Ryker (The Powers That Be Book 4) (10 page)

Even though I was thoroughly physically wasted at the moment, I mentally did a freaking happy dance.

“You kinda do that to me too, Ryker,” I responded breathily.

“Hang on,” he said. I heard him get up then water was running and I knew he was cleaning himself off which made me smile that I’d made him come too. I grabbed the hoodie and pulled it to my face, breathing in deep. Damn. “Back,” he remarked a minute later and I heard him getting back in bed.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Hey,” he answered right back. “So tell me about your family. Any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. I’m an only child.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t even have known how to feel if I didn’t have my brothers.”

“It was lonely sometimes but I always had friends over, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Have you always live in Seattle?” he inquired.

I told him about living in Texas before moving before my sophomore year in high school. I learned he’d been born and raised here and he now knew I’d been an All-American basketball player before tearing up my knee.

We talked until four in the morning and the only reason he let me go was that I’d accidentally fallen asleep but had awoken suddenly, apologizing to him.

“You get your rest, baby,” he whispered. “You’ve got to deal with kids tomorrow.”

“Okay. ‘Night,” I whispered back.

“’Night, beautiful,” he replied and then he was gone.

I curled into my covers and fell asleep with a huge smile on my face.

11—Danger Position

My classes were great the rest of the week and the kids had learned to call me Coach M which was a lot easier for them. My night class was going well also. Monday night we hadn’t had class because of the holiday, but Wednesday night I not only learned how to tape jammed fingers but I mastered taping shin splints too. Before class ended Wednesday, Coach Nolan told us that the next several Wednesdays he was going to have athletes come in to talk about their previous injuries. As I was walking out, he called me over and asked if I’d speak about my torn ACL which was cool.

Ryker and I texted the rest of the week off and on and I was thrilled that Mrs. B’s advice was working, even though I’m sure she would’ve frowned at the phone sex, but that’d been an error on my part. I’d be focusing on the flirty friend part from now on hoping the phone sex had been the intrigue.

He texted Thursday that he’d won his second match by a technical fall, whatever that was. He’d tried explaining through texts, something about fifteen points from near falls which he also tried explaining, telling me his opponent’s head was on the mat and he’d gotten the guy’s shoulder at a forty-five degree angle to it and held it for five seconds so he’d gotten three points and I was so confused. But I’d texted him lots of celebration emojis in return and he’d texted back calling me a dork.

Friday night he told me he wouldn’t be able to text much on Saturday because after his match his coach had asked him to help out which Ryker was totally pumped about. He said he’d be home Sunday night and would text once he got in.

Saturday, I was pretty bored. I really wished I’d stayed at Nordstrom and asked to work on weekends. To fill the time, Sharee and I did a little shopping Saturday then came home for a marathon of
The Office
on Netflix and argued for an hour over whether John Krasinski was cute or not. I said yes, she said no, I finally pointed out that if Emily Blunt married him there was something there and she finally conceded.

Sunday Sharee went to my parents’ with me for dinner. I’d made her promise not to say anything about my love life and she’d held strong until Mom sneakily asked what our Valentines were getting us and Sharee had blurted that she wouldn’t be getting anything but I possibly could. I berated her asking how in the world was she going to be a lawyer if she couldn’t even fend off a cross-examination from my mom. We were home by eight which gave me plenty of time to make up lesson plans for the week, throw in a load of laundry and make brownies. After taking a shower and getting into bed, my phone chimed.

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:14 p.m.

MFRyker: You still up?

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:14 p.m.

Me: Yep. Just lying in bed counting sheep

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:14 p.m.

MFRyker: If I were there, you’d be counting orgasms

Oh my.

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:15 p.m.

Me: I’d probably lose count like before…

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:15 p.m.

MFRyker: Fuck yeah you would

Feisty but friends only, Frankie!

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:15 p.m.

Me: So you’ll be at school tomorrow?

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:16 p.m.

MFRyker: Until lunch then I have practice

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:16 p.m.

Me: Who’d you have to blow to work out THAT schedule?

There. That was feisty. I giggled to myself waiting for him to answer.

