Chapter 6
Chapter six
Kelsie
I tossed and turned in Ryker’s bed. The sheets smelled like him—earthy and masculine—but the mattress was so hard that it might as well be a slab of concrete. I sighed and stared at the ceiling, resigning myself to a sleepless night.
After Noah left, Ryker got busy in the kitchen, making coffee.
“For the guys on watch,” he said. “I want them wide awake. No napping on the job. You should get some rest. You’ve been through a lot today.”
With his back facing me, and the Blackjacks MC patch stretched across his shoulders, guilt prickled between my ribs. I felt bad for invading his private space. He liked his solitude. Entertaining company and acting as host for the evening probably felt like fingernails on a chalkboard.
But he had a point. My body felt heavy, lethargic. After the onslaught of adrenaline and ensuing shock, I could have fallen asleep standing up.
Now that I was in bed, that fatigue suddenly vanished. Every little sound outside made me flinch. The hoot of an owl. The scrape of a tree branch against the roof in a slight breeze. The chorus of high-pitched yip-yips from coyotes.
Living in town, I was used to a different set of sounds. The rumble of car engines outside my window. The drone of the television in the apartment below me. The shout of children’s laughter from the neighborhood across the street. The hum of the refrigerator.
I rolled over again, burrowing into Ryker’s pillow. I couldn’t decide if it was better or worse to be so far removed from the rest of the world. Knowing that two bikers were on watch outside didn’t exactly put me at ease either.
One hour after another dragged by with agonizing slowness. In the distance, I heard the growl of two motorcycle engines. The flash of a headlight swept across the bedroom wall. Slipping to the window, I peeked out.
The silhouette of two bikers emerged from the trees. Even though it was too dark to make out details, one of them had to be Vlad, judging by his size.
This must be the shift change that Ryker had been talking about.
The bikers exchanged quick hand shakes. Then the first set of bikers took off down the road, and the new arrivals melted into the trees. No matter how hard I strained my eyes amid the dark, I couldn’t see any sign of them.
The clock on the wall showed it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. Sunrise was still hours away. Even if I couldn’t sleep, closing my eyes would be better than nothing. As I turned to climb back into bed, a thud echoed in the cabin.
My heart lurched.
Usually, Ryker barely made any noise at all. And he certainly wouldn’t make noise at this time of night, knowing that it might disturb my attempt to sleep.
It could have been the trees, I reasoned, knocking against the roof. Maybe a branch fell.
But it sounded like it came from inside the cabin.
I tiptoed to the door and eased it open a few inches, peering out. It was so dark that I could barely make out the hulking shapes of the furniture. No sign of Ryker on the armchair or the couch.
Venturing out of the room, I peered around the corner into the kitchen area.
Ryker stood next to the window with a hunting rifle pressed into the crook of his shoulder. Pale moonlight filtered through the glass, outlining his profile in silver. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce, every muscle taut with barely restrained power.
“Ryker?” I whispered.
No response. He looked like a statue, frozen. He didn’t even blink.
I tugged the sleeves of my borrowed hoodie down over my hands, waiting, listening.
I’d never seen him like this before. During his service in the military, Noah said that Ryker was a skilled marksman with deadly accuracy.
It made sense, after so many years spent hunting game in Appalachian territory back home.
But watching him in action, poised, observing, was mesmerizing and chilling at the same time.
After a minute or two, Ryker shook his head and blinked rapidly, as if waking up from a trance. He stared down at the gun in his hands with a bewildered expression, and quickly set it aside on the kitchen table. Flexing his hands, he scrubbed his palms on his jeans, like they were sweaty, or dirty.
Then his gaze landed on me.
“Kelsie,” he said, his voice a dry, faint rasp. “What are you doin' up?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.
Something in Ryker’s eyes made my stomach churn. He looked…lost. Confused.
“Are you okay?” I ventured, carefully. If he wasn’t willing to open up to Noah about something that was bothering him—his best friend, his only friend, in the entire world—then he probably wouldn't open up to me either.
But I had to try.
“I’m fine,” Ryker said in a monotone voice.
He turned his attention to the window again, bracing his back against the wall.
“Did you see someone out there?” I asked, gesturing to the rifle.
“What?” Ryker’s gaze snapped away from the window and back to me. A frown pulled the corners of his mouth down, drawing his brows together. Then understanding crossed his features. “No, I was…no, I ain't seen nobody. Go back to bed.”
Like hell I would just walk away. His Appalachian accent was thicker than I'd ever heard it before. That meant he was too stressed to hide it.
“Aren’t you tired of shutting everyone out?” I demanded, with more heat to my voice than I’d intended.
Ryker was silent. I knew this side of him very well. He slammed that proverbial door closed, and no one would be able to pry a word from him.
“There are people who care about you, Ryker.” I circled around the kitchen table, coming to stand in front of him.
He still wouldn’t look at me.
I shoved him in the shoulder. At last, he dragged his gaze away from the window to pin me with a heartbreaking, dull stare.
There was no sign of the Ryker I knew in that look. Just a soldier, sworn to do his duty. Just a hunter, waiting for trespassers in his territory.
A sob lodged in my throat. I stepped closer and cupped his face in my hands.
Ryker flinched, pressing himself back against the wall even harder in an attempt to escape me. His body was stiff and that dead-eyed gaze remained locked in place. He kept his arms straight at his sides, hands balled into fists.
