Chapter 21 Ryker #2
We share a look. Long enough to acknowledge that the ground between us has changed forever.
Then Chase yells that the drywall tower has collapsed, and Maisie is cheering like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.
Jude huffs a breath that almost counts as a laugh. “I’ll get her.”
“I’ll tell Chase the steel post needs to go in.”
He nods once and walks across the hall to scoop Maisie away.
I stay by the table, staring at the blueprint, but my mind isn’t on structural supports anymore.
We both admitted it.
We both like Norah.
Now what?
Whatever comes next, I know one thing—I’m not stepping back. And neither is he.
And the air between us finally feels honest.
I haul the last black trash bag off the porch and carry it down the gravel path to the bins by the fence.
I spent the whole day working with Jude and Chase at the hall. My muscles ache in a way I actually like, the kind that distracts a man from the thoughts he doesn’t want to sit with.
But the thoughts still manage to slide in. Soft ones. Reckless ones.
Norah.
The memory of her whispering half-formed words into my throat last night crawls under my skin again.
Even drunk, she looked at me like she wanted something she wasn’t supposed to want. Even drunk, she leaned into me like I was something she trusted.
I shove the bag down into the bin. My palms sting. Good. A little sting won’t kill me.
The crunch of tires on gravel drags my head up.
A white hatchback rolls into the driveway, headlights brushing over the yard before dimming. The engine ticks as it shuts off. Then the door opens.
She steps out.
Norah’s wearing a soft ivory sweater, leggings, and brown boots lined in faux fur. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail that swings once when she shuts the door with her hip.
She’s got a big tote bag slung over one shoulder, so full that the straps strain against the fabric. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, or maybe from something else.
She freezes when she spots me by the trash bins. For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then she lifts a hand. “Hey.”
Her voice has that gentle rasp she gets in the evenings. Makes something low in my chest tighten.
I straighten. “Hey.”
She holds up the tote bag like it’s a shield. “I’m here for Maisie.”
“I heard.” My tone lands a little rougher than I intend, but I don’t soften it. “Have a good night.”
She starts to step past me toward Jude’s porch, but then: “Wait.”
I stop.
She swallows, her breath lifting her shoulders. “I… wanted to thank you. For last night.”
I rub my thumb against the metal edge of the bin. “You don’t need to do that.”
“No, I do.” She takes a cautious step toward me. “You stayed. You helped me. You were there. I was a mess, and you—”
“It’s okay, Norah.”
Her face tightens in frustration. “It’s not okay to leave that unspoken.”
I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Her hand lifts tentatively, brushing the inside of my forearm. Warm. Light. Enough to punch the air out of my lungs.
“You’re a good friend, Ryker.”
A scoff bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Don’t call me that.”
She blinks. “Why?”
I step closer, close enough that her tote bag brushes my thigh. Close enough that I smell cocoa on her breath and the floral sweetness that clings to her clothes no matter where she’s been.
“You shouldn’t think of me like that.”
She frowns. “Like what?”
“A friend.”
“Why not?”
I drag my palm down my face. “Because I’m still an Alpha, Norah.”
Her lips part. Confusion flickers across her features, followed by something warmer.
“What do you mean?”
I hold her gaze, making sure she doesn’t mishear a single syllable.
“You were almost naked last night. You told me every way you thought we could sleep together. You climbed into my lap and whispered my name like you wanted something from me.” My voice drops. “I promise you I’m not a gentleman.”
She sucks in a small breath. Color rises across her cheeks.
“Ryker…”
“If you think I didn’t feel every inch of you, you’re out of your mind.”
Her eyes widen. She doesn’t step back, though. She stays right where she is.
I shake my head once. “Go inside. Go to Maisie. Before I do something dumb.”
She studies me, lashes lowered. “Have you been drinking?”
“No.”
“Then why do you think you’d do something dumb?”
“Because you’re dangerous,” I say. “And I don’t get how you don’t see it.”
Her breath catches, barely audible, but I feel it more than I hear it. Her hand slides a little higher on my arm.
Dark heat slams through me. Sharp enough to dizzy.
She whispers, “Ryker…”
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
Every ounce of restraint I’ve stacked like bricks between us crumbles.
I take her wrist, gentle but sure, and tug her toward me. Her breath stutters. Her tote bag slips off her shoulder, hits the ground with a soft thud.
She looks up at me with those wide, startled eyes that always make me feel something dangerous, something cavernous.
I mutter, low and wrecked, “Fuck it.”
I pull her in and kiss her.
Her gasp hits my mouth. Her hands grab my jacket like she’s stunned and relieved all at once. The kiss starts slow, one press of lips, then another, and then she moves, tugging me closer.
Her mouth opens against mine, and the rush that goes through me is so fierce I almost grip her too tight. Heat rolls through my spine, hot enough that I groan without meaning to.
She kisses me back like she’s been waiting for this. Like last night wasn’t a fluke. Like she remembers leaning into me, whispering my name, trusting me when she shouldn’t have.
Her lips slide against mine again, deeper this time, and something raw slips out of me, half growl, half sigh.
My hand slides to her jaw, the pad of my thumb brushing her cheek. She tilts into it, softening.
And that’s the exact moment it becomes dangerous.
For both of us.
I pull back, breath rough, forehead almost touching hers. She’s warm against me, chest rising fast, lips still parted like she’s waiting for me to come back to her.
I look at her for a long beat. She looks back like she doesn’t know whether to step into me again or pull away.
I swallow hard.
“Have a good night,” I murmur. “But don’t forget what you are.”
Her brows lift.
“You’re an Omega,” I say softly. “And you should always remember that.”
She shivers. Not from the cold.
Her lips part like she wants to say something, but I shove my hands into my pockets before I do something stupid again.
She steps back slowly, breath catching once more. She bends to grab her tote bag, fingers trembling slightly as she swings the strap over her shoulder, and heads toward Jude’s porch.
When she reaches the steps, she glances back at me. Her eyes aren’t confused anymore. They’re lit with awareness.
With want.
With something I’m not sure she’s ready to admit out loud.
She opens the door and slips inside.
I stand in the cold, chest still pounding, mouth still hot from her kiss. One word echoes through my skull.
Fuck.
Whatever line I thought existed between us?
It’s gone now.
I fucking want her.