Chapter 12
I am mortified. Utterly appalled we were caught. God only knows what fifteen more minutes would’ve led him to see. I was so lost in his touch, in the feelings he provoked in me, I forgot where we stood—in public! Call me a good girl, a goody-goody, but that…that wasn’t me. I don’t do those types of things. Not in freaking public, anyway.
I’m an idiot.
I toss my damp towel over the hook on the back of the door and turn back to the mirror, running a brush through my wet hair.
There’s a knock on the door and my heart strikes my chest before leaping into my throat. I stare at myself in the mirror as if conjuring up courage or a miracle to appear from the reflection. Another knock has my feet heading down the hallway.
“Why’d you leave?” Ryker asks languidly.
He’s still in the clothes he was wearing in the gym. “I needed to,” I answer.
He takes in my wet hair. “We could’ve showered together,” he says and then scrapes his teeth along his bottom lip. “I still need one.”
“Ryker—”
“Do you realize how fucking sexy my name sounds when you say it?”
I close my eyes and release an exhale through my nose. “That was—”
“Exciting. Lascivious. Arousing.” His tone drops low. “Appetizing.”
“It was horrifying,” I say and both his brows raise high. “I don’t mean…not like that. I mean…” I stop and shake my head. “You’re dangerous for me.”
The right side of his lips pull up and he hums. “Oh. Do tell.”
I don’t tell. I don’t say a word. Instead, I look away unable to explain how I’m not as reckless as he is.
His pale blues flash wildly and he starts toward me. With each step he takes, I match backing up.
“How am I dangerous for you, Whitney?” He continues to stalk me like I’m his next meal. “Is it because you lose yourself around me? Because every time you look at me there’s something that pierces your attention?”
My back is against the wall and he stops, keeping distance between our bodies, and peers down at me. “I’ve told you no holds, Whitney. No hesitations,” he says low and gravelly.
I swallow hard.
“I think you’re dangerous for me.” His jaw ticks.
“I’ve-I’ve done nothing,” I stutter.
He bends, placing his hands on the wall beside my face and leveling his eyes with mine. “Without much effort, I crave the slightest taste of you.”
The sexy huskiness of his tone causes a shiver down my spine.
He runs the back of his knuckles down my cheek. “You rouse me,” he breathes.
“I’m not like you.” I feel incredibly self-conscious.
He licks his lips. “Good. I’m pretty narcissistic, but I’d much rather taste your lips than mine.”
“I-I can’t do this,” I stutter again.
He inches closer. Passion glazes over his gaze. “I don’t think your body received the memo. I also suspect you’re not believing the lies coming from your mouth.”
His eyes probe deeply. “It’s your call, Whitney. If you want me as badly as your body conveys…if you need me as seriously as your gorgeous fucking eyes are pleading, then fucking kiss me.”
His chest is rising and falling, his breath heavy. “Prove to me what I’m seeing isn’t my imagination.”
I surrender.
I slam into his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck. He jerks my leg around his waist and yanks me into him before threading his hand into my wet hair, holding my head. He drags his other hand up my thigh, and desire rips me apart. I’m unable to control myself.
This kiss isn’t like the rest of them. It’s messy, fueled by a heated voracity. Built up desire. Intense desperation to feel each other.
His hand slides under my shirt and he squeezes my breast. I suck in a sharp breath, dropping my head against the wall as he tweaks my nipple between his fingers and pushes his erection into my center. Blazing the skin on my neck with his heated tongue, he rocks into me and my hips meet his in greed.
I scrape my nails along his scalp and run them down his nape. He growls against my skin and swiftly lifts me, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he shoves us against the wall again. My hands are all over him, frantic to feel him, to feel his skin.
I pull, tugging his shirt over his head just as he jerks mine off, and dig my fingers into the protruding muscles as he laps between my aching breasts.
“I need to know where your bedroom is,” he grunts, sucking my nipple into his mouth.
“End,” I sigh, taking back his mouth.
His fingers bite into my ass cheeks as he carries me down the hall to my room. We reach my bed and he places me down, keeping his blazing gaze on me as he takes my pants down my legs.
I’m a trembling mess of need.
He steps out of his shorts and it grants me the view of his bare, naked body before me. I gape at how pristine his tanned tattooed skin looks atop his delicious muscles. At my fingertips is a fantasy and he’s looking at me as if he’s about to devour me.
He drops to his knees, moving my legs over his shoulders and flicks his tongue across my clit. Instantly, I’m on fire and I buck at the sensations, digging my fingers through his hair. He laps, long, slow traces of his tongue between my folds and then inserts his fingers. I moan, my body full of need—greedy need—and I push into his hand.
