The Ruby Riot Series: Box Set Part 98

Nate sits, the mattress sinking beneath him. "Pa.s.sive-aggressive behaviour? That's hypocritical."

"And exhausting."

"You shared a bed with me once before."

"Only because you pa.s.sed out drunk and forgot where you were."

He flops backwards. "Jesus, Riley. I'll even keep my clothes on if it bothers you that much."

Nate in a flannel s.h.i.+rt and baggy jogging bottoms, lying on a floral-patterned bed in a pub. With me. I laugh. "If I was you, I wouldn't want to wear those."

"Says the chick in cat pyjamas. We could both take them off?" I narrow my eyes. "Kidding! It's too f.u.c.king cold, and unless you want to warm me up, no way am I stripping."

Nate. Naked. With me. Unable to push the image aside, I try to leave. "I'll go."

Nate steps in front of the door. "Haven't we bonded over Scrabble? I didn't cheat, that counts for something."

I sit on the bed, tired after too much drink and dealing with another h.e.l.l day stuck here.

"You won't sleep on the sofa," he continues.

"Why are you insistent, Nate? Do you think I'll be unable to resist you if we climb into bed together?"

His mouth twitches. "You know it'll happen eventually, right?"

"It will not!"

He crosses his arms. "Prove it. Get into bed with me. If you don't, I'll know it's because you want to ride my d.i.c.k."

"OhmiG.o.d! Do you seriously think -"

"I bet you're picturing that now, aren't you?"

"No!" Yes. "You're disgusting, Nate."

"Mmm hmm."

"Are you guaranteeing I won't try to take the bed by behaving like this?" I retort.

"No." He bites his lip and bounces onto the bed, then lies with his hands behind his head. Thank G.o.d for shapeless clothes. "Of course not."

Like I can't see through his game... "Really? Well tough." I lie next to him, far enough away not to touch. The thought of heading into the cold lounge to sleep, and Nate winning, isn't appealing. "Do not touch me."

"I won't, if you can keep your hands off me."

In a move I could regret, spurred on by exhaustion, I pull back the sheets. I take one of the pillows and place it in the centre of the bed. Aware of Nate's scrutiny, I climb in and lie at the very edge of the bed, facing the window.

The bed moves as Nate climbs beneath the bedclothes too. The light remains on. My heart thumps and my tiredness switches to high alert as I antic.i.p.ate what happens next. Nate giggles and I relax. Giggling Nate isn't a seductive Nate.

I'm drifting off when Nate speaks. "Riley."

"Yes?"

"I'm drunk."

"You already told me."

"Wish you were drunk too."

"I'm glad I'm not."

"Why?"

"After last time."

"Can I ask you something?"

"What? I'm tired."

"Did you ever tell anybody?" His voice is low. Confused, I turn to look at him. "I don't think you did, but I'm not sure."

"About the non-s.e.x? n.o.body would've believed me anyway."

"No. The other thing."

I am monumentally pleased that Nate is covered in his unattractive flannel s.h.i.+rt, but this doesn't detract from the curve of his too perfect cheekbones and pursed, kissable lips. He hasn't shaved for a couple of days either and that adds to his attraction.

"What I told you the night we last shared a bed." Nate turns his head, the s.p.a.ce between us constricting. "What did I say? I can't remember half of it."

"You were in a mess over what happened to Tegan and that sleaze who drugged her, blaming yourself. Jax had threatened to punch you and you were keeping out of his way. You didn't make much sense, talking about a girl. I couldn't figure out if it was someone on the tour or the past or what."

"Weird, I went to see you, huh?"

"Nate, how much do you remember?"

"Not much. That's why I'm asking you."

"You thought my room was yours and spent five minutes trying to break into my hotel room because your key card didn't fit. When I opened the door, you basically stumbled in and lay on the bed."

Nate snorts. "Really? When I woke up I thought you'd invited me."

"How likely was that to be true?"

"Yeah, that's what confused the h.e.l.l out of me for a couple of days."

I smile too. "And me."

He turns onto his side to face me. "But what I told you, have you ever told anybody else?"

"No, because I can't remember."

Nate's eyes widen and he props himself up on one elbow. "You can't remember?"

"I can't remember anything you'd worry about me telling other people. Unless it's that you were in love once, and it ended and broke you. That's not exactly blackmail material."