Waiting.

Waiting some more.

And still waiting.

Great. I’d pissed him off with my feistiness.

I sat up in bed biting my lip wondering what to do. I wished I could run up and ask Mrs. B but she was probably in bed already and if not, she’d most certainly gripe me out for being so crude. When he still didn’t answer more than ten minutes later, I shrugged. Whatever. If he was that sensitive and that big of a baby then screw him, right?

I lay back down and just as I set my phone on my nightstand it rang. Ryker. Eep!

“Hello?” I answered.

“Who’d I have to blow?”

I couldn’t help the snort I let out at hearing him say that but I quickly covered it up. “It was a joke… you know, as in ha ha, funny?”

“
Sweetheart
, I don’t know if you remember correctly, but the only one who’s getting blown around here is me.”

Ugh. There was the
sweetheart
again and what’d he mean by that? Was he meaning me or all the other women he’d slept with? Ugh.

Italian temper kicking in in three… two…

“Oh, I’m sure,
sweetheart
. You probably had women lined up all week wanting to blow you, didn’t you?”

Shit. This is not where I was wanting this to go.

He let out a laugh and fired back, “Every fuckin’ night. They couldn’t get enough of my cock.”

“Fuck you, Ryker.”

“Fuck me? About to make that happen,
sweetheart
.”

Wait, what? It was then I realized there were car noises in the background so he was driving. Duh. And now my stomach dropped because he’d just admitted he was on his way to sleep with another woman.

God.

God!

“Yeah, well, I hope you have fun,” I bit out hearing his car door open then close. “Do me a favor and lose my number.”

I hung up disgusted at how things had just gone, hurt that he’d flaunted that shit right in my face and angry at myself for even trying to be his friend in the first place. Tossing my phone onto my nightstand I lay back in bed staring at the ceiling and felt a tear run down the side of my face. I wiped it away angrily then lay there wondering if I could be relocated for student teaching. But that pissed me off more since I’d been there first. If anyone should have to leave, it should be Ryker. I was thinking of how I could make that happen when there was a knock at the front door the same time a text came through.

Text Message—Sun, Jan 25, 11:41 p.m.

MFRyker: Answer your door, SWEETHEART

~*~*~*~

I jumped out of bed and ran to the front door before Sharee woke up. Unlocking it then yanking it open, I looked up at Ryker who had his arms stretched up, his hands resting at the top of the doorframe, knee bent, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the ground, the hood of his jacket pulled up and hiding his face.

I heard him blow out a breath then his head came up and he looked at me, his golden eyes boring into mine with intense broodiness. Jeez. When his tongue moved to touch his back molar, his mouth going askew, I knew he was pissed. Well, so was I.

“Lose your number?” he finally asked, his eyes glittery as they held mine.

I leaned forward and snapped, “They couldn’t get enough of your cock?”

He moved fast, arms coming down from the doorframe and stepping inside, he bent to put his shoulder in my gut and picked me up. He next kicked the door closed behind him twisting to engage the lock before turning back to the living room and asking, “Where’s your bedroom.”

“What? Put me down!” I hissed as quietly as I could not wanting to wake Sharee, my fists banging against his lower back trying to make him let me go.

Smack!

Oh my God. He’d just spanked me.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I whisper-hissed.

“Where’s your fucking bedroom?”

“Put me down!” I demanded, kicking my legs.

Smack!

“Bedroom?”

Holy shit. I knew his stubborn ass wasn’t going to put me down, so I snarled, “To the left.”

He took off walking, and once inside my room threw me on the bed before turning to shut and lock my door.

“Are you crazy?” I bit off, scrambling to get off my bed on the other side.

“You have no fuckin’ idea,
sweetheart
,” he said through gritted teeth then grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me back to him.

I twisted around to where I was on my back thinking I could kick him if I needed to, which was a huge mistake because he was fast and it only served to give him a chance to grab my other ankle and pull me harder to him. His hands slid down behind my knees and he jerked my hips up off the bed, spreading my legs and pulling me where they went to either side of his waist.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked when he fell on top of me, pinning me to the bed and pulling my tank top off.

