“Or else what?” I know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. I need to understand what I’m getting myself involved in.
“We’ll take her. Every piece and part of her. For Sam.”
“Over my cold, dead body.”
19
Harper
“You don’t need to stay, Ryker. I’ll understand if you want to book the next flight back to Oregon. I’ll be fine.”
He sighs. Shoves his hands inside the pockets of his dress slacks. My stomach’s in a knot after what happened in the lounge, but the place between my legs throbs.
Over my cold, dead body.
I’m right. Beneath his tough, cocky, couldn’t-care-less exterior is a fighter, a warrior, and Ryker wants to protect me. Is willing to declare his intentions to guys who will relay the message to Sam.
I wait for his answer. If he leaves, can I live with his rejection? If he stays, can I tell Ryker what happened in that dank room without pulling into myself and shutting him out? He doesn’t answer. He does better.
Ryker reaches for me and envelopes me in his arms. I slacken against the solid strength of his body and his hold. His heartbeats beat strong and loud as I burrow into his warmth.
Shephard insisted Ryker stay with me. He’s giving me the chance to prove Ryker is the one who can help me be normal again. Once I’m close, will Shephard keep his word and let me go?
I untangle from Ryker’s hold and lead him to the bed. He looks from me to the undisturbed covers.
“I’d never force you. You know that, right?”
I nod. The knot in my stomach unravels. I open my mouth. A rough finger skims across my bottom lip.
“I’d never demand you tell me something private either.”
But I do want to tell him. Shephard’s right. Ryker needs to understand how deep in shit I stand. After I reveal the truth, will he stay and fight for me? Or will he walk away?
This goes beyond Wednesdays at the skating rink and Thursdays at the trampoline place. Skating and jumping are safe. What’s coming for us costs people their lives. If Ryker stays, I’ll be asking more from him. How much is he willing to give me? How much of myself can I give in return?
Tired of going round and round in my head, I slip off my heels and crawl on top of the bed. I stretch out my legs. The hem of my dress rides up my thighs. Ryker doesn’t look lower than my bottom eyelash.
In the seriousness of the situation, a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. He’s such a good guy, and I am wrong. Ryker Conway isn’t a jerk. He has a heart of gold.
The giveaway is in the way he treats the kids. He’s good to them, teasing and laughing with them. But Ryker’s not always good. When the kids misbehave, he calls them out on it. They talk and work through what went wrong and how it can be made right. He does this in private, saving the kids from embarrassment.
I pat the spot next to me. If he’s patient and kind with the kids, he’ll treat me the same. Ryker gets on the bed and stretches out alongside me. His size looms large. He’s all muscle, the cords and sinewy fibers straining against his well-fitted shirt and pants.
I give him a sidelong checking out. “You look good.”
He reaches for my hand and does what I absolutely love. He laces our fingers and drops a kiss on top of my hand. Warm breath on my skin. And he lingers, his lips soft as what I imagine butterfly wings must feel like.
“And you’re sexy as fuck, beautiful. How’d I get so lucky to have someone as fine as you at my side?”
What do I say to that? “Thank you.”
I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder.
“I told you of my life after my father murdered my mom and Colton. I also told you what happened after my uncle died. What I haven’t told you is what happened from when I was thirteen, living with my uncle, to when Shephard’s brother, Sam, kidnapped me.”
Untangling our fingers, I move to sit in front of him with my legs tucked under my butt. It’s important I see his face when I tell him of how my complicated relationship with the Taylor brothers began.
My dress’s hem rides up my thighs again, and I don’t tug it down. Why hide when I’m ready to lay bare to him more than skin?
“Sam is three years older than me. He was this big sixteen-year-old boy who terrorized the neighborhood I lived in with his gang of bullies. Shephard was his cocky twenty-year-old older brother, a soldier with attitude but charming with the women. They loved him, and he returned the favor.”
My knees hurting, I shift onto sitting on a butt cheek. Ryker pats his lap.
“Come here.”
