Dr. Ryker (Brothers Paradise #3)

Chapter 1

One

Ginny

I’m three rounds into my darts game, and my aim is getting better. That’s either proof that I’m finally relaxing or that I’ve crossed the invisible line between buzzed and dumb.

The dart lands just shy of the bullseye. I smirk, turning toward my friend Kara Bishop, except Kara is no longer on the barstool beside me. She’s across the room, giggling in the arms of Elijah Caldwell, one of Paradise’s finest.

Figures. One flash of a badge and a square jaw and she’s reenacting a scene from a country music video.

I sigh and wave off the bartender when he glances my way. “Water, please,” I call. “Heavy on the ice, light on the judgment.”

I don’t do drama. And I definitely don’t do Paradise men. That’s a rule I’ve stuck to since I moved back a year ago, and I have the self-respect to keep it. Mostly.

I just need to sober up before I order a rideshare. It’s late, but not too late, and Mikey’s is tame tonight. Just a few locals at the bar and the usual town gossip brewing over pitchers of cheap beer.

Then he walks in.

Ryker Paradise.

The door doesn’t creak, the music doesn’t stop, but it might as well. He’s got that kind of presence, like the room takes a collective breath, unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

He’s tall, confident, and unfairly hot. His dark hair is a little tousled, his jawline looks like it’s never heard of insecurity, and his smile is the kind that gets women pregnant.

I turn back to the dartboard and pretend I didn’t notice.

He’s not for me. Too smooth. Too pretty. Too…Paradise.

Besides, I’ve already made one impulsive choice tonight by coming out by myself. I don’t need a second.

“You’re either aiming for the bullseye or trying to kill someone. Should I duck?”

His voice is behind me, low, teasing. I curse inwardly as I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.

I let the next dart fly. It hits a solid red ring. “Depends. You planning on making yourself a target?”

He steps closer. I can smell him now—clean soap, something warm like cedar. He’s wearing a Henley that hugs his arms in all the wrong ways. Or right ways, depending on the level of alcohol in my system. “Only if you promise to go easy on me.”

I glance at him. Big mistake. His eyes are a stormy blue and completely amused.

“Ryker Paradise,” I say, like his name is a warning.

“Ginny Dempsey,” he replies. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Of course I was. Everyone knows what happens when a Dempsey gets tangled up with a Paradise. Drama. Scandal. Reputations ruined. And I’m fresh out of patience for small-town headlines with my name in them.

I arch a brow. “Starting to think? You’re slower than I thought.”

He laughs, deep, warm, and way too charming.

I turn back to the board and toss another dart. This one misses. Damn it.

“You know,” he says, stepping up beside me, “we could make this interesting. Loser buys the winner a drink?”

“I’ve had enough drinks for tonight.”

“Then how about a bet?” The corner of his mouth turns up.

There it is. That Paradise grin.

And despite every reason not to, despite the warning bells clanging in my head, I feel my mouth move. “You’re on.”

He grins like he’s already won. “All right then. Closest to the bullseye.”

I hand him a dart. “Try not to embarrass yourself. You Paradise boys like to do that.”

He laughs again, but there’s a flicker of heat behind it. I’ve poked the bear.

Ryker takes his time. Lines up. Throws. It lands just outside the center.

“Not bad,” I say, ignoring the flip in my stomach. “But not great either.”

He shrugs. “Mediocrity looks good on me.”

I step up and throw without overthinking. The dart lands, just outside his mark. “Damn.”

He raises a brow. “Looks like you’re buying the first round of whatever we’re betting.”

“I thought it wasn’t a drink wager.”

“It wasn’t.” He steps closer. “But I’m open to suggestions.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine. Not dirty. Not innocent either.

“Are you always this cocky?”

He grins. “Only when I know I’m right.”

“Right about what?”

His eyes move to mine, steady and smug. “That you’ve been watching me since the moment I walked in.”

I scoff, but the heat crawling up my neck betrays me.

“It’s okay,” he says, softer now. “I’ve been watching you too.”

I laugh. “You think very highly of yourself.”

“No,” he says. “I just pay attention.”

