Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sunny
You know those moments where you wonder if maybe the universe is trying to kill you slowly? It’s not the big things, but all the minor disasters that pile on top of each other until you’re standing there wondering if you’ve somehow pissed off a higher power.
Yeah, I’m there. Right now.
The ballroom is a total mess. I can’t even… I mean, what is this? Half the tables are set, but the other half are a complete disaster. The Christmas tree in the center is leaning like it’s just about had it with everything.
Honestly, I’m half-expecting it to topple over and take half the room with it. And it’s not even noon yet.
I can already feel the stress ball that is my life squeezing tighter in my chest. This gala? This whole event? It’s supposed to save us, to save the hotel, to save me.
And right now, it’s starting to look like it’ll be the thing that sends me into full-on, stress-induced, fluffy-pajama-wearing, locked-in-a-bathroom-crying meltdown mode.
Claire has done so much for us, but there’s still so far to go. Maybe too far.
“Sunny! Sunny!”
Marjorie’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I look up to find her practically sprinting in my direction. Her face is already ghostly pale.
Oh, good. That’s what I need right now. Someone else is in full-on panic mode.
“What is it?” I ask, already bracing myself for whatever fresh hell she’s about to drop on me.
“The DJ just canceled,” she blurts out. “Like, gone. No warning. Just not coming.”
My brain stops for a full second. Canceled? “Are you…” I swallow hard. “You’re joking.”
She shakes her head, the panic creeping into her eyes. “I wish I were.”
Of course, the DJ bailed. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not like everything else has been going smoothly. And now I must find another one… immediately.
We don’t have weeks to work with. We have days. Two days.
I feel my heart rate pick up. I’ve just been handed an impossible math problem without a calculator.
My fingers grip the edge of the nearest table. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to silence the ringing in my ears.
This can’t be happening. It’s not real.
“I can’t handle this,” I mutter under my breath. I’d almost say it’s a prayer if I believed anyone was listening.
“We can fix it. We have to,” Marjorie says, looking at me suspiciously. She must sense I’m about to collapse into a puddle of stress and tears.
The panic building inside me suddenly morphs into something sharper, more focused. I can’t break now, not with so much riding on this night.
The hotel. My aunt’s legacy. The people who’ve worked here for years. They’re all counting on me. I am counting on myself.
But the thought of finding a last-minute DJ, along with everything else, adds one more boulder to a mountain that’s already way too high to climb.
“Okay,” I say, rallying as best I can. “We’ll figure this out. Call the other venues. Find anyone who can fill in at the last minute.”
Claire comes over, her phone glued to her ear. “I’ve already got a few calls out. Let’s keep trying.”
“Wait, a DJ?” Pearl comes out of the bar with a glass of wine in her hand. “My nephew can DJ. Let me give him a call, see if he can get here.”
“Wait, really?” Marjorie gasps. “If he needs persuading, let me talk to him…”
Just as the tension seems to reach its peak, as if the universe has one more little joke to play, Ryder walks in.
I barely notice his arrival at first, too caught up in the frenzy of my own thoughts, but when he speaks, a switch flips in my brain.
He’s calm, like he always is, moving through everything with that easy confidence that’s both comforting and infuriating.
“Hey,” he says, as though this is just another Tuesday morning, “everything going according to plan?”
I spin around, my heart hammering in my chest, too many things unraveling inside me all at once. There’s no humor in my voice when I respond. None.
“Everything is not going according to plan, Ryder,” I snap, stepping toward him. “The DJ bailed. The ballroom looks like a tornado came through it. The Christmas tree is about to fall on somebody, and I’m supposed to fix it. This isn’t some easy little problem to solve. This is my life right now.”
Ryder blinks, clearly not prepared for the eruption that’s coming his way. He doesn’t step back, though. He’s too grounded for that.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” I cut him off, the frustration of the entire week bubbling over. “You never mean to. But you haven’t been involved with any of this. You haven’t helped with the planning at all. You clearly have something else going on, but…”
I can feel the words coming faster now, each one sharper than the last. I can’t stop the flood once it’s started, and I’m just standing there, powerless to control it.
“Do you even realize how much is on my plate right now?” I throw my hands up, frustration bubbling over. “I’ve been doing everything while you swoop in with your polished suit and your corporate wisdom and think you have all the answers.”
His face doesn’t change, but I see the tension in his jaw. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. And that makes me even more furious.
“You don’t get it,” I spit out, every word dripping with frustration. “I’m in charge of this whole event, this whole hotel. And you’re just sitting there, acting like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’m somehow screwing everything up, when I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got!”
What am I even saying?
This isn’t even about him, but all my frustration has erupted, and I can’t control it.
“Sunny—” he begins, but I cut him off again, my hands shaking from the intensity of the emotions building in me.
“No, I need a moment. I can’t do this anymore.”
The silence hangs in the air. My chest is rising and falling, too fast, the adrenaline from the argument flooding my veins. For a moment, Ryder doesn’t speak. He’s standing there, still, eyes focused on me, his lips pressed tight.
And then, without another word, I turn and storm off, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.
I need to get away from him, away from this stupid gala and everything else. I need a second to breathe, to be somewhere that isn’t collapsing under the pressure of my panic.
I reach my door and slam it open, only to be met with the quiet comfort of my room. But even that’s not enough to calm the storm brewing inside me.
