by Meghan March
Three glasses of Halloween concoction later and there’s still no sign of him. Where the hell is Ryker? Did he change his mind?
Merica stands. “I’m going out for a smoke, but you’re going to swear on your life that you won’t tell Jimmy.”
“Do you even have a smoke?” I ask.
“I’ll bum one. There are plenty of people here.” She slips out of the booth, leaving me with the glass in front of me and a growing sense of unease.
Did he change his mind?
No. That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t.
A shadow falls over the table moments after Merica is out of sight, and I look up, expecting to see a familiar face. And I do, but it’s not the familiar face I wanted to see. It’s the med student I talked to at Unwired who bartends at Ziggy’s.
“Hey, you. Good to see you tore yourself away from the books for a night.” His entire face lights up with a smile, and he slides in across the booth from me.
“Indiana Jones?” I ask, taking in the hat, white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat, brown pants, and bullwhip curled at his side.
“Dr. Jones to you.”
His quick response steals a laugh from me.
“What’s your real first name? I know your last name is Caruthers.”
“Jonah.” He reaches his hand across the table to shake mine. “It’s nice to finally be officially introduced . . .”
“Justine Porter.” I slip my hand into his and shake. I try to pull back, but he doesn’t release his grip.
“I kept hoping I’d see you again at Ziggy’s.”
“Bars aren’t really my thing.”
“So you just come out for special occasions?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’ve got to say you make a pretty fabulous Wonder Woman. Makes me wish I’d dressed up as a superhero so we could fight evil together.”
“Sorry, man. I’ve already got that covered.” Ryker sits down in the booth beside me and throws his arm around my shoulders.
My gaze jerks to him, and sure enough, he’s got on a pair of jeans and a Captain America T-shirt that stretches impressively over his chest. It might not be a full-blown costume like my Wonder Woman get-up, but damn . . . he gives Chris Evans a run for his money.
“Figured as much, but you can’t blame me for trying,” Jonah says, pushing up from the bench seat.
“I was running late. Sorry, babe.” Ryker presses a kiss to my temple. He looks at the man exiting the booth. “Thanks for stopping to say hey, Caruthers.”
“Yeah. Anytime. Have a good night.”
Jonah melts into the crowd and Ryker turns to face me, brilliant smile in place. “I really can’t blame the guy for trying every time he sees you. You look fucking incredible tonight. And all mine.”
His words and the fire burning in his eyes send bolts of heat through me, settling between my legs.
I want him.
Pulling myself together, I form a response. “Thank you. You look pretty damn good yourself. Captain America? How’d you pick that one?”
“It’s one of your favorite Pez dispensers. I figured if you were going the Wonder Woman route, I had to pull out the superhero card.”
The fact that he noticed something like that surprises me, but should it? Very few details seem to get by him. Ryker isn’t the guy I initially thought he was. He’s so much more.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and slides it in front of me. I look down at the screen, and blink. He’s logged into the student portal where our grades were posted.
Professional Responsibility – Midterm – A – 4.0
I look up to meet the intense blue gaze. “I believed you when you texted me. I didn’t need proof.”
“I wanted you to see it anyway. Because you know what? I’m fucking proud. We’re a kick-ass team, Justine, and I’m not just saying that because I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
The heat he unleashed grows exponentially. I’m in deep trouble.
“We do make a pretty good team.” I attempt to keep my words nonchalant, and marginally succeed.
“I thought you said you were having second thoughts?” He scans every inch of my face, and I know this answer matters to him.
“I said I’ve been having a lot of thoughts. This is new for me, okay? When we made this deal, it was far off in the future. Something to worry about later. Now it’s later, and I can’t stop wondering—can we really balance it all? Studying and school and . . . whatever this is?”
Ryker’s expression sobers. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have in the middle of a bar.”
He’s right, but the unsettled feeling inside me won’t subside until we have this conversation.
Ryker stands. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You just got here.” I blink up at him, surprised that he already wants to leave.
He laces his fingers with mine and pulls me out of the booth and up against him.
“And I got what I came for—you.”
His single-minded focus on me turns the heat to liquid fire. When was the last time anyone ever made me feel this way? Never.
“Okay.”
I let him lead me out of the bar and we pass Merica, who now has Jimmy in tow, as we reach the front door.
“Hey, hottie.” She studies us both, her gaze locking on our clasped hands before jumping to my face. “You heading out?”
“Yeah.”
“Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Merica leans in and squeezes me in a hug before whispering in my ear. “You deserve this. No regrets.”
I hug her back and she curls into Jimmy’s side. “We’ll have to do a double date another time.”
The men nod at each other, and Ryker and I head outside.
Clouds of smoke from the laughing students gathered outside billow on the night air as we take the sidewalk around the bar. I spy his Camaro parked behind the bar in a handicapped spot.
“Feeling brave tonight?” I ask, looking from him to the car.
