Chapter 20 Delaney
DELANEY
Sometimes the push you’re waiting for has to come from you.
—Delaney’s Secret Thoughts
Isit quietly in the SUV, staring at Ryker’s profile.
A muscle in his jaw ticks as his teeth grind together.
I’ve seen Ryker in a million different moods over the past few weeks.
Happy, frustrated, concerned, turned-on.
But I haven’t seen him angry. Not since that night.
And never with me. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? ”
“What would telling you have done besides ruining your night with your family?” I push back, defending myself, clasping my hands together in my lap, refusing to acknowledge the nervous tremble there. “He came in. I told him to leave. He left. I called Liv. What else is there to tell?”
“I should have been your first call before Olivia, Lane. If you have a problem, you call me,” he argues, his voice firm but not yelling. Not yet.
“Why? Why would I call you? Are you a lawyer? Could you have helped the situation?” I turn my head and watch as he pulls onto a darkened Main Street and stops at the single red light.
“I called the person with a law degree who you’ve trusted to deal with this for you.
For us.” Shit. No hiding the tremble in my voice that time.
I hate confrontation. Even if I am proud of myself for standing my ground.
Ryker turns his head to me, his angry eyes softening. “You call me because it’s you and me, and I will always come when you call.”
“What?” That doesn’t even make sense.
A car horn sounds behind us as the light changes to green, and I fight the urge to flip the driver off. This feels important, more important than I realized.
“Fuck off,” Ryker murmurs, taking the words out of my mouth as he pulls the Rover through the light, his face back to tight lines and narrowed eyes before he turns into the parking lot behind Love in Bloom, my skin crawling with the need to get out of this car. So I do.
I climb out before Ryker has a chance to stop me and go right to the shop door, quietly letting myself in and not so quietly letting it slam behind me.
“Delaney,” Ryker growls as he follows me, apparently not getting that I need space. “What are you doing?”
I stop in the middle of the workroom and stare at the flowers sitting in buckets, covering every imaginable surface. Blues and pinks and yellows and purples. Beautiful wildflowers. Perfect roses. Full hydrangeas. And tiny butterflies adorning them all. It’s beautiful.
“Delaney,” he pushes, softer this time, and I spin, my gaze downcast.
“Genevieve asked me to stop in and okay the flowers. She wanted to make sure I didn’t have any tweaks before she put it all together tomorrow, and the shipment didn’t come in until after I left earlier.”
He crosses the room and lifts my chin, and damn it, I feel like an ass. He couldn’t see my lips. “Sorry.”
“Don’t. I heard you. But I want to see you. Why won’t you look at me?” Jesus, this man . . .
“I don’t want to do this, Ryker.” My hands shake, but for once, I’m sure I got the words right.
He takes both hands in his and steps into my personal space, leaving no room for retreat. “Don’t want to do what, Delaney?”
“Fight. I don’t want to fight about this. Please . . .” My shaky voice betrays the firm words. “I’m sorry.”
“We’re going to fight, Lane. You’re going to think I’m wrong. I’m going to think you’re wrong. We’re going to talk about whatever we’re disagreeing about, and we’re going to move on. Don’t apologize if you think you’re right.” His hand slides up my neck and under my hair.
“Fight with me. Fight for why you think you were right. Make me understand it.”
“You’re not mad?” I ask, tugging my hands free and wrapping them around his waist, hesitant to believe him as he shakes his head. “I don’t like fighting, Ryker. It never ended well for me before.”
His fingers dig into the base of my skull, massaging away the tension, and I drop my head to his chest. “How did it end, Delaney?”
His voice is soft, nearly hesitant. He knows he won’t like the answer he gets.
“Badly. Always badly. My father wasn’t a man scared of punishments.
When I was young, he’d send me to my room.
Sometimes for a day or two at a time. As I got older, got bigger, he started grabbing too hard and realized how easily I bruised.
Only instead of that dissuading him from hurting me, it’s like he enjoyed it more.
He got off on seeing my bruised skin. I learned quickly not to piss him off, and he learned quickly how to hurt me in places no one would notice.
” I swallow down my shaking voice and lift my head.
“There’s a lot of ways to quietly break a person. ”
The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the quiet room for a long few beats.
Too long.
Long enough for me to question if I should have stayed quiet.
