Page 39 of The Scout

I swallowed. I’ll admit it—I was testing him. Begging him to break first. He looked like he was on the verge of doing exactly that.

He reached out, his fingers brushing along the hemof my dress where it skimmed the tops of my thighs. I sucked in a sharp breath, but I didn’t move away. Instead, I stayed rooted to the spot, electricity snapping between us like a live wire.

"You walked in here wearing this," Ryker murmured, voice thick with something dark and possessive. "Dancing like that. Laughing with those fucking guys like you had no idea what you were doing." His fingers ghosted higher. "Tell me something. Did you wear this for them?"

My eyes widened, my lips parting, but no sound came out.

He leaned in, brushing his mouth against the shell of my ear. "Or did you wear it for me?"

I shivered. Shivered.

My fingers twitched at my sides. I didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t need to. My stomach tightened at the heat in his tone, my skin already betraying me, already leaning into him when I should have been pushing away.

“You don’t get to—” I tried, but the words came out breathless, breaking apart as his fingers tightened at my hip, dragging me flush against him.

That was when I felt it.

The hard, undeniable evidence of just how much I affected him.

A sharp, involuntary gasp slipped past my lips.

Fuck.

His other hand moved, trailing higher up my thigh, his thumb brushing beneath the hem of my dress, teasing the sensitive skin with barely-there strokes. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, dark and knowing, like he could feel the way I was unraveling.

“I asked you a question.” His lips brushed against my ear, and I shivered. “Did you wear this for me?”

Not exactly.

Maybe this morning, but tonight, I had come here to forget about Ryker Dane.

Now, he had wrapped himself around me like a vice, dragging me into the fire all over again.

Before I could answer, before I could even process the sheer intensity of his presence, he was grabbing my hand, leading me away from the dance floor without a word of explanation.

I let him. God help me, I let him.

The moment we stepped into the humid Charleston air, the night wrapped around us, thick and heavy, the sounds of the club fading behind the brick walls. I barely had time to catch my breath before he was on me.

His mouth crashed against mine, his body pinning me against the wall, his knee parting my thighs like he had every right to.

I moaned into the kiss, my fingers digging into his shirt, dragging him closer, closer, closer.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he growled, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, his hands sliding beneath my dress to find exactly how soaked I was for him. “You like pushing me, don’t you?”

I whimpered, my hips arching into his touch. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?” His fingers teased the edge of my panties, barely touching, making me ache. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

And then—he slipped two strong fingers inside me, stretching me with a slow, deliberate ease that had my entire body arching off the wall. A strangled gasp torefrom my throat, my nails digging into his shoulders, clutching at the hard muscle beneath his shirt like I was trying to anchor myself to reality. But reality didn’t exist anymore.

Not here.

Not with Ryker pinning me in the shadows of a Charleston alley, his breath hot against my ear, his body a solid, unyielding force pressing me exactly where he wanted me.

“Ryker—”

“Shh.” He kissed the words off my lips, his pace teasing, torturous. His voice was a growl against my mouth, his thumb brushing against my aching clit, sending lightning through my veins. “Let me take care of you.”

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