Ryder's Bride (Brides Bay Book 1)

by V. K. Sykes

  Claire, thank God, was knocking it out of the park. They hadn’t practiced most of the songs in her set, but it wasn’t hard for him to adapt since her choices were familiar folk and country tunes. His ear was good, and he’d had lessons from some of the best guitar teachers around. It was pretty great to accompany a singer whose mesmerizing voice conveyed a ton of emotion in each and every song.

  For the sixth of her twelve-song set, Claire was singing a beautiful version of the Joni Mitchell tune, “River.” Although the song was written for piano accompaniment, the chords were easy enough, leaving him plenty of room to improvise a strong solo.

  When she came to the last line of the chorus, she turned to him with a big smile. He was standing to her right and a couple of feet behind her—as far out of the spotlight as he could be without disappearing behind the amps and speakers. Breathing through the tension, he launched into his solo. It lasted less than a minute, but people went crazy, clapping and cheering. He had to strum along until the din calmed down enough for Claire to carry on with the third verse.

  As the applause washed over him, he couldn’t hold back a certain pride that had started to build from somewhere deep in his chest during the solo. He had to admit that the obvious appreciation for his music, now that he’d finally brought it into the open, made him feel damn good.

  And best of all was Claire’s bright and approving smile.

  But then she shifted her gaze to her right, not missing a beat as she took in a sudden commotion going on below the stage.

  A few teenage girls had somehow managed to get past the metal barrier in front of the stage and were now crammed against it, right below where he stood. In fact, they were yelling his name and starting to scramble up, apparently to try to reach him. A couple of the festival’s security guards hustled over and quickly herded the girls back behind the barrier.

  Crazy.

  He glanced sheepishly back at Claire as he kept with the beat. She mouthed the words rock star, giving him a big grin before smoothly carrying on as if nothing had happened.

  He laughed because, man, it felt good—even better than when he’d won his last race. At the track, it had been strangers cheering him on. Here, he was with Claire, and a lot of the people in front of the stage were her friends and people he’d come to know. They weren’t just cheering the music he was playing, they seemed to be cheering him. Maybe even cheering him as one of their own.

  That realization was the biggest damn surprise he’d had in a long time.

  * * *

  When Ry had taken her hand for their bows at the end of the performance, it had felt like a fairy tale, and it was one Claire hoped wouldn’t end when the clock struck midnight. Fortunately, midnight had now just passed and, a little drunk on both beer and Ry Griffin, she was still riding the emotional high as they pulled into his driveway. Performing with him tonight had been both emotionally intense and creatively satisfying. They’d connected through each other and through the music, as if some invisible bond had shimmered into life under the stage lights.

  “There’s probably going to be big puddle somewhere, if not worse.” His prosaic words pulled her from her romantic haze. “I came home and let the poor guy out this afternoon, but I shouldn’t have stayed at the bar so long.”

  “One dog cookie and I’m sure all will be forgiven,” she said. “And I’ll help clean up.”

  He grinned as he braked to a stop. “It’ll take a lot more than a cookie to keep Stanley happy once I shut him out of the bedroom.”

  Her heart rate took off like a jackrabbit and her head swirled in a nerve-wracking combo of anticipation and anxiety. Ry had certainly put it out there. Still, it was exactly what she’d been assuming would happen.

  Within the next few minutes, they were either going to have spectacular sex or they would have to deal with a very awkward situation when her nerve failed her. There was no denying how much she wanted to go to bed with him. She wanted it so badly she could barely think straight. But that was the problem. She had to be able to think straight, because for her, sex with Ry could never be just a casual hookup.

  If she didn’t get this right, an emotional tsunami would surely swamp her.

  When the concert ended, it hadn’t taken much persuasion from Meg and Cassidy to get her and Ry down to the Dory for a few celebratory beers. Ry had stopped at one, because he was driving. Still, he’d seemed relaxed as groups of people stopped by their table to congratulate them on the concert. Between all the well-wishers and the bar’s non-stop noise, they didn’t get a chance to talk much. While she was pretty sure he’d enjoyed playing with her, you could never really tell with Ry.

  When she reluctantly said she should call it a night, he’d insisted on walking her to her door. After she’d worked up the nerve to ask him in for coffee, he’d bowled her over by suggesting she come home with him instead. He’d said he’d be happy to make her coffee and then drive her home later, although his slow, sexy smile had made it pretty clear that “later” would probably mean after the sun rose.

  Without a second thought, she’d all but scrambled up into his truck, so eager to be alone with him that she could barely keep still. Neither of them had said much on the short ride to Promise Island, instead listening to the country rock music streaming out of his truck’s speakers.

  He’d kept his hand resting lightly on her bare knee the entire time, and the warmth of his long and slightly rough fingers on her skin had knocked every coherent thought out of her head.

  Now, when he opened the front door, Stanley immediately jumped up on her. She laughed as she pushed him down.

  “I told you he’d be mad at me,” Ry said.

  “Maybe he just loves me better.”

  His gaze grew heavy-lidded and hot as it slowly travelled over her body. “Then I can’t argue with his taste.”

