Chapter 48 Faith
FAITH
I had never felt so loved in my entire life.
Ryker saw me—really saw me—better than anyone ever had.
The way his eyes tracked my every movement, how his breath caught when I smiled, the careful attention he paid to the smallest shifts in my mood.
He studied me like I was his favorite book, one he’d never tire of reading.
Which made the crushing weight of heartbreak register fully for the first time.
If I went to prison, I wouldn’t wake up to his face every morning.
No more breakfasts like this one, sunlight streaming through his kitchen windows with Rainbow snoozing on the floor.
No more watching him move through his morning routine, hair still mussed from sleep, that soft look in his eyes reserved only for these quiet moments.
No more falling asleep, cradled in his arms, wrapped in his love.
My whole life had felt like a series of trials. But Ryker had just won the trial for my heart.
His fingers traced along my cheekbone with tender slowness, as if he were learning the geography of my face by touch alone. I leaned into his palm, feeling the slight roughness of calluses against my skin. Evidence of his strength, yet his touch remained impossibly gentle.
His tongue swept across my lower lip until I parted for him. His taste flooded my senses. Coffee and cinnamon from his favorite creamer, his breath mingling with mine as he took his time exploring my mouth with devastating thoroughness.
The kiss deepened. Slowed. Each stroke of his tongue against mine felt deliberate, purposeful, like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of my desire.
His thumb traced the line of my jaw, following the delicate curve with exquisite care, then down the column of my throat.
And everywhere he touched, my skin woke up.
Not the gentle awakening of dawn, but the sudden blaze of lightning splitting open the sky.
His hand tightened in my hair, fingers weaving through the strands until he had a firm grip that sent sparks down my spine.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at me.
His pupils were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the blues I loved.
A flush painted his cheekbones, and his lips were swollen from our kiss.
Whatever he saw in my face made something crack open in his expression.
“Faith.” My name came out raw. Broken. Like it had been ripped from somewhere deep in his chest.
Then his mouth was on mine again, harder this time.
Hungry. His teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging gently before soothing the sting with his tongue.
His hands mapped my body, palms skating over my ribs, fingertips pressing into the dip of my waist, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through my shirt.
His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips, his fingers splaying wide, as if he needed to touch as much of me as possible, pulling me flush against him.
I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, a wild rhythm that matched my own racing pulse.
I could feel the restraint fracturing in the way his breathing turned ragged.
Each exhale came out harsh, almost pained, like holding back was physically hurting him.
I didn’t realize we were moving until my back hit the wall. The cool drywall against my heated skin made me gasp.
He pinned me there with his body, the solid weight of him pressing me into the wall until I could feel every hard plane of his chest, the flex of his thigh muscles as he shifted closer.
One hand braced beside my head, the other still tangled in my hair.
His lips left mine to trail down my jaw, each kiss deliberate and scorching, leaving a path of fire in its wake.
“I can’t lose you.” The words were barely audible, spoken against my throat between kisses that turned fiercer, more demanding. “I won’t.”
My fingers found the hem of his shirt and yanked upward.
The fabric caught on his shoulders, and we both fumbled, desperate and clumsy with need.
He pulled back just long enough for me to strip it off, revealing the expanse of his chest, all golden skin and defined muscles covered in tattoos.
His hands were on my shirt, tugging it over my head with a force that made the fabric tear slightly at the seam, followed by my bra.
Neither of us cared. Not when every second of separation felt like agony.
He stepped back just enough to look at me, his gaze traveling over my body with such intensity, I felt it like a physical touch. My skin flushed under his scrutiny, nipples tightening.
His palms pressed against the wall on either side of my head, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort of holding himself back.
“Tell me you feel this.” His voice cracked. “Tell me this isn’t just me falling apart. Tell me you’re drowning too.”
“I feel it too.” I pressed my hand over his racing heart.
The skin was fever hot beneath my palm, his heartbeat so fast and hard that I could count each desperate thud.
