Owning Violet (The Fowler Sisters #1)(87)

“You think I like it that you’re spending time with Pilar?” I throw back at him.

He remains quiet. His usual mode when he doesn’t know what to say.

“We’re almost finished,” I say quietly. “I’ll beg off and tell him I have a headache. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

“Ten minutes,” he says tightly. “If you don’t text me in ten minutes, there will be hell to pay.”

Everything inside of me goes liquid. “What do you mean?”

“Test me and find out.” And then he’s gone.

Releasing a shuddering sigh, I go into the women’s bathroom and wash my hands, then splash cool water on my heated cheeks. I tear off a paper towel and stare at my reflection as I dry my hands and pat at my cheeks.

Who am I? What has happened to me since Ryder so casually walked into my life and turned it upside down? I’m pretending to want to be with my ex-boyfriend while texting my lover on the side. The very man who demands that I meet him at my place or there will be hell to pay.

I remember what he did to me last night. His hand around my throat as he f*cked me … when he spanked me …

God. That had been so shocking. Yet I want more. I crave more.

On shaky legs, I return to my table with Zachary and settle in, grabbing my glass of water and gulping it all down in a few swallows.

“You all right?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

“I have a terrible headache. All the stress I’ve been dealing with lately …” I offer him a trembling smile, hoping my subtle guilt trip works. “I’m afraid I need to cut this short.”

“I understand.” He leaps to his feet and helps me out of my chair as if I’m fragile. I let him escort me out of the restaurant, regret filling me that I didn’t enjoy my meal. My nerves are frazzled, my mind is fuzzy, and between my legs I’m wet and throbbing.

Because I know soon I’ll be with Ryder. And I’m almost hoping there will be hell to pay.

How sick am I?

The moment I enter the lobby of my building I see him.

Pacing near the bank of elevators, the expression on his face fierce. He doesn’t even notice me at first, what with the way he’s scowling and staring at the ground, and I watch him for one unguarded moment, loving the way he checks his cell. In the hopes he has a message from me, perhaps?

I clear my throat and he whirls around, his expression softening in an instant. But he remains coolly impassive, keeping his distance as I approach him and reach out, pressing the button for the penthouse floor.

“Hi,” I murmur, stepping back.

“Hello,” he greets in return, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his dark-rinse jeans. He looks amazing. The spring night has turned cool and he’s wearing a black Henley shirt that hugs his torso, his biceps straining against the sleeves. I always see him in suits—or naked—and I savor these moments when I get to admire him in such casual clothing.

He looks good no matter what he wears.

“Having a nice evening?” he asks as if he’s a complete stranger making polite conversation.

“Not really,” I admit truthfully.

He raises a single brow, the subtle move so sexy it takes my breath away. “And why’s that?”

“I was with a man I don’t … like very much.”

“That’s a shame.”

“I know.” I pause, deciding whether I should say what I want or not. I go for it. “I’d much rather spend my time with someone else.”

“Really?” The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Ryder holds out his arm, indicating I should enter the car first. He follows in after me and leans against the wall opposite of where I stand. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like in order to get what we want.”

I press my lips together and employ one of his tricks by saying nothing.

The doors close and the elevator starts to rise. I remain where I stand and so does he, but the palpable tension between us grows with every second that passes, with every floor we climb.

“So. Was I late?” I ask, my voice small, my insides quaking with anticipation.

“Did you want to be?” he asks.

“You said there would be hell to pay if I was.”

A smile curls his beautiful lips. “Are you telling me you’re in the mood to pay, Violet? Or should I say … play?”

Oh, God. He’s so bad. “Is that what we’re doing? Playing?”

He stares at me, his hands gripping the rail behind him. His stance is casual, but I can feel the tension in him. He’s coiled tight, ready to pounce, and I can only hope he’s ready to unleash all of that built-up sexual tension all over me.

The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. I exit without looking back, feeling his magnetic presence as he falls into step behind me. I stop to unlock my door, stiffening when he presses close, my breath catching as he trails a finger across the exposed skin along my shoulder and the back of my neck.

“Did he touch you?” he asks, his voice low, rumbling from deep within his chest. He doesn’t have to say Zachary’s name. I know exactly who he’s talking about.

I shake my head, my fingers fumbling with the lock. “N-no.”

“Good.” He steps even closer, his entire body pressed against mine, and I close my eyes, savoring the hard, delicious feel of him. “Open the door, Violet.”