  Claire had to swallow before she could reply. “Um, I guess we’d better take a look around the house. I’ll grab some paper towels.”

  “Why don’t you make the coffee? If there’s a mess, it’s my fault, so I’ll clean up.” He picked up a nearly full roll of Bounty from its holder beside the sink.

  She smiled. “I like a man who takes responsibility for his messes.”

  “Better watch out, funny girl.” He strode off toward the living room with Stanley trotting after him. “Because I’ll be calling the shots when I get back.”

  That sounded…awesome.

  He returned a couple of minutes later as she was scooping coffee into the machine. Stanley was right on his heels again, looking not the least bit apologetic. Ry threw a handful of wadded up towels in the trash and washed his hands before nudging up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “How about we do coffee after?” he murmured in a low, sexy voice.

  She was torn between her skyrocketing nerves and the impulse to snuggle into his muscular body. An impressive erection was pressing against her bottom.

  “After what, exactly?” Maybe silliness would mask her anxiety.

  Ry gently turned her around. He cupped her chin with a gentle hand, his smile a mix of tenderness and amusement.

  Dammit. He obviously could tell how anxious she was.

  “After we do what we’ve been resisting for a long time.” He leaned in and traced a slow, tantalizing kiss across her lips. It was a barely-there kiss, yet it set all her nerve endings alight with delicious fire.

  But caution warred with desire, as always. “There was a reason for that. Should we start ignoring it now?”

  He shook his head. “What we need to do for once is to stop thinking. Just let it all go and let the universe take care of it.”

  That surprised a laugh out of her. “So when did you turn into such a New Age kind of guy?”

  He flashed a smile before pulling her against him and swooping in for another kiss—this time long and deep. His heat and intensity suffused every part of her as he cradled her against him. With his brawny arms tight around her, he overwhe
lmed her senses. He pinned her against the counter and nuzzled her mouth, as his erection nudged her right there.

  Despite the undeniable risks, Claire shook with a longing that went bone deep. Here with Ry, with his hands and mouth on her body, a surprising strength surged within her and its energy blasted away the chorus of nos that had become the relentless backdrop of her life.

  She gasped when he let her up for air. “Okay, deal. I have one request though.”

  He trailed hot kisses down her neck, pulling aside the collar of her little jacket to press his lips onto her bare shoulder.

  “Name it.” His voice was low and raspy.

  Who knew a guy’s voice actually could make you go weak in the knees? It was such a cliché that she almost laughed.

  She cleared her throat so she wouldn’t squeak like she’d just breathed in helium. “I’d rather it not not be in my parents’…uh, I mean, not be in your bedroom, okay? That would be a bit weird.”

  He blinked. “Well, how about in front of a roaring fire with pillows and a soft blanket underneath you?” He nuzzled her throat again. “I promise to keep you nice and warm.”

  “I think you’d better put Stanley in his crate right now,” she whispered.

  Chapter 17

  Ry’s dark gaze glittered with laughter. “What, you don’t want any witnesses?”

  Claire couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, I didn’t realize you were into kink.”

  He slipped a hand under the short skirt of her dress. “Well, not the first time, anyway. Maybe later.”

  “Um, really?”

  Okay, maybe a few games might be fun, but right now she just wanted his hands and mouth on her body, him moving deeply inside. She’d waited too long to play around, to pretend it was just for fun.

  He pressed her gently against the counter, his hand brushing shivers up her thigh. “I’m kidding. Claire, I don’t need anything but you.” He huffed out a laugh that sounded strained. “I can barely hold myself back as it is.”

  When his fingers reached the lacy trim of her panties, she slipped her hands up around his neck and then almost jumped a foot off the floor when Stanley thrust his head between their bodies.

  “Dammit, I forgot about old Stan here.” Ry’s voice was equal parts exasperation and amusement. He grabbed the dog’s collar. “Sorry, bud, we love you but definitely don’t need your company tonight.”

  He snagged a few biscuits from the dog cookie jar, and he and the dog disappeared into the pantry where she heard him murmur a few soft words to Stanley. He emerged a few seconds later and closed the door behind him.

  “Think he’ll be okay?” She couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty.

  “We’ll see if he starts howling. I gave him extra dog cookies and put two of his chew toys in there.”

  “Good. He should be fine, then.”

  “He’d better be, because I am definitely not letting him out for the next hour or two.”

  His dark, sexy tone sent her stomach into a lovely dive.

  At least she thought it was lovely. During the time it had taken to put Stanley away, her nerves had started to spiral again.

  Shut up, nerves.

  His long strides ate up the space between them, and his hot gaze stripped the clothes from her body. Her heart thudded in a crazy beat.

  “Now, what were we doing before we were so rudely interrupted?” His hands settled on her hips.

  “If I recall correctly, you were about to kiss me,” she said in a shaky voice.

  “Right, but let’s get more comfortable.”

  He swept her up and headed for the living room. Breathless, she settled into his arms, relishing the feel of his easy strength. How many girls had the fantasy of a big, strong guy sweeping her off her feet? Ry could actually pull it off and then some, making her light-headed with anticipation for what would come next.

