Chapter 28
Guinevere
T he library is empty aside from the old librarian sitting at her desk, practically asleep. I sit in the private room that Ryker and I typically work in, alone, attempting to finish my half of the presentation.
I’m finding it hard to concentrate on what I’m doing since I haven’t been able to get the other night out of my mind. The night I came to the thought of Ryker touching me, tasting me, teasing me. I came harder than I have in a long time, and I can’t believe it was because of him.
I haven’t seen Ryker since class yesterday. I ended up getting lunch with Damian since he had been blowing up my phone wondering why he hasn’t seen me outside of class lately. I told him everything about what happened on my birthday, about what happened after my birthday, the tension between Ryker and me.
Of course, Damian told me to go for it, but I don’t even know how to do that. It’s obvious that I have some sort of feelings for Ryker, and I’m pretty sure that feeling is lust. But can I allow myself to forget how it’ll affect me in the future so I can enjoy the present?
I don’t know. Would Ryker even want to? I know he feels the tension between us when we’re together. I know he’s made comments here and there about me and us, but does he mean them?
Ryker should be here any minute now to finish his side of the presentation, and I don’t know if I can think straight with him in this small space. I should leave now; tell him I’m not feeling well and that he’ll have to finish on his own. But something inside me makes me stay in my seat.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this, shouldn’t be thinking about him. This project is so important, and Professor Whitely will be so upset with me if it’s not perfect. I can’t be distracted right now. Yet, Ryker Steele has been consuming almost every thought I’ve had since my birthday.
The sound of the door creaking open catches my attention and makes my nerves skyrocket. I don’t turn around, instead deciding to keep my focus on my laptop screen.
When he passes me, I can smell his cologne and a hint of his aftershave. His face is clear of the stubble that had been there just the other day. His green eyes look intense and stormy, like they’re hiding a lifetimes worth of stress and secrets. The dark bags under his eyes make me think he hasn’t really slept much lately, eliciting a pang of sadness through me.
I don’t know how I got here. Caring about a guy I hate, but maybe… maybe I don’t hate him anymore. I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how it happened. But here I am, craving the touch of a man I no longer seem to hate.
Ryker sits in the chair across the table from me, sets his laptop on the table in front of him and doesn’t say a word to me as he begins to work. He hasn’t even looked at me.
Okay… what’s his problem?
I peer at him over my laptop, and this time I don’t try to hide it. I blatantly stare at him until he clears his throat and fidgets in his chair.
“Do you need something?” he says with a sharp edge. My eyes search his face, wondering why he’s being like this.
“N…no, I was just-” he finally looks up from his laptop.
“Just what?” Ryker shuts the laptop as his eyes bore into mine. His tone makes me shiver. My eyes catch on his hand which is covered in cuts and bruises. My eyes narrow, and then they widen. What the hell happened?
“What happened to your hand?” I ask. Ryker quickly pulls his hand under the table.
“Nothing,” he tells me, never taking his eyes off of me.
Did he go after Ashton after I told him not to? “Ryker, what happened to your hand?” I ask more sternly.
Ryker watches me, studies me for what feels like forever, before he slowly rises from his chair and leans on his hands as he stands above the table. He looks angry, frustrated, but I don’t know why. Why won’t he tell me about his hand?
“You don’t need to know everything, Guinevere.”
“Why won’t you just tell me? Did you go after Ashton?” I ask in an accusatory tone. Ryker’s eyes flash with something that reminds me of guilt but also a bit of something I don’t recognize.
He steps around the table, and its reminiscent of one of the first nights we worked together. I don’t move or back away when he gets so close I can feel his body heat. I stay in my seat and watch as his forearms cord as he sits on the table and leans back.
“And if I did?” he challenges. Jesus, what is wrong with him? Why is he acting like this?
Ryker leans closer to my face like he has many times before, his long, strong arms landing on the chair at either side of my head, and my breathing quickens.
“What would you do about it, Gwen?” his head tilts in question. What could I do about it? I can’t control what he does. I can’t make him do anything. Ryker’s the kind of guy that will do whatever he wants, no matter the consequences .
His eyes travel from my face down to my chest as it heaves up and down in a fast rhythm, my cleavage noticeable at the top of my green Ellington U tank top. Slowly, he peels his gaze away and lands back on my burning face.
He’s so close, I can smell him. I can feel his heat. I can see the large bulge in his pants as it seems to grow harder. I swallow hard, looking back up to see his glazed over eyes.
