Skylar's POV
The road dust still clung to my sneakers, gritty under my feet as a bike rode towards me and stopped. I couldn't get enough of these bike riders. But I stood in front of the man I'd almost been flattened by earlier. My chest rose and fell too quickly, partly from the sprint I'd just made running away from home, partly from the fact that he had the audacity to glare at me like I'd been the one speeding around like a maniac on a death wish.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I meant it to be, but I was still vibrating with anger from earlier. "Do you just run over random people for fun?"
His jaw flexed. "I didn't hit you."
"Not for lack of trying," I shot back, folding my arms. The sunset light hit him just enough to turn his messy dark hair into a halo of danger. He was still straddling his motorcycle like it was some throne, hands on the handlebars, body taut.
"You were in the middle of the road," he said, voice low, like I'd just inconvenienced the king of the universe. "Maybe don't run blindly into traffic?"
My nails dug into my palms. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Should I kneel before stepping off the sidewalk next time?"
He swung one leg over the bike and closed the distance between us in three strides, boots crunching on the gravel. The scent of leather and gasoline hit me like a punch heady, intoxicating, infuriating. His eyes too intense, too wolf locked onto mine.
"You've got a mouth on you, princess," he muttered.
"Better than having nothing but air between your ears," I shot back without thinking.
That was when something in his expression shifted. The annoyance didn't fade, exactly 7it simmered lower, replaced by a heat I couldn't quite name. His shoulders squared, his hands going to his hips. His gaze dropped to my mouth for just a second too long before dragging back up to meet mine.
"God," he said, almost like a growl, "I'm too horny to be having a conversation with you right now."
I blinked. My brain short-circuited. "What?"
"You heard me," he said, tilting his head, like he was daring me to call him out on it. "You're standing there, yelling at me, looking at me like you want to rip my throat out, and all I can think about is ripping your clothes off instead."
A normal person would've blushed, stammered, or stormed off. Me? I snorted. "Funny. I'm too horny to listen to your horny ass right now."
For a second, silence. Then his lips curved into something wicked half smirk, half challenge. "That so?"
"That so," I repeated, squaring up to him, refusing to back down. My heart was a drum in my chest. I didn't know if it was because of the lingering adrenaline, the fight with my family, or the fact that his nearness was doing something I didn't want to admit to.
"Call me Ryder's," he said.
Yeah I responded
"Gimme a name miss, don't piss me."
I looked at him for a while and admired his stern self. Then, "Skylar."
"Okay Sky."
I liked the way he said it though.
The air between us thickened, like the heat had condensed into something tangible. His gaze didn't waver, roaming my face with slow deliberation. I hated that I noticed the way his pupils widened, the way his breathing deepened.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice lower now, almost husky.
"And you're distracting me from my dangerous walk down the street," I replied.
One corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't laugh. Instead, he stepped just close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. My resolve faltered for half a second, my pulse hitching.
I needed to keep talking, keep the upper hand. "What, you think you're the first guy to look at me like that?"
"No," he said simply, "but I might be the first one who could make good on it."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Cocky much?"
"Confident," he corrected.
We stood there, locked in that stare-down, the world around us fading into background noise the chirp of crickets, the distant hum of his bike's engine cooling, the blood pounding in my ears. I could feel the tension pulling taut between us like a wire about to snap.
Some part of me screamed to turn around, to keep walking, to not let this escalate. But another part a louder, reckless part was leaning in ever so slightly.
Ryder's gaze flicked to my lips again, slow enough for me to catch it. "If you keep looking at me like that, Skylar, I won't be responsible for what happens."
I raised my chin. "Good thing I don't care."
His eyes darkened. For a second, I thought he was going to close the gap and kiss me right there in the middle of the road. My breath caught, my body leaning forward without my permission.
Instead, he stepped back, just enough to make my skin ache with the loss of his heat. "Get on the bike."
"What?" I asked, startled.
"Get. On. The. Bike," he repeated, each word deliberate.
I hesitated, my pride warring with my practicality. My bag felt heavier on my shoulder, the thought of walking alone suddenly less appealing with the fading light.
Still, I couldn't give him the satisfaction. "And what if I don't want to?"
His smirk returned, slow and knowing. "Then you'll just keep standing here, staring at me like you want to jump me."
My cheeks heated, but I refus
ed to look away. "You wish."
His smile widened, teeth flashing. "Yeah. I do."