  He set her down in front of the comfy sofa, trailing kisses along her neck as he helped her out of her jean jacket.

  “Hang on,” he murmured, pulling away. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

  He crouched in front of the big hearth. His T-shirt pulled tight as he reached for the matches in the kindling box, showing off his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Claire did shiver then—not from cold, but from imagining all that brawn and muscle naked and on top of her. It still seemed impossible that it was actually going to happen. That she and Ry would finally be together.

  For now anyway.

  She shoved aside that unwelcome bit of worry and watched him light the fire. It quickly crackled into life, casting heat in a welcome blaze. Ry stood and switched off the table lamp beside the door to the hallway. With only the fire to drive back shadows, the familiar room had turned mysterious and romantic.

  He came back to her and slipped his hands around her back, reaching for her zipper. “Okay if we get you out of this dress?”

  She nodded, as eager as he was. Still, she felt her smile wobble. While she liked sex a lot, it had been almost a year since she’d last dated and much longer since she’d gone to bed with a man. Even then, the sex had been of the garden-variety type—in bed, under the covers, with the lights out.

  With Ry, there was no hiding. He could see her every expression, see everything about her. And he could probably read every emotion that flashed through her eyes, for better or worse.

  He slid her dress from her shoulders and arms. Balancing one hand on his waist, she wriggled out of it, smiling at the sound of his soft groan. He grasped the dress before it hit the floor, turned, and tossed it onto an armchair. By now, the warmth in his dark eyes had morphed into a blazing heat.

  He let his gaze travel slowly over her body. It lingered on her panties, which barely covered anything. Already she could feel herself growing soft and wet, even though he’d barely touched her.

  “So, are you going to do something,” she asked, fighting a sudden rush of shyness with bravado, “or just stand there and stare at me all night? Because that would be about the most low-key sex on the planet, dude. I might end up falling asleep.”

  He snorted. “I think my brain just froze for a second. Maybe all the blood went to my dick.”

  He traced a fingertip along the black lace trim of her push-up bra. “So pretty,” he whispered.

  “Thanks,” she whispered back. She reached for the hem of his shirt. “My turn.”

  When she started to yank the shirt over his head, he took over, ripping it off and tossing it away.

  Greedily, Claire put her hands on his body. And oh, man, was it worth the wait. She slid her fingers over his awesomely sculpted shoulders and chest, lightly combing through the soft, springy hair on his pecs. She followed the trail as it arrowed down and disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. When she started on the button there, he gently moved her hands away.

  She frowned. “What’s wrong?

  “Not a damn thing.”

  He moved so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to react. His hands closed around her waist, and a second later he lifted her up and plopped her gently on the couch, a couple of pillows behind her head. He pushed her thighs wide as he knelt between them.

  A wee bit off-kilter on the couch, Claire grabbed his biceps. Before she could find her balance, he took her mouth in a kiss that ravished her, sending her pulse skyrocketing. Without lifting his mouth from hers, he slipped a hand around to cradle her head, holding her steady. For a few long, delicious moments, they just kissed. Ry’s mouth slanted over hers in a leisurely possession that quickly built into a hunger that spread fire through her veins.

  Claire finally broke away, gasping. “Okay, give me a second to catch my breath.”

  She needed a moment to calm her heart, since it was threatening to beat its way out of her chest. They’d hardly done anything, and yet she already felt close to overwhelmed.

  “Breathing is overrated.” He worked his way along her jawline and down to her throat. She didn’t even try to hold back a moan as he licked and nibbled
his way to her shoulder.

  “Mind if we take this off?” he murmured, touching her bra strap.

  “Be my guest,” she choked out.

  He unsnapped the front closure and eased the bra down her arms, his gaze avid as he exposed her breasts. Claire sensed his hands shake a tiny bit as he slipped the scrap of silk and lace from her body. He flipped it in the general direction of their other clothes and sat back on his heels, staring at her. The muscles of his throat moved as he swallowed.

  “Holy shit, Claire.”

  Sometimes he was a man of laughably few words, but she heard the appreciation in his tone, and something that sounded like heartfelt emotion.

  She reached for him, but he swooped in with an athlete’s speed and fastened his mouth on her breast. His arm snaked around her back and she moaned again as he suckled her. Electricity streaked through her body, deliciously scorching every nerve ending.

  For a few almost delirious minutes, Ry played with her, focusing all his attention on her breasts. He went from one to the other, teasing her, flicking her stiff nipples with the tip of his tongue before sucking her back into his mouth. The pleasure was so sharp, so acute, that it was almost painful. And if he kept it up, she just might come before they got any further. When he lifted one of her breasts, his lips tugging hard on her nipple, Claire dug her fingers into his jean-clad hips and tried to pull him even closer, seeking contact where he could do her the most good.

  But then his hands dropped away and he pulled back, groaning with what could be frustration. Claire grabbed the cushions to steady herself. “What’s wrong?”

  “Absolutely nothing, except for the fact that I’m about to explode before I’m even inside you.”

  Heat burned her cheeks at his carnal language. “Then what are you waiting for?” At this point, she was ready to rip his clothes off and pounce on him. In fact, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it already.