“Yes, I do,” I toss back over a fuck you huff as I try to ignore how good it feels being pressed to his chest again. “Try” being the operative word. I can’t ignore it, my body responding to his touch the same way a child responds to candy. I’m mentally high, euphoria exhausting every excitement-masked breath I take. “I honestly do.”
“Impossible.” He kisses the crown of my head, pulling me closer. “If that were true, then why’d you come looking for me?”
“Because I . . . I . . .” I freeze up, the thought of telling him I love him, after witnessing what he did with Hailey’s evil lookalike, after leaving me to gulp back antidepressants like Pfizer was going out of business the last few weeks, sending a chain of icicles up my spine as my confession crystallizes on my tongue.
“Say it, peach,” he insists again, his voice softer, calmer. Oh God. He’s using that I’m about to fuck you-straight into next year bedroom tone. The tone that had me panting the second I heard it, my panties instantly soaked. The tone that’s whispered beautiful words, devastating stories, and lethal threats into my ears. “I want you to say it.”
“Say what?” I ask, playing stupid. There’s no way he’s on to me. How could he be? He doesn’t love or need me, his earlier escapade the perfect candidate for that example. If he loved me, tonight would’ve never happened. He wouldn’t have had that chick on his lap, wouldn’t have allowed her to kiss him. Cheek or not, no. That’s not how love works. I think . . . “What the hell do you want me to say, Ryder?”
“What I know you need to.” If at all possible, he pulls me closer, our bodies a single, beating organ as he dips his head. Nose to nose, his eyes hold mild warning, his breath wafting over my cheeks before he touches his lips to mine, attempting to entice the words from my mouth. “Say it or else I am gonna hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” I question through a maniacal burst of laughter, losing my shit as I give him an incredulous once-over. I don’t lose it like I did earlier, though. Not in the physical sense, at least. Nope. I lose it worse this time, tears dumping from my eyes as my messy emotions bleed out, pouring in thick, sloppy sheets of confusion onto the snow below us. “You couldn’t hurt me any more than you already have! I saw you with that girl. Watched you all but let her rape you on the bar stool!”
“And why would seeing that hurt you, Amber?” he snarls, repinning me to his chest, his fingers kneading my hips with nervous urgency as I try to push him away. No luck. His grip around me tightens, his eyes fire-blue as his lips reclaim their position, hovering just above mine in a vengeful tease. “Fucking say it, already! Say it! Why did that bother you?”
“Because I’m in love with you, goddamnit!” I cry out, relief, panic, and shock all playing a dirty game of cat and mouse with my heart, sending my emotions straight into a meat grinder as Ryder stares at me a beat before crushing his mouth to mine. Without hesitation I fall in step with his hungry kiss, our lips searing the specks of snow dusting them into heated droplets of water as we attack each other. My hands make a boxing bag out of him as I punch my fists against his chest, pissed at what he’s put me through. Still, in the middle of a growing snowstorm, I devour his touch, taste, and scent. “I love you, Ryder ‘King of Assholes’ Ashcroft, and you murdered me! Murdered my love by ignoring me for close to three weeks after you fucked me!”
He slows the kiss, his whisper hoarse, desperate, as he tucks his face in the crook of my neck. “Say it again, momma. I need to hear you say it again.”
“That you ripped my world apart, dick?” I moan, my fingers tangled in his hair as he works his mouth down the curve of my collarbone. “You hurt me, bled me dry. How many more metaphors concerning my pain would you like?”
“No, sweets.” He breaks the kiss, his thumbs skidding across the chunks of mascara sledding down my face as his eyes make contact with mine. “Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you.” It comes out breathlessly, automatically, no questions as to where it’s born from or where it’ll end up worrying my mind.
It’s said as though it’s been said a million times before, the confession tingling familiar on my tongue as though the three words know who their rightful keeper is. It’s said with everything I am, with all I have yet to become, my heart aching for our lost past, still—pounding anew with curiosity for what the future holds for us.
“I love you, Ryder.”
“Again,” he commands, his gaze locked on mine as he drags his thumbs along my lips. “Say it again, peach.”
“I love you,” I repeat, trying to keep my voice even despite my racing heart.
That all goes to shit as his lips seize mine, his arms draping the blanket over our heads, sheltering us from the blowing snow. The kiss starts off slow and tentative, a pang of ache—the deepest form of loss—in each soft stroke of our tongues as we reacquaint ourselves with each other. But it doesn’t take long for the kiss to implode as our bodies reunite, fierce passion lighting us up with every moan and breath. Hands grappling at each other, we fall into what’s defined us from the first look, the first touch: a combustible ball of sexual attraction. My ass hits the hood of his car as he whips the blanket off our heads, splaying it out over the running vehicle behind me.
Before I know it I’m on my back, Ryder’s hardened body nestled between my legs as I wrap them around his waist. Oh God. He’s going to fuck me right here on the hood of his car and I’m gonna let him. I need him that badly, my heart aching to feel him inside me.