her lovely features when she zeroed in on Clara’s snapping fingers.

“You beckoned?” Whitney said, walking up and drying her hands on the rag that hung near her thighs. She was clearly upset with Clara’s behavior. Ryder couldn’t blame her. If anyone snapped at him like that, he might break their fingers.

“I’d like a chardonnay and a small salad,” Clara said. “Dressing on the side. Oh, and a fruit cup. No melon, though. If there’s melon, I’ll send it back.”

Whitney just nodded, spared Ryder a quick glance, then walked away and put Clara’s order in.

Ryder took another drink of his beer, hating this moment. Hating that he stood next to a woman that lacked any real warmth while another who was hotter than heaven and smiled all the time was just out of reach.

There was so much he wanted to say to Whitney. So much he wanted to do. But control was key. Keeping cool was key. It was how he dealt with everything.

If he went off doing whatever he damn well felt, he’d lose everything his family had built. He’d already put everything at risk once. Now he had to stick to a persona that was wholesome. Even his sister struggled with balancing her wholesome reputation with her sinful side, but she’d found her own brand of freedom in Sebastian. With Bass, Penny could let out her wild side, do all the things she’d fantasized about…

Ryder shuddered and pushed those disturbing thoughts away. Gross.

“Here’s your chardonnay,” Whitney said, placing it in front of Clara. “And for you, big guy,” she said with a saucy smile, and put a cup of coffee in front of him.

Smart-ass. A sexy as sin smart-ass, but a smart-ass all the same.

Clara frowned between the two of them. “You’re new,” she finally said to Whitney.

“Yep, just started yesterday.”

“And you know each other?” She motioned between Ryder and her.

“We met briefly,” Whitney said with a long sigh, then placed the heel of her hand on the edge of the bar and leaned in casually. “Very briefly, actually. In fact, I barely recall the details.”

“Is that right?” Ryder asked, tenacity lining his voice. Barely recalled the details? Oh, the little minx was playing with fire, and that fire had his blood boiling with the need to refresh her with all the details. “If memory serves, you were enjoying yourself. In fact, you were begging for another round.”

Her brows shot up.

Didn’t see that coming huh, city girl?

“I’m lost,” Clara said. “Another round?”

Whitney nodded but kept her eyes on Ryder. “Yeah. We were playing pool,” she said. “I beat him pretty badly. He’s afraid to play again. It was too devastating to his ego.”

Ryder laughed. “I don’t know what game you were watching, sweetness, but I walked away a winner. I think the final score was three to one.”

He tasted his bottom lip, recalling how sweet she’d tasted on his tongue, then took a long swallow of his beer. He didn’t miss the way she watched his throat work. Yeah, he got to her. The challenge, and the daring way she spoke, was fucking drugging. God help him, he wanted to play with her. All damn night.

“Maybe I let you win,” she said. And Ryder wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. He’d felt how hot she was. How wet she got for him.

Let me win, my ass.

Before he could say more, she lifted her chin at him. “Enjoy your coffee.”

Shit. So Whitney was not only sexy, she was smart. She also wasn’t one to be tied down. With coffee, dates, or politeness. She was raw and edgy, and she challenged his instincts.

Her words from earlier replayed in his mind.

Can that naughty Ryder come out to play?

His grand plan was losing steam quickly.

Whitney winked at him and went back to tending her tables. A few minutes later, he saw Penny talk with Whitney and heard the word “break,” and then he watched her ass, in those shorts he was becoming very fond of, walk toward the back exit and outside.

Ryder finished his beer and set it on the bar.

“Have a good evening, Clara,” he said quickly, then left out the front door. Any luck, he’d head Whitney off around the side of the diner. It was time he took back control.

Chapter Six

Whitney kicked the gravel and took a big bite of the apple she’d snagged on the way outside. The small rocks crunched beneath her feet as she walked from the back of the BBQ to the side of the building. The low glow of the light and muted music coming from the diner were both distant and muffled. She breathed deep of the crisp night air and the smell of wheat on the breeze.

There was a lone red truck parked in the shadows near the side of the building. It was somewhat secluded from the main parking lot around front. She leaned against the front bumper and took another bite of her apple, chewing with purpose.

That damn man inside was getting to her. He was hot, alpha, and made her skin prickle with anticipation. But maybe now she understood another side of his conflict, because he was also talking to the kind of woman that could be the right fit for him. The kind in summer dresses, with perfectly manicured nails. AKA, not Whitney.

Not that she was comparing herself to anyone. But it made more sense now why Ryder was the way he was. She thought back to the other night when they’d played their “I’ve Never” game. He’d given her only a few specifics, but they’d revealed insights about him. He wanted things he thought he couldn’t have, which left him wondering if he had to settle for the things he could.

Where did that leave Whitney? What did she want from Ryder?