One of his hands traces up my neck softly, gently sliding over my cheek and staying there for a brief moment as I relax into it. His touch feels so good, and I want more. I need more. There’s no doubt my panties aren’t completely soaked through at this point.
The ache between my legs becomes more prominent as his thumb tenderly caresses my cheek, sending goosebumps all over my body. When his hand moves, I almost want to pout. But instead of leaving me completely, he cups the back of my head, lacing his fingers through my hair.
And then, without warning, Ryker fists my hair and pulls my head back, forcing me to look him in the eye. The dull soreness in my head isn’t even noticeable when Ryker stands to straddle me over my chair, pushing it and me away from the table.
Even though there’s no one here in the library right now, this feels so wrong. This feels like a disaster waiting to happen.
“What, no more questions?” he asks derisively, a smug smirk crossing his pink lips.
My eyes narrow because I know he’s realized his little plan to distract me worked. But I haven’t forgotten what began this game that he’s started.
Here’s the thing, Ryker. Something you don’t know about me is I’m competitive as hell, and I always win.
“Fuck. You,” I smirk, and I can see the challenge flash behind Rykers bright green eyes.
I’m sure he’s not used to hearing that coming from a woman, or anyone really. But I don’t care. If he’s going to be an ass, I can be bitch right back. I am not afraid of him .
Ryker’s other hand comes around to cup my chin, putting slight pressure on it to hold me still. My clit pulses at the sudden movement, and I can feel my nipple pebbling under my bra.
Flashes of the other night float through my mind. Touching myself, orgasming so hard I saw stars.
“Oh, Rebel. You have such a dirty little mouth. What should we do about that?” he tsks. The brat in me wants to push him off of me, but the horny, desperate part of me wouldn’t dare.
I shrug.
The rough pad of Ryker’s thumb skates over my bottom lip, causing me to intake a sharp breath.
Ryker’s eyes search mine for a moment, his expression laces with so many different emotions. Hate, lust, anger, confusion. He’s fighting himself, wondering what his next move should be, and the deranged part of me wants him to smash his lips against mine. Another part of me wants to challenge him a bit more, see how far I can go.
“I can’t stand you,” I tell him, partly the truth and partly a lie. His smirk causes a giddy feeling in my chest. Does he want me to hate him?
“Ms. Sharpe is that a lie?” he cocks a brow. I attempt to shake my head, but his grip on my chin has only gotten tighter. “I don’t like liars.”
His grip finally loosens enough for me to rip my face out of his calloused hand. I glare at him, because that’s what got us into this whole thing. The fact that he wasn’t telling me whether he went after Ashton or not. Though not technically a lie, he is withholding the truth. And in my book, that’s the same thing.
“Maybe you should look in the mirror, Mr. Steele.” The contempt in my voice surprises me.
Ryker is still in my face, our breathing mixing together as we each get a little more riled up. His eyes are wild, and it looks like he’s losing the battle in his head. I refuse to be the first one to break.
“You’re infuriating,” he spits.
“What? The big bad Ryker Steele can’t handle little ole me?” I challenge .
I don’t know when I got so angry, but the mix of him refusing to tell me something I want to know, and him being so cold earlier makes me want to hurt him.
Ryker’s eyes darken with rage, and I can see I’ve hit a nerve.
“I hate you,” he fumes. The words hurt only slightly, since I’m feeling them a bit too right now. But for some reason, I’m still throbbing with need. The need to feel something. To feel anything. To feel him.
“I hate you, too,” I practically pant as his face grows closer to mine, his lips lightly grazing mine.
Without moving, he says, “Show me how much you hate me.”
Before I know it, Ryker picks me up out of my chair, and my arms and legs instinctively wrap around him. He lets out a low growl before pulling me roughly against him, his lips crushing mine.
I’ve never been kissed like this before. So rough, so wild, so needy. It feels good.
I melt into him, parting my lips, allowing Ryker to explore my mouth with hungry strokes of his tongue against mine.
He places me on the table, my laptop and books pushed to the ground with our frantic movements. His hands roam my body, cupping my breasts, his thumbs grazing my sensitive nipples through my tank top.
Fuck, this is better than I thought it would be, kissing Ryker. He’s not gentle, he’s demanding.
Moaning into his mouth, I respond eagerly to his touch, my hands tangling in his hair as I try to pull him closer, craving more.
Breaking the kiss, Ryker trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and down my neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin.
