eleven
. . .
Ryker
The last threadholding me back snapped the moment I saw that knife in Danny's hand. One inch closer to Amanda's perfect skin, and I would have ended him permanently, consequences be damned. They carted him off to jail last night—assault with a deadly weapon, violation of a restraining order, a list of priors that'll keep him locked up for years. The threat is gone. The beast inside me is satisfied. She's safe. But something's shifted in me. The knowledge that I could have lost her has crystallized everything. I've never been a man who hesitates. When I want something, I take it. And I want Amanda. Not just in my bed. Not just in my house. In my life. Permanently. Irrevocably. Forever.
I've been carrying the ring for three days. Simple platinum band, single diamond that cost more than my first car. Not flashy—she wouldn't want flashy—but substantial enough that every fucker who looks at her will know she belongs to someone. To me.
She's in the kitchen making dinner, humming to herself as she stirs something that smells amazing. Wearing one of my t-shirts and tiny shorts that barely cover that perfect ass I've become obsessed with. Domestic. Beautiful. Mine.
I move behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She leans back into me immediately, that complete trust still gutting me every time.
"Hey," she says, tilting her head to smile up at me. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Need to ask you something first." My voice comes out rougher than intended. Nerves. Fucking nerves. I've stepped into rings with men twice my size without hesitation, but this tiny woman has me shaking.
She turns in my arms, brow furrowed slightly. "Everything okay?"
I step back, reaching into my pocket. Her eyes widen as I drop to one knee, the movement awkward for a man my size.
"Ryker..." she breathes, hands flying to her mouth.
"I'm shit at speeches," I start, the words coming out gruff. "Never been good with fancy words. But I know what I want." I open the small velvet box, revealing the ring. "You're mine—forever, princess. Marry me."
Not a question. A declaration. A certainty.
Tears spill over her lashes, tracking down her flushed cheeks. For a horrifying moment, I think I've fucked up. Moved too fast. Asked for too much.
Then she's launching herself at me, nearly knocking me backward despite my size. "Yes," she sobs against my neck, arms wound tight around me. "Yes, yes, yes."
Relief crashes through me, followed by something I barely recognize—pure fucking joy. I lift her easily, spinning her around the kitchen. Her laughter fills the space, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
When I set her down, I take the ring from the box with shaking hands. Slide it onto her finger where it belongs. Where it will stay until the day I die.
"Perfect fit," I murmur, bringing her hand to my lips.
"Like us," she whispers, eyes shining with tears and happiness.
I capture her mouth in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly ignites into something more primal. My hands slide down to cup her ass, lifting her easily. Her legs wrap around my waist, her core pressing against the hardness already straining against my zipper.
"Dinner," she gasps against my lips as I carry her toward the bedroom.
"Later," I growl, already pulling her shirt over her head. "Need to celebrate properly."
In the bedroom, I toss her onto the mattress, yanking my own shirt off in one fluid movement. Her eyes darken as they roam over my chest, my abs, the tribal tattoos that wrap around my biceps. I've never felt worthy of that look—the pure appreciation, the desire. But I'll spend my life trying to be.
I strip her shorts off next, finding her already wet and ready. "Fuck," I groan, running one finger through her slick folds. "So perfect. So ready for me."
"Always ready for you," she pants, spreading her thighs wider in invitation.
I shed my jeans and boxers in one movement, cock springing free, already hard and aching. In one fluid motion, I flip her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up until she's on her knees, ass in the air. The position is primal, possessive—me claiming what's mine.
"Beautiful," I murmur, running my hands over the curve of her ass, the dip of her waist. "My beautiful fiancée."
The word sends a jolt through my system.Fiancée.Soon to bewife.Mine forever.
I position myself at her entrance, pushing in with one slow, deliberate stroke that has her gasping and clutching at the sheets. The tight heat of her body grips me like a vise, perfect and welcoming.
