“Ryker.” I’m breathless, panting.
He rubs and kneads my flesh. The rhythm and pressure are slow and hard, like my breaths when I’m running. Breathing in and out, slow breaths. And I’m pounding the pavement. The high of a run is something else, a rush that electrifies me to my core. That’s what Ryker’s touch does. Gives me a natural high.
Closing my eyes, I ask, “Tell me how not to break your heart?”
I don’t want to ever hurt him, but I’m doing just that when I’m keeping a big secret from him. I open my eyes. I need to see him.
He’s staring at me. Was probably staring the entire time my eyes were closed. The intense way he’s looking at me spins my world on its top. Dizzy and my knees weak, I hold on to his shoulders for support.
Ryker stands and crowds my space. He’s so large and intimidating, I lurch back. His arm glides across my back, stopping me from toppling over. Hot from his touch, and my knees weak, I let him guide me back to the bed.
“If you tell me there’s a different guy you’re interested in, then yeah, you’ll break my heart.”
A warning. He’s warning me never to let Shephard into my life in that way again.
“I have a confession before we go further. The night of the party, Brett threw down a bet. Nail you and I get a chance with Missy Hayes. I’m sorry, Harper. I’m a fucking jerk. If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”
“And how would you have convinced me to happily tell him we screwed like rabbits?”
His eyes widen. He smirks. “You little shit. You knew all along.”
“Guilty.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t kick my ass to kingdom come. Or clobber me with a mean right hook.”
I climb on top of the bed. “I happen to like your tight ass and handsome face.” And this back-and-forth teasing? It puts me at ease.
Laughing, he follows me, cocooning me in place with his large arms near my head. I drop kisses on his biceps. He’s so strong. And he’ll need to be to survive the wicked coming our way.
I set my hands on his shoulders. Spread my fingers over their roundness. Knead their solidness.
“Harper.” His voice is low, husky. “We can go slow, babe. The trauma you went through . . . I can wait. I haven’t had sex in months. What’s a few more?”
He says it like it is, and I admire that about him. I cradle his face. What he doesn’t understand, what I can’t tell him in words—he needs to feel what I’m giving to him—is I’m running out of time.
Sam gets out of prison in three weeks. After five years, Shephard is losing his patience. They’ll lay claim soon. I don’t want it to be either of the Taylor brothers. Savior and sinner. Controlling and claiming. I want funny, kind-hearted, patient, and strong, but vulnerable with his feelings. I want Ryker Conway.
“I want it to be you who brings me back from the trauma of those days. I want to be normal again, Ryker.”
“How can you be after everything you went through?”
I wonder that myself. Strange that he’s voicing my fear.
“I won’t know until I try.”
He skims his knuckles over the curve of my cheek, down my jawline and over my lips, his eyes never leaving mine. Perceptive. Curious. Possession. But not obsession.
“We haven’t kissed properly, Harper.”
He runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. I smile, contentment a warm blossom in my chest.
“Are you asking for a kiss, Ryker Conway?”
Lopsided grin. “I guess I am. Can I?”
“Yes,” I say on a breathless whisper.
He lowers his head. Our eyes are open. He’s watching me. Wondering if I’ll panic. But this intimacy is different. I’m asking for his touch and his kisses rather than touch and the plundering of my mouth forced on me.
What Sam and his friends did wasn’t intimacy. It was rape, plain and simple. It took me three years of counseling, as well as trusting a strong man like April’s dad, for me to put my trust in men again.
Ryker captures my mouth in his and thoughts of Sam fall away. He puts his weight on me, pushing me into the bed. I welcome his weight. Relish his fingers in my hair, fisting the strands. He kisses me with gentleness. Soft pecks. Side to side across my lips.
“Ryker.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Cling to his thick waist with my legs.
“Sweetheart. Babe.”
His breath coasts over my lips. He nuzzles my mouth with his. Smooths his lips over mine. I breathe him in. Stop looking at him and close my eyes. There’s no disdain, pity, or regret. There’s only an emotion I’m afraid to acknowledge because I feel the same.