“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this, Rebel,” he growls, his voice husky with desire. My stomach flutters. He’s right, I don’t know how long he’s wanted to do this, but the way he’s kissing me seems like it’s been a while .
I let out a gasp as Ryker continues his path downward, his tongue tracing my cleavage. I should tell him to stop, right? This is crazy, and if we get caught, we’ll both be expelled. Well, at least I will. He’d probably get off scot free since he’s an Elite.
“Ryker,” I pant, my back arching into him, encouraging his actions as I fight with the thoughts in my brain.
Ryker cups both my breasts over my shirt, and my head falls back as pleasure coils tightly within me.
I’ve never felt this way before, so wanton and unrestrained. It’s as if Ryker has unleashed a side of me I never knew existed; a side that wants to be touched, tasted, and taken by this captivatingly arrogant man.
He continues his exploration, his hands sliding down my body to grasp my thighs, pulling me closer to him on the edge of the table. His hard erection presses against my pussy through our clothing.
I let out a soft whimper as he grinds against me, the friction sending shocks of pleasure to my core.
With nimble fingers, Ryker pulls my shirt over my head, exposing my lace-covered breasts. Unclasping my bra, he moves it slowly down my shoulders, so my chest is bare to him. My cheeks redden at the thought of Ryker standing in front of me, seeing my naked breasts.
His gaze lingers there for a few seconds before lowering his head to take one aching peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling and sucking until I’m squirming and moaning his name.
“Ryker, please,” I pant, my hands still tangled through his hair, as he sucks on my nipple.
His eyes shoot to mine, a devious smile playing on his lips.
“Please what?” he asks innocently. I roll my eyes.
“Please don’t make me say it,” I beg, my cheeks flushing.
Ryker chuckles and halts his movements, making me squirm as the agonizing ache between my legs grows.
“Tell me what you want, Guinevere,” he orders. He’s really not going to do anything until I say it, is he? I groan.
“Ryker, please… please make me come,” I beg. His lips quirk up into a devilish grin before he kisses a path down my stomach, his breath hot against the damp fabric of my panties.
With deft fingers, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, pulling them down along with my panties to reveal my soaking wet pussy.
“So beautiful,” Ryker murmurs, his fingers tracing my sensitive lips.
I cry out as he touches me, my hips bucking involuntarily as he glides his thumb over my clit in fast strokes.
Ryker falls to his knees, pulling me so my ass is partially off the table. I feel his hot breath as his mouth lands on my opening, his tongue flicking my clit in a painstaking rhythm. I feel the familiar pressure building in my core as he continues his assault on my clit, moving faster and harder.
“Ryker, I need-”
“I know what you need, Rebel” he growls, capturing my mouth in another searing kiss as he slides a finger deep inside me, curling it to find that magic spot that has me crying out for more.
I’m lost in a maelstrom of sensation as Ryker works his magic, his fingers skillfully stroking me, his mouth devouring mine. I’m aware of the risk, the possibility of being caught, but the rush of adrenaline only adds to my arousal.
As my orgasm builds, I keep my mouth locked with his as I surrender to the pleasure consuming me.
“Ryker, I'm gonna-”
Ryker doesn’t let me finish, adding another finger and increasing the pressure on my clit.
“Come for me, Gwen,” he commands, his voice thick with his own need.
I shatter, crying out as waves of pleasure pulse through me, my body convulsing uncontrollably. I ride out my orgasm, my breath coming in ragged gasps as Ryker continues to stroke me gently, drawing out my ecstasy.
Slowly, I open my eyes, a sated smile on my lips as I look at Ryker. He’s watching me, his eyes dark with desire, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
“That was…” I can’t even finish my sentence. There isn’t just one word to describe what just happened.
Ryker smiles slyly, looking so proud of himself. His dick looks like it wants to spring out of his jeans, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me.
I sit up slightly, leaning on my elbows. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m fully naked, while Ryker is fully dressed, and that we’re still in the small private room of the library. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I shudder.
Ryker grabs my discarded clothes and hands them to me. I take them, quickly pulling them on and giving Ryker a shy smile.
He smiles softly, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Come back to my place?” he asks.
Something tells me to flee. To go home and forget this even happened. But my god, the look on Ryker’s face has my inhibitions out the window. Except, we really do need to finish this project. The presentation is tomorrow, and we haven’t practiced what we’re going to say.
But right now, looking at him with desire in his eyes, I don’t even care. As much as I hate to admit this, I want more of Ryker Steele.