by Box Set
He slicked his tongue over her sex, licking and tasting her essence while driving his fingers deep. She writhed on the chair, and the heels of her sexy shoes dug into his back. Christ. She tasted so good. Tangy, tart, yet oh, so fucking sweet.
Her hips bucked, but he pinned her with his free arm. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart,” Ryder said, taking his mouth away long enough to look at her flushed skin and the passion glazing her eyes. “Let yourself go. I’ve got you.”
“Ryder. Please.” She held him close to her sex. “I want you.”
“I know.” Ryder slid his tongue along the seam of her moist folds and across her clit. “I can’t wait to drive my cock into you after you come for me. I want to feel how much you want me.”
A shudder traveled through her body. “Ryder,” she cried.
The first waves of her orgasm pulsated against his tongue and flowed over his fingers. He held her and drank her in, savoring the intoxicating flavor of her release. And finally receiving what no other man had ever been given.
Her trust.
Chapter 9
Addison scanned the mountain trail descending at an angle, which had her wondering how Ryder ever completed a race in one piece. This fifteen-mile mountain bike loop didn’t even come close to matching the challenging courses he’d aced time and time again, but it didn’t stop her from worrying. Her recent phone call to Eric Langston doubled her anxiety—but the tabloid monster verging to pounce loomed. She had no other choice.
To distract herself, she private messaged her camera crew to move closer to the finish line. Putting her energy on what she could control kept the edge off her concerns.
The first trio of racers appeared on the mountain ridge, and the crowd around her began whistling, and blowing horns. The announcer’s voice called out the names of the top three cyclists. Ryder’s lead at the top of the list.
Adrenaline rushed through her, making her fingertips zing and her heart pump wildly. “Make sure you get him as he crosses the finish line,” she called to her crew while moving through the crowd of people laughing and ringing cowbells.
Excitement filled the air. Rock music played in tandem with the athletes who shimmied their bikes between tall pine trees and around manmade giant slalom markers. So fast. So dangerous. He cruised down, down, down until she couldn’t even feel herself breathe. Ryder controlled his bike with the same finesse and skill he used as a lover.
Determined.
Strong.
Focused on the end result.
The sun rays reflected off Ryder’s helmet as he approached the goal posts at a speed that defied explanation. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the wraparound dark glasses covering them, but she didn’t have to when she already had first hand knowledge of the intensity in his gaze.
Today he zeroed his attention on the win. Last night, he’d zeroed the same impressive attention on her.
“Go. Go. Go,” she shouted with the rest of the fans as Ryder zoomed through the goal posts and finished first with a kick out jump that pushed the back all-terrain tire to the side.
Her photographers shot the film, and dozens of people raised their phones to capture the winning moments. Her heart stuttered in her chest as he unclipped his shoes from the bike and disembarked. He was, in a word, gorgeous. Ryder handled the fans pressing in around him with his easygoing, natural charm—pausing to kneel and give the younger fans his autograph, letting sexy young women with barely there shorts and skintight T-shirts scoot in next to him to take selfies, and high fives from his competitors. Suddenly, a chill traveled down her spine despite the warm California afternoon sunshine baking the south side of the mountain.
This was Ryder’s world. One filled with babes called Bettys and powerful athletes who lived hard, played hard, and rode hard.
Addison tugged her conservatively cut shorts and glanced down at her preppy boat shoes. She didn’t belong in this world. She didn’t fit. She doubted she’d ever feel comfortable with the aura surrounding Ryder.
Eventually, he’d grow tired of being with her and move on to reclaim the life he had before the accident which forced him into hers. Her world meant making sure her father’s top client stayed on top. With that in mind, she jerked her iPhone out of her cross-body leather satchel to text her father with the good news, and to offset his last message demanding answers about the ongoing negative press swirling around Ryder.
She’d pull out her last recourse if necessary.
But before she could punch in the message, he lifted her into the air and without preamble Ryder’s mouth locked onto hers and gave her a full-on toe curling kiss that knocked the wind out of her lungs. Over and over, his tongue tangled with hers while he twirled her round.
Her muscles went slack and the phone slipped from her hand. Instinctively, she answered the demands of his lips. She tasted salt and mint and man. Oh, how she loved the feel of his arms holding her high, and the power of his possession. Everything in her called to him.
Dimly, she heard people yelling Ryder’s got a new Betty and the electricity charging into her erogenous zones scattered. No. No. No. She wasn’t anybody’s Betty.
She wrenched her mouth from his. “Stop.” Addison’s pulse still beat fast for Ryder, but she couldn’t let this kiss continue. “This isn’t what I want in the tabloids or splashed all over the Internet.” Especially not until she had a chance to figure out how to convince Eric to step out of the shadows and into the limelight for Ryder.
A muscle jumped in his handsome, stubbled jaw. “It was a victory kiss,” Ryder lowered her to the ground. “Got caught up in the moment.”
She stepped out of his embrace and scraped her fingers through her hair. They’d both gotten caught up in the rush of adrenaline that followed Ryder’s win. “You promised no PDAs,” she said quietly. “No telling what kind of fall out will happen because we couldn’t control ourselves in public.”
