The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,55

gives me…

Him’s got the devil in his eyes.

“Like you want me to.”

His keen perceptiveness is without a doubt his most annoying quality. Sometimes it feels like I can’t hide anything from him.

“Hey, I’m not the one who suggested an entire night,” I remind him. “I told you, one time and I’d be good.”

Canting his head to the side, he takes slow, deliberate steps toward me. “You’re saying you don’t want me now that I’ve been inside you?”

Ha! If anything, I want him more. But I fight to keep that from showing on my face.

I brilliantly answer with a shrug.

He studies me for a moment, eyes searching mine, before a grin touches the corners of his mouth. “You’re full of shit, duchess.”

When I cock out my hip, his eyes track the movement. “You want to test that theory?”

His eyes bounce back up to mine. “Yeah, I do.”

Instead of taking me into his arms when he gets within dick’s reach, he bypasses me entirely. Wheeling around in curiosity, I watch in frozen wonderment as he prowls down my hallway, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. When he shrugs out of it and lets it fall onto my hardwood floor, my jaw drops.

Naked from the waist up, Ryder is a fantastical sight.

Flawless tanned skin, lean muscles toned to perfection, and a tapered waist that frames the tightest, most spectacular ass I’ve ever seen.

When he moves to pull the tie over his head, I call out, “Leave the tie.”

He stops at the end of the hall, twisting his torso to glance back at me. Smirking, he leaves the tie on. “Let’s see how long you last before you decide you want me again. But FYI, you might want to get over your stubborn pride sooner rather than later. Otherwise, I’m going to get this party started all by myself.”

The old hag starts hand-fanning herself. Either these are hot flashes, or I’m having feelings I haven’t had since Nixon was in the White House.

Okay, everyone needs to cool it. So, he’s managed to surprise me.

He peeks his head into my bedroom and is about to step through the doorway when his attention snags on the opposite side of the hall where the bathroom is.

He does a double take.

Then he disappears inside the room. The next thing I hear is, “Oh, this will do just fine.”

Okay, now he’s managed to reel me in.

My feet can’t help but follow him down the hallway and into the spacious bathroom. He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at the mammoth bathtub that I spent my hard-earned first-ever paycheck on.

“Very nice, duchess. This looks new.”

I nod even though he’s got his back to me. “I renovated it earlier this year.”

“Take your comforts seriously, do you?”

“Shouldn’t everyone?”

He somehow manages to reach behind him and blindly snatch up my arm without turning around. Shocked, I stumble in my heels when he hauls me around to face him.

“Naked,” he grates out. Almost menacingly. “Get there.”

The command dropkicks me out of my surprised stupor. Notching up my chin, I settle comfortably back into my saucy sweet spot. “I thought I was in charge first.”

Emotions flit across his chiseled face, as if he’s deciding whether or not to fight me on that. But the lust in his navy eyes sparkles too brightly for him to risk challenging me.

He releases his grip on my arm, one finger at a time. “Tell me what you want from me, duchess.”

God, the need in his voice. It’s thick and scratchy, like he’s munching on a mouthful of broken glass. Familiar confidence rolls over me. Hello there, old friend. There are an infinite number of filthy demands I could make on him right now. But one in particular stands out above all the rest.

“Take off my clothes.”

His nostrils flare.

The tension between us mounts as I fight the urge to dive on him and slobber all over his egg-carton abs. His smooth, sculpted chest is a damn work of art. The impulse to attack simmers between us, making our desire that much sharper. Our irrepressible need that much more acute.

One tug of his hand and my shirt is untucked from my skirt. Unbuttoned, spread wide. He doesn’t bother looking down at his hands as he strips me. Making quick work of the task, he releases the front clasp of my bra.

Then he looks down.

Snaring me in that penetrating gaze. My skin feels singed, it burns so hot.

With more gentleness than I expect, he nudges my shirt and bra off