Mostly just him.

She knew also what she didn’t want, and that was to be lumped into some kind of ladies club. If he wanted distance from her, she’d give it. If he wanted to another night? She’d give that, too. But life was too short to pretend to be or feel something she wasn’t interested in. And she wasn’t interested in being one of Ryder Diamond’s pals.

The way he looked at her alone made her chest spasm. He met every challenge she issued and then gave back some of his own. She was already having withdrawals from the way he’d touched her, and she’d only had him for a single night.

She took another bit of apple.

“Fuckin’ Ryder,” she muttered.

“Careful, sweetness. I can fill that request easily.”

Ryder approached from the shadows, crunching up gravel beneath his boots. With her ass pressed against the front of the truck, she stared him down as he closed in on her.

“Leaning on a man’s truck like that gives the wrong idea,” he said.

“Oh? What kind of idea?” She gently put her heel behind her and balanced it on the shiny bumper.

“The idea that you just may get your wish, right up against it.”

“What was my wish again?” she mused, bending her arm to hold the apple in front of her face. Ryder closed the last few feet between them.

“Fuckin’ Ryder,” he said, then took a bite of her apple and stood up straight. She watched his jaw work the crisp fruit, and lord, the man was built, and sexy as hell.

“Wouldn’t that go against your boundaries?” she asked, trying to keep the rising need out of her voice.

He glanced down the front of her. “I told you that my intentions were to interact with you while your clothes remained on.”

She nodded, but the sly way he looked at her had her heart pounding harder. He moved against her, parting her legs with his knees. She dropped the apple as the smooth chrome of the Chevy behind her pressed against her spine.

“You told me the other night you’ve never had sex in a man’s truck.” He shifted his hips, dragging the bulge of his thick, jean-clad erection across her lower stomach. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “What about up against it?”

Her eyes flew to his. “This is your truck?”

He nodded.

Just her luck. Still, she had to keep her pride a little. Ryder was trying to set boundaries while breaking them at the same time. She was up for breaking rules, but there would be no coffee afterwards, or other awkward dating attempts.

She glanced over her shoulder at the big rig. “You know, a truck this size suggests the man driving it might be trying to compensate for something.” She glanced down at the very hard, very large cock straining against his jeans.

“Mouthy little thing tonight, aren’t you?” In a flash, he clamped the backs of both her thighs, brought them around his waist, and thrust against her. He hovered his mouth over hers and said, “I’d be happy to show you what kind of compensation I’m packing.”

Yes please!

She snagged his bottom lip between her teeth, but he pulled away quickly. She wanted to pout when he let her legs fall. But before she registered rejection, he spun her around and had her stomach pressed against the front of his truck.

“You push me on purpose. Challenge everything,” he said.

“Just trying to learn you,” she said, repeating her words from the other night. Because the side of Ryder he let out when they were alone was one that got a fire roaring to life inside her. A fire that made her forget who she was, where she was, and all the pain that came with her past, the life she was trying to outrun. Yes, challenging Ryder was like tossing firecrackers on hot oil. And she wanted to set the sparks free.

“One thing you’ll learn about me, sweetness,” he said, those big hands grabbing her hips and bringing her ass back against his cock. “I’m a man of my word.”

He unsnapped her shorts and pulled them down to her thighs, then wrapped a hand in her hair and lowered her over the front of his truck.

“Black tonight,” he rasped, trailing his free hand over the lace band of her thong. “I must admit I’m partial to the red, but black is good, too.”

That sneaky man! After their encounter the other night, she couldn’t find her panties. Now she knew that Ryder must have taken them. The thought got her hot. One night or not, he’d taken a piece of her with him. She would have done the same thing if she could have. That night held memories worth keeping.

“Is this your boundary, big guy?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder. The hand in her hair loosened, and he brought both heavy palms to her ass and spread her wide.

“This wisp of fabric is hardly considered a boundary.”

He knelt down and, keeping those hands on her ass, slid his hot tongue along her center, dampening the lace of her panties as he went.

When he used his teeth to maneuver the fabric to the side, exposing her completely, she shuddered. His firm tongue made contact with her sensitive bundle of nerves, and she rocked up on her toes at the amazing feel of a summer breeze dancing across her skin while Ryder’s tongue danced along her sex.

“Oh fuck, Ryder,” she moaned.

His raspy chuckle hummed against her heated flesh. “Soon, sweetness.”

He teased with his tongue around her opening, making pleasure and anticipation burst through her veins.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, sinking his tongue deep, just once, while delivering a smack on her ass.

“Yes!”

“This is what you pushed for, isn’t it? Is this the Ryder you want?” He gently bit her folds, then sucked her clit.

“Yes! Yes, so much.”

