by Rebecca York
They kissed, and she loved the smooth texture of his skin over his hard-muscled chest and abs. Those were new, and hell yeah she approved.
She glanced at the champagne bucket, filled with melted ice—the half-finished bottle slick with condensation. “Did you plan on seducing me?”
His eyes smoldered, turning dark aqua. “I wanted to apologize. I’ve never stopped caring for you—I didn’t dare hope that you might give me another chance.”
“Ryker, don’t overthink this.” She slowly slid her finger between her breasts. If he did, she might too, and then they’d both miss out. Her desire had an edge because this would be the only time she would allow herself to blindly indulge—nobody completed her like he did. But he’d damn it to hell broken her heart.
He didn’t move as he thought about what she’d said. What it might mean. Not forever, not forgiven, just…now. His choice.
Ryker picked up a small chunk of ice and rubbed it along her lower lip—it stung, but then he covered it with his mouth and sucked, hard.
Moisture pooled between her legs, and she inhaled quickly, her breasts points that brushed the fabric of her bikini top. She nipped his lip and his gaze narrowed hotly. She unsnapped the top button of his swim shorts.
He walked her backward to the cushioned bench. She kissed him again, deeper, tasting him, dueling with his gifted tongue.
She loosened the laces beneath the button, feeling his erection grow at the light brush of her palm over the fabric. It was Ryker’s turn to groan.
He untied her bikini top and tossed it aside, where it landed next to the champagne. That must have inspired him, because he lifted the bottle, drank, then passed the fizzy liquid into her mouth.
She swallowed and he took another swig, then dripped bubbly over the points of her breasts, her nipples hard and aching. His warm mouth suckled them in, one at a time, and he bent her backward to lick down her stomach to her navel.
Straightening, she stepped out of her bikini bottoms and tugged down his swim shorts to free him and back him up. “Here,” she said, needing him—now.
He sat, his length hard and impressive, his thigh muscles flexing. She traced her finger around the flat discs of his bronze nipples, then flicked her tongue over the hard nubs.
He loosened her hair from the crown of braids to run his fingers through it—the strands were soft and sensual against her body and she couldn’t wait anymore.
Positioning herself over him she lowered herself, teasingly slow. His hand fisted her hair, but he waited, letting her set her pace as she sheathed him, then rocked.
Fireworks exploded within her and she trembled over him, her body quaking with shocks of pleasure.
Ryker pumped, holding her hips with both hands, guiding her to his own release.
“Serenity,” he murmured huskily.
She swallowed the lump of tears she blocked in her throat. He was sorry. She caressed the back of his head, holding him to her breasts. “I know.”
They’d always been electric together. But that was not enough.
***
She said she knew what he was going to say, but she’d been wrong. Their coming together had just solidified that he’d never fallen out of love with her, and this felt like a resurrection of his heart. How could he have given it to anyone else when she’d always had it? He had to get her to forgive him and give him a chance.
He smoothed the long, soft waves of her hair down her back, not wanting to let her go. He kissed her again, tasting champagne, tasting Serenity. Ryker knew exactly what he wanted for Christmas, and it was only a week away.
He bit his tongue, knowing that saying the words I still love you would be the death knell of whatever this new relationship might be.
Chapter Nine
Ryker strode toward Fresh Brew at ten Monday morning, still not quite believing that he’d agreed to be present on social media. Not just Facebook, but Twitter, and especially Instagram, Serenity had said. That’s where she had the most social influence. As of this morning, she’d texted that she still hadn’t heard from Georgette at Satin Scrub, who’d be her first choice, as they had the most followers.
He’d talked over the plan last night with Toby and tried to get his brother to be the front man, but he’d agreed with Serenity, saying that it was time for Ryker to “grow a pair” and “smile at the damn camera” so that he could save marine life along the coast. What was his problem?
He had to handle it. No biggie.
Especially compared to all that had happened yesterday. Making love with Serenity had been amazing…but he hadn’t missed the nuance that he was not forgiven. They had a lot to discuss, when she was ready—which hadn’t been then. Nope, she’d gotten dressed and made a time to get together for business this morning after she walked the dogs for her sister.
He had considered inviting her to his condo, but it wasn’t ready, and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, that he was rushing her. Hell, he’d taken ten damn years to apologize. He wanted his home to be perfect when she saw it—he wanted her to fall in love with it, and him, and never leave.
He’d be patient.
He pushed open the door. Dark roast and cinnamon greeted him a second before Bob. “Hey, Ryker.”
“Morning.” He’d brought his laptop as instructed. Serenity hadn’t lost her talent for bossing him around. “Are those fresh-baked scones?”
“Yup.” Bob lifted up the newspaper. “You’re famous, Ryker.”
“What?”
“Yeah—here.” Bob gave him the article that his picture—as Santa, which made it all right, up top. “What’ll it be this morning?”
“Coconut milk latte, hot, and a cinnamon scone, warmed.”
“Feeling a chill?”
“Just from the air conditioning,” Ryker laughed and fake shivered. “What’s it set at? Snow?”
