A pang of sadness shot through her. Her sister never stayed in one city for long, but she’d hoped moving to Michigan would convince Viola to change her ways. “You could always stick around now that I’m living here.”
“We’ll see. Anyway, I’m gonna hit the hay bale for a few hours. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”
She’d never figured out if her sister’s mixing of clichés was intentional or not, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings by asking. “Love you, too. Bye.” She disconnected the call and Ryan pulled his attention from the wall back to her.
“Your sister’s unique.” He crossed his legs and smiled.
“Yes. She is.” Her chest grew tight. “She’s got a male friend. I think that’s her way of saying she’s got a boyfriend.”
His brows furrowed. “Okay. Does that bother you?”
“No. I thought you should know. In case you . . .” The look on his face told her he had no idea what she was talking about. She bit into her bagel and glanced away from him.
He chuckled. “You thought I was interested in her, didn’t you?”
“No.” Crap, she would not blush.
“You did. And you didn’t like it. You’re jealous.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “I’m not jealous.” Although she’d meant to say it firmly and convincingly, her voice came out so meek, even she didn’t believe it. Living with the man and being attracted to him was one thing, but having him know she cared enough to get jealous was dangerous to her mental health. It gave him power over her and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Yeah, you are.” He scooted his chair closer and leaned toward her, close enough his body heat and scent teased her with unspoken promises. “But you have no reason to be. I’m a one woman man, and the only woman I want is you.”
Her heart galloped wildly. She gulped. “Oh.”
“Let me take you out to dinner tonight.” His voice, low and rough, ran through her, igniting a fire in her core.
His eyes reminded her of the dream. She’d woken up before they got to the good stuff. “Dinner?” She shook her head to clear the sensual fog. “I can’t. Viola’s got a group of us going out tonight to show her boyfriend’s nephew a good time.”
“A good time, huh?” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
“Yeah.” Given the choice, she would’ve rather gone to dinner with Ryan, but her sister never took “no” for an answer. Of course, adding one more person to their group outing shouldn’t matter. “We’re going out to dinner and dancing if you want to come. I know you don’t like to dan—”
“Love to,” he interrupted, grabbing her hand. “Sounds like fun.” He brushed his thumb across the top of her hand and it was as if those nerve endings were connected to her nipples. They puckered against her bra, and although she didn’t look down, she knew they were likely poking out of her NYU T-shirt on display for Ryan’s view.
His other hand cupped the side of her face in his palm. “Portia?” His lips hovered barely an inch from hers, his minty breath warm on her mouth.
She closed her eyes.
“Until tonight,” he whispered.
His chair scraped across the tiled floor, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Damn.
Chapter 12
How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair,
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy!
William Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice, act 3, scene 2
Ryan glanced at his watch. He’d been waiting in the foyer for nearly an hour. He’d gotten dressed first then left the bedroom to allow her to get ready, but she was taking forever. What the heck took women so long?
To call it the day from hell would’ve been a massive understatement. It started when Ryan woke up before he got the chance to make love to Portia in his dream. His eyes had opened to her sleeping next to him, her thick hair spread out on the pillow. Like a siren, she beckoned him, a magnetic pull so strong, he feared he’d crash and burn. His dick was hard and aching, but it was the hollowness inside his chest that overwhelmed him. Waking up and not being able to take her into his arms was a living hell. The completeness he’d felt in his dream disappeared because Portia didn’t belong to him in the real world.
Of course, the dream had seemed real. He recognized the small village in Crete, Greece where the two of them celebrated their marriage. When he was sixteen, his entire family traveled there to celebrate Uncle Alexander’s birthday. It was the first time Alexander had visited his homeland since leaving with his parents at eight years old. Ryan and his brothers had complained for days as their uncle dragged them around Crete. For a bunch of teenage boys, spending day in and day out with their parents and extended family was the worst punishment they could’ve imagined. Ryan had big plans laid out for that summer and it hadn’t included learning about his heritage.