Ryder turns to look at me, his mouth so close to mine I can practically taste him. I stare into his eyes, see the blue shot with little flecks of gold, the thick black fringe of eyelashes, the faint scar along the bridge of his nose. I want to ask him how he got it. I want to tell him every woman in America would kill to have eyelashes as thick as his.

But I say nothing. Those thoughts are meaningless anyway.

“You want me to teach you how to be selfish when it comes to … sex?” He tilts his head, his mouth coming dangerously close to mine, and I fight the urge to press my lips against his. The anticipation is agonizing.

A delicious kind of agony, but agonizing nevertheless.

“Yes,” I whisper, hating the way my voice trembles. Hating how badly I want him to kiss me. Have I ever felt like this with another man? Zachary and I had such … clean sex. Not messy, not loud and sweaty and passionate. I would find my satisfaction—mostly—and he would always find his, but it was never overwhelming, all-consuming.

Ryder hasn’t even kissed me yet and I’m feeling all of those things.

“Half the thrill is in waiting,” he whispers in return, his lips moving against mine with those last two words before he moves away from me, settling back in his seat.

I drop my hand from where I gripped his shoulder, mourning the loss of his nearness. “I don’t believe you. You don’t seem like the sort of man who likes waiting.”

“Depends on the woman,” he says. And then he’s touching me, his hand is cupping my cheek, his face is in mine, his body blocking out all available light until he’s everything I see and feel and touch. “And you are definitely worth waiting for.”

I part my lips to protest, to tell him I don’t want him to wait, but then his mouth is on mine, silencing me. Taking from me … everything I have to give.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t a sweet exploration or a tentative question. His kiss takes. Takes and takes, and I do nothing but give willingly. His tongue thrusts into my mouth and I whimper. His fingers tighten in my hair, destroying my ponytail, and I reach for him, curling my arm around his neck, plunging my hand into the soft hair at the back of his head. His scent, his heat wraps all around me, consumes me, lights me up and sets me on fire.

All in the space of approximately two minutes.

Not that I’m counting the seconds, but my God. The rustle of clothing, the frantic breaths, the thrust of tongues and the whimper that escapes me when he breaks the kiss first …

I’ve never experienced anything like this.

I’m clutching his tie like a lifeline and he glances down with an amused expression, reaching up to slowly disengage my fingers from the fine red silk. “Sorry,” I whisper, my cheeks going hot. He must think I’m a little fool while he’s the experienced, take-charge man.

But he doesn’t laugh, doesn’t chastise me for crushing his tie. He slips his strong fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face up so I have no choice but to look him in the eye.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, the aroused glow in his gaze making me weak. “I like that you were overcome so quickly.”

I lower my gaze and he pushes beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him again. “Don’t be shy, either,” he says, his voice a soft but firm command. “Not with me, Violet. Not if we’re really going to do this.”

“And what are we doing?” I almost wish I hadn’t asked, but I need to know what his definition of “this” is between us before we take it any further.

“Getting to know each other?”

I slowly shake my head. “That’s not enough,” I whisper. Well. Really, he’s not saying enough. There’s a difference.

Not really.

“A friendship with benefits?”

“I’m not even looking for that,” I tell him honestly.

“Now who’s being the forthright one?” He strokes my chin with his thumb, a soft sweep across my skin that sends a flurry of tingles all over me. “A quick fuck?”

The throb between my legs at his words surprises me and I release a shuddering breath. “A little more?”

His chuckle is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “Many quick fucks. Is that what you’re looking for, Violet? For us to become lovers?”

“Do we need to define it?”

“Everyone needs a set of guidelines,” he muses. “Even the rule breakers.”

“I’ve never really been a rule breaker before,” I admit.

“I know.” He leans in and drops a firm, breath-stealing kiss to my lips. “So let me teach you how to play.”

His choice of words, the gravelly sound of his voice, all of it hints at something wicked. Forbidden. Secret. When have I ever indulged in something like that?

Never. And that scares me. Tempts me. Makes me want to forget all reason and righteousness and just … do it.

“We can’t tell anyone.” The words rush out of me so fast his hand drops from my chin and he moves away from me. I’m afraid I offended him. “I mean … this is our secret, right? It’s just a temporary thing. No one else needs to know about it.”

“Of course.” He nods, running his hand over his hair, then across his front, over his crumpled tie. Remorse hits me at how I destroyed it. I had no idea my grip could be so strong.

Ryder McKay is making me realize a lot of things I never knew about myself.

We don’t say anything the rest of the ride back to my building. There’s just this tense silence that fills me with unease and arousal all at once. I shift in my seat and cross my legs, trying my best to stop the ache between my thighs as I resume my study of the city passing by. I have no idea what just happened. No idea what to think of it. I press my lips together and taste him, relive the precise moment of when he first put his mouth on mine. That startling, first electric contact. The feel of his fingers in my hair, gripping and pulling, his tongue sliding against mine …