Ricochet by Skye Jordan Page A

chosen a stranger to fuck with abandon was so she wouldn’t have to see him again. Wouldn’t have to face the reality of all the nasty things she’d done to him, with him, let him do to her. Wouldn’t be tempted to do it all again. Wouldn’t develop a desire for even more.
    Because she wasn’t doing more, dammit.
    She rounded her desk and stalked for the door.
    “Rachel—” Nathan started, his voice filled with apology and a let’s-work-this-out tone.
    She sliced him a glare and held up a hand to silence him. After slamming the trailer door, she closed all three windows—heat be damned—and turned on Nathan. She pulled off her glasses and tossed them on her desk. “What in the fuck ?”
    “You look…” His voice was smooth and deep and as dreamy as she remembered… dammit . His gaze slid over her, appreciative, hungry. “Beautiful.”
    Her chest constricted. “Nathan…” She couldn’t keep the whine from her voice. “This is my work . These people are like family to me.”
    “I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, as calm as she was frantic. “I thought you’d work at some central office downtown. I didn’t expect to see you on a stunt set.”
    “That is so beside the fucking point.” And her thoughts were so jumbled, she couldn’t even identify the point. All she knew was she’d been ambushed. And this was a real problem. And she was so pissed .
    “You might want to move the strap on your right shoulder a little farther in,” he said, gesturing on his own body. “Looks like I left a bite mark—”
    “You knew who I was,” she blurted out, to both shut him up and soothe the tingle of awareness with the reminder of how and when and why he’d given her that bite mark. “You heard my phone call to Troy.”
    “I did.” His gaze kept skimming her body. “God, that dress—”
    “You knew I was there to pick you up.”
    “I did. But I forgot to tell you before you left this morning, that last night you earned the right to wear those boots, baby.”
    “Oh my God.” She burned with the memory of riding him, forward, backward, hard and fast, slow and deep. “Why?” she cried, throwing her arms out to the side. “ Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Would you have asked me back to the hotel if you’d known?”
    “No, but you didn’t know that.”
    A lopsided smile curved his lips. “I had a damned good idea. And I really wanted you.”
    Rachel covered her face with both hands, rubbed at the tension, then let them drop in futility.
    “I want to remind you,” he added, his tone conciliatory, “that I tried to tell you. Twice.”
    “God.” She drove her hands into her hair . “Please tell me Troy doesn’t know.”
    “No, I didn’t tell Troy.” He sauntered toward her, and his scent wrapped around her, touched her nose, made her ache. “Why is that so important to you? Do you have a thing for him?”
    “ What? No.” Okay, that had come out wrong. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I told you, he’s like my brother. Besides it wouldn’t matter if I did. I meant what I said last night. No complications. And if the people here found out, it would be a big complication for me.”
    “I hear you,” he said, voice reassuring. “We’re on the same page, Rachel.”
    “No. You’re here. That is the epitome of complication.”
    He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of complication?”
    Unease fluttered in her stomach. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it would cause problems.”
    “Mmm,” he hummed. “I don’t think so. I think you might not want anyone close to see your naughty sex-kitten side.”
    “Don’t go there,” she warned.
    “I think—”
    “I don’t care what you think.”
    “That you’ve got this sweet thing”—he gestured to her head to toe—“all dialed in. The guys here see you the way Troy sees you—as a little sister. And that keeps you safe. Because if they knew what a nuclear bomb you were in bed,