Page 57 of Wicked

My knees hurting, I shift onto sitting on a butt cheek. Ryker pats his lap.

“Come here.”

I do as he says and settle on his lap. He has other plans.

“Straddle me.”

I don’t hesitate. I want this. Have wanted to feel him under me, his hands all over me as soon as he walked into the lounge, looking mouthwatering in a silk shirt and dress pants that clung to his body like a second skin.

I didn’t miss the envious glances women shot my direction when I walked out of the lounge with the two sexiest men in the room. Shephard is a dangerous sexy. Ryker? Ryker is dangerous in that he can break my heart so badly, I’ll never give another man the chance to get close again.

The satin dress stretches across my thighs. The material is soft, but the pressure on my flesh is painful. I hike up the material. Ryker helps.

He slips his hands under my dress, and using his thumbs, he hooks the satin and slides up my dress inch by sinful inch until the hem clings to my waist, exposing my hips and pale thighs.

“Mmm, sexy.”

He leans in and nuzzles my neck. Sighing at how good his mouth feels on my hyper-sensitive skin, I thread my fingers in his hair and rock my hips over the outline of his erection. His moan on my skin sends tingles of heat down my spine.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he rasps. “Dreamt of you in my arms, rocking on my cock.”

He drags his nose along my neck and inhales my scent, sending me over the brink of the heat starting at my core and going down, down, down to settle in my sex when he licks and showers kisses on my neck and shoulder.

With an arm across my back, he tips us forward. I’m under him. He can crush me with his muscular body. Demand I do humiliating things to his. Hold me down. Cover my screams of terror with his palm.

He doesn’t. He keeps his weight off my body with his arms on the sides of my head. His eyes search my face.

I lift my hand and cradle his. “I love your beard.” My fingers stroke the coarse dark hair. “Love these too.” I reach up and smooth my fingers over his brows. “Soft and strong.” I look deep into his eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

I’m in awe of this big, sexy guy choosing to be with me when there are prettier girls. Girls with better hearts than mine. Girls who didn’t play the games I did with two guys’ hearts.

“I love everything about you,” I confess. “Your sexy tan from practicing beneath the unforgiving sun. Your commitment to keeping your body in top shape. Playing ball is important, and it shows in your hard work and dedication.”

To show him how much I admire his hard work and dedication, I caress up and down his arms. Slow strokes. Worshipping strokes. With my fingertips. My palms. But touching him over his shirt isn’t enough. I undo the buttons.

“I also love how you’re beautiful on the inside. The kids adore you. They talk non-stop of how nice you are. Brag of how smart you are too. History major.” I cluck my tongue. “All those facts. Centuries of it. Across continents and cultures.”

I push his shirt off his wide shoulders and down his arms. My fingers dance along the lines and bulges, the sinewy muscles flexing and jumping beneath my fingers. I lean in and follow the path with my lips. His breathing hitches. His thick fingers weave in and out of my hair.

Ryker takes it the rest of the way. The shirt lands on the floor. His slacks follow.

In his boxers, he reclines on the bed and tugs me on top of him. Soft chest hair caresses my skin above my breasts. Large, calloused hands settle on my ass. He cups and squeezes their roundness. His erection nestles in my hot spot. I want to grind on him. Show him what I want. But I need to be certain he can handle my trauma. That he’s willing to be patient, though he might not want to understand what happened.

Holding still—the heat from his erection intoxicating and tempting—I continue my story with my chin resting on top of my folded arms.

“The first time I met Shephard, he stopped a fight between me and Sam and his friends. I was fifteen. I didn’t realize how dangerous Sam was with his messed-up belief of loyalty and control. If I’d known, I would never have used him to get to Shephard.”

“What do you mean?”

The heat between us fades. Unbecoming panic grows in my chest. Am I wrong to think Ryker will understand? He’s only known me for three weeks. Shephard’s been with me from the start, and he is still affected by my trauma.

I see it in his eyes. Anger and disbelief for what Sam and his friends did. Pity and shame for me. I regroup, grasping for the courage I know I have in me.

“I became Sam’s girlfriend to get close to Shephard. Sam would tell me when Shephard would be home on leave. I invited myself over and spent every chance putting myself in front of him. My flirting paid off. Shephard took notice, and I started pulling away from Sam. Sam wanted more, but he wasn’t the brother I was after.”

“Shit, Harper.”

Shit is right.

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