Page 46 of Redemption

“You’re not bothering me.” He patted the side of the bed. “We went swimming earlier. You’ve seen me without my shirt on.”

“True, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“I told you before, don’t apologize. Want to come in?”

Though now she’d mentioned he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he’d beckoned her to his bed, he was tempting himself. Not that he wanted her in his bed. She’d been victimized. Hell, he wasn’t a monster. But the idea of her curled against his bare chest?

He sucked in a breath and held it, puffing out his cheeks before he let it out.

“Do you get nightmares?” she asked, still not moving.

“I’m not having a conversation with you one foot out the door.”

Victoria picked her head up and held his eye. “I should get back to my room.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

She pulled her lip into her mouth. “Because I want to sit on that bed with you more than I think I should.”

Ryder kicked his legs from out of the covers and hit his feet before he could think of reasons to stop. In three steps, he found himself in front of her and took her hand, his thumb gently running over her knuckles, and clasped her fingers. He hadn’t moved abruptly, but he had been fast. That was the sniper in him.Smooth.

She didn’t balk, only dropped her hold on the door she’d clung to like it’d been her life raft. The thump of his heartbeat reached his eardrums, but no other sound surrounded them as Ryder reached behind her and tapped the door shut. They stood there in the dark, Victoria in the cute pajamas she’d been sleeping in and him in his boxer briefs. Thank God for the cover of darkness because he was half-hard just standing there, and damn it, he didn’t get it. Nothing about Victoria screamed, fuck me. Nothing inside him said he wanted to. But they had a connection that urged them together.

“Sit with me,” his voice rasped. He gave an easy tug, and she followed. Ryder let go of her hand and crawled back to where he’d been burrowed before and propped himself against the backboard.

Victoria gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t want to push her, didn’t know how much of this was nerves—figuring out what this was. He had no clue. How much stemmed from what happened to her at the hands of Ivan Mikhailov?Maybe none of it.Perhaps Victoria was a woman who wouldn’t be caught dead in a half-dressed man’s room in the middle of the night, and this was too much to handle. Not that he was making a move. What was this? Hell, Ryder was lost as he sensed she was. But her saying that she wanted to be there? He’d make it happen.

“Do I scare you?” he asked.

“No.”

Did she tense saying that?Maybe he made the wrong move asking her to sit down. “I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t.”

“Then why do you look like you’re going to run?”

Victoria pivoted. “You don’t have to take care of me.”

His eyes went wide. “I know.”

“If you feel some sort of responsibility, you can stop.”

“I don’t. Or I do, but it’s not a bad thing.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I—is that what this is about? You don’t think I want to be here?” He leaned forward and took her hand. “Because you’re right. I don’t have to. I could’ve popped in, checked on you, and left. I’m here because I want to be, because I like spending the time here.”

“Mia and Colby are your friends.”

“I have friends all over the world, Victoria. You’re not there.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re here.”

Her rigid posture eased, but she didn’t relax.

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