Did that bitch actually just fucking toot at the thought of Ryker and I hooking up? Jesus! Then she tries to high-five me. Not a chance, lady.
“No way, Claire, don’t talk to me about me wanting ‘a ride.’” I air quote. “I know he’s fucking hot, but I’m not interested in being a notch on a proverbial bedpost.”
I go on with my rant. “Like I’ve said before, I might be ready for a one-night stand or two eventually, but not with Ryker; that would just be intense. I’m definitely not in the market for getting myself all caught up in the girl drama that I can only imagine attaches itself to ‘catnip’ like that, as you call it,” I say, directing the last comment specifically to Claire. I hope I’ve done a good enough job concealing my thoughts about the man in question, especially from Claire. If Claire or the other girls caught wind of my true feelings, I’d never hear the end of it. Already I’m feeling my chest get a bit tight when Claire goes on and on about Ryker and me hooking up or with her pressuring me to just hook up with anyone for that matter. I have no idea how she thinks casual sex is something I can easily handle; she knows me better than that.
Finally, the topic shifts to Beth’s sister’s wedding, which she’s dreading going home for. “I love my sister, don’t get me wrong, but she has turned into Bridezilla on ’roids,” Beth giggles, popping a handful of nuts into her mouth before going on. Beth tells us all the crazy things her sister has been doing over the last few months, from wanting live doves flying around the venue to demanding the bridesmaids learn a choreographed routine, which they will perform in front of all the guests. I sigh, starting to actually relax as I sit at the table, sipping my beer, listening to Beth and the others ramble on about boys, work, and everything else.
Sitting there now, listening to them chat about I couldn’t even tell you what, I can’t help but think about him; how strong and sexy he is. How when he held me close the day we bumped into each other in the hall, just how well I fit into him. I remember his scent—the traces of laundry detergent mixed with hints of sandalwood that tickles my nose. Taking a sip of my drink, I remind myself of his firm grip and how his solid body wrapped me in a safe cocoon. How he felt nice…right. Thinking of him like this makes me question everything Claire has told me about him. Maybe I just need to give in and see what happens? Maybe I need to put myself out there with him, take the lead? God, I think I need to stop drinking before I do something crazy, like tell her I want to hook up with Ryker Eddison.
God, he is hot. Maybe Claire’s onto something…
“Hello? Earth to Kat. Dude, are you even fucking listening to me?” I hear Claire shouting, breaking me out of my Ryker-induced thoughts, which, against all normal logic, seem to be creeping into my mind more and more. It must be from the way he breathed me in deep or the way he growls from deep in his throat. God, that man confuses me.
Asshole.
The few times he showed up at the pub unexpectedly, it was uncomfortable, but also so…something else entirely. I would try to avoid looking at him, but of course every time I did sneak a peek in his direction, he’d catch me. He’d stare back at me, as if he was calling me out, and then he’d smirk, which in turn only left me standing there among all the staff and customers, blushing like an idiot for having been caught. Not that anyone seemed to notice our interactions, but still, I don’t want to.
“Kat,” Claire calls in my direction. “Well, will you?”
“Uh, sorry, yes! Yes, of course I will,” I reply, hoping to make her think I was, in fact, listening.
“Oh, good! It’s this Friday, coming. I can’t wait for this party with Colby. Thanks for covering my shift, Kat. You’re the best!” Claire gushes and gives me a sloppy, beer-soaked hug.
Oh. Hell. No.
I pat her shoulder awkwardly and try to not act as annoyed as I am after realizing what I just agreed to. Friday night. Working. Great. I had been planning to study at the library, and then go for dinner with Jenn this Friday, but I guess not. I sigh and watch Claire bounce into the living room, already sharing the good news to Colby on her iPhone. We decide to call it a night and begin clearing off the table and cleaning up. I really do need to get these wayward thoughts under control before I end up agreeing to something truly awful, like allowing Claire to set me up on one of those blind dates she’s always threatening me with, or—even worse—hooking me up with Ryker.
But then I realize that’s exactly what she’s just done. Ryker is scheduled to work every Friday.
