28
Bianca
M y legs are weak as I stand under the shower in Ryder’s bathroom, letting the warm water wash the soreness away.
The most satisfying ache is between my legs. I love that I can still feel his cock inside me hours later.
But my pussy’s not the only sore spot. I feel his touch all over. My thigh muscles are on fire thanks to the angle at which Ryder positioned my legs as he powered deep inside me. My calves hurt, thanks to the near-cramping sensation in my quivering legs when he made me orgasm.
Repeatedly.
My nipples are sensitive from his greedy mouth, my clit still a little swollen. Even my scalp tingles where he tugged my hair.
Last week, I considered that hard fuck against the kitchen cupboard the best sex of my life. Now, I can see how wrong I was. Last night was mind-blowing. He altered my brain’s chemistry with his cock, his hands, his lips, and his words.
I shudder, recalling every time he called me a good girl . My feminism flew out the window when he whispered those two words in my ear.
Lathering shower gel into my body, my knees buckle when I reach between my legs. A shudder shakes me, lust igniting every nerve and thought.
God, I’m hopeless.
I don’t indulge this growing need. My fingers aren’t half as skilled as Ryder’s. It’s his touch I crave, so I switch the water off, towel dry, and get dressed.
Ryder loves my curves; the way he stares at me whenever I’m wearing tight clothes is a dead giveaway. With that in mind, I lock myself in the spare bedroom, a plan in mind. Koby and Ryder’s voices carry from the kitchen, the subject of their conversation upsetting my stomach. With much difficulty, I file it away, focusing on the task at hand.
I shimmy into a pair of high-waist jeans and pull a white, spaghetti-strap tank top with a low V neckline over my head. It accentuates my boobs, pressing them together in the most delicious way, the valley between them reduced to a thin line.
Draping my damp hair over one shoulder, I tiptoe barefoot into the kitchen.
“Morning,” I say, a ball of heat swelling inside my chest when Ryder’s eyes find mine. He gives me a slow once-over, his nostrils flaring when Koby glances over his shoulder.
“Morning.” He grins, holding his hand up in the air. “High five, little minx. Well played.”
“I don’t think I understand but sure, high five.” I clap my hand against his.
“Last night,” he clarifies, explaining nothing. “Ryder here almost broke a leg chasing after you and the blond.”
Oh ... Right. When I followed that guy into the restroom, I only had one goal in mind: exorcise Ryder from my system. I didn’t stop to consider anyone else’s reaction.
“Desperate times.” I shrug, turning my back on them. “Coffee, anyone?”
“Yeah, please,” Ryder says.
“Not for me. I’ll leave you two alone.” Koby’s words are soundtracked by his stool scraping against the tiles. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
Ryder walks him out, then leans against the kitchen doorframe. His heated gaze follows my moves until I settle two cups of coffee on the breakfast bar.
I look up, the scraps of their conversation I overhead bouncing in my head. “If I ask a question, will you lie?”
“I’ve never lied to you, Bianca. I won’t start now.”
“I heard Koby talk about Noretto and Jax. He said Jax is coming to Scarlett tonight... Is he coming to take me?”
Ryder’s on me in a flash, his hands finding my face. “No one’s taking you, Bianca.” He wraps his arms around me, holding me against his warm chest. “You’re safe. I promise. Jax wants a meeting with Carter. He won’t touch you.”
The raw sincerity in his tone calms me right down. I nod, inhale deeply, then push away from him, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
“Now, about last night,” he starts, leaning against the cupboards. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sore,” I admit, sipping my coffee.
“Not what I meant. I meant your head. Give me the emotion that’s uppermost right now.”
I didn’t expect that question. It’s loaded. Far from my comfort zone. The answer will shape our relationship going forward. I’m not na?ve enough to think we’re suddenly a couple because we fucked, but maybe if I stop holding my cards so close to my chest, Ryder will realize there’s more to me than the cold bitch I show the world.
My lungs expand, filling with oxygen before one word, one real emotion makes it past my clenched teeth. “Fear.”
His features relax, a shadow of a smile gracing those sinful lips that marked every inch of my naked skin. He stalks closer again, then leans in for a kiss.
