Page 88 of Redemption

She did and watched his eyes gleam and nostrils flare.

“I am going to worship the fuck out that pussy.” He backed a couple steps. “I want your legs over my shoulders and you screaming.”

Holy hell, she couldn’t breathe. Her clit throbbed and her thighs quivered before he touched her.

Ryder leaned forward and spread her folds. “Sexy as fuck.”

His tongue teased her clit, and she couldn’t stay still for the simplest swipes of the hot, wet heat. His lips encircled the tight bud of nerves, sucking her into his mouth, and his tongue twisted like a crazed tornado.

“Oh, God!” She arched off the steps, and he held her up, bracing her to his face. “Ryder!”

Victoria was lost to the sensations. To the stubble on his cheeks against her thighs and how he changed tactics like the stealth sniper he was. Smooth and unseen, one second stroking her, sucking her, tongue fucking her. His fingers played. His tongue was magic.

“I’m going to come.” When did her thighs go over his shoulders? Didn’t matter any way.

And he wanted her to scream? God, she wasn’t sure if she could breathe enough to make a sound.

He spun her into chaos, and she drew tighter.

“Mmmm,” he rumbled against her clit. “Sweet.”

His words vibrated slow and deep as his fingers and tongue pounded. Victoria climaxed on his tongue, arching as he grabbed her hips. Her eyes squeezed, and she clung to the steps, trembling as he slowed to slow kisses, murmuring words she could barely hear through the rush of blood in her ears.

He kissed her hips, up her stomach, pushing her shirt out of the way. “We can work on the screaming.”

She laughed quietly, untangling herself from him, and took his hand. “Try, try, try again. Let’s go. Dinner can wait.”

And she led him to her bedroom. One goal: scream for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Insomnia wasn’t to blame if Victoria never had any intention of going to sleep. She was exhausted, no questions there. But with a lot on her mind and wanting to get back to work, she was restless. She’d waited impatiently for Lenora all afternoon and didn’t hear squat. But Victoria was able to obsessively try to investigate the moves of the Russians involved with her abduction and the original bounty. There was nothing positive that could come out of finding out more about the abductors, and she had to force herself away from it to come home to Ryder.

They went to bed hours ago, and Ryder snored slightly as he shifted and turned. Victoria peeled back the comforter. With her breath held and her blood thumping in her ear, she slid out of bed as though she was escaping—she was. She was absolutely sneaking out of bed to work on something she didn’t want him to know. If she’d only gotten up to go to the bathroom, she would’ve thrown the covers off and plodded off in the dark, paying no mind to whether Ryder woke up or moved around under the sheets.

She put one foot on the floor and then the other. She pushed off the mattress and stood in the dark like a statue. If he were going to ask what she was doing, now would be the time. Nothing but easy, sleeping breaths met her straining ears.

Carefully, she searched for her clothes but gave up and went to her dresser in absolute silence, sliding the drawer open as though the quietest of noises would wake him up. He was a sniper after all, though an off-duty one who was likely well worn out. If her mind wasn’t going a million miles an hour from all the work she didn’t have a chance to bring home and trying to read into Lenora’s intense stare, maybe she’d be in an orgasm-coma too, but for now, maybe working some would help.

Victoria pivoted, watching Ryder sleep in her bed. She couldn’t see his chest rise and fall, couldn’t hear him breathe, could barely see him on his stomach, his arm stretched toward her empty pillow as he slept with his own scrunched under a curled bicep. She liked this, not just him: the idea of falling asleep in his arms, dreaming big dreams next to a man who wanted to keep her safe.

He had big dreams too, even if he hadn’t said what they were. But he had to… He was a specialist for an elite company. He came from little and became top tier. Ryder had to have an innate drive, some deep motivation. What motivated him?

What motivated her? Right now, Ivan Mikhailov and Yuri Maysak—or whoever was directly responsible for sending her to Russia.

But Ryder… They were both in their early twenties. If she’d been alone the way Ryder had been, would she have succeeded the way she had? Without her dad’s reputation to prove herself against? Did she have the same inner fire Ryder did?

She closed her eyes.

Yes.

But right now, that fire said to go find Maysak and burn him alive. She tiptoed out of her bedroom, cognizant of every creaking floorboard, and waited in the hall for him to call her name, wondering where she’d disappeared to. Again, he didn’t.

She quietly but quickly padded to the stairs, rushing down, skipping two stairs she knew would squeak. If Ryder was working, she knew he’d be a light sleeper, but he had his guard down, and she was taking advantage of that. “That makes you kind of awful…”

At the base of the stairs, Victoria grabbed the housecoat she’d had dropped when Ryder kissed her earlier. “Definitely going to relationship hell.”

She should just tell him what she was up to, and that twinge of guilt that tickled across her arms would go away. Instead, she tried burying it in the silky fabric as she tugged it over her shoulders and tied the sash.

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