Shit.
Chapter 11
Ryker
It’s Friday night and I walk into Pub Fiction for my shift about forty-five minutes early, after hanging out with Jacob. I’ve been tutoring Jac now for over a year, and lately, I’ve been taking on more of a mentor role, as well I like that kid, and seeing him make progress has been pretty rewarding. His dad bailed two years ago, I try to do things with him now and again. He’s thirteen and going through a rough time. Levi and I met him and his mom, Cheryl, at The Centre where we both volunteer with their youth programs when we can. The Centre is a non-profit organization that focuses its resources on helping and working with troubled youth. They offer a variety of programs that range from simple homework help to organized sports and counselling. It’s an amazing organization, and Levi and I both really enjoy helping out. Not having had the most positive male role model in our lives, we figured it was a great way to make sure that at least some other kid will get one. It was a good fit, seeing as he needed help with math and basketball and I’m a whiz at both.
Passing the bar as I make my way down the hall toward the staff room, I expect to see Claire, but then I remember Levi mentioning she needed tonight off and was trying to get it covered. Brittany suddenly pops her head up. “Hey, Ryk, looks like it’s you and me behind the bar tonight, bud; ya ready for a good time?” she jokes.
“I sure am, but the real question is, are you gonna be able to keep the pace? I mean, it’s been a few months since you decided to ditch us to work out as a shooter girl.”
She mutters, “Whatever,” and I tell her I’ll be back in a few minutes to help her with prep. But if she’s working the bar for Claire, who’s going to cover for her tonight as shooter girl?
“Shit.” I hope Levi reminded Claire to cover the floor for Britt, too. Friday’s are busy.
Not thinking twice about knocking on the staff room door like we normally do, I skip it because: a) I’m early, and b) I know Brittany is already behind the bar working and the other staff aren’t due to clock-in for another hour yet. Well, let me tell you, apparently a) and b) don’t apply anymore with all the new staff we have working here now. And, apparently, our knocking rule needs to be followed at all times.
’Cause Holy Fucking Christ! as I come through the door, I’m quickly met with the sexiest scene I have ever laid my eyes on.
Sitting on the black leather ottoman in the middle of the lockers, while bending forward toward me with an abundance of mouth-watering cleavage spilling out of her black lace bra, is none other than hot girl. Fuck, I bet her rack is amazing.
Well, fuck me sideways ’til Sunday! She doesn’t see me right away, since she’s busy slipping up her black pantyhose over her legs; legs, I might add, that don’t seem to quit. With this vision in front of me, taunting my senses—mainly my sense of I-wanna-fucking-touch-taste-and-smell—I do what all men in my position would do. Yup, like a fucking perv, I stare. Actually, no, I full-on gawk at what’s unfolding in front of my greedy eyes, the way she slides the silky material up to her thighs and just as I think she will stand up, she pauses and fixes her bra instead. And again, like the lucky bastard I am, I swear I see a glimpse of her pink nipple as she adjusts her tits. I am fucking greedy for this girl; greedy to take her all in, every motion and every curve. Jesus, who knew a simple act being done by Kat could be that erotic? Her brown waves dance along her chest and shoulders, covering her face as if it’s trying to tease me, concealing those jade eyes from finding mine, not that I’m ready for he
r to see me. Hot girl is just that, goddamn smokin’. My cock is throbbing, straining against my underwear, pulsing against my zipper, aching to be set free. Shit. Stifling a moan, I adjust myself, thinking of my next move.
Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t. It’s as if I’m rooted in place, my feet encased in cement, trapping me, my brain convincing my body it’s actually stuck. And, truth be told, I’m totally o-fucking-kay with it. There’s no place on this earth I’d rather be at this moment than right here with this woman as I silently wallow in her beauty. This, this in front of me, is what wet dreams are made of, a pure erotic fantasy come to fruition. I knew this girl was hot, but fuck me. Man, am I grateful my brain and body aren’t on the same page right now. You know, the page where my legs would be walking away, like I know I should. I know the right thing to do is to turn around and walk right the fuck back out the door. But there’s not a bloody chance of that happening, ’cause…this view is spectacular. And there is no goddamned way I’m missing this opportunity,
As if she suddenly senses that something in the air has changed, Kat looks up and sees me standing there, rooted in place by the door, virtually drooling at her. Rather than freaking out like I thought she might, she simply smiles, her face a bit flushed. I’d like to make all of you flush, baby.
