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Taking in the expansive, tastefully decorated living room, the worn books on shelves in the corner, and the subtle lighting, it was obvious the place was a perfect reflection of Ryker––sophisticated, yet welcoming.
I turned with an appreciative whistle. “Wow, so this is how the one percent lives… I could get used to this.”
Ryker’s lips curved with a smile of pride. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll admit, it does have its perks. This place was an amazing refuge when the kids were small. But it gets lonely around here these days,” he added. The admission surprised me, but I kept my expression neutral.
He gestured around his home. “Feel free to explore. I’ll go pour us that drink."
As Ryker disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen, I wandered closer to the windows, mesmerized by the moon's reflection on the water. The tranquility of the scene was such a contrast to the tumultuous emotions swirling within me.
Ryker returned with two glasses, handing one to me filled with rich, red wine. His mouth quirked, eyes glinting with amusement.
He could always read me so well.
“Relax, Daniels. I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to.” His gaze snared mine. “To a memorable evening," he toasted. We clinked glasses, the mood intimate.
Three glasses later, I had indeed relaxed. Our conversations were all over the place as we picked up sharing more memories from high school and the friend group we hung out with back then. Shouts of glee echoed off the high ceilings, and I may have snort laughed a few times.
“Remember junior year when I spray painted the school gym hot pink as a senior prank?” I snickered into my glass. “God, Principal O’Malley wanted to expel me!”
Ryker nearly spit out his wine.
“I’d forgotten that was you! Such a ballsy move, Daniels. Legend.” He shot me an admiring look, and I preened, making a show of blowing on my nails and dusting off my shoulders.
We sat facing each other on his massive sectional sofa, me with my bare feet curled under me, him with an arm across the back, his powerful legs sprawled out.
We swapped stories late into the night. Stars twinkled brightly through the expansive windows as talk turned to old hurts and roads not taken.
“After my wife left, it was just me and the girls. It was so damn hard, Meg. I don’t know how a mother can just walk out on her whole family like that. Thankfully the girls were still really small at the time, so they adjusted well enough. But me… I closed myself off from anyone else but them. My girls and my business were my sole focus.”
He swirled the bit of wine left in his glass, seemingly mesmerized as he spoke. “But they’re grown now and then…” he paused, seconds ticking by in the silence, “you walked back in my life,” he finished. His smoldering gray gaze met mine, and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
It was like those eyes pierced holes in my lungs.
Slowly, Ryker reached out, grazing my wrist with his rough fingertips. Sparks danced across my skin at the friction as our eyes locked. Our previously playful mood shifted into something more charged and laden with temptation.
“Getting cozy, aren't we there, West?” I murmured, pulse galloping erratically. I bit my lip and held still beneath his feathery touch.
Ryker's eyes darkened, voice a low rumble. "Does it bother you?"
His fingers trailed down my arm, leaving shivery ribbons of heat in their wake. "Depends. Is this just a fling to you?" My tone was light but the question one hundred percent serious.
I needed to know what I was getting myself into.
Where we stood.
I needed him to say it.
Ryker stilled, gaze boring into me.
"You could never be just a fling." He took our wineglasses and placed them on the coffee table, out of danger. Then he hauled me close, caging me against him. "I want this, Meg. I want you." His growled admission did me in. I sank against his hard frame as all thought and reason fled, along with my resistance.
His lips crashed over mine, fierce with pent-up need. This kiss was more savage than the one on the beach. We strained together, hands roving urgently. I threaded my fingers through his silky hair, anchoring myself against the dizzying onslaught of sensation.
“Tell me you want this too, Meg. Tell me you’re in,” he muttered against my mouth, teeth nipping my bottom lip and sending flames dancing along every nerve in my body.
“Yes,” I gasped, tugging his hair, nails raking his nape, tipping my head back so he could reach my neck. Goosebumps rose at the scratchy feel of his beard. “Please, Ryker. I’m in. I want this. I want you, too.”
He released another low growl in the back of his throat and without warning, stood and hiked me into his arms, grabbing my thighs in silent instruction to wrap them around his hips.
