Page 55 of Bite Your Tongue

“Trust me,” he whispers.

As guarded as I’ve tried to be since the shit show with Rowan, everything that comes from his lips seems genuine. So far, he’s given me no reason not to trust him.

I lean against him, and my loose T-shirt brushes against his bare chest just before I press my lips to his. “Okay,” I whisper before kissing him again. “I trust you.”

I can see the exact moment it happens. The moment when Saylor Sawyer drops the mask and shows me who she really is.

Someone who is vulnerable, despite the way she’s been trying to hide it. A person who believes in true love and wants it for herself, even though she’s spent all our time together saying that’s not what she needs. I’ve seen through her wall the whole time, but I didn’t want to force her to show me herself; I wanted her to trust me enough for her to do it on her own.

But then she said the wordsI trust you, and my heart hurt. The secret I’ve held inside since I found out that it was her in that sex tape or that I accidentally saw a few mere seconds of it—well, that’s something I should tell her. But I’m a coward. I’m too fucking scared that it’ll ruin what we’ve built. So, like a bitch, I keep it inside, even though I know I can’t run from this forever. One day, it’ll come out, I’m sure.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” I murmur against her lips. “I want to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock, choking it with desperation, the way it always does.”

“Yes,” she moans, nipping my bottom lip.

She’s so beautiful with her wet hair and oversize T-shirt on over her panties. She hasn’t even touched me yet on this trip because I got so turned on from licking her pussy while fingering her ass that I came on myself.

So, until the ball drops, I plan to bury my cock inside of her, filling her over and over again with my cum until my cock can’t physically do it anymore. And then … I plan to do it all over again.

With a blanket draped around her bare body and my briefs on, we peek out the window to Times Square as the countdown kicks off. I’ve never been the guy who stays awake to watch theball drop. Unless I was at a party and it happened to be on the television, I didn’t give a shit about witnessing it. Even right now, I’m far more concerned with kissing Saylor than I am that damn ball. But here I stand, eyes locked on it.

I loop my arm around her back, digging my fingertips into her side. When the countdown gets to ten, she gives me a quick glance, her eyes wide with excitement and her smile big.

“Ten, nine,” we say together, and she turns her gaze back to the ball, resting the side of her head on my body. “Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!”

We both cheer, and I pull her against my body, before leaning down. I plant a long kiss on her lips, and I swear I can feel her heart beating.

Pulling back, I grin down at her. “Happy New Year, Brat. Glad I got to be the lucky son of a bitch who was here to ring it in with you.”

“Me too,” she whispers, her smile still broad. She wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tightly. “Thank you, Ryder. No one has ever done things for me the way you have. Thank you so much.”

And with those words, my heart melts in my chest like I’m a fucking pussy.

Isit in the New York airport, waiting to board my plane. I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face, even though my cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. Last night was out of this world, and I know I’m getting in too deep with Ryder, but I’m enjoying myself too much to pull away.

I know I need to tell my brother that we’ve been spending time together. After all, he certainly deserves to know. To be honest, I’m shocked he hasn’t found out already because Ryder is a professional athlete. How we haven’t gotten photographed together is beyond me.

I’m smart enough to know that the sex we’ve been having—even before we agreed to give this thing a try, isn’t the kind you have when it’s just casual and fun. Unless it’s a romance movie or novel and the main characters secretly have feelings for each other. It runs deeper than that. As cliché as it may sound, when Ryder is inside of me, I feel him in every part of my body.

“Well, well, well, look at this pretty little thing we have here,” a voice drawls from behind me.

Instantly, my scalp prickles, and my stomach anxiously churns.

Fucking Rowan.

What are the chances that on New Year’s Day, he’s here, at the same fucking airport as me?

Universe … unkindly fuck yourself.

I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him, and I don’t want to either. He’s truly the last person I want to have a run-in with, and yet here he is.

From the corner of my eye, I see him walking around the aisle of chairs. Unlucky for me, he plops his ass down in the seat right next to mine. His scent hits my nostrils—a scent I used to find so hot, but now makes me want to gag. It’s too strong and too … douchey. I’m pretty sure if I could look at the bottle, it’d probably be called Douchebag. And that would be fitting too.

I don’t say a word. Instead, I just continue to sit in my seat, staring straight ahead. He doesn’t deserve my words, and I don’t owe him shit. Well, besides a swift kick to his hairy nutbag.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

He reaches for my arm, but I snatch his fingers, bending them backward.

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