“Oh! I’m uh, umm, sorry. Thought I’d locked the door,” she says. Our eyes meet and she continues to blush the sexiest shade of pink I have ever seen. I’m thinking about what other body parts of Kat’s might match that colour. Shaking these thoughts from my head for now, I focus my attention back to Kat, who is rising from the ottoman. “I’ll just, uh… uh, duck into the bathroom and finish,” she adds in a shaky voice.
I should say something. I know this, I really do, but for some fucked up reason, I can’t form a response. It’s like I’m one of those assholes who gets all tongue-tied around pretty girls. Shit, I look like such a dick right now. Here I am, staring again, mouth agape, waiting for her next move, waiting to see if she’ll lose her shit on me. However, in this moment with Kat, I’ve never been thankful for not having a voice before in my life. I have no clue why she makes me tongue-tied. It’s never happened before. I mean, fuck, I’m Ryker Eddison, the king of one night. But with her, things are different. I don’t want to be a dick around her. I can feel this girl is different, that she deserves better, and for some reason, I want to be the better she deserves. And as fucked up as it is, I kind of like the way I react to her; it’s a rush and I cannot wait to see how things play out between us. As Kat stands, yanking her pantyhose off as they’ve fallen down, I can tell she’s actually quite nervous and shy. Don’t be shy, baby; you’re incredible.
My instincts are telling me to comfort her and, honestly, the idea scares the shit out of me. It’s a new feeling that messes with my mind. I want to call her baby, and reassure her she doesn’t have a goddamn thing to be nervous or embarrassed about, but I don’t. I want to tell her how sexy and completely thought consuming she has been, but I don’t. I want to tell her she is fucking hot. But again, I don’t. I decide to stay quiet. I want her to continue leading how we’re going to play this thing out, which again is a new concept for me. I like control, like to dictate how things go in my life and in the bedroom. Truth be told, if it were up to me, we’d be fucking like animals while I had her pinned against the lockers, but I don’t think Kat’s ready for that just yet. I see her as timid and shy, and the last thing I want to do is scare her away from me, have her think I’m an asshole. I want to be respectful to Kat, do whatever will make her feel most at ease. This is why I stand in silence, watching and waiting for her to call the shots.
She starts to fumble as she pulls her t-shirt over her head, and rather than staying quiet like I had planned, guess what happens?
I fucking growl.
Yup, a big deep-throated growl that honestly could pass for a full-blown moan this time.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Chapter 12
Kat
Oh shit, oh shit, fuckity-fuck-fuck! Are you fucking kidding me? I swore I locked that door! Oh, God, when I heard the door open I knew I had obviously not locked it properly.
I sit, hoping it’s just Naomi or Brooke and not a big deal. But after a few moments of silence, followed by the door closing, I know it’s not them. If it had been one of the girls, they would be whistling and catcalling at me by now to mock me for changing with the door not fully secured. A door they have both already warned me doesn’t always lock, one I should make sure I test before undressing. Clearly, I need to heed this warning in the future. Come on, though, don’t people knock?
Due to the lack of sound, along with a feeling I’m being watched intently, my skin begins to prickle, causing the hairs along my arms and neck to rise and my face to warm as it flushes under the scrutiny. My body is reacting to the watcher, but it’s not in fear, it’s with excitement. I know right away—I know with every fibre of my womanhood and the vagina goddesses below—that, of course, it’s none other than Ryker himself standing there and gawking at me. With half of my body on display, he’s not making a sound.
This is so not happening.
