God. I was an idiot. A blabbering idiot.
I finally got my bearings enough that I backed out, stumbling as I went, and I slammed his door a little harder than I meant to. Then I dashed down the hall and into my room, where I slammed that door, too. I leaned against the wood, trying to catch my breath, to rein in the sense I’d lost somewhere in his room.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. That horror began to thrum. It surged through me as I realized that I’d stood there watching him pump himself. For God knew how long.
I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to block it. The only thing it did was cause it to become even more vivid.
The way he’d said my name kept rolling through my brain, trembling through me in wisps of seduction that I knew better than to feel.
I’d misinterpreted it.
I had to have.
I blamed it on the stupid book. On the fantasy that I’d been a fool to give myself over to.
But knowing the truth didn’t stop the tingles that raced. Did nothing to stop the flames that licked beneath the surface of my skin. Every cell in my body pulsated with need. With this desire I’d tried to subdue for years, and there it was, stronger than it had ever been before.
I shuffled to my bed and laid down, breathing hard as I stared through the darkness at the ceiling, praying I could tame what was stampeding out of control.
But it was too heavy and dense, and I was so turned on that my panties were drenched.
My hand was shaking when I gave in and let it wander down my stomach to slide under my sleep shorts, and I whimpered as my fingers grazed over my clit. As engorged and swollen as Ryder had been.
I had to suppress the moan that rolled up my throat when I began to rub myself, my fingertips swirling over the nub. Pleasure glinted, glowing behind my eyelids as I decided to fully give myself over to the fantasy.
Just one more time and then I would let him go.
It took all of five seconds for an orgasm to whip through my body. All I needed to do was imagine Ryder’s head between my legs, black hair tickling the inside of my thighs as he ate me into oblivion.
I bowed with the moment’s ecstasy, and I turned to the side to bury my face in a pillow to cover his name that whimpered from my tongue.
To hide it.
To pretend like I didn’t want him anymore. Like he didn’t matter the way I feared he would always matter to me.
Trembles rolled and reeled, this skewed rapture that continued to flicker through my limbs.
I startled when my phone lit up on my nightstand.
I grabbed for it probably a little too eagerly.
Ryder
Did you like watching me fuck my hand, Dakota?
A new shock of lust burst in my blood, so intense I could hardly think or see. I wanted to answer but was terrified at the same time. Another text came in before I could fathom how in the world I was supposed to reply.
Ryder
Did you touch yourself thinking of me when you got back to your room? With those sweet hands that are way too clean to get dirty with me?
Ryder
You were a fucking vision standing in my door.
Ryder
Like you’d been manifested in my dreams.
I blinked, staring at the words.
Sure I had to be reading them all wrong.
Or maybe I was just dreaming.
Maybe I’d been knocked dumb by the sight of the man jerking himself on his bed.
The more likely possibility was that I’d made up the entire thing.
Except another text came through.
Ryder
Think it’d be a good idea for you to start locking your door, Dakota.
My heart clattered against my ribs, and I strained to hear any movement or sound.
My breaths shallow.
This confusion so thick the room was filled with a haze.
Everything enclosed, the air and this tension that expanded in the space.
A whirring hum that echoed in the room.
Or maybe it was seeping in from the outside.
In it was this lingering need.
A call from down the hall.
If I followed it, I knew it would lead to his door.
A lure.
A trap.
My spirit ached to give it heed.
To give into the tugging that pulled at the center of me.
To see if this was real or if it was all a figment of my imagination.
Self-preservation kicked in.
I knew better than that.
Ryder would never really want me. Not the way I wanted him.
He’d told me, and I was a fool to believe anything else.
A fool to respond and beg him to make good on the last text.
So I forced myself to lie back in bed and ignore his messages.
Both terrified and thrilled by the exchange.
But I needed to remember that just looking at Ryder broke my heart.