I pace the length of the room, my thoughts spiraling out of control, my anger still burning too brightly to ignore.
The door creaks open behind me, and of course, Ryder follows. Because he never backs down, does he?
“I’m not done talking about this, Sunny.”
I turn on him, my hands clenching at my sides.
“Oh, you’re not done? Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to play nice.
I’m done trying to keep everything together.
I’m done pretending like I’ve got it all under control when everything is falling apart.
You don’t get to come in here acting like everything is fine and dandy when it’s not. ”
He steps further into the room, his presence filling the space, large and overwhelming. “I never said it was fine and dandy, Sunny. And yes, I haven’t helped, because I’ve been focused on other things.”
I let out a humorless laugh, turning away from him to look out the window. “Yeah, the other mess the hotel is in.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just takes a few steps toward me. “Sunny… I’m here for you. I’m on your side.”
I close my eyes, letting out a shaky breath as I turn away. I’m trying to hold it together, but I feel his presence closing in behind me.
I can’t stop myself from leaning into him, even though every part of me tells me to pull away.
But before I can think, before I can overthink it, his hand gently brushes my arm, and it sends a shock straight to my core. I inhale sharply, my pulse picking up. I spin around, my eyes locking with his.
And then… the world falls away.
His hand cups my cheek, warm and familiar, and for one breathless second, I look at him. His gaze is fierce, protective, and there’s a look in his eyes that makes my heart stutter.
His lips crash against mine, and I feel it everywhere. The world is spinning out of control, and the only thing that matters is the taste of him, the heat of him, the way he pulls me closer, deeper into him.
His mouth is on mine before I can second-guess it, before I can shove him back into the hallway. The kiss is wild, angry, desperate. All the words we can’t say are pouring out through the clash of our lips.
I moan against him, half from frustration, half from relief. My hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer. He’s solid everywhere, unmovable, and somehow that fuels the storm inside me.
“You infuriate me,” I hiss when he pulls back for breath.
His lips curve in a dangerous grin, his forehead resting against mine. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”
Before I can snap back, he lifts me. My back hits the bed, his weight settling over me, pinning me down in the best possible way.
His mouth trails down my neck, my chest, my stomach. Slow enough to make me squirm, fast enough to keep me begging for more.
“Ryder…” My voice is already shaky, the storm of frustration giving way to need.
He parts my thighs with his hands, pushing my dress higher until the fabric is bunched at my waist. His eyes meet mine, hungry, daring.
“I want to taste you, Sunny.”
Before I can answer, his head dips, and then his tongue is on me. Hot, wet, devastating.
I cry out, hips bucking as he licks a long, slow stroke up my slit, teasing my clit before sucking it into his mouth.
The pressure is exquisite, making me gasp and dragging me higher with every flick of his tongue. He presses my thighs open with his strong hands, holding me down when I start to thrash.
“Stay still,” he growls against me, and the vibration makes me shudder.
I grab at the sheets, my body arching off the bed, shameless cries spilling from my lips. He eats me, starving, his tongue working me over, his pace building until I’m spiraling, my entire body trembling.
“Ryder, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is dark, commanding, before he buries his mouth against me again.
The orgasm slams into me hard, tearing through me until I’m shaking, gasping, completely undone. I scream his name, clutching at his hair, riding the waves until I collapse back against the mattress.
He licks me through it, slow and possessive, until I’m twitching from the sensitivity. When he finally pulls away, his mouth glistens, his smirk pure sin.
Before I can recover, he flips me and bends me over the dresser. My palms splay against the cool wood, my reflection in the mirror catching the flush on my cheeks, the hunger in my eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, his hands already tugging at the zipper of my dress.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I fire back.
The dress slips down, pooling at my waist, and his palm comes down hard across my ass. The sharp sting makes me gasp, my back arching.
“You’re wound so tight, Sunny,” he murmurs, spanking me again, this time slower. “Maybe this is what you need. To let go.”
A moan rips out of me before I can smother it. He chuckles darkly, spreading me open with one hand, his other gripping my hip.
And then he’s inside me. Thick, deep, filling me in one relentless thrust. I cry out, clutching the dresser for balance as my body clenches around him.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans, snapping his hips harder, deeper, until the rhythm pounds every ounce of tension out of me.
Every stroke is punishing, a reminder, a claim. He leans over me, his hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back so our eyes meet in the mirror.
“Look at yourself,” he growls. “Look at how perfect you are like this. Taking me, begging for it even when you’re too stubborn to admit it.”
I whimper, but I don’t look away. I can’t. Watching myself unravel, his expression dark and hungry behind me, is almost too much to handle.
The pressure coils tight inside me, and when his hand slips down to circle my clit, it’s game over.
“Ryder…”
“Come for me, Sunny.”
My body unravels, another orgasm tearing through me with brutal force, leaving me shaking and crying out as I collapse against the dresser.
But he doesn’t stop, not until he’s groaning my name, thrusting deep, holding me flush against him as he spills hot and hard inside me.
The sensation of him filling me makes me moan, my body twitching with aftershocks as I slump forward. His hand slides down my belly, holding me in place as he pulses deep inside, unwilling to let me go.
When it’s over, he leans against me, his lips brushing my shoulder, his chest heaving. For a moment, there’s silence—just the sound of our ragged breathing and my racing heartbeat.
Then he presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and the tenderness in that small gesture nearly undoes me all over again.