“You worry too much.”
“It’s my job to worry where you’re concerned.” She knelt and picked up her iPhone, then read the screen. Crap. Four texts. One from her contact in the LAPD confirming Ryder’s story and a promise to follow up with the witness list. Three from her father. Two with information about another one of Ryder’s ex girlfriends going for her fifteen seconds of fame with tell-all exclusives about his past—stories which would reveal his record and the crapshats he had for parents.
The last one a virtual scream written in all-caps and a string of exclamation marks. Her father had put Ryder in her supervision because he’d been sure his daughter would never be the kind of woman his star client screwed around with ever.
Addison pursed her lips, then pointed at the reason for all four texts. She wanted him to be seen with the charity fundraiser’s organizers, not her. The appearance would offset whatever his ex had to say. Bad boy gone good. Except with her. She sighed. “Go hang out with your fans, Ryder. I’ve got to troubleshoot this situation.” And pull out the last big gun she had to put all the rumors and innuendos to rest.
“Whatever you say.” Ryder tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But I have a feeling you’re not worried about saving my reputation. You’re freaked out about me screwing up yours.”
Her throat ached. Everything they had worked for hung in the balance. The only way to save Ryder’s ass from the vultures circling around him had been to pursue the one thing he’d asked her not to do.
“You have no idea what I’m dealing with,” Addison said.
“That’s because you don’t tell me anything.”
He turned away and walked toward the podium where the announcer shouted out the race times. Casual, cool, controlled. Anyone who didn’t know Ryder wouldn’t see the frustration ripping in the muscles of his broad shoulders.
Those shoulders carried far too much. Now she’d lift the burden once and for all.
Yes. She’d promised not to reveal the truth about what had happened the night of the crash. But sometimes promises had to be broken for the
better good. Protecting Ryder meant taking a risk that she’d destroy his trust, but she hoped her skills in negotiation and spinning stories wouldn’t lead to that happening.
***
Within twenty-four hours, the picture of Ryder kissing Addison had gone viral. By the following Monday, the latest shit story perpetuated by Miranda Sinclair had leaked to anyone who would pay for the information. Addison had tentatively brought up the possibility of coming forth with the truth about the accident, but he’d waved it off. Asking her to prove she could do it without involving Eric. Then, after he’d shown up on the training course early Wednesday morning, Coach Jamison had arrived with an ultimatum. Win the pre-Olympic qualifier or lose his spot on the Rio de Janeiro cycling team.
There wasn’t room for one more fuck up in his personal or professional life.
He landed his bike on the packed dirt of the training trail, then performed a reverse wheelie while rolling the front tire forward. Tricks. Landings. Speed. All of the elements were practiced until his entire muscle system remembered to perform even when his brain failed to execute.
Ryder zoned out to his favorite band playing heavy metal through his earbuds while he took the next vertical drop. A gonzo of epic extremes. Treacherous to the best athletes in his league, but nowhere near as dangerous as trying to keep his heart on a short string whenever he hung around with Addison.
Which wasn’t often. Sure, they managed to sneak in more rounds of awesome sex, but that wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted all of Addison. He’d been more freaked out about it than he wanted to admit, but damn it. Why couldn’t he have her?
He increased his speed, and the wind snapped like dozens of sails catching air. But he rode in the center of the storm, beating it and going faster, faster, faster until he crossed the end of the line.
“What’s my time?” he asked his coach when he cruised to a stop.
“Clocked a record breaker,” Jamison said. “Repeat this performance in July’s Pro Gravity qualifier, and you’ll nail your spot on the team.”
Ryder took the towel Jamison held and swiped his face. “I plan on it.”
“Good. Now that you’ve got a handle on your personal shit I can’t see any roadblocks to keeping your sponsors in line.”
“I hired the best.” He’d satisfied his coach, but frustration gnawed at him. “She’s the Queen of PR.” Addison had busted her ass to spin every new publicity problem into something positive. Her hard work, and beating his original gold winning record, should have made him freaking happy. But instead he found himself questioning her motives.
Ryder wanted to believe Addison had gone the extra mile for him because she genuinely cared about him. But she had been closed lipped about her next PR push, and the constant texts from her father had her sucking more cough drops than he’d believed humanly possible.
Was she saving him, or was she saving herself?
***
“I’ll take care of this,” Addison said to her father on her home office’s speaker phone. “Like I’ve lobbed all the other PR nightmares crawling out of the gutter to take a hit on Ryder.”
“Miranda Sinclair isn’t going away. And his parents are liabilities. Big time.”
She sucked on her cough drop, then crunched down hard. “He can’t control what his parents do. That’s not his fault.”
“Fault doesn’t matter when a story is juicy and the media makes him look like he’s abandoned dear old dad and mom.”
Addison sighed, then opened the folder on her desk. She had witnesses, a police toxicology report, and a widower who wanted to do right by his friend and former teammate. But first, she had to give Eric time to explain things to his sons. “I’ve got this, Dad.”