My body begins to go rigid as heat begins trickling over my skin. And then…I’m gone. I’m lost in a sea of pleasure, waves slamming into me as a searing need shatters me. I writhe, digging my heels into his back, arching my body and gripping the sheets beside me.
He moves up my body, dropping kisses randomly over my already sensitive skin. The blue in his eyes is darker, heated and transformed with a wicked carnal glare. I gather my bearings as he slides a condom on, nestles between my legs, and lines his thick tip at my entrance.
I’m trembling with anticipation, desire, pleasure, and fear when he softly kisses my lips and slowly sinks into me. A gravelly growl rumbles in his throat and I rip my lips from his, trying to suck in a breath from the intensity. He moves his hips, dragging to his tip, and then plunges back in.
“Fuck,” he hisses surging forward.
He grabs one of my hands and pins it beside my face, increasing the speed of his long strides.
I whimper at the blinding pleasure…at him lifting and falling back deeper into me.
His tongue skims my neck, his hot breath blasting in short spurts as his pumps become more powerful. His grip on my hands becomes tighter.
Suddenly, I’m slammed by the sweetest buzz. Tension explodes in my body. I mewl, writhing and gyrating under him. His jaw ticks descending into me.
“Fuck,” he rasps, pounding more earnestly as he reaches his own climax directly after me.
He drops to his back at my side, taking my hand with him, and places it on his stomach. My body buzzes with satisfaction as my heart thunders in my chest.
He slides out of the bed and heads to the bathroom. I don’t move. I don’t have the strength. When he comes back, he repositions me by pulling me into his side, and I rest my head on his chest.
“Don’t ever run away from me again,” he says against my hair.
I wake to my alarm going off and smack the snooze button. Flashbacks storm my memory and I bolt straight up, twisting to see an empty bed. My chest constricts. He left me. Left me with only the scent of his cologne coating my sheets and a delicious tenderness between my legs.
All without him.
I sigh, digging my fingers into my forehead, half knowing I should’ve expected this. I slide to the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the cool hardwood floor and grab my phone.
Ryker: I didn’t want to leave you, but I wasn’t invited to spend the night. Text me when you wake up.
Tears well up flooding me with a hefty sense of relief. Immediately, I text him back.
Me: You could’ve stayed. I’m sorry I fell asleep.
It isn’t until after I shower, getting rid of everything great from last night, get dressed, and am about to head out the door when I finally get a response back.
Ryker: No need to apologize for satisfaction. You’re a peaceful sleeper.
Me: You watched me sleep? Weirdo.
Ryker: Couldn’t keep my eyes off your naked body.
Me: Perverted weirdo. LOL
Ryker: Can I see you tonight?
Me: I’d like that.
Ryker: I’ll bring dinner. No running tonight. I’ll make it up to you. ;)
The second I walk into work, the phone rings and Lily answers it. I set my purse on the corner of my desk and haven’t even planted my ass in the chair when Lily calls out that Cindy is on the phone.
I grab her binder and answer the phone. “Good morning, Mrs. Soon-To-Be-Hill.”
“Good morning, dear.” I can hear her smile.
She loves when I call her that. She’s extremely excited to be marrying Brant after knowing him for twenty years and being with him for five of them.
“I want to make sure everything is scheduled and ready for this weekend.”
“Of course. Leave the worrying up to me. Everything is just fine.”
“Were you able to get the flowers I added? And did we get the photographer?” she asks.
“Yes. All that is handled. Mr. Greer will also be bringing an assistant to record everything for you as well,” I tell her proudly.
“I need to ask you of another favor. I’d like to add mirrors and place them under the center pieces and maybe twenty or thirty placed along the aisle.”
My heart drops. “Cindy, you’re asking me to find someone who’ll produce at least a hundred mirrors in two days? I don’t know if I can promise this.”
Disapproval laces her hum. “You’ll find a way, dear.” She has a very nonchalant superior way of saying things and it can be quite guilt riddling. “How about the honeymoon? I am staying in one of those huts over the water, correct?”
“Yes. You and Brant will be in a bungalow over the water. I’ve also scheduled a spa for two.”
“Will we be snorkeling? Brant wants to go, but the salt water will dry my hair out. Guess our compromises start when we say I do,” she chuckles.
“This is why I scheduled your spa day after your snorkeling day,” I beam.
“Miss Young, I knew I could count on you.”