Something about the way he says it pulls me in. I’ve learned to brush off attention that feels performative or possessive. But this? This feels different. Like he sees me, really sees me.

I hate it.

I love it.

“You’re not my type,” I blurt. He’s the kind of guy I’ve spent years avoiding. The kind that burns bright, then burns out. I’ve had enough ashes in my life. But damn it, something about him makes me want to throw logic out the window and chase the fire anyway.

His mouth tips into a smirk. “What is your type?”

“Safe. Boring. Uncomplicated.”

He steps closer. “Good thing I’m none of those things.”

I exhale, low and shaky. I should walk away. Call my ride. Go home and eat a cold grilled cheese sandwich and forget any of this ever happened.

But I don’t.

Because Ryker is heat and pressure and the kind of trouble I crave. Maybe I need a little trouble tonight.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I say, though I might be lying.

His eyes darken. “Then let’s play another round.”

“Darts?”

He leans in, and I feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. “Flirting.”

I should stop this. I should care that he’s a Paradise and I’m a Dempsey, and this whole thing has town scandal written all over it.

But I toss the dart anyway. It lands a fraction closer to the bullseye than last time. I smile, but I don’t turn around. I know he’s still behind me. I can feel him.

“Not bad,” Ryker murmurs, like he’s impressed. Or turned on. Maybe both.

I straighten, my skin tight with awareness. “Are we still playing or just pretending it’s about darts?”

His chuckle is warm. Dangerous. “That depends. Are we still pretending you’re not interested?”

I finally face him. “You want honesty?”

“Always.”

I take a step closer. So does he.

“I think you’re insanely attractive,” I say, watching his pupils dilate just enough to catch it. “But you’re also trouble. You’ve probably slept with half the single women in this bar.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Exaggeration. Maybe a third.”

That earns him a snort. “See? Trouble.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But the good kind.”

He’s close now. Too close. But the part of me that usually pulls away isn’t moving. “You’re not what I need,” I whisper.

“No,” he agrees. “But maybe I’m what you want.”

God help me, he’s not wrong.

His gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts again. He doesn’t move, doesn’t touch me. He’s waiting—for permission or for me to run.

I do neither.

“I don’t do messy,” I tell him.

He nods. “Then we’ll keep it clean.”

I arch a brow. “Doubt it.”

“Dirty can be fun too,” he says with a grin that should be illegal. “If you trust the person you’re getting dirty with.”

The air between us snaps taut. My pulse hammers. My mouth is dry.

“Say it,” he murmurs.

“Say what?”

“That you want me.”

My brain offers some sort of feeble protest, but my body’s not listening. I lean in, our noses nearly touching. “What happens if I do?”

He smiles. “Then I stop waiting.”

Ryker shifts position, hiding me from the crowd at the bar. His hand slides up my thigh. “Are you wearing underwear?”

I laugh, tossing my head back. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His hand slides under my skirt, fingers finding the heat through my panties. “You’re so wet for me.”

I shut my eyes and let him take me away. His fingers are like magic.

“What do you want?”

“You,” I whisper.

He steps back and reaches for my hand. I look around, and no one seems to be watching us. He leads me back to the private party room that has a pool table.

The door shuts behind us, and he locks it. I don’t want to think about how he knows about that. Instead, I want to see if he’s half the man I’ve made him out to be.

He leans down. His lips touch mine, and it’s fire. The kiss ignites something within me, an urgency that pulses with the rhythm of my racing heart. His hands frame my face, and I melt against him, surrendering to the heat that envelops us.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against my lips.

“I want…” My words falter as his thumb grazes my cheek. “I want you to fuck me. I don’t want a relationship with you, though. I don’t even want a repeat.”

His smile is feral, predatory. “Then let’s make it unforgettable.”

With that, he spins me around, laying me back on the felt of the pool table. I can feel his breath on my neck, each exhale a promise of what’s to come.

He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs. “And I will.”

I swallow hard. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth crashes into mine, and everything after that is heat and hunger.

His hands roam along my sides, exploring every curve. I arch into his touch, craving more friction. Just as I think I have him figured out, he pulls back slightly.

“Are you ready?” he asks, daring me to say no.

