Chapter 32
Thirty-two
Ryker
Ihaven’t had this much fun in years. We left go-karts and headed to laser tag. It was Ginny’s idea, and I couldn’t say no.
Her helmet is slightly askew, her vest blinking triumphantly as she saunters out of the laser tag arena like she just conquered a battlefield, and honestly, she kind of did.
I follow, my vest barely lighting up after she annihilated me in the last two rounds. “You didn’t even hesitate,” I say, pulling off my gear. “You ambushed me behind the fake dumpster.”
She grins, cheeks flushed, eyes dancing. “What can I say? You paused to adjust your sensor. Rookie mistake.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You shot me in the back.”
“You left it unguarded,” she says, like that’s the only explanation needed.
I toss our gear in the return bin and trail her into the lobby. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
She shrugs, collecting a water bottle from the vending machine. “I grew up as the second youngest in a circus of energy—eight cousins, three older siblings, and a grandmother who turned Easter egg hunts into tactical war games.”
My eyebrows lift. “Please tell me that’s a metaphor.”
She smirks. “She used a whistle. And a point system. Candy was awarded based on performance.”
I stare at her. “Jesus.”
“She said it built character,” she adds, cracking open the water.
“And possibly trauma,” I note.
She shrugs again. “When you grow up in a family like mine, you either learn to compete or you disappear.”
I watch her for a second, trying to imagine little Ginny Dempsey elbowing her way through a crowd of kids just to get a chocolate bunny and a nod of approval from her grandmother.
It makes sense now, why she’s guarded, why she flinches at kindness but comes alive in a storm, why she always seems ready to run, even when she wants to stay. And then there’s her jerk of an ex-fiancé who betrayed her trust all over again.
“I like the way you fight,” I tell her. “Even when it’s against me.”
Her eyes soften. “I don’t want to fight you.”
I take a step closer. “Then don’t.”
We stand there, breathing the same air, everything between us electric and uncertain.
This day—full of racing and fried food and ambushes in dark corners—feels more real than any of the serious, carefully planned dates I’ve ever been on. I don’t want it to end.
The sky’s turning dusky by the time we get back to the Armada, the sunset streaked with orange and purple. The air has that soft, fading warmth of late spring, cool enough to make you think about a jacket, but not cold enough to rush.
Ginny walks a step ahead, her hands in her hoodie pocket. Her hair’s come half loose from its twist, strands brushing her cheeks as the breeze picks up.
She looks over her shoulder as I unlock the doors.
“That was a good day,” she says.
I nod. “Yeah. It was.”
She hesitates by the passenger side, like she’s not quite ready to get in. I stop too, giving her space. Letting her lead.
“I haven’t had a day like this in a long time,” she adds, not looking at me. “Where everything felt easy. Light.”
My throat tightens. “You deserve that.”
She finally turns to me. “So do you.”
The air shifts between us. Her expression flickers. Then, without a word, she steps forward. One hand grabs the collar of my hoodie and pulls me down. The other finds my jaw. And her mouth is on mine before I can even think.
It’s not tentative or careful. It’s heat and frustration and something dangerously close to need.
I recover quickly, and my hands find her waist, drawing her in as I taste the salt of her lips. Her fingers curl tighter in my sweatshirt like she’s anchoring herself.
By the time she pulls away, we’re both breathless. She’s not just the girl I want. She’s the life I didn’t know I could have.
She licks her lips and looks up at me, defiant and flushed. “I told you I fight.”
I smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I like it when you fight for this.”
She opens the door and climbs in, leaving me standing in the parking lot, heart pounding, a stupid grin on my face. I’m completely gone for her.
I circle the car, and she’s barely buckled her seatbelt when I glance over and say it, “Come home with me tonight.”
She goes still. “Ryker…”
“No pressure,” I add quickly. “You don’t have to.”
She looks out the window, biting her bottom lip. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… It’s been a really big day.”
“I know.” I pause, watching her profile. “And it doesn’t have to end with us going separate ways. Not tonight.”
Her silence stretches long enough that I’m sure she’s going to say no. But then she turns to me, eyes narrowed. “We’re supposed to be keeping this quiet.”
I lift a brow. “Ginny, I think the secret’s officially out.”
She huffs a laugh and looks away, but I can tell the words hit. It’s the truth.
“Text Sadie,” I suggest. “Let her know where you are. You don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
She studies me a second longer, then nods. “Okay.”
That one word sends something warm spiraling through my heart.
She pulls out her phone as I start the Armada. Her fingers move fast, thumbs flying across the screen. Then she lets out a quiet snort.
“What?” I glance over.
“She said she won’t wait up for me. And added three winky faces. She’s the worst.”
I grin. “Sounds like she approves.”
“She’s also threatening to tell Tarryn.”
“Tell her I’ll bribe her with cinnamon buns if she lets me talk to her first.”
Ginny rolls her eyes but smiles. That small, tired, real smile I’ve come to crave. The one that tells me she’s letting her guard down.
As we pull out of the lot, I reach across the console and lace my fingers through hers. She squeezes my hand—quiet, deliberate. Like she’s not just choosing to come home with me. She’s choosing me.
She wants me. Even with our families bleeding into everything we touch, she chooses me. And I’ll burn it all down for the chance to keep her.