I do as he says and settle on his lap. He has other plans.
“Straddle me.”
I don’t hesitate. I want this. Have wanted to feel him under me, his hands all over me as soon as he walked into the lounge, looking mouthwatering in a silk shirt and dress pants that clung to his body like a second skin.
I didn’t miss the envious glances women shot my direction when I walked out of the lounge with the two sexiest men in the room. Shephard is a dangerous sexy. Ryker? Ryker is dangerous in that he can break my heart so badly, I’ll never give another man the chance to get close again.
The satin dress stretches across my thighs. The material is soft, but the pressure on my flesh is painful. I hike up the material. Ryker helps.
He slips his hands under my dress, and using his thumbs, he hooks the satin and slides up my dress inch by sinful inch until the hem clings to my waist, exposing my hips and pale thighs.
“Mmm, sexy.”
He leans in and nuzzles my neck. Sighing at how good his mouth feels on my hyper-sensitive skin, I thread my fingers in his hair and rock my hips over the outline of his erection. His moan on my skin sends tingles of heat down my spine.
“I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he rasps. “Dreamt of you in my arms, rocking on my cock.”
He drags his nose along my neck and inhales my scent, sending me over the brink of the heat starting at my core and going down, down, down to settle in my sex when he licks and showers kisses on my neck and shoulder.
With an arm across my back, he tips us forward. I’m under him. He can crush me with his muscular body. Demand I do humiliating things to his. Hold me down. Cover my screams of terror with his palm.
He doesn’t. He keeps his weight off my body with his arms on the sides of my head. His eyes search my face.
I lift my hand and cradle his. “I love your beard.” My fingers stroke the coarse dark hair. “Love these too.” I reach up and smooth my fingers over his brows. “Soft and strong.” I look deep into his eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”
I’m in awe of this big, sexy guy choosing to be with me when there are prettier girls. Girls with better hearts than mine. Girls who didn’t play the games I did with two guys’ hearts.
“I love everything about you,” I confess. “Your sexy tan from practicing beneath the unforgiving sun. Your commitment to keeping your body in top shape. Playing ball is important, and it shows in your hard work and dedication.”
To show him how much I admire his hard work and dedication, I caress up and down his arms. Slow strokes. Worshipping strokes. With my fingertips. My palms. But touching him over his shirt isn’t enough. I undo the buttons.
“I also love how you’re beautiful on the inside. The kids adore you. They talk non-stop of how nice you are. Brag of how smart you are too. History major.” I cluck my tongue. “All those facts. Centuries of it. Across continents and cultures.”
I push his shirt off his wide shoulders and down his arms. My fingers dance along the lines and bulges, the sinewy muscles flexing and jumping beneath my fingers. I lean in and follow the path with my lips. His breathing hitches. His thick fingers weave in and out of my hair.
Ryker takes it the rest of the way. The shirt lands on the floor. His slacks follow.
In his boxers, he reclines on the bed and tugs me on top of him. Soft chest hair caresses my skin above my breasts. Large, calloused hands set
tle on my ass. He cups and squeezes their roundness. His erection nestles in my hot spot. I want to grind on him. Show him what I want. But I need to be certain he can handle my trauma. That he’s willing to be patient, though he might not want to understand what happened.
Holding still—the heat from his erection intoxicating and tempting—I continue my story with my chin resting on top of my folded arms.
“The first time I met Shephard, he stopped a fight between me and Sam and his friends. I was fifteen. I didn’t realize how dangerous Sam was with his messed-up belief of loyalty and control. If I’d known, I would never have used him to get to Shephard.”
“What do you mean?”
The heat between us fades. Unbecoming panic grows in my chest. Am I wrong to think Ryker will understand? He’s only known me for three weeks. Shephard’s been with me from the start, and he is still affected by my trauma.
I see it in his eyes. Anger and disbelief for what Sam and his friends did. Pity and shame for me. I regroup, grasping for the courage I know I have in me.