He growled like a man at his last feast, and she heard the jingle of his belt opening, followed by a rip of cellophane. He stood and put one hand back in her hair, grabbing it hard.

“Say it again,” he rasped, as the head of his cock pressed against her heat.

“I want you,” she said.

“How?” he grated and slapped her ass again.

“Deep.”

With that, he surged inside of her, filling her up in one hard thrust. She rocked forward, her body braced over the shiny metal of the truck. Ryder lifted her foot to rest on the bumper, spreading her further and giving himself even more access. With one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripped her hip. He withdrew, then thrust back in, hitting even deeper than last time.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please don’t stop.”

Ryder buried himself inside her hot, silky body, over and over. This was fucking paradise for him. It was a high he couldn’t come off of—the same high he should stay away from but in this moment was powerless to resist.

I want what’s bad for me…

But he couldn’t give a shit less about logic at the moment. Because while Whitney might be bad for him, she felt so damn good. All the reason and logic didn’t matter. They didn’t even spark a whisper in his brain. All he knew was that he’d come after Whitney because he couldn’t let her walk out. He’d intended only to talk to her one on one and explain why boundaries were a good idea.

Bad idea.

He knew from the start he was waging a losing battle. Trying to keep things platonic with Whitney was like saying he wasn’t going to snort his drug of choice, just smell it a little.

But now he was inhaling deep and hard, and he didn’t want to reach the surface.

The moment he’d seen her leaning against his truck, with those shorts playing peekaboo with him again, he’d lost his mind. All he wanted was her, to take her up on every challenge and every offer she gave him.

He fucked her harder, faster. When her tight sheath clamped down on him, he knew she was close. So was he. No one had ever gotten to him like this woman. She basically insulted him at every turn, and all he could do was let the fire in him burn hotter, until it took over his entire body. He didn’t care about anything else but feeling her come again.

She reached back and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer. The sexy woman did like it deep. Really fucking deep, and he was all too happy to see just how much she could take.

“Jesus, sweetness…you make me lose my mind.”

He buried himself to the hilt as he lifted her hips just enough to take him that fraction more. She screamed his name, and every ounce of pleasure was wrung from her like a tightly twisted towel. He felt her drench him, and the power of her release gripped and milked his cock.

He came hard. The wave of her climax threw him into his own, and he spiraled down, unable to think, unable to breathe. Just as the last wave hit him, so did the sound of people…headed their way.

With a muttered curse, he withdrew from her and disposed of the condom in a napkin in his pocket. Reality was setting in hard and fast, and adrenaline was taking over, making his body rock like an unsteady boulder balanced on a cliff.

What the fuck was he thinking? He was in public! Could have been caught with his damn pants around his ankles by anyone. God forbid it was someone he did business with. He’d come out there to try to maintain control and had ended up losing even more of it.

His eyes landed on Whitney. Just as he fastened his belt, she adjusted the lace that was quickly becoming his favorite thing ever, and pulled up her shorts.

She ran a hand through her hair and looked around the truck to where the voices were coming from.

Ryder just stood there, his heart beating in his ears as he realized how little control he actually had when it came to this woman. He’d lost his mind. His judgment. If one of those voices had belonged to Milton Davenport, Ryder could kiss the remodel and any future business good-bye. But it would be bad no matter who found him like this. No one would hire a careless man that had sex against his truck in public.

He shook his head.

Control.

Get control.

“Easy there, big guy,” Whitney said. “They didn’t catch us.”

She looked at him from beneath those thick lashes, and a hint of a smile broke on those perfect lips. All the shit he’d just worried about? Gone. All he could think about were those lips and, pants around his ankles or not, he was ready to run and stumble after her for another taste.

She went to walk away, but Ryder grabbed her hand.

“It’s not that,” he said. “I mean, it’s not you. I just…”

“I get it. You can’t be seen fucking around, literally.”

“I wouldn’t call what just happening fucking around,” he growled, not liking the slightly dark look in her eyes. He wasn’t ashamed of her at all. Hell, she’d just fulfilled one of his long-standing fantasies. But he was worried about the man that came out around her. He’d just fucked her against his truck, in public, hard. That was not his MO.

When it came to Whitney, nothing was his MO, though. His operating mode was completely different. And that was what he needed to get a handle on. Because living for a fantasy was a sure way to kiss your real life good-bye.

But she was enticing as hell. And the euphoria she left him with was making him want to smile like a fool and beg for round two.

“Doesn’t matter what you call it,” Whitney said. “You stayed true to your word.” She glanced down at herself. “My clothes never came off.”

Yeah, he had stayed true to it, but for the first time, he felt it was a damn shame. The only thought that rushed through his mind and out of his mouth was the exact wrong thing to say.

“Maybe next time, sweetness.”

Because, despite his rules and guidelines, he was definitely already thinking about next time.