Page 3 of Face Me Off

“What? No! I?—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” He kicks off the counter and saunters to where I’m standing. “She isn’t a date.”

I scoff.

“She isn’t.”

My eyes meet his from his commanding tone. The corner of his mouth draws into a smirk, showcasing the dimple on his right cheek, the one I always wanted to lick but never found the courage.

“You know who she is.”

“I do?” I rack my brain but come up short.

“Yeah. It’s Leah Goodrum.”

My eyes widen. “Really? She’s … changed a lot since we’ve graduated.” Her parents must’ve gifted her fake tits for graduation.

He shrugs. Then he holds up his phone again. “A charger?”

“We shouldn’t be seen together.” I chew on my lip because that statement holds a lot of truth.

“Nobody’s here.” He leans in so close that the scent of his rich cologne, hints of musk and sandalwood mixed with a subtle citrus undertone, tingles my senses. I find myself inching closer while watching his mouth. “Except us.”

Irritated that he lured me in, I backed away. “Why is this my problem?”

“Come on. I need to stay connected to my dad.”

I cave at the mention of Mr. Sorenson and fight the sad smile threatening to overtake my features. I admired Ryan’s dad. Still do. His tragedy hadn’t changed that. I just wish things could’ve been different.

“Fine. But it’s in the room I’m staying in.”

Ryan sweeps his hand for me to lead. I down the last of my drink, needing the liquid courage to lead him up the stairs. My heart races as I move through the quiet house and into the hallway. He follows effortlessly as if he’s used to trailing behind me. But that’s not exactly true. Usually, it’s the other way around.

We get to the door of my room, and I pause, hand on the knob. What the hell am I doing? This is a terrible idea. I should be turning around and telling him to find someone else or, better yet, buy his own damn charger.

“Are you going in, Grimes?” he asks from behind me, his voice a low rumble that makes my nerves jitter even more.

I push open the door without responding and walk straight to my purse on the nightstand by the bed. Once I grab the charger, I bend to search for the wall receptacle. It has to be here somewhere. I search for it, but it’s not behind the dresser. Of course, it isn’t. Why would it be easy?

I bite my bottom lip, still bent over, and stretch farther to look behind the bed. Bingo!

I quickly plug the charger in, straighten to full height, and turn to face Ryan. He leans against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, and those damn eyes locked onto me.

It jolts me back to when we shared moments together, friendlier ones, when I thought he liked me before revealing his true intentions.

Corralling my feelings and garnering some sense of control, I cross my arms and sit on the bed. “It’s not going to charge itself.”

Ryan pushes off the doorway and pads across the room. Despite the tension knotting my throat, I watch him move. There’s a grace to it, a predator’s fluidity that awakens the butterflies in my stomach.

He stops in front of me, hands fumbling with the phone. I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not, but he’s intent on standing crotch-level right in front of me.

Usually, I’d just let it go, but for some reason, tonight, I just can’t.

“Excuse me.” I waggle my eyebrows. He looks down at me, sitting on the bed.

“Yes?”

“You know what you’re doing. Cut it out.”

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