I nod. “More than ready.”

In an instant, he’s on me again, lips crashing onto mine. His hands find the hem of my skirt, fingers inching up my thigh. I gasp, heat pooling in my belly. With a snap, he pulls my panties off and puts them in his pocket. He pushes me back on the pool table as his fingers dive into my heat.

I gasp, the sensation electrifying as he explores. The room fades away until it’s just him and me, lost in this moment of raw desire.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmurs, as if he knows exactly how to unravel me.

My fingers scramble for purchase on the edge of the pool table, grounding myself amidst the spiraling pleasure. “Yes,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”

There’s a devilish glint in his eyes. “Oh, I won’t.”

And with that promise hanging in the air, he plunges deeper, making my head spin. I can feel tension building inside me like a coiled spring.

“Look at you,” he whispers, as if reading my thoughts. “So ready to let go.”

His fingers move faster now, coaxing soft gasps and moans from my lips.

“Come all over my fingers so I can lick them clean.”

The command sends a jolt of heat surging through me. My body responds, surrendering to the crescendo within. “Ryker,” I mumble, stifling a moan.

But it’s futile. I cry out as my pleasure unfurls, echoing against the walls of our secret sanctuary. I arch my back, granting him access to every part of me he desires.

“Just like that,” he murmurs. “You’re so beautiful when you’re lost in it.”

Something inside me shatters, restraint further dissolving as I plunge headfirst into ecstasy. My body quakes as waves crash over me. I’m swept away by a current that’s impossible to fight.

His blue eyes glimmer with triumph, but he doesn’t stop there.

He bends down and laps up my climax, sucking my clit.

The sensation is electric, a jolt of fire igniting my skin.

I grip the edge of the pool table, my body trembling as he devours me, his mouth bringing me to the brink of another wave.

My breath is ragged, punctuated by soft cries that spill from my lips against my will.

“Ryker,” I gasp, feeling heat rise from the pit of my stomach once more. “Please…”

He pauses just long enough to look up at me. “Please what?” he taunts, reapplying pressure with his tongue that sends shockwaves through my core.

“Don’t stop,” I plead. “I need—”

Before I can finish, he dives back in. His tongue dances, coaxing me toward an edge I didn’t know existed. I arch into him, losing myself in the sensations that ripple through my body. He wraps his hands around my thighs, holding me steady, as if he knows this ride is going to be wild.

He lifts me up and undoes his belt. Holy shit. His cock is huge. He pulls a condom out of his pocket and rolls it on. “Ready for me to really rock your world?”

I’d roll my eyes if I didn’t entirely believe him. He turns me around and bends me over. He begins to push in, and it’s tight.

I gasp at the sensation, every inch of him stretching me, filling me. This is what I wanted, a connection of our impulsive desires.

“Damn, you feel incredible,” he growls. He grips my hips, anchoring me as he thrusts deeper.

Each movement sends ripples of pleasure coursing through me. “Ryker,” I moan.

His breathing turns ragged. “Just like that,” he grits out as we find a rhythm.

Eventually, he drives into me one final time, his body going tight before shuddering hard with his release. His grip tightens, and he makes a low, guttural sound as he comes deep.

But he isn’t finished. After a moment, he begins to move again, adding his fingers to the mix in a way that sends my lit-up nervous system into overdrive.

“That’s it. Let go for me,” he urges.

I can feel the weight of his body against mine, a beautiful balance of control and abandon. My climax crashes through me in sharp, breathless waves, my cry muffled against my arm as he drapes himself over me.

Finally, we’re both spent, tangled together, breathing hard. “God, that was good,” he murmurs as he presses hot kisses along my neck. “Shall we take this back to your place?”

“Can’t,” I manage between breaths. “I have a friend staying with me.”

“How about my place?” He lifts me off the table, and his hand finds my breast and then my nipple.

I can’t think when he does that. “Okay, that’s fine.”

What the hell am I doing?

He tucks himself away with a wicked grin and reaches for my hand. “Let’s get out of here. Your car’s safe here, but you’re not, at least not with me.”

My mouth falls open. I should stop. I should say no.

But instead, I let him lead me out the back door.