Chapter 17
Seventeen
Ginny
For once, I wake up nestled in Ryker’s arms. I like being here with him. I hate having to rush off before it’s even morning. But today I have an interview with the wine consortium and he has the day off, so I get to sneak out of here later. For once, I’m not rushing out the door.
His arousal pushes against my bottom. I shift playfully to provoke him.
“If you keep doing that,” he whispers, “I might lose my self-control.”
I grin. “I enjoy it when you lose control.” And maybe that’s the problem. Every time he gives in, I fall a little deeper. I turn and roll toward him. “Good morning.”
“I like that you didn’t sneak off this time.” He reaches for my breasts, and his touch sends electricity coursing through me. There’s a wild intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race.
We’ve been careful. Always. But this time, when he reaches for the drawer, I stop him.
Not because I’m reckless, but because I trust him.
Because I want to feel everything. Him. Us.
Nothing between. He searches my face like he’s making sure, and I nod once, steady.
This is a choice. My choice. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since I left Jeremy. ”
His eyes soften. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we were first together.”
I gasp. “That was over nine months ago.”
“Yes. For over nine months.”
“Are you good with no condom?”
“Yes.” He smiles and strokes his hard cock.
“What are you going to do about it?” I tease, biting my lip.
A challenge ignites in his eyes. “Oh, I have some ideas.”
In a swift motion, he flips us over, pinning me beneath him. The weight of his body feels delicious, sending a rush of heat through me.
He lowers himself, his breath warm against my neck as he whispers sweet promises of what’s to come. My hands find their way to his shoulders, pulling him even closer as I arch my back instinctively, craving more.
His lips brush mine before deepening into something fervent and consuming. Every nerve ending blazes as we lose ourselves in each other.
He pulls back, dropping the sheet from his shoulders. I open my legs for him, and he runs his fingers up my slit. “I love how wet you get for me.”
I gasp as his fingers glide over my most sensitive parts, teasing and tantalizing. “More,” I breathe, urging him on.
Ryker smirks and slides a finger inside me, and I moan at the sensation. “Is this what you wanted?” His voice is low, almost a growl.
I nod, lost in the rhythm of his thumb strumming my clit. “Yes! Just like that!”
He adds another finger, stretching me as the pressure builds within. My breathing quickens.
“I want you,” I beg, the words tumbling from my lips like a secret I’ve been holding too long. “I want you to touch me, to make me feel everything.”
His lips crash against mine in a fierce dance that speaks volumes. His hands grip my waist. “Say it again,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I want you,” I breathe.
He shifts his weight, bringing his body flush against mine. When he pushes inside me, I swear my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Good,” he replies. “Because I intend to show you just how much I feel the same.”
He locks eyes with me as he rocks slowly in and out. His hands glide down my sides, tracing paths across my skin, deepening the claim he’s already made.
He finds his way back between my legs, fingers teasing and coaxing me closer to that blissful edge. Every caress is exhilarating and maddeningly sweet.
The way he looks at me, equal parts hunger and satisfaction, makes my pulse pound.
“You have no idea how much I want this,” he murmurs.
Heat spreads through me like wildfire. My fingers clutch the sheets beneath us, twisting the fabric in my fists as I surrender. Shockwaves of pleasure spiral through me. My climax builds, and my body shakes.
“Can you feel it?” he whispers. “Can you feel how close we are?”
“Yes!” I cry out, my voice cracking with urgency.
He pushes his dick deep inside me.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs.
“More,” I plead. “I need more.”
A wicked smile curves his lips, and he obliges, picking up the pace as he drives into me. Each thrust reverberates through me like a drumbeat until we are one, lost in an ocean of sensation.
“Just like that…” I moan, meeting his movements, pushing us closer and closer to the edge. The friction between us is exquisite torment, every thrust unraveling me, dragging me deeper into bliss.
He leans down to capture my lips again, swallowing my cries as they escape into the space around us. The pressure coils inside me, tight and relentless, like a spring pulled to its breaking point. I gasp, arching beneath him.
“Look at you,” he growls between ragged breaths. “So responsive. So damn beautiful.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “I’m so close.”
His hand slips between us again, fingers circling where our bodies are joined. The deep fullness of him inside me and the precise pressure of his touch sends waves crashing through me, each one more powerful than the last.
“I’m about to come,” he gasps, focused on where we move together, his pace growing frantic.
“Yesss,” I whimper, teetering on the edge of release.
His mouth meets mine, and the world falls away. It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, consuming, a kiss that sears straight to my core. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us, just heat and hunger and the raw ache of wanting.
Every nerve lights up. Every part of me responds. My toes curl, my fingers dig into his shoulders, and a moan escapes—shameless and broken—because this kiss doesn’t just wreck me. It undoes me. It’s the kind of kiss that leaves me ruined for anyone else.
My climax slams into me, fierce and all-consuming, stealing the breath from my lungs as I shatter beneath him.
He’s right behind me, groaning my name as he loses himself.
It’s not just intense, it’s soul-shaking.
Earth-tilting. And as we collapse together in the aftermath, I know I’ll never forget the way this felt, like everything inside me just broke open and bloomed.
I collapse against the pillow, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat, too shaky to move. My body still hums—electric and over-sensitized—as Ryker stretches out beside me. He seems entirely satisfied and entirely too casual, as if he didn’t just rewrite my entire existence in under ten minutes.
I can’t feel my toes. In a good way.
He doesn’t say anything, just throws his arm across his eyes, like he’s catching his breath too. The room is quiet except for the fan spinning overhead and the low creak of the old bedframe adjusting under our weight.
Holy hell. I close my eyes, trying to come down from the high, but it’s useless.
