Page 60 of Wicked

He’s staring at me. Was probably staring the entire time my eyes were closed. The intense way he’s looking at me spins my world on its top. Dizzy and my knees weak, I hold on to his shoulders for support.

Ryker stands and crowds my space. He’s so large and intimidating, I lurch back. His arm glides across my back, stopping me from toppling over. Hot from his touch, and my knees weak, I let him guide me back to the bed.

“If you tell me there’s a different guy you’re interested in, then yeah, you’ll break my heart.”

A warning. He’s warning me never to let Shephard into my life in that way again.

“I have a confession before we go further. The night of the party, Brett threw down a bet. Nail you and I get a chance with Missy Hayes. I’m sorry, Harper. I’m a fucking jerk. If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”

“And how would you have convinced me to happily tell him we screwed like rabbits?”

His eyes widen. He smirks. “You little shit. You knew all along.”

“Guilty.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick my ass to kingdom come. Or clobber me with a mean right hook.”

I climb on top of the bed. “I happen to like your tight ass and handsome face.” And this back-and-forth teasing? It puts me at ease.

Laughing, he follows me, cocooning me in place with his large arms near my head. I drop kisses on his biceps. He’s so strong. And he’ll need to be to survive the wicked coming our way.

I set my hands on his shoulders. Spread my fingers over their roundness. Knead their solidness.

“Harper.” His voice is low, husky. “We can go slow, babe. The trauma you went through . . . I can wait. I haven’t had sex in months. What’s a few more?”

He says it like it is, and I admire that about him. I cradle his face. What he doesn’t understand, what I can’t tell him in words—he needs to feel what I’m giving to him—is I’m running out of time.

Sam gets out of prison in three weeks. After five years, Shephard is losing his patience. They’ll lay claim soon. I don’t want it to be either of the Taylor brothers. Savior and sinner. Controlling and claiming. I want funny, kind-hearted, patient, and strong, but vulnerable with his feelings. I want Ryker Conway.

“I want it to be you who brings me back from the trauma of those days. I want to be normal again, Ryker.”

“How can you be after everything you went through?”

I wonder that myself. Strange that he’s voicing my fear.

“I won’t know until I try.”

He skims his knuckles over the curve of my cheek, down my jawline and over my lips, his eyes never leaving mine. Perceptive. Curious. Possession. But not obsession.

“We haven’t kissed properly, Harper.”

He runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. I smile, contentment a warm blossom in my chest.

“Are you asking for a kiss, Ryker Conway?”

Lopsided grin. “I guess I am. Can I?”

“Yes,” I say on a breathless whisper.

He lowers his head. Our eyes are open. He’s watching me. Wondering if I’ll panic. But this intimacy is different. I’m asking for his touch and his kisses rather than touch and the plundering of my mouth forced on me.

What Sam and his friends did wasn’t intimacy. It was rape, plain and simple. It took me three years of counseling, as well as trusting a strong man like April’s dad, for me to put my trust in men again.

Ryker captures my mouth in his and thoughts of Sam fall away. He puts his weight on me, pushing me into the bed. I welcome his weight. Relish his fingers in my hair, fisting the strands. He kisses me with gentleness. Soft pecks. Side to side across my lips.

“Ryker.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Cling to his thick waist with my legs.

“Sweetheart. Babe.”

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