by Meghan March
“You don’t know how fucking happy it makes me every time you say that. I love you. I want to show you just how good it can be.”
“I already know how good it can be. You’ve been showing me.”
I reach for the chocolate squares and graham crackers, and sweep the golden toasted marshmallow off the stick to make another delicious dessert. I hand it to Ryker and he wastes no time crunching into it.
“You want another?” I ask, reaching for the bag of marshmallows.
He shakes his head and I’m glad, because I know what I want next. While he finishes his s’more, I gather up the sticks and bags and boxes, and stow them in the kitchen. Ryker joins me in washing our sticky hands, and we both head back to the living room and settle on the floor in front of the fire.
His expression turns serious. “There’s something else we need to talk—”
I shake my head. “No more talking tonight. I don’t need more words. I just need you.” I reach for the hem of my shirt and tug it over my head.
“Baby—”
“No. Really. I need you. Take your shirt off.”
He hesitates for a moment before grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging the entire thing over his head in that solidly male move. I never tire of looking at him. His muscles are defined and sexy as hell. I get a very strong I licked it, so it’s mine feeling whenever I see them.
I push him back on the rug, my fingers going to the button of his jeans before pulling down the tab of the zipper. Ryker lifts his ass as I tug them down off his hips. His cock springs free because once again, he’s opted to go commando.
When I wrap my hand around his shaft, he stills, even though I know his heart rate is picking up. Normally he’s the one who makes me yell his name and writhe against him, but tonight, it’s my turn.
“Baby, what are you—”
“I think that’s pretty obvious,” I whisper as I lower my mouth and suck the head of his cock inside.
His groans, quiet words of encouragement, and the crackling of the fire are the only sounds I hear for long minutes. When I’ve teased him to the brink, and the salty taste of his pre-cum hits my tongue, he grips my hair and pulls my head back with a soft tug.
“I want to come inside you.”
I can already feel the heat building between my thighs, and I want the same thing. When I nod, he pulls me forward, his fingers tugging down the waistband of my leggings until the heat of the fire hits my skin. I shimmy them the rest of the way off, and because I took a page out of his book, I’m bare beneath them.
“Fuck, baby.” His hand cups me between my legs, and he groans at how slick and ready I am. “Always so wet for me. I love it. You couldn’t be more perfect. I want you on my face. I want to eat you before I fuck you.”
I look down at him, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “You mean before I ride you? Because this is my show.”
His blue eyes blaze with heat. “Then you’re going to ride my face first—until you scream.”
When I move up toward his face, Ryker’s hands grip my ass and guide me the rest of the way. “Fucking love your ass. Your pussy. Your brain. Your heart. Love you, baby. So much.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my words fall away as Ryker steals my power of speech and catapults me into pleasure. His tongue, his lips, his teeth—he uses them all in an effort to make me scream. And he succeeds.
“Ryker!” His name bounces off the walls of the room before I collapse onto my elbows, hovering over him.
I’m only still for a second before he grips my hips and flips me over onto my back.
“I know you said you were going to ride me, but baby, I’m taking charge of this show.” He reaches for his pants, retrieves a condom from the pocket, and has it on before I can come up with a single argument as to why I shouldn’t let him take charge. Probably because my body is totally in favor of this plan.
Ryker slides a hand under my ass and tilts my hips upward until the head of his cock nudges against my entrance.
“Hard and fast. I’ll give you slow and sweet later.”
I nod. “As long as I’m getting you, I don’t care.”
His gaze never leaves mine as he presses forward, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke.
Full. I’ll never get over the feeling of fullness. I love every single second of the stretch as my body takes everything he has to give.
Ryker leans down to take my lips in a hard kiss before pulling back. “Hard and fast,” he murmurs before delivering on his promise.
With every stroke, he owns me. My climax barrels down on me, and his name rings out from my lips again. He fucks into me harder and faster until he finally stills with his release.
I belong to him. I’ve found my place, and it’s not a where. It’s a who.
Whatever happens now, I’m stronger for having him in my life and experiencing this.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Justine
My phone chimes over and over on the nightstand.
Shit. Alarm.
I’m not ready to get up. I’m not ready for this to be over. If I could have conjured the perfect weekend out of thin air, it wouldn’t have been better than this one.
We cooked, we ate, we joked, we teased, we fucked, we made love, and more than anything—we laughed. Laughter hasn’t been a constant in my life, but with Ryker around, it’s now coming quicker and easier.
Neither of us wanted to let this weekend go, so when Ryker suggested we stay Sunday night and head back to school early the next morning for class, I didn’t hesitate to agree.
But my alarm is signaling our return to reality.
I grab my phone, intending to hit the screen and the snooze button to make it shut up. But when I hear a voice instead of silence, I sit up straight, waking Ryker.
“Shit. What’s—”
“Where the hell are you?”
The voice finally penetrates my sleep-muddled head. It wasn’t my alarm. It was my ringtone for Merica.