“I became Sam’s girlfriend to get close to Shephard. Sam would tell me when Shephard would be home on leave. I invited myself over and spent every chance putting myself in front of him. My flirting paid off. Shephard took notice, and I started pulling away from Sam. Sam wanted more, but he wasn’t the brother I was after.”
“Shit, Harper.”
Shit is right.
“It was wrong of me to get involved with Sam when I wanted Shephard. It was shitty of me to lead Shephard on when I knew what Sam felt for me. He loved me, Ryker. He told me before . . . before he took me.”
I roll off Ryker and tug him back on top of me. I need to feel his strength. I need to know that I can endure his large body on me and not have the overwhelming urge to vomit and claw and fight to get out from under his intimidating bulk. I also need him to look down on me as I look up at him.
What will I see on his face when I tell the last part, the most important, degrading part? Disgust? Pity? Shame?
“Sam caught on. He’s sharp. He confronted Shephard. Shephard laid down the law and lay claim using birth order in his favor. I was seventeen. He was twenty-four. The age of consent in Illinois is seventeen, but he was just sworn in as a police officer. That put him in a position of authority and upped consent to eighteen. He said he’d wait for me.”
“He was nothing but a damn predator, Harper.”
“I understand that now, but he became my savior.”
“Savior or sinner? Get those differences straight in your head.”
“That’s the thing. Shephard is both. You . . . you’re not either. You’re normal. Well, not completely. You have great odds of playing in the NFL. That’s not normal.”
He’s not normal. Oh, God, Ryker can never give me normal.
20
Harper
Panic rises in my chest. I start to slide from under him. He cradles my face, his touch firm but gentle.
“We’re solid, Harper. I’ll do anything for you, babe. Anything. Fuck the world. I go where you go. Hook, line, and sinker.” Thick finger skims my brow. “Finish your story, sweetheart. I want to hold you afterward.”
He laces our fingers, brings our clasped hands to his mouth and drops kisses along my knuckles. This guy . . . My throat tightens. My eyes water. I want this. Need him like I need my next breath.
“Sam was angry and took fate into his own hands. He took me on my way home from school. Kept me locked up in an abandoned house. He and his friends violated me at gunpoint.”
I swallow past the bile rising in my throat. Long to squeeze my eyes shut. To crawl into a tiny ball and bawl like I did as Shephard’s bellows of rage and Sam’s satisfied laughter filled that dank room.
But I don’t.
I trail my fingers down Ryker’s face. The warmth from his skin seeps into mine, comforting me. The coarseness of his beard does something to the place between my legs.
In reliving my trauma, I don’t find it wrong to want Ryker. To wish for him to thrust his thickness inside me until I shatter. He turns into my touch and presses his mouth on my palm. His tenderness is my healing salve.
“When Shephard found me, I was naked and on my knees with a gun pointed at my head. Shephard shot the guys. His brother . . . Shephard pulled Sam off me and beat him until he lay unconscious.”
Anger darkens Ryker’s handsome face. I’ll take his anger. It’s better than disgust or pity.
“Shephard didn’t call nine-one-one right away. He called my uncle. Both broke protocol. My uncle ran into the room without his gun drawn, believing he was safe, that Shephard secured the scene. Shephard was too busy beating Sam. By the time the shot broke through Shephard’s rage, it was too late. My uncle died at the scene. Sam’s friend died on the way to the hospital.”
Will Ryker stay when I tell him the rest? It’s the most shameful part of my trauma.
“I blamed Shephard for my uncle’s death. For everything that happened. I grabbed one of the dead guys’ guns and threatened to end his life and mine. A homicide-suicide.”
My throat constricts. Unrelenting pressure on my chest.
“To want to take a life after watching my mother and uncle die . . .” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m a horrible person, Ryker. There are better girls out there for you. Girls with big hearts. Girls who would never have the burning desire to kill like I did at that moment.”
Silence. The bed moves and the air shifts. The heat leaves with him. I take deep breaths in and out. I miss his scent, spicy and virile male. Taste my tears as they cling to the corners of my mouth.