I look her direction as I pull into the drive. Her face is half in shadow, half bathed in the warm pink spill of the evening sun. I throw the Armada into park and turn toward her, stopping myself from pulling her across the seat and devouring her.
“You sure?” I ask, even though my body’s already decided.
She meets my eyes, defiant and a little breathless. “No reason to change my mind now.”
God help me.
We get out, and the warm breeze greets us, sweet with lilac and summer and her perfume clinging to my sweatshirt.
She walks beside me up the front path, our hands brushing now and then like they’ve got their own agenda.
The sun’s still hanging on, painting the sky with every shade of heat I feel in my heart.
At the door, I pause with the key in my hand. One last chance to do the right thing. “I’m not trying to rush you.”
She tilts her head. “Ryker, if I was worried about rushing, I wouldn’t be here.”
That’s it. That’s all I need.
The lock clicks, and the door swings open.
Once we’re inside, I turn around, and she’s right there, looking at me like she already owns me. And maybe she does.
But I don’t move.
I want to see her like this, lit by the gold light spilling through the windows, eyes dark with want, lips parted.
I memorize every inch of her—legs, flushed cheeks, the pulse at her throat. My hands twitch at my sides.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say.
She doesn’t even blink. “I’ll tell you if I want more.”
With that, I take her mouth like it’s mine to keep. There’s no easing into it, just heat and hunger and the sound of her whimpering when I slide my hands into her hair and tilt her head exactly the way I want it.
She tugs at my sweatshirt, and her fingers graze my abs as she pushes it up. I groan into her mouth, breaking the kiss long enough to yank it over my head, and then I’m back on her like I’ve been dying for this. Because I have been.
I trail kisses down her neck, stopping to suck lightly at the spot just below her ear that makes her shiver. She gasps, and I grin, hungry and a little smug because I plan to hear that sound again.
“Still want more?” I murmur, mouth brushing her jaw.
“God, yes.”
I scoop her up, and she laughs, a sound that punches the air from my lungs, and I kiss it right off her lips as I carry her down the hall.
The bedroom is bathed in the last light of the day, blush and amber pouring through the blinds. I don’t bother with the light. I don’t need to see everything to know I want it all.
She’s been in yoga pants and a hoodie all day, but damn if she’s ever looked better.
I lay her on the bed, and the soft cotton clings to her curves as she lands.
I follow her down, hands slipping beneath the hem of her hoodie, pushing it up slowly, inch by inch.
Then I turn my attention to her leggings until she’s squirming beneath me in nothing but a black lace bra and that flushed, breathless look I can’t get enough of.
She takes my breath away. “Ginny,” I say reverently.
She reaches up, fingers curling at the back of my neck. “No more waiting.”
So I give her everything.
We move slowly because we’ve got all night to memorize every inch of each other.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just enough to make me groan.
Her thighs part, inviting me in, and I press forward, the head of my cock dragging through her slick heat before I push deep, burying it to the hilt.
She arches beneath me, mouth falling open, and the tight, wet grip of her around me nearly shatters my control.
Her eyes flutter shut, but I shake my head and press a kiss to her cheek. “Look at me,” I whisper. “I want to see your face when you fall apart.”
Her breath hitches, and then she moans, high and desperate, as her body tightens around me. Her back arches off the bed, head thrown back, thighs anchored around my waist. I feel it, the way she pulses around me, wet and wild and perfect, and my name bursts from her lips like a prayer.
Then I lose it. My hips jerk, rhythm shattered. The heat inside me coils and detonates. I bury myself inside her, groaning against her neck as I come, everything in me pouring into her as I shake with how fucking good it feels to fall apart with her like this.
Her body softens, pliant and warm, and I collapse over her, breath mingling with hers, sweat cooling between us. I don’t pull out. I don’t move. I just hold her, still pulsing, completely wrecked.
My forehead pressed to hers, our chests rise and fall together. She’s still shaking, body warm and open beneath mine, but it’s the look in her eyes that undoes me.
Not the way she kissed me. Not the way she whispered my name. It’s the way she looks at me now.
I kiss her again, slower this time. Tender. Careful. Like if I take too much, I’ll break this fragile, beautiful thing between us.
She whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.”
I trace her cheek with my thumb, pushing back a strand of damp hair, memorizing the curve of her jaw, the way her lashes tremble even now.
“Neither am I,” I manage.
Everything in me tightens. Because I know it now. This woman has me. Entirely.
She looks up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, and I feel it coming. Something big. Something permanent. She reaches for my hand.
“I love you,” she whispers.
Everything inside me stills. The words hit a place I didn’t even know existed. For a second, I freeze. I want to believe her. God, I do. But that voice in my head, that part of me that never thinks I’m enough, whispers that she might not mean it. But then I look at her, and I know she does.
I kiss her again, soft, deep. “I love you,” I breathe against her lips. “I didn’t know how badly I needed you until you were already in my blood.”
Her eyes glisten, and she smiles.
I’ve never had anything like this.
We move again now, slow and tangled in sheets and truth. Fingers clutching, lips searching, the words we were too scared to say finally connecting us like they’d been waiting all along.
And when we collapse again, wrapped in heat and promises neither of us says out loud, I hold her close. Because she feels like coming home.