And those silly butterflies must’ve multiplied overnight; there are at least ten thousand wings flapping in my tummy. His tongue slips inside my mouth, tasting, teasing, and amplifying the throbbing need between my thighs.
“Fear is good,” he whispers, breaking the kiss.
“Good? How’s it good ?”
“It’s real.” He takes a seat beside me, both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “You’re not hiding from me, Summer. I’ll take fear over fine every time.”
I’ll take Summer over Winter every time.
“Fear I can work with,” he continues. “I can reassure you, show you there’s nothing to be afraid of. Fine is fake. It’s a mask. It ties my hands. Tell me why fear.”
“I tried hard not to give into this... pull between us,” I admit. Hiding and belittling these feelings Ryder’s evoked didn’t work for long. “But you make me feel things I haven’t felt in a very long time. You’ve been burrowing your way under my skin since day one and now... now you hold a piece of me.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re scared. You think I don’t feel this pull? That I don’t feel the same way?”
I shake my head softly. “I know you do. You were jealous last night, so I know I’m not alone in this.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
“I just...” I pause, chewing my bottom lip.
This is hard. Talking about feelings and fears goes against everything I’ve taught myself.
Ryder takes my hand, weaving our fingers together, his thumb ghosting my knuckles. “Don’t stop now. Tell me.”
“I don’t trust you not to break that piece I gave you,” I whisper, eyes on my coffee. “I’m scared how fast my feelings are growing. How much I want you. I’m scared that maybe this whole thing is a bet with Koby, or—”
He stands abruptly and I swallow my words when he grabs me by the waist. He lifts me off my stool and onto the breakfast bar, stepping between my legs, his big hands on my face, lips crushing mine. The kiss is slow, soothing, so passionate.
“This isn’t a bet,” he insists. “Why would you think that?”
“It happened before.”
His hands drop to my thighs. “What do you mean?”
“Not today, okay? This... we... it’s too fast. Don’t push.”
He cracks his neck, his fingers dimpling my thighs. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me yet. But you’ll listen.” He levels his eyes with mine. “I’m not playing you, Bianca. I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. And when you arrived at Scarlett in tears you fucking owned me.”
“We’ve been arguing every day.”
“Yeah, because I was pissed off that you hid the real you. That tough-girl act drove me crazy. I know you’re capable. I know you’re independent, but you overdo it.”
“I don’t know any other way.”
He curls a finger under my chin. “You’ve been taking care of yourself your whole life, haven’t you?”
“I grew up with food, clothes, a roof over my head... No affection, though. No love, no one who’d listen when I had a problem. I didn’t live in a cupboard under the stairs, but—”
“Did you just reference Harry Potter?” He chuckles, stamping a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll show you what it means to be cared for, Summer.”
The warmth spreading through me is overwhelming. It’s not the first time Ryder’s kissed my head. He did it yesterday, calming me down after Broadway dropped a severed human head in Carter’s living room.
I’m instantly reminded that despite knowing who those people are and what they’re capable of, when Ryder held me, I wasn’t scared. Vaughn’s the reason I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, not Ryder.
Then again, unlike the others, he wasn’t covered in blood yesterday. He didn’t carry the severed head inside.
I rest my palm against Ryder’s chest, pushing him aside so I can hop off the breakfast bar. “Can I ask a question?” Regaining my seat on the stool, I wrap my fingers around my coffee.
“What do you want to know?”
“Have you ever killed anyone?” I stare into my cup, holding my breath.
“Don’t ask questions if you’re afraid of the answers.”
My head snaps up, catching his smirk. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then look at me when I answer.” His biceps bulge as he leans over the kitchen island. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m curious. I know Carter’s a killer. He killed his own father to keep Hailey safe. I saw Broadway and Koby covered in blood last night, but you... you don’t strike me as the type.”
“Oh, but I am. Does it bother you?”
I turn his question around, dissecting my feelings. Does it bother me? No, I can’t say it does. And that’s scary. What’s happened to me over the past three months if the idea of living under the same roof as a killer doesn’t scare me?
“No... should it? I mean, you wouldn’t kill me, would you?”
“No, I wouldn’t kill you.” He straightens up again, leaving his empty cup between us as he stalks out of the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyes searching mine over his shoulder. “But I’d kill for you.”