"I didn't say why?"

"Maybe. I fell asleep when you wouldn't shut up."

Nate laughs. Really laughs and lies on his back again. "Man, that's hilarious. I thought you knew, that you decided you had some kind of hold over me, and that's why you treated me the way you did."

Nate drops into silence, and I mull over the events in the hotel room the night we were natural and open. I listened to a distraught Nate who made no sense, held him, stupid enough to kiss him. Nate stopped at a kiss even though I wouldn't have. I wasn't sober and let's face it, I hadn't had s.e.x with anyone for over a year. A guy I'd fought my attraction to since we arrived on tour together was in my bed, and for a split second, I didn't care. Nate's confusion when I kissed him switched to slow, gentle kisses I never expected. The Nate Campbell I'd heard about would've had my clothes off in seconds.

"Maybe it just wasn't the right time for us," he says quietly and looks back at the ceiling.

"Or maybe we avoided a lot more problems by walking away from each other."

"Maybe."

How could the man in the room with me be the man who behaved the way he did? The disgusting, disrespectful guy who threw me to one side and looked elsewhere when I wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Which one is here with me now?

I sit. "Actually, I think I should sleep on the sofa."

"What did I do?"

"Confused me."

"We don't have to talk anymore. Look, I'll sleep over here and won't touch you." He rolls onto his side away from me.

I hug my knees to my chest, staring at the moonlight filtering through the heavy curtains. What's happening here? I continue to replay the night in the hotel room in my mind; but the only secret he left me with is that underneath everything, he's sensitive enough to have loved once before. Now the man pretends he doesn't have a heart. Is that the secret?

Was I touching that heart and he needed to build more layers to convince himself he didn't give a s.h.i.+t?

Nate's breathing deepens and, sure he's asleep, I shuffle down in the bed, closing my eyes. He'd better not snore as loudly as the last time we slept together.

Who is Nate Campbell? I don't think anybody knows. I don't think he knows either. But then who is Riley Sawyer? My heart was betrayed too and is now guarded against the world. Like Nate, I also live with a constructed persona, and refuse to reveal all of myself to people I work with. The guilt over hiding Josh from my life grows. Why am I scared about the judgment of others?

The harder I clash with Nate, the stronger the friction grinds at the walls between us. This has to stop before Nate breaks through and into my heart.

14.

RILEY.

I wake with my face pressed against Nate's flannel-covered chest and an arm slung across him. Nate's arm is curled around my waist, and the pillow I put between us last night is above my head. His warmth encompa.s.ses me, steady heartbeat against my cheek.

What the actual f.u.c.k?

How drunk was I?

And why does this have to feel natural and good?

I tense and listen to Nate's breathing. Is he still asleep? What the h.e.l.l did I do?

No, I didn't have s.e.x with Nate. Not unless we both put our clothes back on and it was so quick, I can't feel the after-effects. I've heard about - and almost experienced - Nate and it wouldn't be quick, or forgettable.

I slowly withdraw my arm from around Nate, but he seizes my hand. "Morning."

s.h.i.+t.

I move my face and bury it into the pillow so he doesn't get the pleasure of witnessing my embarra.s.sment.

"I was asleep. Didn't realise," I mumble and wait for the smarta.r.s.e comment.

"That's okay. I can't help my natural magnetism."

I pull my hand away from his and roll onto my back. "That must be it." Please make him shut up.

"Kinda nice though."

"What?"

"You wanting to cuddle me. Proves my point."

I twist my head. "What point?"

"You want me."

Refusing to let him get a rise out of me, I throw back the covers and march into the bathroom, glad he gave me an excuse to walk away.

"I told you, you only need to ask. I'm happy to oblige!" he calls after me.

Taking shaky breaths, I grip the sink and stare at my pale face and tangled hair in the mirror. Is he right? No. I don't like him. I really don't like him. I repeat the phrase over and over, muttering under my breath, as if that would make a difference. The girl in the mirror knows I'm lying.

How long can I stay in this place and stay sane around Nate?

I focus on brus.h.i.+ng my hair and teeth, to give Nate enough time to leave the room. Then I can dress and pretend this situation didn't happen. Tonight I'm on the sofa. If I walk out and he's still there, ready with a smug look or comment, I'm going to slap him.

But why blame Nate?