“That was so fucking hot,” he breathes against my lips. “I couldn’t resist tasting you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers in his soft, silky hair as I kiss him slowly. Deeply. “I want you,” I whisper after I break the kiss.

He moves against me, slow and sensuous, driving me crazy. “How bad?”

“I’ll show you.”

Ryder thrusts against me again. “Not here. Not now.”

I withdraw from him completely at his words, letting him see the pout on my face. Frustration replaces my arousal. I don’t want him to deprive me. My body is on fire for him. I just had two orgasms and I still don’t feel satisfied. “Then when?”

“Soon. Tonight.” He brushes the hair away from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. His beautiful lips are curved in a slight smile and I drink him in, savoring his every handsome feature. I’ve never really looked at him this closely before, but now I don’t hold back. I reach up and touch his cheek, drift my fingers down until I’m caressing the strong line of his jaw, tracing his lips with my index finger, fascinated with what I see, what I feel. His stubble-roughened cheeks scratch and I lean up the slightest bit, settling my mouth on his.

But he breaks the kiss first, his hands going to my shoulders as if he somehow needs the distance, and I can’t help the hurt that I feel.

“Why do you push me away?” I hate hearing the sadness in my voice.

“Because you need to get dressed. What if your father comes looking for you?”

“He won’t.” I lean in to kiss him again but he presses his fingers against my lips, stopping me.

“What about Zachary?” he asks.

Ugh. He’s the last person I want to talk about after what just happened. “What about him?” I ask, hating how snippy I sound.

“Just … we need to be careful,” he says as he steps away from me to bend down and grab his suit jacket. He shakes it out, then slips it on, and I watch him, admiring the way his biceps strain against his stark white shirt, the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. “I don’t need any more run-ins with him.”

I don’t answer him, embarrassment reminding me that I’m completely naked while Ryder is completely dressed. He hands me my panties and bra and I take them from him, keeping my eyes downcast as I murmur my thanks. Pushing off the table, I slip on my panties and hook my bra on, standing straight to find Ryder holding my dress in his hands, his expression apologetic.

For whatever reason that look on his face makes me angry, and I snatch my dress from his fingers and turn my back on him, pulling the dress on. I reach behind me, trying to zip it up and not able to do it and I let out a low growl of frustration, wondering why the hell I can’t do it now when I had no problem earlier this morning. God.

Why am I angry? Why do I want him one minute and loathe him the next? I don’t understand. My emotions are so screwed up, I’m half tempted to cry.

And also tempted to yell and scream and kick.

“Let me help,” he says, his big hands settling on my lower back, electrifying me even through the fabric of my dress. I remain still as he tugs the zipper up, his fingers blazing a path of heat as he skims them along my bared skin. “There.” He shoves my hair aside, flipping it over my shoulder, and pulls the zipper all the way to the top. “You’re in.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, keeping my gaze focused on the floor. I hate how awkward I feel, how unsure. What do I say next? What do I do? What does he want from me? I know what I want from him despite my irritation, but does he want the same?

I turn to face him, see that his lips are parted and he looks like he wants to say something. But my cell rings from where it sits on the conference table, the sound shrill in the stillness of the room and stopping him from speaking. He reaches for my phone and hands it to me, his expression grim.

Zachary’s name flashes across the screen.

“Hello.” I answer the phone in front of Ryder because I have nothing to hide. I gave up the very last shred of my humiliation when I just fingered myself in front of him, so who am I to be shy any longer?

“Have dinner with me,” Zachary says, so loudly I know Ryder can hear him.

He steps away from me, crossing his thick arms in front of his chest, his expression thunderous. Sexy.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I start, but Zachary cuts me off, his irritation clear.

“I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, Violet. This is stupid, us pretending we don’t want to be together. I’m in New York for ten more days and then I’m gone. To London.” His voice lowers. “I wanted to spend these last days with you.”

“You ruined that when you let Pilar suck your dick,” I say vehemently, refusing to feel guilty for our breakup. I wasn’t the one who destroyed us, he was. “Go find one of your whores to spend your last days with,” I retort, angry all over again at the idea of Zachary messing around with other women. How many have there been over the years? Five? Ten? Twenty?

“Are we still talking about that?” He sounds incredulous.

“We will always be talking about that. There’s no escaping it, because your other women are a fact. Your wandering eye ruined our relationship.”

“No, you fucking around with Ryder McKay is what’s ruining our relationship, Violet.” He pauses, as if he needed to gather his thoughts. “You win, okay? You got your revenge on me by being with another man. I get why you wanted to do this. The idea of us being together forever … I’m sure it’s scary. You wanted to make sure you were making the right decision.”