In hindsight, I knew we would be working together tonight, but since I was early I thought I could get ready and make myself scarce before he arrived. That way we’d have little to no interactions, other than me having to pick up drink orders. I figured we’d be forced to be at the pre-shift meeting together, which would no doubt be uncomfortable, but if I had to talk to him, I planned to do my best to be professional no matter how weird he might be. I resolved to be composed, even if there is some palpable awkward tension between us. I wish our interactions could be as easy and fun as they are between Luke and me. I can’t help but smile at the warm feeling that consumes me as I consider this type of easygoing relationship with the gorgeous Ryker. Ha, you wish, Rollins. Fat chance, he’s Ryker. I mean, look at him and what he does to you.
I feel his heated stare boring through me as I lean over to finish pulling on my pantyhose.
Seeing him in the room, I quickly figure there’s no point in freaking out. After all, I simply didn’t lock the door as I thought I had. I decide to fake nonchalance and toss back on the baggy t-shirt I was wearing before coming to work, then move to the washroom to finish dressing. Why give Ryker the satisfaction of thinking he’s making me uncomfortable? “Sorry again, I’ll just go…” Shit, stop apologizing. Be casual, Kat. Be chill…
But then, as I stand and make eye contact with him, I hear it. He fucking growls at me.
At that, I swear, all I see is red. Holy shit! He’s fucking growling at me again. I’ve had enough. Fuck it. It’s time to show him my big girl panties. It’s time to end this little intimidation game.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask through clenched teeth.
Silence. Staring. Smirking. Bastard!
Jesus, this man is infuriating. Don’t show him any weakness. Don’t show him how he affects you.
And, believe me, he does affect me, not in the ‘I’m scared of him’ kind of way either. No, it’s a full-on ‘What the hell are you doing to me?’ way, one that makes me want to let my inhibitions go and explore what type of woman I’d be with a man like him. He makes my body buzz like never before and brings out a side of me that I hate to admit is really relishing in our game of cat and mouse. A game I think I want to play. Part of me is hoping to be the one to bring him to his knees.
Shaking these thoughts from my mind, I’m brought back to the here and now.
“Oh my God, Ryker. Are you kidding me? You’re driving me crazy! What the fuck are you growling at me for? Are you just a cosmic asshole?” I ask. However, my last question gets lost in the void because just as the question crosses my lips, as I’m putting my arm through the shirt, it tears at the seam, creating a huge split along the side. Are you fucking kidding me right now? Frustrated, I let out my own growl and attempt to throw the shirt out of anger, but it only lands in a small pool at my feet.
Shit. It’s now very embarrassing for me. After trying to play this whole situation off as being cool and unaffected, I lose my shit and basically throw a temper tantrum, which is sure to let Ryker see how, he does not only impact me physically, but emotionally, too. Perfect, now I’m standing in front of Ryker Eddison, the boy of my incessant thoughts, in nothing but sheer pantyhose, my black lace bra and panty set. Where’s my fairy godmother when I need her?
I give my head a shake and quickly bend down to retrieve my shirt to use as a cover, deciding again to try to carry on like it’s nothing. It’s no biggie, Kat. Just breathe, I tell myself as a familiar tunnel vision begins to make its way to the forefront and my palms start to sweat. I need to cover myself and get away from this man. I need to compose myself. Breathe, just breathe, you’re safe. You’re fine; it’s just Ryker. Gah! Ryker the man I just might want to see me, to really see me, all of me.
Once calm, I retrieve my shirt, but before I can stand, I’m quickly swept off my feet and pushed on my back on top of the ottoman. Ryker is now directly above me.
Holy fuck!
I’m caught off guard that I only yelp in response as Ryker’s massive arms pin my wrists above my head. His cheek drags up and down the side of my face, ever so gently.
“You smell too fucking good, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Jesus, you are…”
God, that voice. My heart is beating so loudly I cannot be sure how he ended that statement, exactly. All I know is, just as quickly as I was pinned, I’m released and left there in a daze, more confused than ever. I lay there dumbfounded, wetness running down the inside of my thighs from the excitement of his actions and words. I watch Ryker stand and adjust the front of his pants before heading to the door. He glances back with what looks like an apologetic expression on his face and, as usual, he leaves without another word.
My Mind's Eye (Pub Fiction #1) Page 9
