Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(26)

His reply hits my in-box so quickly it shocks me.

I arranged for us to have a private room so we won’t disturb anyone. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted your undivided attention while I talk to you.

Oh. Swallowing hard, I hit REPLY.

If that’s what you want, then you’ll have it.

I let my finger hover over the mouse for one beat. Two. Before I finally close my eyes and hit SEND.

That’s what I want more than anything. Looking forward to tonight.

R.

The pleasure that blooms within me makes me smile and I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head. I feel like an alien has taken over my body and is making me say these things, think these things. I have never in my life sent any sort of innuendo-filled email to anyone, not even Zachary. A few moments with Ryder and I act like I want him to jump me.

I sort of do want him to jump me.

Dropping my hands from my face, I reach out and pick up the phone, dialing Rose’s extension. She answers on the first ring with a hurried hello, sounding completely distracted.

“I know I just broke up with Zachary …” I pause, and Rose butts in before I can say another word.

“If you’re telling me you’re taking him back I will hang up on you. Right. Now. And I won’t talk to you again, either. I don’t care if we’re sisters. I don’t care if we work together. I won’t let you go back to that tool,” Rose says, sounding fierce, in her typical defensive I will kill anyone who hurts you sisterly way.

“No. No. Don’t worry about that.” I pause, suddenly feeling scared to say anything about Ryder to Rose. She’ll tell me I’m crazy. Warn me that I’m rushing into something I probably can’t handle. He’s too much for me. I know it. I think he knows it, too. But that’s not stopping him.

And it’s not stopping me either.

“Really?” Rose asks cautiously.

I can’t tell her. Not yet. I should keep this my little secret for a while longer. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since Zachary and I split and I’m already thinking of someone else. Rose will freak. Or think I’m having a mental breakdown. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sticking to it. I won’t take him back.”

“No matter how hard he tries to win you over?” Rose sounds skeptical, not that I can blame her. I’ve given in before, though we’ve never really split up, so this is a new development in our history.

“No matter how hard he tries,” I promise. “Not that he’ll try. He’s leaving in less than two weeks. It’s temporary, but I’m assuming Father will give him this promotion. He’ll move on. I’ll move on. It’s over.”

“If you say so. I think the idiot will realize what he’s lost and come back begging.”

I laugh. God, I hope not. He is the last thing I want to deal with. I’m so over him. “I doubt it.”

“I’m so proud of you. You sound so strong, so sure of yourself,” Rose murmurs. “You can do this. I know you can.”

“I know I can, too.” I do. And I think using Ryder as the perfect distraction will help.

Or hurt. I can’t tell yet.

But that doesn’t scare me enough to stop me.

Chapter Eight

Ryder

Anticipation hums through my veins as I watch Violet exit the building, that sexy-as-f*ck dress she’s wearing standing out amidst the sea of black and navy and gray that passes by between us. I’m standing on the edge of the sidewalk waiting for her and it’s getting colder by the minute. No one can count on spring in New York. One day—yesterday—it was a perfect high of seventy-five degrees. Today’s high was sixty and the temperature is dropping at a rapid rate. Violet is wearing the short-sleeved dress with no coat or sweater, a black Chanel bag slung over her shoulder, her hair still as sleek and perfect as it was when I saw her first thing this morning, and all I can think is how vivid she is. How startlingly beautiful and perfect.

And how badly I want to mess her up. Tug the band out of her hair and watch as those long, dark waves fall around her face. Place my lips on the spot where her pulse throbs at the base of her neck and suck there. Nibble her skin. Lick her. Learn her taste. Let my hands wander, memorizing every curve …

She catches sight of me and the shy smile that lights up her face sends a buzz of awareness straight through me. She pushes her way through the crowd until she’s standing directly in front of me, the scent of her, the heat of her lithe body despite the cold surrounding me, drawing me in. Her lipstick is as red as her dress, reminding me of the shade she wore last night, and I have the sudden urge to kiss it right off of her. Smear it, get it on my lips, let her mark me.

If I have my way, I will definitely mark her. In primitive, sexual ways that she’ll keep hidden beneath her clothes. I’ll know those marks are there, though.

I swipe a hand across the back of my tense neck. Jesus, something about this woman fills me with confusing, possessive thoughts. Thoughts I don’t normally have. I don’t care about anyone but myself. I’ve had to be this way. It’s the only way I survived when I was growing up. I raised myself for the most part.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she says, sounding breathless. Can’t help but wonder if she’d sound that breathless just after I make her come. “I had a last-minute call and it took longer than I expected.”