Chapter 13
June
I blame the wine.
I blame the wine for the butterflies that flutter through my tummy when he looks at me. I blame the wine for the way my cheeks burn every time our eyes meet. And I blame that awfully delicious wine for the thoughts that creep into my mind when he looks at me with that challenging smirk.
I don’t want him, obviously. I can’t want him.
But it might be a good idea to act like I did, right? If he falls for me, he might get careless. Men always lose their heads when they’re hunting prey. They get hyper focused on getting their dick wet and forget everything else in the world. He might stop treating me like a prisoner if I seduce him.
And I have a feeling that it won’t be that hard. It wouldn’t take much from me. I just have to be careful not to give him too much too quickly. I can’t make it easy for him, but I will have to make him think that I’m interested.
I take another swig of wine, a little too greedy, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
“I knew it,” he says. “You don’t drink like someone who never had anything before.”
I curve my lips into a smile. Of course, I’ve had a drink before. I’m not even underage. Grace Reid may be nineteen years old, but I am twenty-two. He just can’t know that.
“I didn’t say I never had a drink before,” I argue. “I just reminded you I’m not allowed to have any officially.”
“Well, and your brothers aren’t allowed to steal and betray, yet they do it anyway,” he says. “What’s a little underage drinking compared to that?”
Once again, I wish I could tell him I’m not like them. I’m a good person, a law-abiding citizen, and I never thought it would be this hard to pretend otherwise.
Instead, I bite my tongue and send him a sweet smile.
“I guess you’re right,” I say. “I’ve always been the goody-goody of the family.”
“You’re their little nestling, aren’t you?” he responds. “I’ve been told they’re very protective of you.”
“I’m the youngest and the only girl. What do you expect?” I retort.
“Fair point,” he says. “I’m still surprised they were so willing to hand you to me.”
He keeps saying that, and I wonder if there’s more to his words than he lets on. Is he suspecting something? Is he worried about me not being who I say I am?
Or am I just paranoid?
“It’s not like we had much of a choice,” I remind him.
He arches an eyebrow at me, and I don’t know what to think of it. Maybe I’m paranoid, or maybe he just doesn’t like the element of surprise that came with me.
“You really expected to get paid that day, didn’t you?” I ask.
He scoffs. “Of course! The money is all I want.”
“And you don’t like it when things don’t go your way,” I go on — to which he responds with a stern look.
“Of course, I don’t,” he says. “No one enjoys when things don’t go according to plan.”
I take another sip of my wine, letting the warm, tingling sensation spread through me. My cheeks feel a bit flushed, and I can tell that the alcohol is loosening my inhibitions. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table, and let my gaze linger on Ryker. He’s watching me with that ever-present, calculating look in his eyes.
“I’ve always wondered,” I say, letting my voice drop to a more sultry tone, “what makes a man like you tick? You seem so... in control. Is that just an act, or is there something more behind the facade?”
Ryker raises an eyebrow, a slow, amused smile curling on his lips. I can see that he’s not entirely immune to my advances. He leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs out beneath the table, and takes a thoughtful sip of his wine.
“Do you really want to know?” he asks, his voice low and steady. “Or are you just trying to distract me from your brother’s lack of payment?”
“Maybe a bit of both,” I admit, letting my fingers brush lightly against his as we both reach for another slice of pizza. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a shiver up my spine. I can see the slight shift in his demeanor, the way his eyes narrow slightly.
“What do you think you know about me?” he asks, his voice taking on a more intimate tone. “What have they told you?”
I pause, holding the slice of pizza close to my mouth, but not yet taking a bite. This is a delicate moment, and I need to choose my words carefully. I look him straight in the eye, trying to project sincerity even as I weave my web of seduction.
“I know that you’re not just a criminal,” I say. “I’ve seen glimpses of something else, something... more complex. You have this way of hiding behind a mask, but I can see the cracks in it. And I want to know what’s behind them.”
Ryker’s gaze sharpens, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far. But then he leans in closer, the warmth of his body almost palpable. His fingers brush against mine again, and this time, he lingers. There’s a tension between us now, thick and electric.
He studies me for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The touch is surprisingly tender, and it sends a wave of warmth through my body.
“Or maybe you’re imagining things,” he whispers. “Maybe you’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
“Maybe I am,” I say, my voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. “Or maybe you’re just afraid.”
Ryker’s gaze lingers on mine, and for a heartbeat, I feel as if the world outside this room has faded away.
“Afraid?” he asks, as if that word was foreign to him. “Of what?”
His eyes lock onto mine for a long, charged moment. The room seems to close in around us, leaving just the two of us in our own little world.
“Of being seen,” I dare to say. I whisper the words, as if I was afraid to say them. And a part of me is. I’m closing in on him, and he appears to be receptive to it. But where will this lead?
He answers my unspoken question by placing his hand at the back of my neck, before he leans over the table and pulls me close enough for a kiss. I didn’t expect this, but I let it happen without a fight.
I hate him. I should fight him off and tell him to get away from me. But I have a goal here.
And he kisses like a god.
I can’t stop myself from closing my eyes and sigh with relish as his warm lips cover mine, and his eager tongue invades my mouth. I can taste the wine on him, and am enveloped by his intoxicating scent, resembling fir and moss, as if he was a creature of the woods. The grip of his hand tightens at the back of my neck, and he pulls me in with such force that I have to support myself on the table between us.
This feels good. Too good. I can’t believe I’m kissing the man who killed my father—and I’m enjoying it. I want to end it. I want to push him away and tell him the truth about everything.
But before I can do any such thing, we’re interrupted by the doorbell ringing—and Ryker lets go of me in an instant, a shocked expression on his face as he jumps away from me.