“I wish I could get inside your head,” I whispered.
Ryker’s chest heaved as he stared down at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Thank God you can’t,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
As I began to withdraw, Ryker caught my hands, turning my palms up. He traced the lines in my palm, caressed each finger.
“Every time I fire a gun,” he said, tapping his temple. “It gets bad up here.”
My heart ached in sympathy. Noah would get nightmares sometimes, replaying memories from his military days. He didn’t go into detail, but he was willing to let me distract him. He said it helped.
Ryker wasn’t like that though. He pushed everyone away and disappeared to deal with whatever he was going through on his own.
Before I realized what I was doing, I rose up on tiptoe and kissed his temple.
Ryker’s breath hitched. He curved his hand around my hip, gliding his thumb under the hem of my borrowed hoodie. When his skin made contact with mine, I bit my tongue to stifle a needy whimper. He smoothed his palm down to cup my ass, pulling me flush against his body.
Holy shit, this was really happening.
I brought my lips to within an inch of kissing his mouth. Then…
“Stop,” he said through his teeth.
“But—”
“Leave, Kelsie.” Ryker’s voice was like iron, cutting straight through me.
He pushed me back and turned his head away. Shame burned my cheeks. I wavered on the spot as tears stung my eyes.
I spun on my heel and fled to the bedroom, crawling under the covers. I almost kissed him—my brother’s best friend. And the way he had touched me—grabbed me. Greedy. Wanting.
A persistent throb pulsed between my thighs. I curled up on my side, biting the pillow to stifle my frustration. How would I be able to face him after this? How could we look each other in the eyes, knowing that we had touched each other like that…but never acted on it any further?
It seemed as if an eternity passed before the whine of the door’s hinges cut through the silence. I lifted my head to see Ryker standing on the threshold, broad shoulders filling the frame. A tall, dark shadow amid the other shadows.
Just as I took a breath to speak, Ryker beat me to it.
“I’m not here.”
“It looks like—”
“Quiet,” he bit out, stepping fully into the room.
Ryker didn’t turn on the light as he approached the bed. When he sank onto a corner of the mattress, the only sound in the room was the whisper of fabric as he peeled the sheets from my body. Cool air washed over me. I swallowed hard, stomach roiling with anticipation.
Ryker curled his callused fingers around my ankle, smoothing his thumb along my calf. My leggings were thin enough to feel the heat and pressure of every movement, every touch.
“Tell me to stop,” he said. “I’ll walk away right now.”
We couldn’t see much of each other in the dark. But I shook my head. I had no intention of saying a word.
Ryker reached up and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my leggings. Peeled them down. I bit the inside of my cheek, terrified to breathe for fear it would shatter this perfect moment. After years of crushing on him, my fantasies were finally coming true.
Tugging my leggings and panties down, Ryker pushed my thighs apart.
“I get too caught up in my head,” he said. “Remembering things I wish I could forget. The things I’ve done. The blood on my hands. The lives I’ve taken, as a hunter, as a soldier, as a biker. As a man.”
I could feel the intensity of him. His hot breath on my bare legs. The press of his shoulders between my thighs, spreading me open for him.
“When I’m with you, I think of other things,” he added, so quietly that I almost missed it. “Better things.”
“Like what?” I asked in a shaky voice.
He paused for so long that I thought he wouldn’t answer.
“You,” he whispered.
I blinked in surprise. Settling deeper into the mattress, I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to where I needed him the most.
I knew what he wasn’t saying.
One night. That’s all we would get. One night, forever our secret.
And we would never speak about it again.
Ryker would never kiss me in the daylight, especially not in front of my brother.
He would never take me on dates or call me his girlfriend, let alone his wife. He probably thought he wasn’t good enough for me—too damaged, too broken, too old.
I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted him.
“Ryker,” I pleaded.
Then his mouth was there—hot, wet, and so heavenly that I could cry from the pleasure of it. He swirled his tongue over my clit, dipping into my pussy for a tantalizing moment.
He guided my legs over his shoulders. My trembling thighs bracketed his head. I felt the bruising pressure of his fingertips, digging into the plush flesh of my hips. I wished I could see him. I wished I could watch and commit every inch of him to memory.
My orgasm coiled tight and hot in my belly, threatening to snap. I writhed, mindlessly working my hips against Ryker’s tongue with desperation.
“Fuck—I’m so close—” I whined.
Ryker pulled away. His heat was gone. His mouth…his hands…
The breath rushed out of me in a huff.
“Patience, sunshine,” Ryker said quietly. “I’m not abandoning you.”
He stood up, stripping off his clothes. The clank of his belt buckle cut through the stillness, followed by the crinkle of a condom packet and the snap of rubber.
Then Ryker returned to his position between my thighs, covering his body with mine. The hard flex of his muscles slotted with the softer, rounded curves of my body. His searing hot skin made my brain go blank in the best possible way. And his stiff cock dug into my hip.
Ryker touched my mouth with two fingers.
“Open.”
I obeyed, parting my lips for him. He stroked my tongue, gathering my saliva. A moment later, his fingers stroked my slit, teasing me open.
Slowly, Ryker sank into me, with a hot glide that was sheer bliss. He fit like a glove.
I buried my face in his shoulder with a moan, surrounding myself with his heat and scent.
One night.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.