“I’ll do my best with the mirrors. But please understand at this late a request, there’s a very high chance this may not happen,” I tell her.
Immediately after hanging up, I rush out to Lily and explain what is needed. She looks on the Internet, gathering as many glass companies within fifty miles and we make a plan—I start at one end of the list and she starts from the other. Together, we’re tackling this.
Call after call, I’m being let down. My hopes dwindle with the same response of: “It’s such a short notice and a lot of work.”
“I got one!” Lily comes rushing into my office with a piece of paper. “He said he’d get started on it today and have them delivered to the Eastern Gem Saturday morning before the wedding.”
“That’s cutting it so damn close,” I say.
“Well, have you had any luck?” Her tone super sassy.
I peer up to her. “Did you tell him to go ahead with the order?”
She smiles proudly. “Yes.”
“Then you’re all the luck I need. Okay, let’s go over the schedule.” I clap my hands and then open the Hills’ folder.
Lily shuts it. “We’ve already gone over this.”
“Triple checking. It’s my job.” I open it again.
But Lily shuts it again. “Triple checking happened already. This would be decuple checking. Quit stressing.”
I arch a brow at her.
Dammit, Ryker…
She smiles warmly and sits on the corner of my desk, on top of the folder, forcing it to not be looked at. “So, have you seen Ryker anymore?”
“We worked out yesterday.” It’s all I give her.
She eyes me conspicuously, but leaves it alone. I’ll kiss and tell when I want to, not when I’m forced to.
Today turned out better than expected. The range of emotions was a roller coaster ride I wasn’t prepared for, but after Lily snagged the miracle of the century, my day settled out.
I turn onto my road and spot Ryker’s truck. My heart cuts cartwheels.
“You’re here early.” I grin at him stepping out of my car.
He shrugs and kisses my cheek. “Told you I’d bring dinner.” He gestures to the brown paper bag.
When we enter the house, he heads straight to the kitchen and sets the bag on the counter before searching through my cabinets.
“Do you want any help?” I ask, watching him open the doors.
He stops and arches his brow. “I can handle this. Go do your girl stuff.” He waves me off. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
My gaze lingers on the sexy sight of him, all big and masculine in my feminine kitchen. He shoos me again forcing me out of the room.
In my closet, I scan my clothes and grab a shirt and pair of pants between comfortable and pretty before heading to the bathroom to freshen up my makeup.
By the time I re-enter the kitchen, Ryker has made himself at home, setting up my dining room table with our dinner. He hands me a glass of red wine, gesturing to the seat he’s pulled out for me.
“I slaved over the stove.” He flashes a coy grin.
I look between the plates—mine chicken parmesan. His, a bland looking piece of chicken and a small salad. I frown to him. “How come my plate looks delicious and yours, well it’s boring? Do I need to fire the chef?
A lopsided smile stretches his lips. “My diet is strict with my fight coming up. If I don’t make weight, I don’t fight.”
“I like to eat too much to be on a diet,” I say as a joke, but mean it wholeheartedly. I’m a food whore and I know it.
He rests his elbows on the table and threads his fingers together. “I want you there with me.”
I scrunch my nose. “I’m not so sure.”
That damn eyebrow cocks up again, but he doesn’t say anything, piercing me with his pale blues.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with this,” I murmur.
“This as in…?” he waves his hand for clarification.
I drop my hands to my lap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
My admission leaks a sweet smile across his lips. “You worry about me?”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes at him.
“It’s part of the sport. I’m not there to get hurt. Only inflict it.”
I chew my lip. There’s two sides to him. “It’s hard to imagine you so monstrous.”
“I like knowing you worry about me.” He rests back in his chair.
I cut into my chicken and take a bite, silently begging he’ll leave the subject alone. I’m not ready to proclaim the feelings I have for him…not yet.
“My schedule gets chaotic the closer it gets to a fight. Long days and long nights will take up a lot of my time. Promise me on the nights I can’t run with you, you’ll come to the gym and hit the treadmill. You’ll be able to watch what I do. I’ll buy you pretty little fucking posters and put them up to give you something nice to look at when you pull your eyes away from my sexy body. I’ll buy you a damn TV if I have to.”
I eye him like he’s foolish. “You realize how long I’ve been running? More importantly at night?”
A stern, serious gaze fixates on me. “With me, those days are over.” His tone is profound with conviction.
“I’m a grown woman,” I counter.
His view drops to my breasts and he licks his lips. “That you are.”
And just like that, silently, he told me this wasn’t up for discussion.