I’m falling for Ryker. Three weeks and I’m burning up from the inside out with the way he looks at me. With what he can do with his mouth and his hands. I run the tip of my tongue over the seams of his mouth. Flick their fullness.
He opens to me. I slip my tongue inside. He groans beneath the onslaught of my teeth and my tongue. I nip on his bottom lip. Suck on his tongue. Tangle our tongues. Taste the wall of his mouth. He tastes good. Smooth ale and juicy, bloody steak.
I writhe beneath him, the pressure building inside me. This hot need that grows and grows. I’m done with being patient. I won’t ask for his patience either. I need him. Need him to claim me.
I’m consumed by him. Touched in every way. He has a firm hold on my heart, body, and soul, and I need him to complete that hold, to make me his in every way possible.
Every. Way. Possible.
21
Ryker
I’ve never been with a woman like her. She’s like no other. Her desire overtakes me. Her trauma threatens to make me into a monster. It’s a good thing those bastards are dead. Harper Garrix is mine. No harm will ever come to her.
“Ryker.”
Her small fingers push into my hair. Her body undulates beneath me. She’s tiny, but she’s not fragile. Harper is strong. She can take all of me.
“Sweetheart.” I nuzzle her neck.
God, she feels so good. Soft and warm. I drag my nose down the column of her neck. Shower kisses on her dainty shoulders. Take a nipple in my mouth. She smashes my face against her breast with her palms to the back of my head. Chuckling, I give her what she wants. I suck harder. Lick more. Graze my teeth over one, then the other little bud.
She arches her back.
“Oh, God, Ryker. That feels so good.”
That so?
I skim my rough palm down her side. Cup and squeeze her hip. Slip my hand between her legs.
“Tell me no and I’ll stop.” The trauma she went through . . .
“Never. Make me yours.”
And those are the important words I needed to hear.
My hand goes low, stroking her inner thigh. Soft. God, she’s so fucking soft. She moans and grabs at my hair. I inhale her scent. Sweet. Cool like fresh air. I lick at her skin. Salty. Warm. Like tasting her tears. She yanks on my hair.
Her pleasure is my pain, and I am in heaven. I slip my finger inside her. She’s small. Tight. Wet. Groaning, I add another finger. She’s too tight. I don’t want to hurt her. She squirms on my fingers. Rocks her hips against my hand.
“Ryker, please.”
“Not yet, babe.”
I move low, trailing kisses on the perfection of her small breasts, her flat abs, the round curves of her hips, and her inner thighs. My face buried on the soft flesh of her inner thigh, I catch a whiff of her scent. Sweet and musky.
A growl rumbles from me.
Fuck, she’s my wet dream come true. I need a taste. I cover her sex with my mouth. Lap up her flavor with the flat of my tongue. I’m spot on. She tastes good.
Needing to get a feel for her too, I suck on her swollen clit. My eyes close. Rolls back in my head. Fucking-A. I am done. Harper has ruined me for other women. After having a taste of her, she’s all I crave.
Her fingers fist in my hair. Yanks. Lets go. Massages my scalp. My cock jumps and twitches inside my boxers. My beast likes i
t. Likes her rough touches followed by her apologetic, tender caresses. She’ll be the death of me.
I work at her with my mouth. She trembles. Her legs clamp my head, and lifting her hips, Harper brings her sex to my face, like a feast to a hungry man, and yeah, I’m hungry. I eat her out.
She grabs at my hair and comes on my face. I put my mouth full on her sex. She pushes me away with her hands. I edge back. She grabs for me again. Her fingers trench in my hair as she presses my face to her heat.
Smiling at her indecision, I hook my arms under her thighs and take what she offers. Her scent clings to my beard. Her slickness coats my mouth and my nose. I lick and suck on her nub gently. Ride your come, babe. Her body relaxes into the bed. She releases her hold on my hair and grips my biceps.
The skin will be bruised come tomorrow, but I don’t give a fuck. I dig the bruises. Her soft sighs too as she comes again. I lift my head. Her face is a canvas of agony and ecstasy. And when she closes her eyes, her mouth curving . . . Harper smiles, and it’s beautiful, full of contentment and something else. Something I never gave much thought to until Harper’s trauma. Harper trusts that I won’t hurt her. That no means no.