“Where the hell are you?” she repeats.
I look down at the screen, my stomach dropping at the time. Fuck, it’s already after eight.
“Shit! My alarm didn’t go off!”
Ryker bolts up in bed next to me. “Fuck, we gotta go. We’re missing class.”
“Justine—” Merica’s voice sounds like a muted yell as I hold the phone away from my head.
“We’ll be there. I gotta go.”
“Wait—”
But I hang up. I’m already in panic mode as I vault out of bed.
“We gotta go. I don’t know what happened to my alarm.”
Ryker grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Fuck, my phone’s dead, so my alarm didn’t go off. I’m so sorry, babe. I know how you feel about missing class.”
“It’s okay. I probably set my alarm for PM or some stupid crap like that. Let’s just go. Maybe we can make the next class.”
Ryker nods. “Pack our stuff. I’ll shut down everything in the house and we’ll be on the road.”
“Sounds good.” I lean over to press a kiss to his lips. “We’re a good team.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re headed back to reality as my phone chimes with a text.
Merica: Call me before you get to campus. We need to talk.
Justine: I’ll be there as quick as I can. Talk soon.
Ryker looks over at me as he pushes the truck harder and faster down the highway.
“Everything okay?”
“Merica wants me to call her, but I’ll see her after class. I owe her for calling and waking us up.”
“I’m sorry we’re missing—”
I cut him off. “Don’t be. It’s not a big deal. Missing one class isn’t going to kill us.”
He reaches across the center console and squeezes my hand. “I love you, baby.”
“Love you.”
We hold hands as we haul ass toward campus.
I should have listened to Merica. I should have called her, should
n’t have hung up on her. If I’d done any of those things, I wouldn’t have walked blind into the shitstorm that meets us at the doors of the law school.
When Ryker and I walk into the building, we’re still holding hands, and I have one of those everyone is staring at us moments.
“Why is everyone looking at us like that?”
He wraps a hand around my hip and pulls me closer. “Because you’re fucking gorgeous, and they’re all amazed you finally gave me the time of day.”
I shake my head because it’s more than that. I can practically feel the buzz of gossip flying through the air.
“It’s something else. Something bigger.”
Ryker presses a kiss to my forehead. “Babe, don’t worry so much about everything.”
We step out of the elevator, and Ryker is proven wrong.
Everyone is watching us. A few look up from newspapers to us and then back down again.
“What the hell is going on?” It’s not the student paper they’re holding, but the local paper.
Merica rushes toward us. “I told you to call me!” She grabs me by my free hand and drags us both toward a corner. Merica shoves the paper toward Ryker.
“Did you know?”
He takes it from her and flips to the front. My stomach twists and cramps as I lean over his shoulder to read the headline: “Abuse of Power at Every Level.”
There’s a picture of Justice Grant and a woman I assume is Ryker’s mother just below it.
“Fuck.” Ryker whispers the curse. “I have to call my dad.”
I yank the paper from his hand and read the article as fast as I can.
My eyes lift to Ryker’s as I get to the part about his mother being in rehab because she caused an accident and left the scene, which resulted in a law student going to jail. The article says that Justice Grant knew about the accident but didn’t report it.
All the pieces start falling into place.
Chad.
Ryker’s mother.
The police report I read last week said it was a red car. Was it the same red car under a cover in the garage at the Grants’ house? It has to be.
“What . . . ? Your mother . . .” My voice shakes when I start to speak. “Your mom is the one who hit Chad?”
I’m not sure if I expect him to dodge the question, but what I don’t expect is stony silence. “I have to talk to my dad.”
“You have to get the family story line straight before you can say anything?”
Ryker glares at Merica. “Give us a minute?”
She looks to the open door of the Law Review office behind us. “You’ve got two, and then I’m coming in. Make her cry and I’ll kill you.”
Ryker pulls me into the empty office and shuts the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is still shaking and betrayal cuts deep within me. “I laid myself bare in front of you, and you never said a goddamn thing to let me know that you were hiding something too. Why?” I realize that my questions might be unfair, given the secrets I kept, but . . . “I thought we were done with hiding. I thought everything from here on out was supposed to be real. No lies. No secrets. Just real.”
Ryker’s face is an unreadable mask. “I didn’t have a choice.”
The words hit me like a blow. “Do you have any idea how shitty I felt every time I had the opportunity to come clean and I didn’t? Do you know how badly I beat myself up over it? And the only thing you have to say right now is I didn’t have a choice?”
“What else do you want me to say? That I would’ve been thrilled to tell you that my mother is a functional alcoholic who drove drunk and hit one of our classmates, and my dad wasn’t about to let her go to jail, so he called on me to help clean up her mess?”
“That’s why you didn’t come? The morning I moved?”
He nods. “I couldn’t tell you. Even if I wanted to tell you, my dad wouldn’t have let me.”