“People expect a coffee shop to be cozy—with warm drinks. Hard to do when it’s eighty degrees outside.” Bob had on a lime green polo tucked into jeans, and a leather belt, covered by a festive red apron with a reindeer on it.
“Fair.”
Bob steamed the milk and poured it over espresso. “We missed seeing you Saturday, but Jon wasn’t feeling well so we stayed home and watched Christmas movies.”
“It was fun…I hope he’s feeling better?”
“He is—good enough that yesterday we gorged on pumpkin pancakes.” Bob patted his stomach. “I’ll need to diet January 1st.”
Laughing, Ryker took his ceramic mug to an empty table. Bob had rearranged the tables so that there were six small and one large seating area in front of the window. Two other patrons—at different places—were enjoying the arctic shop. Holiday music played softly.
He hadn’t had a chance to sit down yet when Serenity breezed in. “Morning, Bob!”
She defied the Christmas season by wearing a bright yellow sundress that showed off her slim arms, a sweater over her shoulder. Her sandals sparkled.
“Serenity, hey gorgeous!” Bob grinned at her. “What can I get started for you?”
“I suggest something hot,” Ryker said, not even joking.
She leaned her purse by the register and shrugged her sweater on. “Skinny hot chai?”
“Anything to eat?” Bob asked, tapping the glass pastry case.
“No, thanks though.” She gestured toward Ryker, who stood by a back table with the paper and his laptop. “We’re going to build his social media presence today. Will you be his cyber friend?”
Bob chuckled and rung up her order—she handed over cash and dropped the change in the tip jar. “He’s got the paper—you’re in it too.”
Serenity’s hair was down again today and swung over her back as she turned. “Oh, yeah? From the parade?”
“Yep.” Bob shooed her away. “Sit—I’ll bring it out.”
Serenity joined him with a distant smile and sat primly—without a kiss. Not even a damn hug. She set her brightly colored tweed bag on the table and pu
lled out her shiny blue mini laptop. “So, I heard from Georgette. She has a few reservations about pairing with a brand-new start up.”
Ryker didn’t care so much about sea salt scrub as he did making things right with Serenity. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.
“You can’t back out.” She held up her palm. “I’ve already started you with an Instagram page—you’ve got a thousand followers due to my endorsement of your Save the East Coast from Plastic project. I sent that info to Georgette to see if that would sway her into understanding how quickly we can build you up.”
“A thousand? That’s more than I have,” Bob said, bringing over their drinks and Ryker’s scone. “Although I did get more after you gave me a shout-out about the coffee shop, Serenity. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Serenity lifted her chai and inhaled the spicy latte, eyes half-closed.
Made him think of when she’d been on his lap, naked, and he shifted on the hard wood chair, his arousal unwelcome at the moment.
“So if you’ve already set me up, why do I need to do it?”
“That’s only part of it.” She waved her hand dismissively. “The easy part, actually. Putting together pictures and basic profiles. I gave you a new Facebook page. You only had pictures from college. I figured it was better to start from scratch. What do you want your handle to be? Ryker? R. Nelson? Ryker Nelson?”
“Yeah, that. Just my regular name.”
“You’re lucky that it’s unique. I ordered the domain for your website just in case that was your answer.”
“A website?” He shook his head. “Uh, what happened to posting a few pictures?”
“You’ll need the site as a place to organize your feeds—it’s okay.” She must have sensed how out of his comfort zone he was because she relaxed her ice queen demeanor enough to pat his arm. Then she snatched her hand back as if burned.
“Toby can show me what to do—he does the computers for some of the shops downtown.”
“Perfect,” she said. “How is he?”
“Good. Dating, which means he wants everybody to be paired off.”
He’d hoped to make her smile, but she didn’t. He’d hurt her very badly, he knew that. He didn’t want to accept it. If this cool friendship was all they manage then he had nobody but himself to blame.
“So,” she said, sending him a few links of information from her iPad to his laptop. “This should be enough to get you started. I feel a lot better knowing that Toby can help you. Now, think of colors for your logo, and what you want it to be. Something simple and easy for the viewer to understand at a glance.”
“Like what, for example?”
“The Nike swoosh is famous—I don’t expect that instant connection,” she assured him, “but that’s just the idea. Some of the other coastal clean-ups have a sea turtle or an ocean wave.”
He nodded, getting the concept.
“I sent you examples so that you don’t get overwhelmed—but it is important from a marketing standpoint. I will help you, but it is your baby, so I need to know where to start.”
He realized that she would be putting quite a bit of time into it. “What do you get out of this?”
“If it goes well? Social proof. More followers, more endorsements.”
Which was how she earned a living. “So if it doesn’t go well, you might not get paid?”
She drummed her silver-painted fingernails on the table. “Exposure is good—positive exposure is better. Don’t worry about that part of it, okay?”
Ryker shrugged. He already felt terrible for what he’d done to her, so to drag her down would be worse. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Serenity looked up from her iPad screen. “Why?” She lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. “Because of yesterday?”
“Yeah.” He drank his coconut latte but burned his lip.
Her green eyes glistened. “The past is the past. That is where we are going to leave what happened yesterday. Including the break-up. God, it was ten years ago.” She cleared her throat. “I really want to help you, but I can’t keep going backward. If you can’t just move forward, then I…I can’t do this.” She sniffed but her eyes cleared. “And your message is too important, Ryker.”
