Chapter Forty-One
Rygaard
Work has been a constant blur of agony, with me glued to the clock, counting every second until I could get the hell home to Presley.
She’s always on my mind. So much that my work has suffered, because how could I possibly care about spreadsheets and client calls when the only thing I want to wrap my hands around is her?
The conversation we had about her venturing out on her own replays in my mind like a broken record. I’ve been doing a damn fine job keeping her busy at home. She thought she’d have it easy, thought she’d be free to roam and play house while Keifer still breathes air somewhere out there.
Cute.
We split the cooking, three meals a week each, and one night out. I try to live healthy, and damn it, I want her to live just as long and healthy with me.
Grocery day comes once a month, and I’m a stickler for clean eating. Before I came back into her life, Presley had shriveled down to a fragile version of herself. Not anymore. Not on my watch.
Gone is the frail, hollow-eyed girl who once broke my fucking heart.In her place: a woman who looks like every filthy fantasy I've ever had rolled into one.
Curves that make my mouth water, tight arms and legs that could snap a man in two, and abs that make me wonder how the hell I ever kept my hands to myself back in high school.
Needless to say, I’m obsessed with the healthy weight she’s gained. It shows. It radiates off her, this glow, this undeniable sex appeal, and it has my dick standing at attention most days before I even get my boots off.
Tonight, we’re heading to Le’ Chateau, a swanky little, family-owned restaurant that's been around since Hector was a pup.
My parents used to drag me here when I was a kid. “Only the finest for my family,” my father would say, his words dripping with all the unspoken poison he never dared spell out loud.
Thinking of him still makes my stomach churn, the memory of his cold stare the day he kidnapped me away from Presley, the way his eyes went dead right before he threatened the only woman I have ever and will ever love.
One day, that bastard will feel the pain he dealt me.
One day soon.
But not tonight.
Not when I have Presley sitting across from me, wearing a flirty, little dress that hugs every fucking inch of her body and laughing over the menu like she doesn’t realize she’s wrecking me from the inside out.
“Wow, Ry, this place is extra bougie,” she giggles, her eyes lighting up. “Like, I can’t pronounce half the shit on this menu besides fries and chicken nuggets.”
I can’t help but stare at her. Goddamn , she’s beautiful. Untouchably, heartbreakingly beautiful.
She catches me staring, her smile faltering. “What?” she asks, cheeks already starting to flush.
“Nothing, baby. Just admiring the view.”
Her cheeks blaze even deeper. She dips her head like she’s embarrassed. Not a chance in hell.
“Presley,” I murmur, voice dropping low enough to vibrate across the table, “look at me.”
She lifts her head slowly, shyly. “I am looking at you.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts. If I could spend every second of every day just watching you… I would.”
She presses a hand to her flushed cheek, her smile turning bashful. “Ry,” she breathes, her voice like a melody that wraps around my heart.
I’m not done with her yet. Not even close.
I edge my chair closer, slow and deliberate. “That’s not the only thing I’m good at,” I growl. She shivers when I lean in, my breath feathering over the shell of her ear. “My tongue, my fingers...” I pause, letting my words sink deep. “My cock.”
I lean back just enough to watch the devastation I’ve caused.
And fuck if it isn't beautiful.
Presley's face goes scarlet, her chest heaving under that tight, little dress, her thighs pressing together beneath the table. I can smell her arousal. Taste it on the air.
“Rygaard Garrison, you cannot say things like that to me in public unless you plan on doing something about it.” She purrs the words into my neck, her nose trailing a dangerous line along my skin.
“Use your words, Hellion,” I murmur, gripping her chin and tilting her face toward mine.
“I-I want you, Ry,” she whispers, the desperation lacing her voice slicing right through me.
My cock is so hard it hurts.
I shift in my seat, adjusting myself under the table while Presley watches, biting her lip like she wants to sink to her knees right there.
But not yet.
Not here.
Not until I say so.
“Too bad, baby. Tonight’s about patience.” I grin, watching her huff and fold her arms across her chest like a pouting brat.
“Are you pouting right now?” I tease.
She nods sullenly, grabbing her menu and hiding behind it. Cute.
So fucking cute.
Several minutes pass before she smacks the menu down like a petulant child. “I know what I want,” she announces.
“That’s a first,” I mutter, grinning when she shoots me a deadly glare.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, Little Hellion. Just admiring how adorable you are when you're ready to throw down.”
