Page 52 of Whirlwind

His words wrap around my heart and squeeze like the tightening eye of a storm. But after what he said last night and the way he’s been acting today, my brain doesn’t want to absorb the words.

“I don’t believe you,” I say quietly.

Ryker steps forward, and my body moves with his. I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, but then my back hits the brick wall of the building. His strong body molds to mine, and his thumb strokes my cheek like it did minutes ago. The heat of it burns my skin.

“Let me make you believe.”

My mouth parts as Ryker cups my cheek, his head leaning down until I feel his warm breath on my lips.

“Can I kiss you, Finley?”

Reality fades around me, and all I can see is Ryker. My Ryker. The man who looked at me when I walked into his first lecture and smiled so wide, I felt his joy through it. The man who’s been nothing but kind and encouraging to me and my dreams since the moment I met him. The man who I’ve crushed on for far too long and has become a friend even when he shouldn’t have been. Even when I knew it was a bad idea to let myself fall for him harder than I ever thought possible.

“If you kiss me, you can’t take it back.”

He strokes my cheek and rests his forehead on mine. “I won’t. I won’t take it back.”

“If you do—”

“Baby,” he hushes. “I’m not going to take it back.”

His endearment does me in. As if my lips have a mind of their own, I press my mouth to his. For a moment, he’s still, his brain working to catch up to my action, but once it does, he unleashes.

Lips, teeth, and tongue are all I know for the next few moments as I try to catch up to the hurried strokes of Ryker’s tongue. My hands fly to his waist, gripping the bunching muscles between my fingers as I moan into his mouth.

“You’re so goddamn addictive,” he groans between kisses.

Ilean my head to the side, and his mouth moves down the column of my throat. He sucks on my fluttering pulse, and I press my head back into the wall, gripping his toned ass with one of my hands and thrusting my chest into his so my nipples rub against the fabric of my bra.

“Ryker,” I moan as his swollen lips find mine again. His alcohol-flavored tongue massages mine, fingers gripping my head so he can dominate the kiss.

“Tell me this is okay,” he mutters against my lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth. “Tell me you want me to keep kissing you.”

I pull his hips into me, feeling his erection heavy against my center. “I want more than that.” He curses under his breath and tugs me closer so our bodies practically become one.

I know I should slow things down, that we should use our words instead of our bodies to work things out between us. We haven’t discussed what this means for us and our future. We haven’t even been on a date—unless you count our chase gone wrong yesterday. This is all moving so fast, a vortex of lust and emotions colliding in a perfect storm. And even though I should care about what this means or doesn’t, I don’t right now. I only want to feel him everywhere.

“The motel,” he murmurs between hurried kisses.

“Joey—”

“We’ll put a sock on the door handle.”

I can’t help it; I laugh. Not only because Joey would one-hundred-percent know that sign to keep out and love it when he saw it but also that Ryker said something funny, reminding me of the man I know and like.

That man lets out a breathy chuckle then kisses up my neck until he’s hovering over my lips. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes, but I’ll send him a text instead.” I study Ryker’s face at my words, expecting him to balk or pull away at my suggestion, because if I do that, Joey will know who’s in the motel room with me. But instead of disagreeing or trying to stopme, Ryker puts his hand in my back pocket and pulls out my phone, handing it to me.

“Tell him the room will be occupied for a while. I have some making up to do.”

Chapter nineteen

Ryker

I lock the motelroom door after hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle for good measure then turn my gaze to Finley. She’s staring at me through hooded eyes from atop the queen bed, her delicious body wrapped in tight jeans and a light-pink V-neck T-shirt, her feet bare after she kicked off her shoes and socks, discarding them by the door.

My mouth waters as I trail my gaze from her earthy brown eyes down to her heaving chest, across the expanse of her round stomach and plump thighs, all the way to her toes that are painted a light pink that almost matches her shirt.

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