Page 81 of Come Break My Heart Again

“But you are back.”

One corner of Ryder’s mouth lifts. “Nice of you to notice.”

“Yeah.” I tap my finger against the steering wheel. “Yeah, I’m having troublenotnoticing actually.”

My entire body is buzzing with electricity as I stare straight ahead at the huge closed door, way too aware of the fact that we’re alone and inches apart.

This overwhelming feeling is only familiar because I’ve experienced it around him before. And I wrote it off as my age mostly. The giddiness of first love that wasn’t unique to Ryder. But I think itisunique to Ryder—and not only because he claimed all my firsts.

I shouldn’t have shown up here. I should have left a long time ago. But I don’t climb out of the car. And neither does Ryder.

“Come here,” he says softly, shattering the silence between us.

I roll my head to look at him. The feelings in my chest expand as soon as I get a glimpse of his face.

It aches in a beautiful, devastating way, seeing him look at me so tenderly. Like this moment matters to him too. LikeImatter to him.

I abandon my shoes in the footwell and pull my feet up. There’s no center console, making the maneuver out of my seat a little easier. The bucket seats are larger than the ones in my car, but it’s still a tight fit. The top of my head bumps the roof of the car, my hair falling forward to curtain both of our faces. I grab Ryder’s shoulders automatically for better balance, my knees landing on either side of his hips. His hands skim up the sides of my rib cage. My nipples pebble, anticipating his touch, but he passes by my breasts to tangle his fingers in my hair and move the strands out of my face.

And we just … stare at each other. Same as we did in my car, before he drove me home.

There’s nowhere to hide, this close. The garage lights are bright, but his eyes still manage to look shadowed and mysterious. Mine are probably broadcasting exactly how I feel about being on his lap. Ryder’s solid, and so is the seat under him, but I’m experiencing the dizzying sensation of vertigo. I’m holding my breath, each movement feeling precarious.

I lift my hand to touch his hair. “It’s so short now.”

Ryder’s eyes hood as I stroke the prickly strands. His Adam’s apple bobs before he says, “It got pretty long in Florida. I wanted a change.”

“Are there pictures of thelong hairera?” I ask.

One corner of his mouth lifts, creasing his cheek like a comma. “Might be some of me surfing.”

He sweeps my hair out of my face again, and then his hands fall to my hips. I shift an inch, seeking, biting my bottom lip when I find what I’m looking for.

Ryder inhales sharply, his hands falling away as I rock our pelvises together. Fever creeps across the surface of my skin, a heady mixture of desire and excitement humming urgently.

“I want to see the photos.”

His eyebrows are pinched together, the tendons of his neck corded and taut. If I glanced down at his hands, I think they’d be curled into fists.

It’s a rush, watching him react to me. I caught him checking me out at the pond, but I wasn’t sure how much that had to do withme. He’s a guy and I was a girl in a bikini. This—the tortured, aroused expression on Ryder’s face—doesn’t look like simply biology.

“You’re sitting on my phone.”

“Should I move?” I ask, switching to swiveling my hips.

Ryder lets out a low, husky groan that has me clenching around nothing. I’m drunk on him. The clean, soapy scent of his skin. The unmistakable bulge pressed against my thigh. Mystomach swoops as I imagine it filling me, the hesitation I started to associate with sex glaringly absent.

“Elle …”

“Lo,” I correct. “I love it when you call me Lo.”

His eyes darken to graphite. His hands find my hips again, his grip tight enough that I can feel it this time. “You’re playing with fire, Lo.”

I lean closer, well aware the change in position means I’m grinding directly on top of his erection. “No. I’m begging you to burn me.”

Another groan that vibrates against my body and ignites my insides.

I feelalivefor the first time in so long. Like I’m participating in life instead of observing it as a bystander.

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