Burn Into Me (16 page)

Ryder stirs beside me, and the movement allows me to slide away under his arm and off the bed. While he turns and continues sleeping, I steal out of his room and into mine. After a quick freshen up in the bathroom, I gather my belongings and go in search of my clothes. Since Ryder mentioned he’d have them washed, they must be lying around in the laundry. I figure it would be downstairs, somewhere close to the kitchen.
 

It takes me a while to find it, opening door after door—library, sitting room, TV room, bedroom, bathroom—but finally it appears at the end of the hallway, a spacious tiled room with a washing machine, dryer, ironing board, and sink. Yes! My clothes, dry and vaguely smelling of Ryder, are still in the washer-dryer, and I don’t waste time getting changed, tossing the used t-shirt and shorts in a basket.
 

Ready to leave, I decide to grab something out of the fridge for a breakfast on the go. But before I reach the kitchen, a deep-sounding chime startles me. Oh God, it’s the doorbell. Will it wake Ryder up? I quickly make my way to the front door and open it before he comes downstairs.

“Good morning! Here’s your breakfast order. Enjoy.”

A plump gray-haired woman wearing a blue-and-white striped apron hands me a wicker basket with a red checkered cloth on top.
 

“Thanks.”

I carry the basket into the kitchen, breathing in the aroma of freshly baked goods. My curiosity piqued, I pick up the corner of the cloth with one hand. But the basket tumbles on the bench with a thud at the sound of Ryder’s deep, husky voice.
 

“Good morning, beautiful. I see you found your clothes.”

Thankfully he’s had the presence of mind to cover himself up, although the charcoal shirt he’s wearing does nothing to conceal his broad shoulders and sculpted chest.

“Um, yeah. Thanks for that. Someone delivered this basket.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a grin, and he walks around the bench until he’s in the kitchen, right behind me. The warmth of his body radiating on my back produces chills up my spine.

“Let’s have a look what’s inside, shall we?” he says in my ear.

His muscular arms slide around me and his hands lift up the cloth to reveal what’s inside the basket: croissants, butter, raspberry jam, blueberry muffins, fruit salad, an omelette, a stack of pancakes, maple syrup, muesli, a pot of fruit yoghurt, and freshly squeezed orange juice.
 

The delicious selection makes my mouth water, and I suddenly realize I’m starving.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked. So I just ordered a few things.” Ryder’s warm breath tickles my ear. “Tell me, what do you like?”

His lips travel down to my neck, brushing my sensitive skin.

“Muffin?” He breaks off a piece and puts it in my mouth. The mere brush of his fingers on my lips sends an electric current through me. Trying not to look affected, I also pull off a bit of muffin and pivot around to do the same to him. But before my hand reaches his mouth, he grabs my wrist and slowly brings my hand to his lips. He slips the muffin piece into his mouth and proceeds to lick off my fingers, one by one—setting off a tingling that rushes straight down between my thighs.

I forget all about going home, I forget all about how staying here is such a bad idea. The only thing I think of is his lips so close to mine. He is the first to lean in but I pull him close to me and press my mouth to his. Contrary to our frantic kisses of last night, this one is soft and tender. He brushes the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips, and when I open up to him, our tongues stroke and caress for what feels like hours. I don’t realize I’m giddy until we finally pull away from each other and I have to hold on to Ryder’s strong arms to balance myself.
 

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Would you like some coffee? Cappuccino?”

I really shouldn’t stay; this should be my cue to leave. But clearly I’m weaker than I give myself credit for. As a poor college student, I don’t get many chances of indulging in a luxurious breakfast, making do with a bite of cereal on days I can afford it. For someone who loves good food as much as I do, this decadent spread is a temptation I can’t resist. I vow to myself that once I’ve had my fill, I’ll be on my way.
 

“Sounds good.”