His hand went between us to unbutton his jeans then they were at my shorts, tearing them and my panties down my legs and off while I tried beating him off me with my fists. He had a condom out in no time which he put between his teeth and ripped open, his hood still on his head which gave him a menacing aura. “I’m giving you what you want. What you need,” he growled before thrusting inside me so hard it made us both cry out. “Fuck!” he roared as he began driving in, his hips pistoning so powerfully he was heaving me across the bed.

Why did I try fighting him off, how could I have not wanted this? Oh, God. This was good. This was amazing.

I grabbed onto his wrists that were at the sides of my head to hold myself in place as he continued pumping hard. Then wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and doing the same with my legs around his waist, I began moving my hips up to meet each of his thrusts which coerced a guttural and very sexy groan from him.

“You like that?” I whispered because for once, he was quiet.

“I love… love it,” he answered, his voice husky and rough.

Those words… from his mouth… oh God… they made me want to hear him say that about me. To me. I closed my eyes trying to block them out, but the pang they left in my heart made me fail, because I’d already fallen for him and was left only with the hope that he could feel the same.

I arched against him as he filled me again and again, the aching throb between my legs building. And when he slid his hands down under my bottom, wrenching me up hard into him, I was there, his mouth covering mine to swallow my scream as my orgasm tore through me, laying waste to everything in its path until my body went blissfully limp.

“That’s my good girl,” he groaned as he thrust deep and I watched as every muscle in his neck, arms and chest tighten, the striations popping out to look like bas-relief carved into a sculpture. He threw his head back, his entire body straining as his release overtook him, and slamming inside me several times finally stilled then collapsed on top of me with a grunt.

I’d heard my friends say they hated when a guy laid on them like this because they couldn’t breathe, but I loved it with Ryker. Loved taking all his weight because it meant he’d spent every bit of himself on me, given me everything he had. I ran my fingers through his hair that was damp with perspiration, closing my eyes as I breathed him in.

He shifted a bit so I could breathe easier and we lay that way for a long time, our bodies still connected, his arms under me holding me tightly, mine around him, one hand in his hair the other drawing patterns on his back.

He turned his head, first kissing my shoulder a few times then pulling up to lean on his forearm, he looked at me with warm, amber eyes as he smoothed his finger across my bottom lip. “I’ll be back,” he said, touching his lips to mine before getting up and going in the bathroom.

I watched him go, his tight, muscular ass looking bite-worthy and then there was that scary tattoo across his back looking cruel as always.

When he came back don’t think I didn’t take the front all in too. I loved his high cheekbones that topped a square jaw making him look like a young Alain Delon in the old Dior Sauvage ad, not the bearded one but the one where Dior Photoshopped out his cigarette. The defined muscles of his chest, arms, abs, the V at his hips, or Adonis Belt they called it, and his strong thighs. Then there were the tattoos, some colorful and some not, each representing passages in his life, I assumed. And finally there was his beautifully perfect, huge, cock that was now semi-erect as he got in bed beside me. Damn.

Leaning down he brushed his lips against mine softly once, twice, three times and then the kiss became something more. It became heated, urgent, feeling so different from his other kisses in that it made me feel as if he owned every bit of me. The possessiveness of it almost symbolic, as if he was marking me somehow, a warning to other men that I was his.

And I loved every single bit of it.

“We do this, we have to have rules, Francesca,” he mumbled when he pulled back.

Rules?

I started to ask what he meant but he shushed me, reaching to turn off my bedside lamp then cradling me in his arms as he caressed my neck with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, telling me I was beautiful, that he loved the curve of my back, loved how smart I was, the fact that I could hold my own, the tautness of my tummy before he fell asleep.

And I fell even more in love with him as I listened to his even breaths.

I was so totally screwed.

~*~*~*~

We held hands as I walked him out to his car the next morning at six. I’d pulled on some jeans and his hoodie along and slipped my Keds on. He had on his jeans and hoodie from the night before and in the early morning fog, we must’ve looked like phantoms.