“Why didn’t you leave, Delaney? Why’d you stay?”
I’ve asked myself that so many times. Came up with a million answers. But none of them matter. None but one. “Fear.”
I don’t go into detail.
I can’t.
How do you admit that the fear he’d find me and do something even worse to me isn’t something I can put into words.
Instead, I settle for what I can manage.
“There are things worse than death, Ryker. I knew I’d leave one day, but I had to be ready.
I had a plan, but then everything with Ashton happened, and I couldn’t let him hurt her.
I had to stop him. I had to risk it. I had to risk my plan to save her. ”
“Delaney . . .”
“At some point, I’ll have to testify against him, but considering when he kidnapped Ashton, he was taking on one of the most powerful families in the country, I’m not really worried about him getting out of prison in this lifetime.
He can’t hurt me anymore,” I add softly, knowing that’s not really true.
The consequences of a lifetime lived in fear will always be with me.
Ryker slides his hands to my waist and lifts me, sitting me on the wooden worktable, then gathers my face in his hands.
“I will never hurt you, Delaney. Never. And you’ll never have to worry about being hurt again as long as I’m breathing.
Fuck, baby, if something happens to me, my family would make sure of it after I’m gone.
I protect what’s mine, and you are mine, Delaney Rousseau. ”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Ryker.
You weren’t supposed to be this great big thing in my life.
I was just getting used to being by myself.
I’d been on my own for years, even if I was under his roof, but now I was supposed to be alone.
I was supposed to be figuring out how to do this.
How to live this life without the threat and always looking over my shoulder.
And then you . . .” I turn my face into his hand and kiss his palm.
“You barged in and knocked down every wall I’d built to keep myself safe.
And you, God, you’re all healthy family and healthy relationships and healthy coping mechanisms. What am I supposed to do with that?
I’m so broken, I don’t even know how to fight without the fear of flinching, and you’re all—ugh, you’re all perfect and annoyingly calm. I don’t know what to do with that.”
He raises one dark brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m perfect?”
“Really?” I laugh softly, running my fingers up his jaw and stopping below his ear. “That’s what you got out of that whole thing? I bare my soul and you hear the word perfect?”
His grin grows, and so does my laughter. “What am I going to do with you, pretty boy?”
“I can think of a few things, wife.”
“One more day,” I tease.
“Less than twenty hours.” God, the way his voice drops is so sexy. Dark and gravelly and raw. He kisses the corner of my mouth before dragging my tongue between his and sucking.
I pull back, holding his eyes for what feels like an eternity, but in reality, it’s one single stolen moment in time.
I may never recover from this man. He has the power to break me in ways I’ve never given anyone.
But I’ve given it to him willingly because I’d rather spend the rest of my life broken, knowing what this felt like even for a moment, than never feeling it at all.
“I’m not sure when it happened, Ryker, but I can’t wait to be your wife.”
The admission is quiet and scary, but the way this man looks at me blankets the fear, leaving me with nothing but his strength and this wildly crazy, unwavering belief in us.
And for tonight . . . I go with it.
I press my lips to his, wrapping his hand around my throat and hum deep in my chest before opening my eyes. “This is what I want. You’re what I want.”
His gorgeous blue eyes close, and he inhales a powerful, sexy breath, like he’s hanging by a thread. One I intend to pull.
I push against his chest and go in for one more quick kiss, licking the seam of his lips teasingly before pulling away. “I’m ready for my next lesson, husband.”
My heels click against the tile floor as I slip off the wooden worktable and slowly lower to my knees. My hands slide up Ryker’s thighs and grip the metal buckle of his belt.
“Fuck, Bambi. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this. About your lips around my cock.”
Oh my . . .
My breath catches in my throat as the tinny sound of his zipper lowering mixes with our heavy breathing. I preen under his eyes, loving the confidence he’s helped me find.
I’m not scared. Not of him. Not of us.
Looking up at him through fluttered lashes, I tug down his tailored suit pants and boxer briefs until his cock springs free. A pearl of precum glistens along the tip. Long and thick with metal piercing him, he’s utterly decadent, like a bowl of ice cream I can’t wait to devour. My mouth waters.
Hesitantly, I run my fingers along the three rows of small silver balls piercing either side of his shaft, and a powerful shiver runs down my spine.