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“Maybe I needed a little spice to go in my buffet,” I grinned and she shrieked as she hit my shoulder.
“You are bad, and I still can’t believe you now have not one, but four guys on a string. Three of them smoking hot, and the fourth...well, spicy.”
Ryker approached us with his cocky, self-assured grin that I loved so much, and said, “What’s spicy? I like spicy.”
I looked at Penny, she looked shocked, but then we both burst into giggling laughter. Penny’s fair complexion was her downfall, because she wore her embarrassment in two tomato-red blotches on her cheeks.
“Was it something I said?” Ryker asked with a grin.
“I think my friend is a little worried meeting somebody like you,” I said and reached out for his hand. “Somebody who looks like such a big, bad wolf.”
“Somebody who knows how to eat like a big, bad wolf,” I said and tilted my face to him for a kiss. I heard Penny let out a scandalous laugh that tittered off into nervousness as Ryker swept me into his arms and crushed his mouth on mine.
“Ew,” Penny muttered, and I realized how strange it must be for her to see me like this. So obviously excited by somebody, kissing him, especially a guy like Ryker with all his tattoos and piercings and bright blue hair (for now, he always changed it).
We broke apart, and I looked at him up and down, evaluating him as if I was seeing him for the first time today. I remembered how he looked when I saw him at that party, the fight, and knew he must seem so shocking to Penny. Her life was even more guarded and innocent than mine had been.
I turned in his arms and looked at her as he held me against him and said, “Sorry, Penny, we were being gross with our PDA. It’s just that I haven’t seen him in quite a while.”
“I know,” she said, and her cheeks flared red again. “I’m not used to seeing this, that’s all.”
“Well get used to seeing me kiss your friend and say very...spicy things to her,” Ryker said, his tone friendly and teasing. His body was warm against my back and I could feel his hard on pressing against me. He wasn’t rock hard, but just being with me obviously turned him on, the same way I was throbbing at his touch but not ready to go right there or anything.
His body was big. I was always surprised when I got near him in person how broad his shoulders were and how muscled he was. With his edgy look, and the tight clothes he wore, he was an intimidating beast of a man.
But to me, he was my pussycat. My cute little kitten who would text me funny memes or gifs, wake me up the morning with a selfie of him half asleep, and send me one before bed every night.
Our growing love felt more desperate and determined than the easy, sensual love I felt for the Kings. It wasn’t quite as fiery as the obsession I had for Kingston, but it felt ramped up because we never got to see each other in person. We lacked the immediate chemical connection of pheromones smashing into each other every time we passed in the hall or snuck a kiss in the alcove by the music room at Covington.
There was definitely an urgency there that wasn’t present with the others, and I fought the need to drag him to the bathroom with me for a quick shared orgasm in private.
But I was here with Penny and it was at the mall, so we were relegated to being out in public. I took his hand and began to walk with Penny, Ryker trailing along beside me.
Penny gradually warmed up to Ryker over the hour or so that we followed her around from one store to the next, and by the time we stopped in the food court for lunch, she was smitten.
“Would you beautiful girls like something to drink from the coffee stand?” he asked as we lined up for sushi.
“Oh, yes,” Penny said brightly. “We don’t have a good spot for lattes in Oakville, we suffer with boring old drinks. It’s ridiculous.”
“So you’d like a latte?” Ryker laughed as Penny went on to describe her order. Extra foam, two pumps of syrup, a straw in the cup lid, and on and on.
When he left, she leaned against me and said, “Do you think he’ll remember all that?”
“I’m sure he’ll try,” I smiled. “I don’t think I would.”
“It’s a test,” she said with a scandalous whisper.
“A test?”
“Yes. If he remembers then he’s paying attention and that’s a good sign. If he can’t remember then he might be a bit of a douche.”
“You’re bad,” I said and raised my eyebrows. “What do I do if he forgets?”
“Have fun but yeet him to the curb when things get too serious,” she said with a knowing look.
“When did you get so ice cold?” I asked with faux shock. “And what do I do if he remembers?”
“You do him again,” she giggled. “And again and again and again.”
