by Jennah Scott
“Hello?” Angel’s voice was out of breath, but unmistakably hers.
Suddenly his throat dried up and Ryker’s brain threatened to forget all the words he knew. He hadn’t expected her to answer. It bothered him, knowing she was home and not returning his call. Work was one thing he could understand, but this hurt.
“Hello?” she asked again, clearly ready to hang up.
“Angel.”
Her sharp intake of air filled the line. “Ryke. How’s it going?”
Shitty remarks came to mind and almost rolled off of his tongue, but Ryker held back. Angel was always ready to flee. Saying something cold—even if he could blame it on being hurt—wouldn’t help either of them.
“Well, I’m hungry and work’s over. And I would like to see you tonight.”
“Oh baby, can’t get enough, huh?” Angel laughed.
“Maybe not ever, sweetheart. How about some dinner?”
After a slight hesitation, Angel cleared her throat. “I’m pretty busy today, been working a lot.”
“Take a break. You need to eat, Angel.”
“Well, I came home and hung out. That kind of was my break. Tomorrow?”
Ryker’s voice was a low growl, “No.” She wouldn’t push him away, not after the hurt he’d seen in her eyes and the way she spoke of her past like it was a real live ghost haunting her every minute of rest she got.
“Oh, I do love it when you growl.”
“You want a man in charge, huh? Well, here’s how tonight’s going down. You can work, but I’m picking up dinner and bringing it to your studio. Now give me directions.”
Laughter filled the headset. “Ryke, listen, you’re amazing and the other night was … something powerful, but I don’t really let people come to the studio.”
“Angel, enough of this crap. The games are unbecoming and not like you. I want you, I have since day one and you know it. There’s something between us and whatever it is, it’s growing and I refuse to let you run away from it. You and me, us, that’s what this is.”
“Why do we have to label it?”
“Angel. Either I come over tonight, to your studio and have dinner with you or you tell me right now that you don’t want to explore any part of what’s between us and I’ll walk away. But I’m not just a quick fuck. I won’t let that be all we are. So I’m coming over or we’re done with all of this.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Pain twisted in his gut, his unplanned ultimatum reaching his brain and worse yet—his heart. If she told him to walk away right now, he wouldn’t have a safe corner of his home or his mind to crawl into. The hurt would find him anywhere. Instead of answering, he let her contemplate in silence.
“753 Oak Ridge Drive. I’m the first apartment on the right, number one hundred. It’s the old gymnasium, you can’t miss it.”
“A cold day in hell wouldn’t stop me from finding that place. I’ll see you soon. And, Angel …”
“Yes?”
“You won’t be working while I’m there. Not on your art, that is.”
Ryke ended the call on her sharp intake of breath. Good. He wanted her to wonder, anticipate. Maybe if he kept her guessing she’d be less likely to try and run.
Chapter 19
Ryker pulled up to the address she gave him. The old gymnasium didn’t look anything like an apartment complex, but he could tell from the way the windows were spaced out along the brick exterior that each room would have open space and a high ceiling. Something Angel would need for her kind of work.
Amongst the tiny foreign cars and bulky pickups was one light pink Cadillac from the sixties. There was no way it wasn’t hers. Unable to resist looking inside, Ryker walked to it and eyed a tube of lipstick hung on a silver chain around the rearview mirror. The car was mint with a clean interior. The lowered windows let the smell of a recently cleaned car permeate the air. Without a thought, his hands ran along the door panel, the paint smooth under his fingers; clean, even for his particular taste.
Angel pushed the outside door open and walked toward him in a sort of coverall marked with different paint colors. Ryker left the car and headed toward her. His attraction to her was a force he had no control over.
He took a risk in reaching for her hand, but when Angel didn’t flinch or pull back he walked her back to the building, their fingers interlocked.
It was time to let go, Angel knew Ray was right and she was going to try her hardest to heed her friend’s advice. When Ryker had thrown out the ultimatum an hour ago, it had made her stomach drop to the tips of her toes and panic set in.