Her eyes narrow. “Still choosing violence, huh?”
“Absolutely. Where’s the fun in playing nice?”
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, pretending she’s unaffected. “Can we order? I’m starving.”
I take a sip of my water, slow and lazy. “Keep acting bratty, Presley. I love it. The reward will be twice as dirty for the both of us.”
We order.
We talk.
She tells me about her therapy, her dreams, her stupid plans to get a job instead of letting me take care of her.
It’s the sound of her voice that keeps me grounded. Her laughter keeps me breathing. Just when she’s deep into talking about a movie night with Agatha, my phone buzzes.
Rafe.
Fucking perfect timing.
I answer, keeping my voice clipped and professional for Presley’s sake. “Garrison.”
“What the hell, dude? I know your last name.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m on a dinner date. Make it quick.”
His voice turns gleeful. “Ooooooh. Dinner with Presley?”
“Yes.” I grit my teeth. “Now, what do you have?”
“Found where Keifer might be hiding.” My pulse spikes, but I force myself to stay calm. Stay cool. Presley’s watching me like a hawk. “Good news. We’ll discuss it later. Enjoy your evening.”
I hang up before he can say anything else.
Presley blinks at me, curious. “Client?”
“Client,” I lie smoothly. “New truck stop. Across from Chuck Wagsport’s.”
She nods thoughtfully. Then, smirking: “Kinda late for business calls, don’t you think?”
I lean forward, my voice pure sin. “You’re worrying about the wrong thing, baby.
” I let my gaze trail hotly down her body, slow and deliberate.
“What you should be worrying about is how I’m going to fuck that smart mouth, that tight pussy, and that perfect ass tonight until you can’t even remember your own name. ”
Her mouth drops open, her whole body shuddering. “Handle you?” she whispers.
I laugh, low and dark. “Hellion, you’ll never handle me. I’ll be the one handling you... all night long.”
The waitress returns with our food, and Presley barely moves, her cheeks pink, her body practically vibrating with tension.
“Eat,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument.
She obeys, but not before giving me a look so smoldering it nearly sets the table on fire.
Watching her savor every bite, moaning softly, licking her lips, it’s pure fucking torture.
“Presley,” I growl, my voice rough and hungry. “You keep moaning like that, you won’t make it through dinner.”
She giggles, sly and wicked. “Won’t make it through dinner? Don’t you mean we won’t?”
She knows exactly what she’s doing.
Knows she’s playing with fire.
And fuck, does she look ready to get burned.
“Does my Ry Ry want to be a bad boy?” she coos, fluttering her lashes. “Does he want to drag me into that bathroom and make me scream his name?”
I don't hesitate.
I snatch her hand, pull her out of her chair, and carry her straight into the women’s lounge without a single fucking apology.
Once inside, I press her down onto one of those fancy-ass chaise lounges and hover over her, breathing hard.
“Open your mouth, Presley,” I rasp.
Her eyes shine with mischief and submission. “Yes, sir.”
It nearly breaks me.
I free myself, my cock thick and throbbing, and Presley leans forward without hesitation, wrapping those sinful lips around me, sucking me down with slow, devastating pulls until I'm cursing under my breath and gripping her hair like a lifeline.
“Fuck, Presley,” I groan, riding the edge as she brings me to one of the fastest, hardest orgasms of my life.
When I’m finished, when I’m trembling with the aftershocks, I cup her face and look down at her messy, perfect mouth.
“Show me,” I order. She opens her mouth wide, showing me the mess I've made. “Swallow it, baby.”
She smiles as she swallows, then licks her lips like a fucking queen. Mine.
“All done,” she purrs. “Now can we finish dinner?”
I tuck myself back in, heart pounding, and help her to her feet. “We can do anything you want, Little Hellion. The night is yours.”
As we emerge from the lounge, Presley blinks around in confusion. “Why are we the only ones here?”
“I rented the whole restaurant,” I murmur, my hand finding the small of her back.
She gasps, turning to me with glassy, teary eyes. “You did this for me?”
“Everything I do is for you.”
She throws herself into my arms, kissing me with a sweet, desperate need that makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her straight to the nearest bed.
“I love you, Rygaard.”
“I love you more, Little Hellion.”
And tonight?
Tonight is just the beginning of our infinity.