“I feel everything, Ryker. And I’m terrified of it.
Terrified of how much I need you. How much of myself I’ve already given to you without even realizing it. ”
Something fierce flashed in his eyes. He dropped to his knees in front of me, the movement so sudden and graceful that it stole my breath.
From this angle, I could see the way his shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath, the tension in his jaw.
He looked up at me with worship in his eyes, his hands sliding up the backs of my thighs.
His fingers hooked into my shorts and dragged them down slowly, inch by torturous inch, his knuckles grazing my skin the entire way.
When they pooled at my ankles, he helped me step out of them, which was a little tricky on the leg with the monitor.
Then his hands lingered on my calves before sliding back up to grip my thighs.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the inside of my leg. “Every inch of you.” Another kiss, higher on my thigh. “I want to worship you.” Higher still, his breath hot against sensitive skin. “Want to show you exactly what you mean to me.” Another kiss.
Then he stilled.
“I need you to understand something.” He rose slowly, his hands skating up my sides, fingertips tracing each rib like he was counting them, leaving trails of ecstasy in their wake.
“You are not what happened to you. You are not your past. You are not guilty of anything except surviving. Except being so strong, so fierce and beautiful, that, sometimes, I can’t believe you’re mine. ”
Mine. The word soothed my heart like a medication healing the disease of rejection.
His palm pressed flat against my sternum.
“You’re everything good I never knew I needed. You walked into my life, and suddenly, everything made sense. Every lonely night, every failed relationship, every moment I wondered if I’d ever find someone I cared more about than anything … it was all leading me to you.”
The words shattered something inside me. I reached for him, pulling his mouth back to mine, pouring every ounce of feeling I couldn’t name into the kiss. It was messy and desperate and perfect. He responded instantly, groaning against my lips.
He spun me around, and I barely had time to brace my hands against the wall before his body covered mine from behind, the heat of his bare chest against my back making me shudder.
I could feel every ridge of muscle, the way his abs contracted with each harsh breath.
His hand slid around to splay across my stomach, holding me against him while his lips found the curve of my shoulder, shooting a sharp sensation to my core.
“I need you,” he said, his voice wrecked. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re real. That this is real. That tomorrow, when I wake up, you’ll still be here.”
“I’m here.” I arched back into him, feeling the hard length of him pressing against me through his pants. “I’m yours.”
The sound of his zipper, teeth releasing one by one in a rhythm that seemed to match my heartbeat. The rustle of fabric. The soft thud as his pants hit the floor. Then his hand was on my hip, his skin burning hot against mine, pulling me back as he kicked my feet wider.
“Hands on the wall,” he commanded.
I shut my eyes, so utterly turned on that I swallowed loudly. But seriously, bent over, palms against the wall, after he kicked my legs apart? Was hot as hell. It was taking everything I had to be patient because I needed to feel him inside me. Now.
As I adjusted my stance, anticipation coiled tight in my belly. He paused at my entrance, the blunt head of him just barely pressing teasingly against me. Every muscle in his body was taut with restraint, his breath coming in short pants against my neck.
“Say it again.” His voice was rough velvet.
“I’m yours, Ryker.” I looked over my shoulder, meeting his eyes. They were wild now, almost feral with need, but underneath the desire was something deeper. Love so profound, it made my chest ache. “And you’re mine.”
He surged forward, filling me completely, stretching me in the most delicious way.
The feeling of him inside me, of being so intimately connected, made stars burst behind my eyelids.
And the cry that tore from my throat was half relief, half adoration.
This wasn’t like before. This was two souls trying to merge into one.
Every thrust felt like a vow, deep and measured and purposeful, every touch a promise.
He set a rhythm that bordered on desperate, but even in his urgency, he was careful with me. One hand slid around to my stomach, holding me steady, while the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. I wanted the marks. Wanted proof tomorrow that this moment existed.
That we existed.