My mind is already spinning because this isn’t normal.
Not just the sex. God, the sex. Jeremy was good.
We were good together. Comfortable. Familiar.
Safe. But this? With Ryker? It’s like stepping off a cliff and finding out I have wings.
He touches me, and I forget every good reason to stay away. I’m floating somewhere between bliss and delusion, and I need to get my feet back on the damn ground.
I keep calling it casual. Keep pretending I’m in control. But if that were true, I wouldn’t be this afraid. This is supposed to be simple. Physical. Temporary. Yet I’m knee-deep in something I can’t control.
Ryker shifts, pulling me into his side like he can hear my thoughts. “I could get used to this,” he mumbles. He runs a hand down my spine and presses a kiss to my temple. “I told my mom about you.”
My whole body stiffens. “What?” I sit up, eyes wide. “Ryker, you did what?”
He blinks like I’ve slapped him. “I told her about us. That we’ve been seeing each other.”
“You weren’t supposed to tell anyone,” I snap, dragging the sheet over me, as if there’s some reason to be modest now. “This is a secret. That was the deal.”
“She won’t tell anyone,” he says, like that fixes it. “She’s just…happy for me.”
I stare at him, heart thudding. “Happy for you? Ryker, this isn’t—” I break off, exhaling hard. “It’s not a thing. We’re not a thing. We can date other people.”
His expression shifts, not hurt exactly, but something closes behind his eyes. A door I didn’t mean to slam shut.
He sits up too, brow furrowed, the sheet around his waist. “Then what are we doing? Because this feels like more than just sex.”
“Why does it matter?” I deflect, forcing a laugh that doesn’t quite land. “We’re having fun. That’s all this is.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” It has to be.
He watches me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying.
I don’t even know anymore.
“I want us to be together. You’re not a dirty secret. I think you should come to Sunday dinner at my parents’,” he says finally. “Just once. We can tell everyone.”
My stomach drops. “No,” I say quickly. “I can’t. I won’t.”
I still remember what happened when Josie caught me texting a Paradise cousin in high school. She didn’t speak to me for a month. Gran made me help in the cellar all summer. These days my sisters might understand, but Gran never will, and they’d never risk their futures by crossing her.
He flinches. But telling his family means telling my family. My grandmother. Yeah. That’s not going to land gracefully with her in any light.
I pull him close and kiss him before he can say anything else—soft, lingering, distracting. “Can we not do this right now?” I whisper. “Let’s talk about it later. When we’re not naked.”
“Ginny—”
“Please?” I beg, gently placing my hand on his chest. “Just…tell your mom not to say anything. Okay?”
He exhales and nods. “She won’t.”
“Good.” I slide out of bed, searching for my clothes. “I should get back to the caretaker house,” I say as I shimmy into my jeans. “I have an interview with Eric Warner today.”
His brow arches. “Black Bear Consortium?”
“Yes. The Black Bear Valley Wine Consortium.” I reach for my shirt, then lean over and kiss him once more. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” he murmurs, though there’s something tense in his voice now.
I dash out the door and don’t look back.
By the time the rideshare drops me at home to get ready for my interview, I’m sweaty, frustrated, and two seconds away from screaming into the empty air.
I didn’t plan on snapping at Ryker. I didn’t walk into his house last night thinking we’d argue in bed. I thought I’d head out this morning with that glow he always leaves me with—high on him, heart still pounding from everything he makes me feel.
But then he opened his mouth. “I told my mom about you.” Like it was no big deal. Like we’re the kind of couple who makes announcements. Who goes to family dinners and gets asked to bring dessert. Who sit next to each other at the long Sunday table with matching wine glasses and inside jokes.
But we’re not. We can’t be that. Not when I’m a Dempsey and he’s a Paradise.
Telling his mother is one thing—wrong, but manageable. But wanting me to show up and smile at Sunday dinner? That’s a whole different beast. I’m not just sleeping with Ryker. I’m treading the edge of a fault line that could split the valley in two.
My grandmother already believes the Paradises are behind the well issue. She thinks they’re trying to ruin us.
And honestly? I’m not sure she’s wrong. I know it’s not Ryker doing it, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family tried something. But the Dempseys are resilient.
That stretch of land is where our award-winning grapes come from. The vines there feed off the well, and if the water doesn’t return this season, we could lose the harvest.
And what do the Paradises do? They take down a peach orchard and plant a new block of grapes. Pinot, of all things. The thirstiest damn grape on the market. They knew exactly what they were doing when they laid those rows. It’s either a declaration of war or proof of how little they think of us.
So how the hell do I explain Ryker to my family?
I can already see the look on Gran’s face if I show up with him on my arm. Shock first. Then fury. Then that tight, cold silence she uses when she’s plotting our death.
My mom wouldn’t say anything at all. She’d sip her wine and pretend it wasn’t happening, then gossip about it for months.
Sera and Josie would demand a full health check and possibly a blood sample.
And Addie… My youngest sister, Addie, would just tell me I’m a fool.
And maybe I am.
Because despite what I said this morning, I still want him. Even knowing all that.
Because when I’m with him, everything is clearer. Quieter. Easier. The war between our families feels like it could be ancient history, not the reason I’ve spent the last year rebuilding trust with people who think I ran away when things got hard.
That afternoon, I arrive at Dot’s Diner early for the interview. I tilt my head back against the seat while I wait and close my eyes.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Ryker: Sorry about this morning. Good luck with your interview! You’re going to knock it out of the park.
I stare at it for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen. But I don’t answer.
I tell myself this is some statement of independence, proving to myself that I’m still okay. That I don’t need him.
But even if I don’t text him back now, I’m sure I will later.
Because I don’t know how to let him go.