Chapter Ten
Mia
Iwake up to the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears and the unfamiliar weight of a deliciously muscled arm draped across my waist.
But then my eyes open and…
Oh. Oh no.
The events of last night come flooding back in vivid, mortifying detail. The dinner with his parents. The snowstorm. The house. The tree.
And then...oh God, and then.
Ryder's arm tightens around me as he shifts in his sleep, pulling me closer against his chest. His skin is warm and solid against my back, and I can feel every ridge of muscle, every steady breath he takes.
I slept with him.
Not just sleptwithhim. I had earth-shattering, mind-melting, wake-the-neighbors sex with Ryder Scott in his half-renovatedhouse while snow fell outside and our oak tree stood witness through the bedroom window.
Shit. What does this mean? What does ANY of this mean?
My brain starts spiraling at warp speed, cycling through every possible interpretation of last night's events like I'm some kind of deranged relationship analyst.
Was it just sex? Really good, life-altering sex that made me see stars and possibly left permanent claw marks on his shoulders, but stilljustsex? Or was it something more?
Something that means we're... what? Back together? Dating?
And what about the fundraiser? The dinner with his parents? The house he told me he bought because ofourtree? Is this all part of some elaborate seduction plan, or does he actually—
"Morning, beautiful."
Ryder's voice is rough with sleep, and I can feel his lips brush against my shoulder. The contact sends heat spiraling through my body, which is both inconvenient and deeply unfair considering my current mental state.
I shoot upright so fast that Ryder's arm falls away from my waist, and I immediately scramble out of bed, clutching the sheet to my chest like it's armor.
"Um, I think I need a shower," I blurt out, making the fateful mistake of actually looking at him. "Jesus Christ, Ryder! Put that thing away!"
He glances down at himself with zero shame, then back up at me with a grin that's pure male satisfaction. "Put what away?"
"You KNOW what!"
"I'm not doing anything. It's morning. This is what happens in the morning." His grin widens and he doesn't even try to hide his… morning wood. "Especially after a night like last night."
"Shower. Right now. Where's your bathroom?"
"What's the hurry? You weren't complaining about it a few hours ago."
My face goes nuclear. "SHOWER. NOW. BYE."
"Down the hall, first door on the left, but—"
I'm already fleeing, sheet trailing behind me like the world's most inappropriate wedding dress.
When I step inside, Ryder's bathroom is a study in masculine neglect.
The shower is decent enough—good water pressure, thankfully—but there's a soggy towel crumpled on the floor that looks like it's been there since the dawn of time. Seriously. It's probably growing its own ecosystem by now.
"Gross, Ryder. Just... gross."
