Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(100)

“Do you think … he’ll come after you?” His brows furrow in concern.

“No. I don’t know. It’s so hard to explain. You see …” I pause again and close my eyes briefly, struggling to find the right words. “Father didn’t want me to testify. My grandmother didn’t want me to at first either, but I was determined. Alan scared me. I was afraid he’d do this again and again, and keep hurting innocent girls. I couldn’t be responsible for that.”

“Of course. Jesus, Violet.” He pulls me to him and holds me so tight, I almost can’t breathe. But I like it. Being in his arms makes me feel safe. “You did the right thing, baby. Know that.”

His words are ringing in my head when the cab finally stops and we climb out. They still echo as we enter the modest building and ride the elevator up to his floor. There’s no doorman at Ryder’s building, no opulent lobby, and the elevator is old and rickety. When we exit from it, the hallway is dark and dim, not all of the lights are lit, and I glance around, surprised that he lives in such a place.

He’s always dressed impeccably. His suits are expensive, his watch pricey. I figured he’d live in a palace, an apartment as showy as Zachary’s because everyone knows Zachary loves to show off his wealth, even though he obtained plenty of it via credit.

Ryder stops in front of a door with the number 426 on it and pulls a key out of his pocket. I watch his nimble fingers as he unlocks the door and then holds it open for me so I can enter. I do so, my eyes widening when he flicks on the light switch close to the door, illuminating everything within.

“Home sweet home,” he says sardonically as he closes and locks the door.

It’s simple. The living area is small and the kitchen is galley style. There’s a black leather couch and love seat with a coffee table in front of it and a flat-screen TV on the wall. Typical for a bachelor pad. There’s not one single picture anywhere. Not a photo or a painting or a sketch. The walls are blank and white; the entire apartment has a blank quality to it, and seeing it makes my heart hurt.

This apartment isn’t a home. It’s just a place for him to rest his head, shower, and keep his things.

“It’s not as nice as your place,” he says as he approaches me from behind, his hands settling on my shoulders. “But it works.”

I don’t tell him that I think it’s awful. I don’t want to insult him.

Instead I turn and loop my arms around his neck, smiling up at him. “Take me to your bedroom.” I need to feel his hands on my naked body. I need his mouth and his words to cleanse me.

More than anything, I crave the connection only he can give.

He grabs my hand and leads me down a very short hallway, reaching into a dark room and flicking on the light so I see the giant bed that dominates the room. I walk inside, noting yet again that there are no photos, no anything covering the walls.

“What do you think?”

“It’s very … efficient,” I say for lack of a better term.

He chuckles. “You hate it.”

“It needs some prettying up. But I’m a girl. That’s what we’re supposed to say about bachelor pads.”

“Are you okay with this?” His expression turns solemn, and fear rushes through me that he’ll think I’m too delicate, too frayed after what I confessed.

But I feel clean. Free. All I want is him.

Just him.

“I’m perfectly okay with this.” I go to him and wrap my arms around his neck. “I want you, Ryder. Please?”

“How can I resist when you say please?” The relief in his gaze is obvious and the smile on his face wicked. “Did you see what’s hanging above you?”

I tilt my head back, a gasp escaping me when I stare at my reflection. “You have a mirror above your bed?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Don’t know why, though, since I never bring any women back here.”

So silly, but this admission pleases me. Not even Pilar? I’m not brave enough to ask because I’m afraid of his answer. “Then why do you have it?”

“I don’t know.” He glances up at the mirror again. “I watch myself sometimes when I jack off.”

My cheeks warm. He says it so casually, like it’s no big deal. “You don’t bring women back to your place at all?”

His gaze meets mine once more, intensely dark. “You’re the first.”

I wonder if he’s telling me the truth. He’s had plenty of experience. “Really?”

“Yes. Really.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose.

“I just find it so … strange.”

“You know what I’d like to see?” he asks, changing the subject.

“What?”

“You. Naked. On my bed.” He disentangles my arms from around his neck and steps away so he can study me, his gaze unwavering. “Strip, Violet.”

I turn my back to him and he undoes the zipper for me. I let the dress fall off my body then step out of it, wearing only my heels and my bra. I step out of the shoes and shed the bra, getting naked quickly before I crawl to the center of the surprisingly firm bed. Rolling over onto my back, I spread my legs and stretch out my arms, staring up at my reflection, startled by what I see.

Me. Completely naked. Completely open. I reach behind me and pull the band out of my hair, letting it fan across his stark white pillow. My breasts rise when I reach and I touch them. Cup them in both hands, play with my nipples with my thumbs.