Ryder starts on the coffee while I take plates and cutlery from the cupboard and put them on the bench, where the array of delicacies takes up most of its surface. We sit next to each other while I attack item after item, relishing each bite. Ryder must think I’m some greedy freeloader for he looks at me with an amused smile that makes me feel self-conscious. “So did you sleep well? I missed you when I woke up this morning.”

Drizzling some syrup on a pancake, I nod. “Yeah, I slept okay. If it wasn’t for your snoring, I would have slept even longer.”

“Snoring?” He raises his eyebrows, and his face falls. I can’t suppress a grin. I know it’s mean to tease him, especially since I haven’t heard as much as a sigh from him all night, but it’s priceless to see him vulnerable like this.

“Did I? Well, maybe I was just exhausted because you kept me up most of the night kicking me and trying to take over the whole bed.”

“Pffft, that bed of yours is as big as a tennis court. Don’t tell me you didn’t have enough space.”

“Hey, you almost pushed me off. I had to get up and move to the other side in the middle of the night.”
 

I arch my brow. “Really?”
 

“No.”
 

I swat his arm, hard. “Well, you didn’t snore that much either.”

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, he lets out a breath of relief, and we both burst out laughing. I feel so comfortable around him, and my heart gives a little squeeze of regret that it will never work out between us. In another life, I’m sure we would have been good together. But in the here and now, it’s time to face reality. After breakfast I won’t have any more excuses to stay.
 

I take a last serving of fruit salad and say, “Hey, thanks for breakfast. It was great, but I think it’s time for me to go.”
 

“Actually, I was thinking of taking you out today.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve held up my end of the deal, so that’s it. I’m going.”

“Yeah, of course you’re free to go. But I just want to show you around. Have you been to the Hamptons before?”

“No, not really.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to just one place. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

He leans in and traces the line of my jaw with his finger.

“Please?” He looks at me from under his long, dark lashes.
 

And that’s all it takes—one look, one touch from him.
 

I sigh. “Alright then. One place. And promise me you’ll drive me home straight after.”
 

“I promise, beautiful.”
 

And when he flashes his irresistible smile, I forget for a moment how weak, how stupid I am. What the hell am I thinking, spending another day with him? But somehow, I can’t seem to resist him; he knows how to break down my defenses.
 

It’s only a few minutes before Ryder bounds down the stairs and leads me down the hallway through a door that I hadn’t noticed before. He switches on the light, and I suck in a breath. We’re in his garage, which looks more like a car showroom, filled with six or so shiny sports cars, and one familiar bike in the far corner. If Damon had seen this, he would have gone insane with lust. But I’m disgusted, of course—the combined value of these cars would buy at least ten suburban family homes. Why in the world does one person need to own so many cars? I scowl at Ryder, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I thought we’d take the Porsche 918 Spyder today. It’s one of the fastest cars in the world.
And
it’s a hybrid. Get in and I’ll show you.”
 

With one hand on his hip, Ryder opens the door to a dark-gray metallic convertible. I pass three red Ferraris to reach it and bend low to fold myself into the seat. As the smell of leather and new car hits me, I settle myself within the compact black-with-red-trim interior, fastening my seat belt.
 

When Ryder gets in, his tall frame just fits inside the car, filling it entirely with his warmth and his intoxicating scent. Trying to ignore the lurch this invokes in my stomach, I turn my attention to the opening garage door. Ryder roars the engine to life, and we drive into the bright sunny morning. But instead of going down the driveway as I expected, he steers us towards the narrow road that leads to the race track.
 

“I’ll show you what this baby can do.”

When we reach the track, he presses some buttons on the touchscreen panel between us and without warning, he accelerates. We tear off down the track, pushing me back in the seat. I’ve never been inside a sports car before, let alone such a fancy one, and I have to admit, the feeling of going really fast, so low to the ground, is exhilarating. It’s different from a bike, but no less exciting. I let out a little squeal when the speedometer reaches 180mph, and when I turn to Ryder he is grinning as broadly as I am. I feel happy and free, just like a kid again, and I begin to understand his love of sports cars.
 