“Sweetheart.”
This girl, this woman . . . The warmth in my chest, the pounding of my heart, this intense need to protect her though she’s fully capable of kicking my ass every which way to heaven and hell, I’ve never felt this way with another woman.
And that’s how I know I want Harper to choose me.
She is choosing me, damn it.
I move up and set my hands alongside her head, keeping my weight off her. She’s not having it. Harper pulls me down onto her small frame. This girl is in it to win it, and I’m her prize.
“Make love to me, Ryker.”
I cup her face and look into her eyes. There is so much trust in their depths, and I’m humbled to my core.
Running my palm down her side, I dip my head and claim her mouth. Her lips are warm and soft. Her body equally so. She opens to me, and I slide my tongue inside. Wet. Hot. I glide my hand over the curve of her hip. Trail my fingers over her thigh. She moans and shifts her hips. Moves her mouth off mine, her breathing ragged near my ear.
Harper knows what’s coming, and she’s begging for it. I slip my finger inside her sex. One finger. Two fingers. I stretch her. Stroke her slick folds. Flick my finger over her swollen clit. She shakes her head side to side. I clamp my mouth over hers. Taste her with my tongue. Murmur words I’ve never said to any girl, including the one who broke my heart.
“You mean the world to me, babe. You’re my everything.”
Her eyes shimmer. Tears slide down her face. I kiss along the wet trail. Lap up the warm drops. My voice is husky. I’m heady and overcome by emotions I haven’t felt before.
Warmth spreads across my chest. Hot need grips me, starting at my core and shooting to my cock. I get off the bed, strip off my boxers, and roll on a condom. Balanced on her elbows, Harper’s eyes are wide as she takes in my thickness.
“We’ll fit. I’ll be gentle, Harper.”
I move onto the bed, and keeping my weight off her, I drop kisses along the elegant column of her neck. She guides my length inside her, and I close my eyes.
I know what’s coming next.
Fuck, oh, fuck do I.
I slide inside her inch by thick, throbbing inch. I nudge against a barrier. Virgin. My eyes snap open. I suck in a breath. Expel it.
“Sweetheart. Babe. I don’t understand. You said—”
“Don’t think. Just feel,” she murmurs over my mouth. “You’re making me feel so good, Ryker.”
“I—”
The little spitfire has the nerve to silence my sudden nervousness with a fierce kiss, wrapping her arms and legs around me as she tilts her hips up. I break through the barrier, and my world stills. I’ve never been with a virgin.
Don’t think. Just feel.
Jesus H. Christ does she feel good. Groaning, I move in and out of her. Her inner muscles clench around my rod. Squeeze me for all I’ve got. Sweat dampens my forehead. She’s wet. Tight. I’m ready to thrust. But I don’t want to hurt her. Shit, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stuck between the overwhelming urge to go with instinct, and the knowledge I have control over my actions.
“You’ll never hurt me.” She smooths her finger over my brow. “I believe you when you said you’ll be gentle. And I’ll understand if you’re not. I just . . . I just want you.”
She only wants me for me. She’s not in this for the chance to follow my hard work straight to the big league. She’s also not with me for my body, confessing I’m beautiful inside and out.
What this girl says hits me where it matters—my heart. And, I let loose. I pound into her. Thrust my rod deep inside her. She moans and writhes beneath my hulking body. Takes my big cock with ease. I puff out my chest. Smile wide. Fuck’s sake, this small woman surprises me at every turn.
She pulls back her knees. I sink deeper inside her. She digs her heels into my ass cheeks. Rubs her smooth heels over my skin. I up my pace.
“I-I . . . Something’s happening, Ryker,” she stammers.
“I’m gonna make you come, sweetheart. Hang on tight.”
She hangs on to me with her arms and her legs. I slip my big paws under her high and tight ass. Jesus, her ass is sexy. Round. Smooth. A perfect fit in my palms.
