Bad idea.
He knew from the start he was waging a losing battle. Trying to keep things platonic with Whitney was like saying he wasn’t going to snort his drug of choice, just smell it a little.
But now he was inhaling deep and hard, and he didn’t want to reach the surface.
The moment he’d seen her leaning against his truck, with those shorts playing peekaboo with him again, he’d lost his mind. All he wanted was her, to take her up on every challenge and every offer she gave him.
He fucked her harder, faster. When her tight sheath clamped down on him, he knew she was close. So was he. No one had ever gotten to him like this woman. She basically insulted him at every turn, and all he could do was let the fire in him burn hotter, until it took over his entire body. He didn’t care about anything else but feeling her come again.
She reached back and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer. The sexy woman did like it deep. Really fucking deep, and he was all too happy to see just how much she could take.
“Jesus, sweetness…you make me lose my mind.”
He buried himself to the hilt as he lifted her hips just enough to take him that fraction more. She screamed his name, and every ounce of pleasure was wrung from her like a tightly twisted towel. He felt her drench him, and the power of her release gripped and milked his cock.
He came hard. The wave of her climax threw him into his own, and he spiraled down, unable to think, unable to breathe. Just as the last wave hit him, so did the sound of people…headed their way.
With a muttered curse, he withdrew from her and disposed of the condom in a napkin in his pocket. Reality was setting in hard and fast, and adrenaline was taking over, making his body rock like an unsteady boulder balanced on a cliff.
What the fuck was he thinking? He was in public! Could have been caught with his damn pants around his ankles by anyone. God forbid it was someone he did business with. He’d come out there to try to maintain control and had ended up losing even more of it.
His eyes landed on Whitney. Just as he fastened his belt, she adjusted the lace that was quickly becoming his favorite thing ever, and pulled up her shorts.
She ran a hand through her hair and looked around the truck to where the voices were coming from.
Ryder just stood there, his heart beating in his ears as he realized how little control he actually had when it came to this woman. He’d lost his mind. His judgment. If one of those voices had belonged to Milton Davenport, Ryder could kiss the remodel and any future business good-bye. But it would be bad no matter who found him like this. No one would hire a careless man that had sex against his truck in public.
He shook his head.
Control.
Get control.
“Easy there, big guy,” Whitney said. “They didn’t catch us.”
She looked at him from beneath those thick lashes, and a hint of a smile broke on those perfect lips. All the shit he’d just worried about? Gone. All he could think about were those lips and, pants around his ankles or not, he was ready to run and stumble after her for another taste.
She went to walk away, but Ryder grabbed her hand.
“It’s not that,” he said. “I mean, it’s not you. I just…”
“I get it. You can’t be seen fucking around, literally.”
“I wouldn’t call what just happening fucking around,” he growled, not liking the slightly dark look in her eyes. He wasn’t ashamed of her at all. Hell, she’d just fulfilled one of his long-standing fantasies. But he was worried about the man that came out around her. He’d just fucked her against his truck, in public, hard. That was not his MO.
When it came to Whitney, nothing was his MO, though. His operating mode was completely different. And that was what he needed to get a handle on. Because living for a fantasy was a sure way to kiss your real life good-bye.
But she was enticing as hell. And the euphoria she left him with was making him want to smile like a fool and beg for round two.
“Doesn’t matter what you call it,” Whitney said. “You stayed true to your word.” She glanced down at herself. “My clothes never came off.”
Yeah, he had stayed true to it, but for the first time, he felt it was a damn shame. The only thought that rushed through his mind and out of his mouth was the exact wrong thing to say.
“Maybe next time, sweetness.”
Because, despite his rules and guidelines, he was definitely already thinking about next time.
Chapter Seven
Ryder measured the wood again, marked with a pencil the spot he needed to cut, and let the tape snap back into the holder. This cabinet was going to be the centerpiece of the entire Davenport Hall and the first thing anyone saw when walking in.
It had to be perfect.
Which was why, despite the time-consuming process, the piece was custom made, right down to the blood and sweat he was putting into it. From the design to the intricate crafting, everything about this one piece was tasteful and elegant.
He took another measurement, glanced at the plans for the design, and made a few more marks.
What’s Whitney doing right now?
Jesus, where had that thought come from? He ran a hand over his brow, then leaned over the workbench and continued with his task.
The workbench was the perfect height. He could hop Whitney right up, toss her legs around his waist, and be inside her in a millisecond—
He flicked his pencil away and took a deep breath. He needed to get his mind right and focus. But damn it, he could still feel her. Smell her on his skin. She was lingering in his brain, his dreams, and his body.
He stared at the massive project in front of him and commanded himself to focus. Yet the one truth he’d known since the other night with her was ringing clear:
He was still thinking about next time he’d see her.
“Hey,” Huck said, coming up behind him and slapping down a stain sample on the cabinet. “Davenport just called and said he wants to go with this lighter stain color,” Huck tapped the sample, “instead of the darker.”
Ryder exhaled and grabbed up the card. “Glad he changed his mind before I started.”
“Yeah,” Huck agreed.
Ryder unhooked his tool belt and adjusted his hat.
“You’re leaving?” Huck asked.
“I’m going to get the stain now. I need a breather.” Which was the understatement of the damn day. He needed to clear his head, and a quick trip to the store was a good excuse as any. So long as he stayed away from the diner, everything should be fine.
It only took him a few minutes to go to the store and grab the color, but already he was feeling better. With the item in hand, he looked over the selection of wood stains—
When a pair of sexy legs in cutoff shorts caught his eye.
Whitney.
She was looking at the mini paint cans, and Ryder couldn’t help but slink down the aisle closer to her. She took down a can and bit her lip while she looked it over, only to put it back and examine another one.
He was convinced right then that everything the woman did was sexy. Even looking at paint.
“Looking for something in particular?” he asked.
She jumped a little, startled by him, and he grinned. Catching her off guard was a special kind of delight.
“Just some paint,” she said.
“Pretty small job if you’re only looking at the tiny sample sizes.”
“There’s some chips and marks on some of the booths at the BBQ. I thought I could patch them up. Penny thinks it’s a great idea.”
Ryder took a step closer, it was his turn to be surprised now. “That’s some initiative.”