After two laps we leave the estate and zip onto the highway, a straight road with bare trees on both sides. Between the shrubs, I catch glimpses of the ocean, the bright sun rays producing glimmers on its surface. The two-lane road splits and we approach a bend that leads to a high hill at the top of which stands a white-and-mahogany lighthouse.
 

To my horror, he parks the car in front of the path leading up the hill, marked by the sign “Montauk Point Lighthouse”. I hope he’s not thinking of climbing up because I won’t be able to deal with it—I’m afraid of heights, and the thought of being trapped in a confined space to get to the top isn’t my idea of fun, either.

Ryder opens my door and I slowly step out the car, keeping a wary eye on him to find out if my worst fear is going to come true.
 

“We’re going up?” I try to sound casual, but when I look up at the looming lighthouse perched on the hill, my stomach starts churning.
 

“If you think you’ll be able to make it all the way up.”

The way he flashes me a daring half-grin makes a fiery spark in me light up. Damn him for throwing me a challenge; I have too much pride to admit to a weakness. Narrowing my eyes at him, I march up the path and even though my heart is thumping wildly in my chest, I step inside the dreaded lighthouse.
 

I reach the bottom of the 137-step staircase, so the sign on the wall claims, and hesitate. I have no problem going up or down the stairs; after all, I do that every day in my apartment building. But to go up a narrow winding staircase like this one
and
look down from a dizzying height when I reach the top makes me break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” asks Ryder behind me.
 

“Yeah, um…I—I’m fine.”

Breathing in deeply, I put my foot on the first step, willing my fear into the death grip I inflict on the railing. I try to take another step, but my fear takes over.

“I can’t do this.”

I swivel around and land right into Ryder’s hard chest.
 

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“I—I’m scared of heights.” Cringing, I stare down at my boots.
 

He puts his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “Hey, you don’t need to worry. The observation platform is enclosed. There’s no way you can fall. And I’m here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Let’s just take this step by step. Don’t look up or down. I’ll be right behind you.”

He pivots me around and puts his hand on my back, urging me forward. I take a first hesitant step up, then another, and another. My heart is still pounding, but his comforting hand at my back and my focus on moving my feet one step at a time get me in a steady rhythm. But just when I think I’m going to make it to the top without passing out, I hear voices above me. Their source soon comes into view—an elderly couple with bumbags and glasses hanging from cords around their necks.
 

As the staircase is too narrow for more than one person, I have to hold onto the center of the spiral to let them pass. If it isn’t for Ryder’s arm pressed around me, I would have fainted and fallen to my death; an inadvertent glance up made my head swim.

He presses a kiss in my hair. “You’re doing great, beautiful.”
 

“I don’t feel so great. Maybe…maybe we should go back down.”

“We’re nearly there. I’ll be right behind you every step of the way.”

He urges me back up, and despite my quaking knees, I manage to continue the climb. At last, I feel a light sea breeze and the stairs come to an end. I step foot in a tiny viewing area, with barely enough space for two. The room is enclosed in a glass dome with dizzying views all around. Lightheaded, I close my eyes as Ryder’s arm curves around my waist, steadying me. Without thinking, I loop both my arms around his waist and bury myself in his leather jacket until I feel steady enough to slowly open my eyes. And when I do, the view of the Atlantic Ocean takes my breath away.
 

A born and bred city girl, I haven’t had much opportunity to see much of the open ocean, apart from a couple of visits to Coney Island when I was little. Forgetting my fears for a moment, I am mesmerized by the natural beauty around me: the cobalt expanse of water, white crashing waves, rocky coastline, and pebbly beaches.
 

Ryder steers me towards a ladder beside me that I only just notice. It leads up to a small opening in the dome above.

“Come on, there’s an even better view from up there.”

I squeeze myself tightly against him. “No way. This is scary enough.”

“The only way to get over your fear is to face it. Remember, step by step.”