I thrust and pound. The sound of smacking skin resounds in the room. Her head goes side to side. Her nails dig into my flesh. Her pouty mouth parts. She closes her eyes, and her full-on body tremble reverberates against mine. I can’t hold back. I rock my hips. One. Two. On the third thrust, I shoot my load, coming with a whoosh from my lungs, and a, “Fuuuck,” from my douchebag mouth.
I keep my weight and sweat-slicken hulking body off her with my hands alongside her head, but Harper isn’t having it. She pulls me on top of her, and what she whispers in my ear cements what I feel for her.
“I want you, all of you, Ryker Conway. Always.”
22
Harper
“Doing okay?”
Ryker shoots me a sideways glance. We’re in the back of the rental car, on our way to the cemetery. Shephard is driving.
“I am. Thank you.” I reach for his hand. He laces our fingers and leans in. I meet him halfway, ready for the kiss.
His mouth on mine is warm and soft. I open to him and take in his flavor. Bitter coffee. Fresh strawberries. Smiling, I cradle his face in my palm and deepen the kiss. Whimper as I lose myself to his skilled mouth. Goodness, Ryker Conway is a great kisser.
A throat clearing from the front of the car. Shephard. I come up for air through my haze of desire. Blink a few times. Look into green eyes darkened by desire.
In their depths, I see a reflection of what must be on my face—happiness. I begrudgingly end the kiss and shamelessly stare at the sexy guy who completely made me his not once but twice last night.
The place between my legs throbs and aches anew. Wearing a dress—another gift from Shephard I found hanging on the back of the bathroom door—I’m more aware of the chafing on my inner thighs from Ryker’s beard. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love Ryker’s beard. His beard sets him apart from Shephard. Shephard keeps his dark stubble to the usual five o’clock shadow before tiring of it and shaving it off.
I hold Ryker’s face in my hands, smooth my thumbs over his beard, and drop a kiss on the bow of his upper lip. My mouth hits smooth skin and coarse hair, and I hum low in the back of my throat.
“Babe.”
Ryker’s green eyes are glassy with desire. If Shephard weren’t with us, we’d find a private place to pull off onto and make out like hormonal teenagers.
I slant my head Shephard’s direction. We’re testing his patience. A moody Shephard is not a pretty picture. Ryker scowls but gets the message. We don’t kiss again on the drive, but continue to hold hands.
At the cemetery, we get out of the car. We’re n
ot alone. A black SUV pulls up and parks behind us. It’s the guys from last night.
My hand in Ryker’s, I slip my other hand in Shephard’s. I am his and he is mine until only he or Sam is left standing. I bring our clasped hands to my lips and smooth my mouth over each man’s knuckles.
Ryker glances from me to Shephard. His green eyes darken. His mouth compresses into a thin line. What he says next seals his fate in this game of wills and dark desires.
“She’s ours. She will always be ours. They want her? They’ll have her over our cold, dead bodies.”
Shephard rears back his head and laughs. “You got that right. They’ll play dirty. Do everything they can to destroy what you and Harper have. Don’t ever forget it.”
“Never.”
We walk until we get to my father’s gravesite. The eerie feeling of being watched and judged for what I did as a seventeen-year-old . . . The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my nerves rattle. Sweat beads along my hairline, and drops roll down the side of my face, the temperature in the mid-seventies. I want out of Chicago as soon as possible.
I’m too close to my past. My past is closing in on me. It’s been five years, but what sticks out most, what scares me, is Sam will come for me.
He keeps his promises to the point of obsession. It’s another reason his friends are loyal. When Sam makes a promise, he’s good for it. His dark promise—what he muttered before he fell into unconsciousness—is the reason Shephard continues to stay by my side.
“You’re wicked, Harper, and wicked belongs with wicked. My brother ain’t it. You’re mine, every piece and part of you.”
I lead the way to my family’s gravesite. My father is buried between my uncle and my mother. His grave marker is simple: name and date of his birth and his death. Shephard squeezes my hand.
“Soon, Harper. Justice is coming.”
“I’m not seeking revenge. Don’t do something for me that will further stain your morals.”
Wicked (Dangerous Liaisons Book 1) Page 12