Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(46)

“We’re not together.” He touches my cheek, drifts his fingers across my skin so lightly I shiver. “It happened once.”

“And it was amazing.”

I shrug, trying to ignore the husky reverence in his voice. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. We probably shouldn’t be doing this. Any of this. I think I’m in over my head. No. Not think … I know I’m in over my head. “It shouldn’t happen again,” I whisper as he leans in, his nose brushing against the side of my face.

“Oh, it’s going to,” he whispers, his lips moving against my cheek. “You want it to. I bet if I slipped my hand beneath your dress I’d find you bare. Just like I asked.”

I close my eyes, praying that no one will find us here. Yes, we’ve maneuvered ourselves somehow into a darker corner of the party, but still. We’re not in complete hiding.

“And I bet if I slipped my fingers between your legs, I’d find you wet,” he continues, his velvety, deep voice weaving some sort of seductive spell on me. I’m almost tempted to dare him to see if I’m as wet as he imagines. “I bet I could make you come in seconds.”

A huff of surprised laughter escapes me. “Rather confident in your abilities, aren’t you?”

“Just remembering how I had you coming all over my face the last time I saw you.”

My entire body goes weak at his words. I open my eyes to find him tracing his finger along the plunging neckline of my dress, teasing at the sensitive skin between my breasts. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation here,” I protest breathlessly.

He smiles. “Let’s take it elsewhere, then.”

“Ryder …”

“Violet,” he mimics, slipping his finger beneath the fabric and touching my breast. “Your skin is so damn soft.”

My eyes fall shut when he strokes my nipple. “Please. Stop,” I murmur.

In an instant his hand is gone and his body heat disappears. Opening my eyes, I find he’s stepped completely away from me, his hands stuffed into his pockets once more, his expression neutral. Almost as bland as Zachary’s.

I hate it. Hate having him that far away from me. Hate even more the turbulent emotions swirling within me. I want him. I don’t. I like him, but not really. He’s so closed off most of the time. Treats life like it’s one big joke.

Sexually we share a strong connection. One I can’t deny. One I want to explore further.

But I would be stupid to even attempt it. Ryder McKay scares me.

“Don’t give me that sad little look, Violet.” He sounds cold, distant. Dismissive. “If you say no, I’m not about to push myself on you.”

I part my lips to say something but before I can, he walks away.

Chapter Fourteen

Ryder

“I can feel the sexual frustration pouring off of you in waves. Already frustrated, hmm? I told you she was an ice queen.”

I ignore Pilar and down my drink, setting the glass on the cocktail table beside me, the ice rattling with the force. “Fuck off,” I mutter.

“Oh dear, you are in a mood. What happened? Is she going to take Zachary back after all?” She scowls. “I certainly hope not. That means I’ll have to take drastic measures, and that is the last thing I want to do,” Pilar says drolly.

Meaning she would love to take drastic measures. Anything she can do to decimate Violet. “Leave it alone.”

“Hmm, I don’t like this. You’re being so mysterious. I hate it when you do that, you know? I always have. I don’t know near enough about you. And I’ve told you everything about me,” she says.

There are some things no one needs to know about my past, especially Pilar. She’d probably use any and all knowledge against me. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.” I turn to face her, wishing like hell she wasn’t here. Same with that dick-bag Zachary Lawrence. They cast a dark shadow on everything I try and do with Violet. For Violet.

To Violet.

Pilar shrugs her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a long column of a dress, strapless and black, stark among the pretty women dressed in pastels tonight. Her hair is slicked back off her face and her lips are the trademark bold red. As usual, she wants to stand out.

And she’s succeeded.

“Ah, I’ve been laying low.” A lie. Pilar doesn’t know how to lay low. “Zachary is in a mood, too. I saw him talking with Violet. She worked him into a froth.”

“He did the same to her.” I clamp my lips shut. Why the hell did I say that? Violet had been visibly upset and angry when I found them arguing. Hell, he was touching her, and the wave of fury that bled through me made me want to f*ck him up. As in make him bleed. I could have taken him. Easily. He’s a wimpy, pampered * and I’m a former street kid–slash–drug addict.

I’m just real good at pretending to be a pampered * like Lawrence.

After getting rid of him, I tried to calm Violet down, but she was pissed. More at Lawrence, I’m sure, but she took it out on me. Hell, seeing her so worked up had aroused me, sick f*ck that I am. I’d been ready to take her right there, not giving a damn who saw us together. But when she asked me to stop, that was it. I had to walk away.

No way could she ever accuse me of pushing myself on her. In this weird little game I’m playing, she calls all the shots—at least when it comes to if and when we have sex.