After their night in St. Louis, Angel wondered if he’d viewed enough of her crazy-gene to scare him away for good. What kind of woman clung to a man like he was the sun, setting the orbit for her solar system? Especially since, minutes before, she’d had to force herself not to run as fast as she could.
That night in front of the gallery doors, she looked through the glass that separated her from the last time her life had taken a turn for the worst. Doing that was something she’d never wanted to do again. Ryker didn’t know it was the same place she stood and overheard artists gushing to the elegant blonde in the off-the-shoulder classic black dress about her husband. They raved about how proud she must be that he would be leaving the gallery that night as partial owner.
Ryker had no clue, that as he stood trying to figure out what caused her sudden change, her mind re-watched as the epitome of grace and femininity walked up to her and commented on her artwork, knowing the name on the piece wasn’t true. Ryker didn’t realize Angel had been lost in the memory of knowing true mortification and shame that had defined her since then. That he’d bullied her into creating the sculpture that would let him keep a stake in the gallery.
It was the first time Angel wore shame on her face since her mother’s funeral, when her father refused to look at her. Her then-long hair and innocent stature reminded him too much of his dead wife to even acknowledge or help her grieve with the loss of her own mother.
“Angel? Is it stuck?” Ryker trailed a hand down her arm.
She opened the door, pulling hard on the old brass handle and leaving her memories in the parking lot. “Um, yeah, the wood frame must have swelled in the heat.” She could never tell him her real thoughts, all the pain that came with rejection that had been cast on her since she was a girl, how she could never do the right thing, regardless of how hard she tried.
Angel’s studio was on the ground floor because it offered the highest ceiling. With all of her recent trips to the place, the air conditioning was still set to kick on. It looked mildly lived in, not like the cold, unused space it morphed into on her longer art droughts; those periods of time when she wasn’t inspired or felt too depreciated to even attempt to make anything. Angel took a deep breath and smiled, welcoming in the first visitor her studio had seen since Ray first came over two years ago.
This was it. Starting over, fresh choices and a new attitude. Angel had everything she needed to convince her to stick around and enjoy life. For once she didn’t want to throw it all away. The risk of letting Ryker in wasn’t as mind numbing and frightful as it had been when he’d laid down the gauntlet. Now that he was in her world, a thrill chased up her spine at everything they still had to find out about each other and the future.
“All right, so,” Angel tugged Ryker in and held a hand out to the small kitchenette. “Kitchen.” Her hand dragged against the antique porcelain stove and yellowing refrigerator until she passed them and stood in the living room.
“Wow. This place is huge.” Angel watched him look around her place, taking in all of the paintings resting against the floor and the bare bones of her new project dead center where normal people would have had a television or couch, Angel felt a swell of pride within herself. She was doing it, letting him in and it felt good.
“Thanks.” She walked up and placed a hand on the stool-shaped piece of metal from his shop. “Here’s what that piece of scrap was for
.”
Angel watched with a smirk as Ryke walked up to her and the piece of metal and laid his hand on it. She’d smoothed and rounded it a bit, but it still held most of the dings and dents and odd shapes on its edges that she had come to love at the shop.
“What are you making with it?”
“Don’t know yet, I’m just seeing what happens and rolling with it.”
Ryker’s attention left the metal, his hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her close to him. His groin rocked against hers and instinctively her hands went to his neck, pulling his face down and closer to hers.
His lips moved over hers, barely brushing, as he whispered, “I think the risk will be worth it.”
For the first time in so long, Angel felt completely at peace. Ryker’s hands took up the entirety of the small of her back, warming her and making her feel secure. He’d seen the bare bones of her art and not cared that it wasn’t complete or painted or even that it didn’t make much sense at the time.
Instead he only seemed interested in what her mind would do with it next; yet as she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue to hers, all she could wonder was what she would do with him next.
