Page 33 of Ryker

“Good girl.” Sir runs his hands through my dripping wet hair. Hard lines etch his handsome face as he cocks his brow at me. “We have a hair dryer and all other styling tools in the bathroom closet for you to use.”

“I saw them.” Shuddering under his gaze, I add, “I didn’t use the blow dryer because my head’s pounding. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Sir’s expression softens, and suddenly he’s escorting me back to the bed. “If you’re unwell, we can hold off for a day or two.”

“No.” It’s a headache, not a bullet wound. I’m not letting him get out of another day or night with me. “I’ll be fine. I just need some coffee and food.”

He looks around the suite, confused. “You haven’t eaten?”

“No.” Anger dances across his face and his jaw clenches. It makes me think I’ve done something wrong. It makes me nervous. “I only just woke up. I haven’t had a chance to grab a bite to eat yet.”

“I had food sent up to you hours ago.” He looks around again. “I don’t see it.”

No one’s been in my room that I know of. “No one can creep in and out of here, can they?” My heart races, which makes my blood pressure rise, and that causes my headache to worsen.

“Absolutely not. They’d need your permission first.”

Thank God. Although, part of me is hurt finding out that he’s been gone this whole time. It’s like he keeps trying to get away from me and that’s not fair.

“Well…” I shirk away before he makes me sit on the bed. “How about you go grab me some coffee and my suitcases and then we can start our fun day together.” It’s already twelve thirty in the afternoon. “Where are our lunch reservations?”

His mouth forms a thin line as he stares at me. “Downstairs.”

“Oh.” My disappointment is made clear by my tone. It’s silly of me to think he was going to take me out and show me off. I’m nothing but a fucktoy with an expiration date, right?

And I signed up for this.

The devious part of me takes over and I storm over to the door. “I’ll get my own coffee then. See you in the kitchen for lunch.” I walk out and let the door slam shut behind me.

“Hey!” Mr. Hudson yells behind me. “What the fuck are you doing, Butterfly?”

“Getting shit done, Sir.” It’s not lost on either of us that I’m completely naked. I have no problem showing off my body—I made that perfectly clear last night at the ceremony. My only real issue is I have no clue where to get a fresh cup of fucking coffee in this big place.

Mr. Hudson’s on me in an instant. Grabbing my arm, he swings me around and presses my back against the wall. His pupils are blown wide, his breaths controlled and heavy. If it wasn’t for the way his veins stick out in his temples, I’d say I’ve turned him on. But I’m pretty sure I’ve just pissed him off again.

Well, I’ve got news for him. He’s pissed me off too. “What is your problem?”

“I’ll not have my Butterfly on display for anyone else but—” He catches himself before finishing that sentence.

“Anyone else but?” I arch my perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “But who, Mr. Hudson? You?”

His gaze darkens.

“Because you seem to be doing anything but paying attention to me. In fact…” I shove him back. “You don’t seem to want anything to do with me.”

“I literally gave you so many orgasms this morning that you passed out, Miss Reed.”

Miss Reed. Not Tara. Not Butterfly. If he keeps that up, his defenses will be all mine to manipulate, and that’s annoying, honestly. He’s calling me names to keep me at a distance. The more personal things get, the more open we’d be, and it’s clear he wants none of that connection.

I don’t either, really. But I do want to be treated with more respect than what he’s given me so far.

“I can do that myself, Sir. You did me no favors.”

He scoffs.

The audacity of this motherfucker. “You knocked me out with pleasure just so you could go back to work.” I poke my finger into his hard chest. “You didn’t do it for me. You did it for yourself.”

“As a pleasure Dom, my only concern is making you come.”

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