“You better have it, or Ryder will lose everything,” he said in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “The mark of a great PR agent is one who puts the client’s future above all else. Even if the client is too horse-assed to agree. Do I have to return to Los Angeles to hammer out a counter offensive?”
“No.” She popped another cough drop. “I’ve got a fix.”
“Something to satisfy the sponsors?”
“Absolutely.”
Addison ended their call, then closed the folder and tucked it under a stack of paperwork. Standing, she mentally ran through the scenario she’d orchestrated. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through her floor to ceiling windows and she walked toward them to look at the view below.
One with more than miles of ocean and beach sands sparkling with the reflections of seashells. One with the lone figure of a man walking along the shoreline. Ryder. The brilliant sunshine highlighted his tousled dark hair, and water slapped his bare feet while he strolled the beach’s length.
Glorious, wonderful and quite possibly the best person she’d ever met.
But she’d kept him at bay emotionally ever since the damn public kiss. Even when they’d stolen moments together—sexy, fun, beyond amazing moments—she’d been afraid to expose her heart to him.
Not when the repercussions about what she had pulled together loomed.
“I have to do it.” She touched the glass separating her from the only man she’d ever loved. “For you.”
Though it killed her to override Ryder’s wishes, Eric had been all too willing to give an interview with the top talk show host in Los Angeles. Addison had given Eric the option to bury the details, but he’d known about Tiffany’s alcohol and drug abuse along with her ongoing affairs with anyone who still reeked of fame. He’d also been close to serving divorce papers and filing for full custody before the wreck had claimed her life.
Addison had scheduled the interview for July fourth. Independence Day could either bring closure, or it could go up in smoke. But she had total confidence it would torpedo the negative press about Ryder, and she had a plan in place to shield the Langston children from any fall out. Now Addison prayed that once she explained Eric’s motivation that Ryder would realize her decision remained the best way to proceed for everyone involved.
But first she had to show Ryder she cared.
Chapter 10
A pair of terns zigzagged ahead of Ryder while he walked alongside the waves ebbing and flowing onto the shoreline. Today’s training session had been grueling, but once more he’d shown Coach Jamison he had the greatest potential to bring home the Olympic gold medal from Rio de Janeiro in August.
A month ago, winning the gold would have been enough.
Not anymore.
He heard Addison call his name and shifted his gaze toward the wooden staircase that connected her home on the high cliff to the beach. She stepped down the planks with a blanket folded over her arm and a straw tote bag in her hand until she reached the bottom.
The breeze coming in from the ocean lifted the hem of her peach colored dress and gave him an awesome view of her long legs. His pulse went from zero to a sixty in an instant. Christ, she was beautiful, inside and out. She never gave up on a person, ever. Not even him despite the media shit storm swirling around him.
She closed the remaining distance between them, flared open the blanket and settled it on the beach. “Figured you could use a carb pick me up after training all day.” Addison lowered herself to the covered ground. She dug into her tote bag and withdrew two water bottles and tossed him one. “I brought chips.”
“Salt and Vinegar?”
“Your favorite brand.”
“Trying to tempt me into doing another photo op?”
She slanted her gaze toward him. “We’re finished with all the promotions until after your race.” Addison leaned back on her elbows and lifted her head to let the sun dance on her skin. “Once you win, we’re golden.”
Her nipples poked through the fabric of her sheer dress and he could make out the V of her bare sex. His cock hardened and blood rushed to the throbbing head. “Addison.” He struggled to string together coherent words. He didn’t just want sex, he wanted it all. With her.
A month ago making out with a woman like Addiso
n with no strings attached would have been more than enough. He’d never seen himself as a permanent commitment kind of guy. Not with the shit example of marriage his parents had paraded.
But now he could imagine being with her in all the ways that mattered.
She shielded her face with her hand. “Yes?”
“I don’t want potato chips.”
“What do you want?”
The atmosphere between them thrummed with electricity. Tiny particles of sand and dust and shell floated in the air while his heart banged against his sternum. “You.” He sat beside her and covered her hand with his. “I want every delectable inch of you.”
Her pulse fluttered in her throat and her hazel eyes turned molten green. She’d bared herself to him body and soul only to guard her emotions after he’d blown her rule about no public PDAs. But now her heart shimmered in her expressive eyes.
“All of you, Addison.” He controlled the desire to take her fast and hard and quick. Instead, he kissed her shoulder and slowly traced the curve of her lips with his index finger. “You think you can give that to me?”
“Yes.”
The rush of blood thundering in his ears obliterated the crash of waves. There was only him. Only her. Only the promise of so much more than he’d ever expected mere weeks ago.
***
Ryder’s eyes gleamed hot on hers. “I want you with me. Always.”
Addison’s breath caught in her throat. Always. The overwhelming desire to show him how much she loved him tangled with practicality. Practicality won by a thin margin.
She had to tell him about her deal with the talk show, but before she could speak, he replaced his index finger with his mouth and traced her lips all over again with his tongue. And when he sucked in her lower lip, caressed the length of her body with his broad palm, her reason evaporated.
Ryder slipped his tongue inside her to deepen their connection. He tasted like sunshine, citrus, and all man.