When we emerge from the storage room, Mike gives us a knowing look but says nothing. The handsy customer is gone. Probably for the best.
As I return to work, I can feel Ryker's release slowly seeping onto my pantyless thighs. Each step is a reminder of who I belong to. Who owns me. Who protects me.
And for the first time in years, I don't feel afraid to take up space in the world. To be seen. Because the most dangerous man in the room has my back.
And my heart.
nine
. . .
Ryker
I've never givena woman a key to my place before. Never wanted anyone in my space, in my life. Been a lone wolf since I was seventeen, fighting my way through a world that wants men like me—violent men, dangerous men—to stay in our lane. Keep the streets safe, then disappear. But watching Amanda move around my kitchen, humming some pop song while she makes coffee, wearing nothing but my t-shirt, I realize she's not just in my space. She's fucking essential to it now. Two weeks. That's all it's been. Two weeks since I stood between her and that piece of shit ex. Two weeks of claiming her body, her trust, her innocence. And now I can't imagine my life without her in it.
She hasn't been back to her apartment in ten days. Her clothes have migrated here piece by piece, her girly shampoo now sits beside my basic soap in the shower, her favorite mug has a permanent spot in my cabinet. It's time to make it official.
"Hey," I call, reaching into my pocket. "Come here a second."
She turns, sunshine smile lighting up her face. I'll never get used to that—how she looks at me like I'm something good. Something worth smiling at.
"What is it?" she asks, padding over to where I'm leaning against the counter. Her bare legs go on for miles beneath my shirt, and I have to force myself to focus. Sex later. This first.
"Got something for you." I hold out my palm, revealing the silver key nestled there.
Her eyes widen, flicking from the key to my face and back. "Is that...?"
"Key to the house." I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like an awkward teenager instead of a grown man who's buried himself inside this woman more times than I can count in the past two weeks. "Want you to move in. Officially."
"Ryker..." Her voice is soft, wondering.
"Not asking." I need her to understand this isn't optional. Not for me. "Telling. You belong here now. With me."
She takes the key with trembling fingers. "This is fast."
"Don't care." I pull her closer, one hand sliding down to grip her ass beneath my shirt. "Never been patient. Want what I want. And I want you here. Every day. Every night." Hell, she has been anyway. I’ve never let her go back to her apartment.
Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she's smiling. "Yes."
"Yes what?" I need to hear her say it.
"Yes, I'll move in with you." She rises on tiptoes, pressing those sweet lips to mine. "Though I basically already have."
I deepen the kiss instantly, unable to resist when she offers her mouth. One hand tangles in her honey-blonde hair, the other still gripping her ass. When we part, we're both breathing hard.
I straighten, turning her to face me. Her pupils are blown wide with arousal, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Beautiful.
"Let's take this to our bed," I suggest, emphasizing the 'our'. "Want to do this right."
I lift her easily, cradling her against my chest as I carry her to the bedroom—our bedroom now. Set her gently on the bedand strip my shirt from her body, leaving her naked and perfect against the dark sheets.
"Look at you," I breathe, taking a moment just to admire her. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
I strip quickly, cock already hard and heavy between my legs. Her eyes track the movement, tongue darting out to wet her lips. That small gesture nearly undoes me.
I settle between her spread thighs, taking my time now. This isn't about punishment or claiming or possession. This is about worship.
My hands slide up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. "So soft," I murmur, leaning down to place gentle kisses along her collarbone. "So fucking perfect for me."