Chapter 20
Ryke had never met a woman as unique, as in tune with herself, as Angelica. With no words to express the need he’d had to see her or touch her again he brought his lips to hers; tentative, hesitant at first but then with a craving he yearned to fulfill. He moved her back to a post in the middle of the room.
His fingers itched to unzip the coveralls that came clear up to her throat. A purple long-sleeve shirt peeked out from beneath its top. That had to go too. Ryke wanted nothing more than skin-to-skin contact with Angel. Hell, he required it before combustion. Never before had three days without sex with one woman been too long. It scared him to need her touch so bad. Their whirlwind of a relationship knocked him on his ass. Damn if he’d knew how to stop chasing, though.
One hand lingered on her cheek while the other reached for the zipper of those damn coveralls. She’d be lucky if he didn’t rip off her clothes.
Angel’s breath came faster and with it, his heart rate increased again. Ambulance. She was going to give him a heart attack. Frustrated with the pace, Ryke gave up on suave when it came to pulling her shirt over her head. The necessity to see her beautiful skin tore through him.
Ryker kissed a trail down her neck. The swells of her breasts brushed his face. He turned his attention to her taut nipples, laving them with his tongue, nipping them with his teeth. Angelica’s hands went over her head and she wrapped her hands around the post, her quick intake of breath begging for more. Angel was so responsive it didn’t take experience to know what she wanted, just attention.
Slow down. Angelica was scared. Sure, she wanted this, but he knew her tremors weren’t all due to pleasure. A frightened squirrel running from one town to the next, well, it was time she stood still. This time, he’d give her more than one reason to stay.
Red lace panties stood out in contrast to her tanned skin. Ryker envisioned taking them off with his teeth. Next time. He’d save that for later, maybe even get some edible panties for her.
Ryker took a condom from his wallet, lowered his pants and suited up.
"Ryker," she pleaded, her body shimmying up and down the yellow pole.
"Angel. My angel. Mine," he growled as he pressed into her chest. Ryke ran his hands down her sides, his fingers fluttered across the soft skin of her ribs, while the crown of his dick rubbed along her moist lips. With her arms around his neck, Ryker crooked her left leg around his waist.
Angel arched her hips, urging him to quit teasing and give her what her body screamed for. Her eyes closed and she nuzzled the inside of Ryke’s neck.
Ryke thrust forward. His thick length breeched her opening and filled her completely. The angle against the pole was perfect. His intrusion made Angel forget her worries. This was here and now, Ryke had her in his arms. Angel sank her teeth into his neck. Her breathing was hard and the words barely formed, but fragments stuck out.
“Ryke. Please … please don’t … yes.”
The hand on her thigh tightened to keep Angel in place while his other hand massaged her backside. Angel finally opened her eyes to look at him again. Lust wasn’t the only emotion she saw. Ryke wasn’t lying, he wanted Angel, and she wanted him. In that moment their lips collided, teeth smacking at the impact, but it didn’t slow them down.
"Ryke, I’m so close," she whispered when they broke apart.
“Hold on tight, baby. I’ve got you.”
It seemed impossible, but Ryker buried himself deeper, even as he slid his hand around the front of her hip to the spot she needed him the most. Angelica threw her head back against the pole as Ryke circled his thumb around her clit. Not quite touching, driving her need to the brink of frustration. A whimper escaped her lips. Angel rocked forward once more, hoping, wishing Ryke would get the message. He did.
Finally, he placed his thumb directly over her swollen clit and applied just the right amount of pressure. Angelica gasped, going silent right before she screamed his name. Ryker followed her seconds later, Angel’s name whispered across her bare chest.
After several long moments of heavy breathing, Ryker lowered her leg to the floor then helped Angel redress. He ditched the condom and returned looking thoroughly sated. Angel grinned at the satisfaction that her pleasure made him so happy.