“I wasn’t about to waste any more time looking for a place to park.”
“What held you up?”
“Just some family stuff.” He walks me around to the passenger side and opens the door.
I pause before lowering myself inside. “Everything okay?”
Ryker’s nod is short. “Nothing to worry about.” He closes the door as soon as I’m settled and rounds the hood before hopping in. But he doesn’t start the car like I expect him to.
Instead, he turns to me. “Tell me right now if you’re changing your mind. I have to know.”
I shake my head. “I’m not changing my mind. We made a deal.”
His expression sobers. “And we both know this isn’t about making a deal anymore. This is me wanting you. All of you. Wanting to know how you feel under me. Wanting to know how hard you’re going to come when I’m buried inside you. I want it all, Justine. Including the chance to show you how fucking amazing life can be when you let a few distractions in.”
He’s absolutely right. This has become so much more than just a deal. He’s talking about a future. A future that’s becoming a seductive temptation for me.
You can have it all.
But can I?
Justice Grant paid the first two months of my tuition, and the third payment is due next week. What would he say if he knew that I was planning on sleeping with his son and continuing to take the money?
What does that make me?
“What do you say? Can you take a chance on me? On us?”
Ryker’s questions are sincere, and there’s only one answer I can give, even with the feelings of guilt snowballing in my brain.
“Yes. I say yes.”
Triumph brands his features. “Good. I’m taking you home.”
With every mile that passes as we drive toward his place, my mind races to find a solution to my growing moral dilemma. I can’t accept the tuition money and have Ryker too—at least, not without paying it back.
I didn’t want to have debt when I got out of school, but if that had been my only option, and I’d been able to get a loan without crippling interest rates, I would have taken it.
All I have to do is make a new deal with Justice Grant—everything has to be a loan. He’s getting what he wants—Ryker’s grades are staying up—so how could he say no to the proposition? I don’t think he’ll hold this against me. He’s not that kind of guy, and he all but told me that he had no problem with the idea of Ryker and me being more than study buddies. At that time, though, I didn’t expect for this to happen.
So can I really have it all?
Yes, I decide. I can.
It just has to be a loan. That’s something I can live with.
While Ryker guides the car downtown, I pull out my phone and my fingers fly, composing an e-mail to Justice Grant.
I keep it short and vague.
Justice Grant,
I’ve reconsidered our agreement and I’d like to discuss changing the terms. I think you’ll find them acceptable all the same.
Sincerely,
Justine Porter
I send the e-mail and shove my phone back in my purse, relieved when the niggling feelings of guilt evaporate. Everything is going to be okay.
Ryker waves a keycard at the gate that blocks the entrance to the parking garage of a fancy condo complex, and it opens. Pulling inside, he slides into a spot and shifts the Camaro into park.
Turning to me, his blue gaze pins me to my seat. “No regrets. That’s the one promise I want from you. No regrets, no matter what happens.”
Can I make that promise?
I nod my head, the single motion spurring the words. “No regrets. I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryker
I’ve waited years for this. Justine Porter, standing in my living room, one hand on the shoulder of her Wonder Woman top, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
I’m going to have her every way I’ve ever imagined. She’s mine now, whether she realizes it or not.
“Strip. Slowly.”
Her eyes go wide at my command before sharpening on me. She releases her lip and cocks a hip.
“How long have you been saving that up?”
“Way too long. But since I saw you at the Vu, it’s been at the top of my list.”
She walks toward me, pressing a fingertip against my chest. “You wanted to see me on that stage? Working a pole?” Her tone is seductive, and my already stiff cock goes rock hard.
I shake my head in response. “I would’ve dragged you off the stage before I’d let any other guy see you strip.”
Her dark eyes glimmer with heat. “But you wanted a private show?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
Justine steps back, and I don’t know if she’ll let her inner temptress out to play, but I watch in approval as she reaches for the shoulder of her top again and shimmies one and then the other down her arms. She leans forward, exposing that spectacular cleavage and those luscious tits, but I want more because that’s the kind of greedy bastard I am.
“More. I want to see it all.”
I wait for her to balk, but she doesn’t. Justine pulls the spandex further down her arms, and her tits are spilling out of the low-cut black bra. The straps dangle by her elbows as she reaches up to cup her tits.
“Fuck me.” She would have made a mint as a stripper, but I definitely would have killed someone.
“I thought that’s what we were here for.”
“Take off the bra.” I need to get my mouth on her nipples. I’ve jacked off so many times wondering what color they are.
She reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra, but holds it against herself for a beat before letting it fall.
“Sweet fucking Christ,” I breathe. High and firm, topped with pale pink nipples. Even better than I imagined.
Knowing I won’t be able to hold out long enough to give her what she deserves if this striptease continues, I stride forward and snatch the bra from her grip. My hands wrapped around her upper arms, I back her up against the floor-to-ceiling window.