Out of the habit of living alone, I start washing the little bit of dishes we had from dinner and a few left over from yesterday that I procrastinated on. I feel his eyes on me, and when I peek over my shoulder, he’s watching me with a lecherous glint. He stalks to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and holds me still against his body. He moves my hair and drags his mouth along my neck. I sigh, dropping my head back against his chest.
I dry my hands quickly, but when I try turning to face him, he tightens his grip, prohibiting it. He slides his hand underneath my shirt along the skin of my stomach, heavily up my ribcage, pushes under my bra, and cups my breast. Between kneading my sensitive skin and teasing my nipple, my knees wobble. Steadying me with one hand, he pushes past the front of my waistband with the other.
Expert fingers land on my clit and slowly he begins caressing. I need to brace myself and try reaching for the counter, but with a small and nefarious chuckle, he takes a step backward, forcing me to seek stability from behind me. I link my hands behind his neck.
His breath shakes beside my ear. “Do you want me, Whit?”
I answer with a whimper as he shoves a finger inside of me.
“I’m going to take what I need,” he says, thick and brazenly and then jerks my ass into his jean-clad erection.
Heat begins gathering at my core and I gyrate my hips, desperate for more friction.
“Pull your pants down,” he orders, harshly.
I heed the order, quickly shoving my pants and allowing gravity to drop them to my feet. He spreads my legs with his, keeping my back planted against his chest and quickens his finger. My legs shake under me as my body constricts, begging for him.
He stops just as everything inside of me begins to pulse, and then turns me, lifting me onto the counter. He claims my mouth with a hot, frenzied kiss while he strips from his pants and frees himself. He leans back, stroking his dick. I watch him with excited arousal as he glides up and down his length.
“You like that?” he gruffs.
I nod.
A deep throaty hum rumbles from his chest. He rolls on a condom and then he clutches both of my hands, securing them behind my back. With his other hand, he lines himself up and buries into me with one powerful thrust.
Instantly, I’m filled to capacity. A blazing pain explodes, but it feels insanely divine. I whimper, trying to pull my hands free, but he tightens his grip and snakes his other hand behind me, up my back, and grips my nape with so much force, for a fleeting moment I worry about bruises. His eyes are glazed over, clouded with something I’ve never seen from him before. It’s tremendously erotic.
He pulls my hands closer to my ass, forcing me to flex my hips to keep balance and then tugs my neck, burrowing deeply into me. Everything begins to pulse as he moves in and out. Pressure builds and surges in jerky snaps. A wildfire spreads over me.
Ryker grunts between his thrusts keeping his eyes on me as his grip on my neck and wrists tighten almost painfully.
I’m done. I lose it, dropping my head back and moaning. He releases his hold on my neck and wrists, grabs my legs from behind the knees, and uses them as leverage, plunging savagely.
“Fuck, Whit,” he hisses, his fingers biting into my skin.
He pumps in earnest with fierce thrusts. His jaw clenches just before he drops his head back, growling at his own release.
He pulls me up into his chest right against his roaring heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He’s breathless, placing a kiss to the top of my head.
“You didn’t. It felt good.”
He leans back meeting my eyes. He doesn’t say anything like he’s having a stormy conversation with himself. Finally, he smiles and then strides his bare ass to the guest bathroom. I slide off the counter onto very unsteady legs and step back into my pants.
I’m holding on to the counter, trying to regain myself when he comes back, fully dressed, and swoops me up carrying me into the living room.
“Relax,” he says dropping my ass onto the couch.
“Are you trying to woo me?” I quip.
But I’m met with a passionate gaze, turbulent with apprehension. He looks away. “I can’t stay long tonight. I talked coach into letting me take off tonight, which only means he’s going to kick my ass tomorrow.”
I hide my frown. “I’m going to have a busy day tomorrow. Lily and I will be working late. Saturday is my big wedding. I’m not sure I’ll be able to see you then.”
And his dynamic blues are back as he peers at me with cockiness. “Already missing me?”
“You’re full of yourself,” I tease.
“You’re confused. You were full of me.”
I try smacking his chest, but he catches my hand and pulls me against him. He brushes away my bangs from my eyes. “I’m not going to be around a lot this week and not being able to get my hands on you when I want sounds pretty fucking miserable. I’m ready to kick Fischer’s ass and come back to you.”
Something flutters in my heart and I hide that too. “You’re already missing me?”
He draws me to him and kisses me gently. “Yes.”
It startles me. “You’ll be too focused to think of me.”
A smile makes its way to his eyes. “I’m focused on what I need to be.”