Preserving the family name was more important. It’s not a concept I understand, but apparently it made sense to him.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I whisper the question because I need to know. I thought we were free and clear of all the bullshit, and that I was the only one living with guilt. And now, after I’ve shown him every part of me, right down to the ugly, awful memories, I find out that there’s more going on than I realized.
He shakes his head. “You didn’t need to carry this burden. You’ve had enough shit in your life. Why should this be your problem? It wasn’t relevant to us.”
“It wasn’t relevant?” I try to keep my voice down, but it raises an octave anyway. “I’ve known Chad for more than half my life! You don’t think that if your mom had turned herself in as the cause of the accident that maybe a judge wouldn’t have been more lenient? One word from your dad, or a single offer to help him out with the character and fitness committee, and maybe he wouldn’t have dropped out of school? But instead your family decides to keep its secrets and let someone else suffer for your mom’s actions. Who does that?” Now that the words are spilling out, I can’t stop the rest. “What else are you hiding, Ryker? What else don’t you think I can handle knowing?”
He drops his gaze to the floor. “That I knew—”
Before he has a chance to say more, the door of the Law Review office flies open and Merica strides inside. “The dean is looking for you both. More shit hit the fan.”
My stomach twists into even bigger knots. What now?
“We’re not done with this conversation,” Ryker says, his face pained, and stabs of guilt slice through me.
I don’t even know what to think or feel anymore.
What a fucking disaster.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Justine
I feel like I’m walking a gauntlet, headed toward a guillotine. How many more blows can keep coming?
The dean stares us both down from across his desk.
“Ms. Porter and Mr. Grant, we’ve received a report from a student claiming that you’ve violated the student code of conduct.”
“What?” My shock is evident in my tone.
The dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Who is paying your tuition, Ms. Porter?”
I open my mouth to reply but Ryker beats me to it.
“How is that relevant? And what part of the student code of conduct are we accused of violating?”
The dean shifts his gaze from me to Ryker. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We’ve received a report that you are paying Ms. Porter’s tuition in exchange for sexual favors.”
No freaking way. One name flashes through my mind. Kristy Horner. That bitch.
“You’ve gotta be joking. That’s ridiculous.”
Ryker leans forward and meets the dean’s stare. “I think we all know who made that accusation, and it’s completely bullshit. My father paid Justine’s tuition in exchange for her to help me study.” He pauses as though gathering himself. His next words hit me like shotgun blasts. “I read the independent contractor agreement they entered into shortly after it was signed, and for the record, my father couldn’t have picked a better tutor.”
“I read the independent contractor agreement they entered into shortly after it was signed . . .”
He knew. He fucking knew. My brain reels with the information. All those times he pushed me to tell him how I paid for school . . . he already knew.
“Justine can confirm that she felt it would be more fair if they transitioned to a private loan agreement. My father can provide you with copies of both documents.”
Ryker finally looks at me, and I can’t imagine my face is anything but the picture of shock. He knew. And he let me believe that he didn’t.
The dean’s look of surprise probably rivals mine. “We’d need to see the agreements to confirm, but if what you’re saying is the truth, then we have no problem here and the accusation would be wildly incorrect.”
“Wildly incorrect? More like malicious and unfounded.” Ryker leans forward in his se
at. “Is there a provision of the student code of conduct that punishes students for falsely accusing others? Or perhaps in the employee code of conduct that prohibits the sharing of confidential information learned on the job? For instance, if someone’s mother were to work in the registrar’s office and they shared confidential information with a student.”
The dean sits back and crosses his arms. “If you were to level either of those accusations, they would be investigated seriously because both would indeed be violations of our policies.”
“You want my official complaint now to begin your investigation?”
He shakes his head. “I think you’ve got more than enough to deal with today, Mr. Grant. Tomorrow is soon enough.” Looking to me, he adds, “I apologize for dragging you into this, Ms. Porter.”
I can’t form words yet. My brain is still trying to comprehend that Ryker knew. Nodding at the dean, I rush for the door. I yank it open and find Merica standing outside.
“Get me out of here. Please. I need . . . I need to go.”
Ryker comes barreling out of the dean’s office, but Merica throws a protective arm around my shoulder.
“Justine, wait—”
The dean’s voice interrupts from behind him. “Mr. Grant, there’s one more issue we need to discuss. Alone.”
I know Ryker wants to tell the dean to fuck off, but he can’t. It’s the miracle I need to escape.
Merica pulls me toward the elevator. “Let’s go.”
Ryker’s blue gaze drills into me. “You can go, but know that I’m coming for you. I’ll always come for you.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Justine
A best friend is called best for a reason. Because when your entire life implodes and everything you thought you could count on turns to shit and falls apart, a best friend is there with wine, even if it’s not quite noon, to help glue it back together.
Ryker knew.
There’s not enough wine in the world to make me comprehend. I babbled the whole thing to Merica on the way home and she just listened, muttering the occasional holy shit.