Lake
LAKE
“Home, sweet home,” I say, then face-plant onto the couch. It’s been an impossibly long week, and I just want to spend the next two days doing absolutely nothing. It took us approximately fifteen years to drive back to New York. I can’t remember which one of us said a road trip would be more fun than flying, but whoever it was is an idiot.
Ryk pushes the duffel out of the way and comes and lies down next to me, squeezing his large body between the back of the couch and me. He wraps his arm around my waist, buries his face in my neck, and yawns.
“Jesus, that took way longer than usual.”
I mumble my agreement into the crook of my elbow while I let my gaze wander over our tiny East Village apartment. Truthfully, Ryker could do better than this place, but then I abso-fucking-lutely wouldn’t be able to afford my share of the rent. We compromised on this place. It’s small. Just one bedroom, a tiny living room, and no storage space at all, so Ryk’s hockey gear is always in the way, but we make do.
We only moved in a month and a half ago, but weirdly, I feel more at home here than I ever did when I was living in Brighton. Well, to be more precise, I didn’t feel thoroughly at home there when I was living by myself in my own apartment. When Ryker came to stay with me or when I spent most of my time at his place before he graduated, I felt like I fit right in. It was before him and this past year when he was mostly away that I felt like I’d been somehow misplaced.
He’s my home.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” Ryker asks, arms still tightly around me. I burrow even closer.
“I don’t really care, as long as I don’t have to leave the couch to get some.”
“Then we’re ordering in.”
He rolls himself on top of me and gives me a quick, way-too-brief kiss before he rolls himself off the couch.
I make some sound of protest when his big, warm body is gone, and he grins at me before he goes and finds his phone.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks.
“Chinese,” I say. “Can we get extra of the thingies? The ones that I liked from that place that one time?”
“On it.” He’s already scrolling.
It’s one of the perks of having an attentive husband. You can be vague as fuck, and somehow he gets you. It’s like magic.
“Done,” Ryker announces a minute later. “Food will be here in thirty with extra spring rolls. Want to take a shower before that?”
I open one eye and peer at him. “Do I have to?”
“I figure it’ll make us both feel more human.”
“But it’s so much effort.”
The pathetic whining only makes Ryker smile at me like I’m being cute or something.
“I’ll help you wash your back,” he says.
I send him a glare. “You’re playing dirty.”
He hums in reply, grabs the hem of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. I don’t like to think I’m shallow enough to care too much about looks.
Then again, damn.
My eyes wander up and down, and I’m this close to salivating.
“Are you objectifying me?” Ryker quirks his brow at me.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” I jerk my chin toward him. “Lose the pants.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, which only distracts me further because now there are abs and biceps on display. “I’m not just a piece of meat, you know?”
“Of course not. Let’s have an intelligent conversation. I think better with less clothes on. How about you?”
Ryker’s lips twitch. “Can’t say I’ve ever contemplated how lack of clothing affects my intelligence.”
“Really? I always figured it was common knowledge that this is a thing.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“There’s an easy way to find out.” I wave my hand toward his jeans. “Drop ’em, soldier.”
He’s still smirking as his fingers pop the button open, and then when he opens the zipper.
“Ooh, I can feel it already,” he says dryly.
“Pull them lower so I can feel it too,” I say.
“My intelligence?”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Because in that case, come here and share some of that intelligence.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and it’s quite a sight with his bare chest and pants open in the front, his dick bulging in the dark blue boxer briefs.
I push myself up from the couch, not tired at all anymore. It’s amazing what proper motivation can do.
I walk toward Ryker. His silvery gray eyes are shining as he watches me approach.
I stop in front of him and cover the bulge with my palm. He sucks in a breath.
“Suddenly, I have this uncontrollable thirst for knowledge,” I say, voice already throaty and low. “Think you could insert some into me?”
Ryk’s eyes fall shut for a moment while I massage his dick, and his lips part on an exhale before his gaze finds me again.
“I’ve always considered it my duty to help those in need.”
“And I am. So very, very needy. I feel so… empty right now.” I give his cock another experimental squeeze, look up through my lashes, and lick my lips. “But I have a feeling you could fill me up nicely.”
“Oh fuck,” Ryk says through a desperate laugh as he hauls me against him and crushes his mouth down on mine.
I barely manage to get some sweats on before I have to run to the door and get the food, leaving Ryker to finish his shower. By the time he gets out, I have the food laid out on the coffee table, and I’m sitting on the couch. I watch him walk into the room dressed in a pair of shorts and nothing else, scrubbing a towel over his hair. Droplets of water are glistening on his golden skin.
He raises a brow when he sees me looking at him.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Do you want something to drink?”
“I’m good.” He goes and puts the towel away, turns off the overhead lights, then sits down next to me. I toss him the remote, and he cues up the show we started watching last week.
We’ve only lived here a few weeks, but Ryker’s been dragging me around furniture stores to pick out a couch and a bed, a coffee table, and a colorful, too-big rug. There’s also a desk, an office chair, and shelves for the corner of the living room that’s going to double as an office, so I’ll have somewhere to study, and a whole bunch of odds and ends that never even entered my mind but that Ryker deemed necessities.
I tried not to think about the cost too much, but when Ryker insisted on paying for everything, I sucked it up and dipped into the trust fund John left behind. It was that or living off Ryker’s money, so I picked the lesser of two evils. I’m gonna use that trust fund to pay for medical school anyway, so in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. Also, after contemplating and analyzing stuff, I figured out I’m absolutely petty enough to use John’s money to get myself a shitload of nice things he never wanted me to have. A good education. A home. A few trips here and there. There’s a bunch left even after I’ve paid for school, so I’m gonna find the kind of charity John would not approve of and make a hefty donation.
Ryker pulls my earlobe, and I snap my gaze back at him.
“Where did you go?” he asks.
“Just…” I’m not really in the mood to insert John-talk into this evening. “Not important. Put on the episode?”
We put our feet up on the coffee table and eat while we watch. Once we’re done with our food, Ryker lies down and pulls me down in front of him, wrapping his arms around me. I relax against his wide chest and lean my head back, resting it against his shoulder. He presses his nose into my hair and inhales.
I never used to do this—sit back, unwind, and loosen up. I was always too busy with studying and work, but now I have Ryker, and he’s coaxed me out of that cycle.
He plays with my hair, and I feel almost boneless.
I glance up at him and smile.
“I love you,” I say.
He grins back. “Ditto.”