“I believe you said something about dinner. Did you bring food?” Angel’s stomach growled.
“Shit. I left it out in the truck. Hope sandwiches are okay with you.” He swept his lips across hers, then left her to get the food.
Angel usually tired of sandwiches while she worked. They were quick, so she ate a lot of them when her muse took control. But with Ryker, the idea wasn’t so bad. Then again, it was more likely the fact that he was taking care of her than the actual food. No one had ever cared enough to force her to take time out.
The butterflies this time weren’t from lack of food, or nervousness at seeing him again. Nope. This was different. The flutters were from something far more dangerous. An emotion she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
Fortunately, Ryke came through the door with bags of food in hand and she didn’t have to face her heart. Angel shoved all the confusion and fear away. She wanted to revel in the afterglow of amazing sex and enjoy a meal with the man who continued to show her how great it was to be the center of someone’s attention. Ryke was teaching her the joy of pleasure in a way other than sex.
Chapter 21
Ryke strolled past Angel with groceries in his hands. With a quick glance, he checked her spook level. She stared at the front door without seeing anything. About the time his feet turned him around to go to her, she shivered and broke from whatever trance she’d fallen into. He gave a mental sigh of relief.
“You’ve got a kitchenette, but no table and chairs. Where do you eat when you’re here?”
Angel shrugged her shoulders. “On the floor?”
“In other words, you don’t eat. Which means it’s a damn good thing I brought food over.” He walked back to Angel who met him halfway between the work area she used and the kitchen. Her eyes gleamed with fulfilled pleasure. Ryke placed two fingers under her chin, raised it so their gazes met, and sighed. The need to take care of her overwhelmed Ryker; how had no man before see how precious his angel was?
“Sweetheart, from now on, you’re going to tell me when you go into hiding. I promise not to bother you unless I’m bringing food. Let me know and I’ll drop by to make something or show up with take-out at least twice a day. No other phone calls or text and I won’t stay to eat. But I will make sure you’re taken care of.”
Angel began to protest, but Ryke stopped her with a kiss. With this, Ryker wouldn’t budge. Angel had a talent he wouldn’t see suffer because she became lost in her muse. He’d done that with his cars in the past and knew from experience you could burn out. Sculpting was her passion. If he
were certain of nothing else, it would be that. Ryke wanted to ensure that thirst didn’t wane because she failed to worry about the bare essentials.
“That’s ridiculous. I can take care of myself, Ryke. I’ve been doing it for years. Why would you think I want you to come in riding your white horse declaring myself incapable? If you can’t figure out that I won’t go for that, then we know even less about each other than I thought.”
“A white horse, huh? While I like that image, that’s not what this is. All anyone has to do is listen to you talk, watch you when you’re in creative mode to see that you’re consumed by your imagination. Please don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great. That dedication, determination, is what makes you so good.”
“Right. So good studios are knocking on my door with miles of commissions.”
“Quit knocking yourself. That’s another thing. Can you try to not dismiss your talent? The past dealt you a shitty hand, but life is different in Kimmswick. I love your work. Ray would, too, if you’d ever show it to her. Stores around town like it, I know because I’ve seen your name on pieces in their windows. All I’m asking is that you make an effort not to talk down about your work.”
“If I agree, can we eat?”
“You have to agree to both.”
“Not tonight. I’ll agree to the second. Food, Ryke. You vowed to take care of me. I’m hungry.” Her stomach growled to accentuate her point and Ryke laughed.
Pleased to get at least one concession out of her, he began making ham and turkey sandwiches while she cleared a place on the floor for them to sit.
Once they finished dinner he’d approach the whole taking care of her topic again. Angel thought he’d given up, but she was wrong. It appeared they both had a lot to learn about the other.
The fact that she didn’t accept his forcefulness right away made Ryke’s body hum. Playing the game, accepting her unspoken challenge that he wouldn’t take care of her, drove Ryke wild. What guy didn’t like the chase?