Tired of the quiet, I open my eyes. A movement in the corner draws my attention. I push myself into a sitting position. Ryker is seated in an overstuffed chair, holding his head, his elbows on his knees.
“I won’t blame you if you leave. Just . . . just keep your promise to the kids. After your team’s party, we can say it didn’t work out. They’ll be heartbroken, but they’ll get over it.”
“When? After you introduce Shephard as your new guy? Why haven’t you ever spoken of him to your little buddy April?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated my ass. There’s more, isn’t there?”
He’s so smart, but telling him the rest can put him in further danger.
“What hold does he have over you, Harper?”
“A promise. And I never spoke of him to April or the other kids because he was never interested in spending time with them. So why get them invested in Shephard and his life by speaking of him? Does that make sense?”
“More than you can imagine. I was never interested in ‘complicated.’ Do so and I’d be hooked. Make sense of that.”
“Relationships are complicated. The reason you nail and bail. Or you stick with open relationships. Less complicated when you’re ready to end them.”
He shoves his fingers in his hair and blows out a sigh. “I’ve had a lot of drama in my life, Harper. I was done with drama and complications for a long time.”
“I don’t blame you. I’d go for the simpler life too.”
Ruthlessness grabs ahold of my heart. I get off the bed and walk to him.
“I promised to never break your heart. Don’t break mine before we’ve begun, before we have our chance for more.”
Grabbing the hem, I hike my dress over my thighs inch by inch. A rush of breath from him. A hiss when I strip off the dress, my last line of defense from his hungry eyes.
“You—” He clears his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “You weren’t wearing a bra.”
“No, champ, not with this dress.” I slide off my thong and leave the slip of lace on the floor, closing the distance with my shoulders pulled back and my head held high.
I’ve seen the girls he’s been with. Busty. Curvy. Long, slender legs. They’re sexy, beautiful, goddesses.
“Live up to your reputation. Nail and bail. Hit and run. I won’t think less of you. I’ll understand. I comp
letely understand your hesitation.”
I stop inches from him. Wait. Cold air whispers over my skin. Panic grows in my chest. My stomach knots. Oh, God, I’ve gone too far. I’m asking too much of us, too fast.
I turn, desperate to cover up my nakedness. He stops me with his palms on my hips. Ryker pulls me to him, this soft and gentle pull, as though I’ll break beneath his touch. His thick thighs fall to the sides. He brings me forward until I’m cocooned by their strength. And when he rests his head in the valley of my breasts, his hands splayed on my hips in this hot, possessive hold, I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“I want to touch you. I won’t bail.” His breath is warm on my skin. “If we do this, we make it real and long lasting, Harper. I won’t settle for anything less.”
He spreads his fingers over my hips. His hands are so big, his thumbs rest alongside my belly button. His hold is one of possession, pure and simple. What my father felt for my mother. I’ve seen them in this same pose after my father returned from a long trip or won a rough fight. Except he’d be on his knees.
“Tell me it’s what you want too. Keep your word you won’t break my heart, and I’ll do anything for you.”
I tremble with need and fear from the force of his words. Ryker has a heart of gold and good intentions, but I’ve seen an angel become a monster when someone is taken from him.
His hands slide up my sides. He cups and holds the weight of my breasts. They’re small in his massive palms.
“I’m not enough.”
“Wrong, babe. You’re what’s missing from my life. What will make me whole. Kindness, strength, beauty inside and out, laughter and happiness when I can get it out of you. I can be all optimistic, philosophical, and shit and say that your past doesn’t define you, but that’s the easy way out.”
He caresses down my back and settles his big paws on my butt. The delicious pressure from his fingertips, the warmth from his palms, the roughened-up skin adding friction to the heat . . . My body reverberates with hot need, and I’m a proverbial tuning fork that can’t stop tingling with life whenever he’s near.
Wicked (Dangerous Liaisons Book 1) Page 11
