Chapter 9
9
ISABEL
I couldn't breathe. I couldn’t move. My vision tunneled and all I could see was the fight. I was dizzy, and I suspected I’d stumble if I tried to walk.
Holy shit.
Come to think of it, I’d never witnessed violence before. Not in real life.
Matt lay on the ground, blood trickling from his split lip as he took in sharp, uneven gasps. His once-crisp Citadel jacket was rumpled, his phone shattered on the pavement beside him. And above him—looming, lethal, terrifying—was Ryker.
Ryker looked like an apex predator. A beast that no one—and I do mean no one—could ever take down. He was larger than life.
His chest rose and fell steadily, like he hadn’t just beaten a man half to death. Like this wasn’t anything to him. His hands, clenched into fists, were smeared with blood—Matt’s blood. His dark eyes, the same ones that had set me on fire earlier, flicked to mine and the air between us changed .
This wasn’t the same man who had touched me in the lobby, the same man who had traced my pulse with his thumb like he was memorizing the rhythm. No—this was someone else. Someone cold, calculated. Someone who had done this before.
The world swayed beneath me, my stomach twisting violently. I needed to do something. Say something. Call the police.
The thought hit me like a slap, and my fingers twitched toward my phone. But I didn’t reach for it. I couldn’t. Because this was Ryker. Because—God help me—I knew why he’d done it.
He’d done it for me.
The weight of that realization slammed into me, a tangled mess of guilt and something darker.
Matt had touched me. Flirted with me. Nothing serious, nothing dangerous. And yet, Ryker had still destroyed him for it. Because Ryker Dane didn’t share.
A lump formed in my throat, thick and suffocating. I wanted to scream at him, to ask what the hell is wrong with you? At the same time—deep down, where I didn’t want to examine too closely—I wanted to thank him. I hated myself for it.
Instead, I whispered the only thing I could manage.
“Shit, Ryker.”
His jaw flexed. His hands, still curled into fists, loosened ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I let out a short, breathless laugh. “Yeah? Well, neither should you.”
For a moment, we didn’t speak. The only sound was the distant noise of Charleston’s streets, the occasional shuffle of someone passing by, oblivious to what had just happened .
Then, with slow, measured movements, Ryker turned away from Matt, stepping toward me.
I took a step back on instinct.
He stopped. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. Regret?
No. Not Ryker. Ryker didn’t regret.
For some reason, though, seeing me recoil from him made something shift in his expression—something small, something most people wouldn’t catch. But I did.
He didn’t like that I was afraid of him.
“I should call the cops,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
His gaze didn’t waver. “You won’t.”
I swallowed hard, hating that he was right. “This isn’t normal, Ryker. You don’t just—” I gestured to Matt’s barely conscious form. “You don’t just do this.”
He stepped closer. I forced myself to hold my ground this time.
“I do,” he said simply. “When it comes to you.”
My stomach flipped. My pulse pounded so loudly I swore he could hear it.
“I—” My voice cracked, and I shook my head. “I need to?—”
I didn’t even finish my sentence. I just turned and walked away. Luckily, my legs cooperated. Because if I stayed any longer, if I let him look at me like that—with possession, certainty, promise—I might start thinking about the fact that I wanted him to do it again.
That thought? It scared me more than Ryker Dane ever could. What was becoming of me?
Back inside the hotel, life continued as usual. The lobby bustled with guests checking in and out, the soft murmur of conversation mixing with the clinking of silverware from the café. It was as if the world had kept moving, completely unaware of what had just happened outside.
I needed a minute.
Without bothering to check if anyone wanted me at the desk, I slipped down the hall and into one of the private staff bathrooms.
The second I locked the door behind me, my back hit the cool tile wall. I quickly turned on the water in the shower so that no one would disturb me, then squeezed my eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath.
My hands were shaking. I should still be horrified. I should be calling Will. I should be telling him that his best friend was unhinged, that Ryker had just beaten a man into the pavement over me.
Instead, I pressed my thighs together, a slow ache unfurling in my stomach, and let out a ragged breath.
What is wrong with me? Because all I could think about was him.
Not Matt. Not his bloodied face. Ryker.
The sharp edge in his voice. The way he’d looked at me before throwing that last punch. Like he’d wanted me to see. Like he’d wanted me to know that he’d do it again. For me. It made me wonder what else he’d do for me.
Ryker was so damn good looking. His dark hair, cropped clean and close, the set of his strong jaw, the way the muscles in his forearms rippled as he crossed them over his chest. He truly was a prime physical specimen. I’m not sure I’d ever been so attracted to a man in my entire life.
I pressed my hands against the porcelain sink, my breath coming too fast. Heat built in my body, and I wanted a release. I could feel the wetness soaking my lace panties. My wetness. In that moment, I didn’t care that I was at work or that this wasn’t exactly the most comfortable setting. Something primal had been ignited in me. I had to give it the attention it craved.
Ryker had touched me earlier. Claimed me without words. His fingers on my wrist, his palm against my hip. And I’d melted. His touch had sent electricity to every last one of my nerve endings, including some I’m not sure I knew I had.
Now?
I let out a shuddering breath as I slipped a hand down my stomach, past the waistband of my skirt. I smiled as I reached my most sensitive spot and felt the warmth.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be thinking about Ryker like this. But I was. Maybe it was more exciting because it was taboo. I’d never thought of myself as a girl who craved the forbidden, yet here I was, practically salivating after one very forbidden man. What would my brother think if he knew?
I became wild with need as I imagined what Ryker Dane would look like without a shirt, his muscular frame on full display, his strong shoulders flexing. Talk about eye candy.
I imagined his rough hands instead of my own. His voice—low and dark and dangerous—telling me what to do. As my pulse quickened, I closed my eyes and imagined him on his knees below me, his mouth teasing as it licked hungrily. I’d probably shatter into a thousand pieces if his mouth ever did touch me there.
I bit my lip to keep quiet, my fingers moving in slow, desperate circles against my clit.
It wasn’t enough. I needed more.
I thought about the way he would feel pressed against me. The heat of his body, the weight of him. The way his breath would brush against my skin as he murmured something filthy in my ear. I thought about his hard dick, which was no doubt a masterpiece on its own. I thought about him thrusting into me, making me scream louder than Pia ever had with Ben.
The tension coiled, tighter and tighter. My legs trembled.
I wanted to moan. I wanted to scream Ryker’s name.
So wet. So close.
I let out a soft, broken sound?—
And then?—
A knock.
A deep voice just outside the door.
“Isabel.”
My breath caught. Oh. Oh, God.
I yanked my hand away, straightening so fast my knees nearly buckled. My heart slammed against my ribs, the shame burning hot beneath my skin.
Had he?—?
Had he heard me?
The silence stretched.
Then—
A low chuckle.
My stomach dropped.
“Couldn’t even finish, could you?” Ryker’s voice was dark amusement and something else entirely. Something hungry. “That’s because it’s not your fingers you want.”
I whimpered. Oh, fuck .
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, chest heaving, my face flushed, my lips parted.
I had been caught. And the worst part? I didn’t feel humiliated. I felt like I’d just handed him the knife—and dared him to use it.
Was this my sexual awakening?