He realized that if he couldn’t let the past go, then she would walk out that door and he would never see her again. Ryker managed a single nod of his head, feeling fragile as glass. She had the power to shatter him.
Serenity propped her elbow on the table, and the movement brought a hint of her floral perfume. “That night at the parade, all I heard from people who know you is how you care about your community. You’re genuine, and that is hard to find. You can’t fake it. LA is full of phonies—not you. You get out there and clean the beach—you walk the walk, Ryker. We need people to see everything you’re doing, get your social reach wider, and then we can get the entire state of Florida on board for the next Coastal Clean-up. That’s powerful.”
Ryker used his fork to break off a piece of scone. “Where should I start?” He placed it in his mouth and cinnamon burst over his tongue.
“Can I?” Serenity snagged a corner. “Oh man. That’s good. Bob, did you make these?”
“Sure did,” the barista sing-songed.
“I’m in love,” Serenity sighed.
Ryker, even knowing she was just talking and being silly, felt a spurt of jealousy. He offered her another bite.
“I can’t eat your breakfast,” she said, although she accepted it and popped the morsel in her mouth. “I had an egg white omelet and fruit. Tiffany’s on a canned chili kick. I could do it once, but two mornings in a row was too much for me.”
“Canned chili?”
“She’s having cravings.” She jerked her thumb backward. “Regular eggs are out.”
He smiled, wondering if that kind of thing ran in families, and if Serenity would one day be the same. “Do you want kids?”
Her face turned scarlet. “No.” She shook her head. “I mean, maybe. Someday. I don’t know. I have my career.”
Was that a flash of anger in her eyes? She had a career because he’d pushed her into it. He could never live down what he’d done, and the consequences of his actions. Had she known that yesterday, while they’d made love?
Ryker offered her the last bite of scone. She picked it up and broke it in half, sharing with him. He pushed the empty plate to the side of the table. “It’s a lot to try to figure out.”
“I know, I totally understand. I’ll do my best to help while I’m here. Tiff wants me in the delivery room with her, so I’ll be around until after the baby is born. I’ve rescheduled some clients from January to February so that I can do whatever she needs.”
He suddenly hoped that Tiffany would have the gestation period of the African manatee—twelve months, rather than the human nine.
She nudged his laptop with a friendly smile. “Now that I’ve stolen your breakfast, let’s get to work. If we get through the morning still speaking to one another, I’ll buy you lunch.” Scooting her chair closer bumped the paper off the table. She picked it up. “Oh! This is cute.” She showed him the image.
Ryker chuckled. Him with his big belly and Santa suit, Glitz and Glamour at his feet, and Serenity, in her elf costume, at his shoulder. “See?” He jabbed the picture with his forefinger. “I’m smiling.”
No doubt because of the sexy woman behind his gold Santa chair.
“This is great!” She spread out the paper on the empty table next to them, taking pictures with her cell phone. “I am so sharing this—we’ll get a bunch of likes, just wait and see. I’ll need to buy a few more of these papers so that Tiffany can have one of the dogs. Can you believe she scrapbooks?”
Serenity exuded vibrant energy and it coaxed the same from him. It was a gift she had, to rally folks and get them moving, all while having fun. Being a social influencer was the perfect job for her. She had a life in LA that was much more glamorous than anything Lauderdale by the Sea had to offer.
Serenity saw the far-off look on Ryker’s face. What was he thinking? There was something so wrong with her that she’d called her therapist for an emergency appointment for when she got back to Malibu. How could she have had sex with Ryker yesterday? How could she be thinking of letting it go? He had deliberately hurt her.
He’d thought she needed the shove out of town. She’d tossed and turned all night last night, admitting to herself that she’d been tempted to withdraw from college to stay home, with Ryker. She had to be honest.
He’d thought she’d come back. That had slayed her—she knew he hadn’t been a saint after they’d broken up, she’d scoured his college Facebook photos and saw a few short-term girlfriends. Not like she’d been without company either.
What a freaking mess. She patted the top of his hand, careful not to let her caress linger. He jumped and brought his attention back to her.
She looked at the new Facebook page for Ryker Nelson she’d created using pictures she’d gotten since she’d been here. One she really loved was when he’d returned from the beach with his wagon of clean up supplies. His smile was genuine and his blond shaggy hair windblown, his blue eyes bright.
“I don’t remember you taking that.” He tilted his head. “I like it.”
“I’m good at what I do,” she said sagely. He didn’t need to know she’d been stalking him. “Now, I set up an event that will happen every Friday morning at six-thirty, at the Sea Lakes access point. You have bags, but people should bring their own gloves,” she said. “Anything else?”
“A gripper tool. I only have one and Bob likes it.” He shrugged. “The most I’ve had ever is fifteen people.”
“I promise you that this will draw in more. So you should think about where you might want to have them clean, maybe section off portions for efficiency?”
He nodded, one hundred percent in now that he’d decided. “Depending on the weekend, like it’s been a holiday, I sometimes go on Mondays.”