Justine’s palms press against my chest, gripping my shirt. “I thought you liked the tease.”
“I fucking love it. Too much.”
I take her lips, covering her mouth with mine and pressing my lower body against her. I want her to feel what she does to me. Justine is no passive participant in the kiss—she steals the role as aggressor, pulling away to bite my lower lip before sucking my tongue back into her mouth. Her hands find their way around the back of my neck, and take control once more. It’s a constant battle for supremacy, and I’ve never been so ready after one kiss.
Only Justine.
That shouldn’t surprise me in the least.
I knew she was different. Whether consciously or on a gut level, I wouldn’t have spent two years in pursuit if she hadn’t been fucking amazing. And now she’s mine.
I may not have had her yet, but I don’t care. I know what’s coming is going to be the best night of my life, and I’m going to do every damn thing in my power to make sure it’s unforgettable for her.
I want her addicted to me.
It’s only fair, because I’ll never get enough of her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Justine
Ryker’s hands roam my body, lighting up my skin. I’m buzzing with the headiness of everything—his kiss and his touch. I’ve never had this kind of reaction before, and even though I don’t have tons of notches on my bedpost, I know this is totally different.
I want my clothes off. I want him inside me. I want it now.
Foreplay later. What does that make it? After-play? Round two? Whatever.
He rolls my nipple between two fingers and I squeeze my thighs together, failing to quell the ache.
Dropping one hand from the back of his neck where I’ve been holding on for dear life, I slide it between our bodies and palm his cock.
The best way to get what I want without having to beg for it? Make it what he wants.
“Fuck, baby.” His breath catches as he drops his forehead against mine. “You want that?”
I can’t lie. “Yes. Hurry.”
Ryker drops his gaze to mine, but before I can read his expression, he steps back and twines his fingers through my hand that was just wrapped around his erection. “I changed my mind. I want you in my bed. Under me. I want to hear my name echoing down the hall as you scream when I make you come.”
My inner muscles clench, and in that moment, I’d let him take me anywhere as long as he follows through on his promises.
As I trail him down the dark hallway, his grip on my hand silences any lingering hesitation. I’m not second-guessing anything now. Instead, I’m taking everything I can get.
When we reach the doorway, Ryker stops, turns, and wraps both hands around my waist before picking me up and carrying me toward the giant bed. Once we’re close, he twists around and drops onto it, falling backward with me on top of him.
I waste no time as my hands go for the hem of his shirt and tug it up. He raises his arms and within seconds his chest is bare, and I’m taking advantage. This time it’s my hands covering every inch of his skin, learning him, tasting him. It lasts only a minute or so before he grips me again by the hips and rolls us over.
The rest of my costume, and my panties, are gone in moments. All I’m wearing is confidence and a smile.
Ryker pushes off me to stand, fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. He shoves them down and his cock springs free. Commando. Why is that so damn hot?
Just like it did the night in his bed at his parents’ house, my mouth waters at the sight of his perfect erection. I want it between my lips. I want him so on edge that he can’t control himself when he finally slides inside me.
His blue eyes burn with heat, and I wonder if he’s picturing the same thing. I sit up as he steps forward, reaching for him, but Ryker’s hand grips my wrist before I can
make contact.
“No. I’m gonna come in that tight little pussy first, and if I let you get your hands on my cock, I’m a goner.” He steps toward the nightstand and digs in the drawer. He tears open a foil packet, rolling a condom down his length before returning to spread my knees and step between them.
Instead of thrusting inside me, he pauses. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, Justine. We can’t go back after this, so you better make damn sure it’s what you want.”
I’m past the point of no return, and I’m done questioning my choice. Good, bad, or indifferent, I’m doing this.
“Don’t make me beg.”
A darkly satisfied smile tugs at his lips. “Oh, you’re going to beg.”
Before I can say another word, he presses the head to my entrance and buries himself inside me.
Holy. Hell.
Full. So full.
Everything after that initial sensation is washed in a blur of impending orgasm and need. Stroke after stroke, he powers into me. Hands under my ass, he lifts me up, changing the angle and ratcheting up the pleasure. I’m screaming his name as I come the first time, and begging incoherently until he ruthlessly pushes me over the edge into a second shattering climax. Ryker’s roar as he comes is imprinted in my brain.
He’s right. I’m never going to forget this.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ryker
I wake up with nothing but cool sheets and an empty pillow beside me, and my first thought is that Justine left. She ran. She’s gone.
I roll out of bed and stride into the kitchen, pissed that she would bail after last night. Pissed that she’d walk without even telling me to go fuck myself first. She’s a woman and therefore mercurial in mood. But she’s also Justine, so she’s beyond unpredictable.
Anger is rushing through my veins and I’m headed for the counter to grab my keys, intent on tracking her down because I’m spoiling for a fight. You don’t have a night like we did last night and then just disappear without a word.