Would he accuse her of not knowing what she was feeling? Of just being on the rebound and so not capable of rational discernment of her emotions?
“That Reva’s wedding went well.”
As if he knew that hadn’t been what she was thinking, Ryder’s brow arched. “Any regrets on coming this weekend?”
“None.” She hadn’t. Would she say the same if she failed to act on her attraction to Ryder? Would she forever wonder what would have happened if she’d told him she didn’t want him to sleep on the floor? That she wanted him in bed, with her, but not to sleep?
Later that night, Kenzie was still wondering the same thing when she finished in the bathroom, came back into her bedroom, and saw Ryder lying on his pallet on the floor.
She paused by the door, hesitant, wondering which she’d regret more: climbing into her bed and falling asleep alone or inviting him into her bed and not sleeping at all?
Having no doubt heard her enter the room and wondering why she’d stopped just inside the door, he opened his eyes.
His beautiful honey-colored eyes that seemed to glow in the soft lamplight.
McKenzie swallowed.
She wanted to have sex with Ryder.
How crazy was that when she knew they weren’t really a couple, when she knew that when they returned to Seattle tomorrow evening the pretense would be over and it was all too possible that he’d go back to avoiding her?
They were in the here and now.
In the here and now, Ryder was with her, was lying on her bedroom floor looking at her with those magnificent eyes. It might just be the convenience of proximity that caused the flash of heat, but she saw the lust burning in his gaze that she suspected flickered in her own.
But he didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, just watched as she crossed the room to stand next to the bed.
He wouldn’t say anything, would let her climb into her bed and lie there wishing he was with her.
She couldn’t do it.
Her whole life she’d settled when it came to relationships, to sex, to the men in her life.
Tonight, she wasn’t settling.
She wanted Ryder, wanted the warmth of his touch, the heat of his kisses, the burn that spread inside her at anticipation of what she was about to do.
Rather than climb into her bed, or even to invite him to join her there, in case he said no, McKenzie knelt, straddled Ryder, her hips positioned perfectly over his as she leaned forward to press her lips to his.
* * *
Sexual tension had been building between them all night. All weekend. Longer.
But Ryder hadn’t expected McKenzie to act on what was blazing between them.
He’d thought as long as he didn’t say anything, she’d get in her bed and go to sleep. Tomorrow they’d go back to Seattle, then he’d make sure their paths didn’t cross for long enough for him to get his attraction to her back under control.
Because it was out of control.
>
Or maybe he’d fallen asleep and was dreaming, and her hair didn’t really cascade around him as she explored his mouth with hunger that matched his.
Whatever, he thrust his fingers through the silken tresses and pulled her to him, deepening their kiss.
She shifted above him, and he had to close his eyes to keep from lifting his hips to push into where she straddled his body.
He wanted to strip away their clothes, the thin blanket covering him, and thrust into her for real.