Playing Dirty (Risky Business, #2)(25)

Ryker pulled at the pajama shorts I was wearing, yanking the waistband down and lifting me so he could slide them off. I had a quick moment of Oh God, on the kitchen counter? That’s not sanitary. Then he was unzipping his fly and I was all Aw hell, that’s what Lysol’s for.

The height was perfect and I was wet and ready for him, though his initial thrust made me gasp as he filled me.

“God, you feel good,” he rasped.

Yeah, ditto.

He hadn’t started moving yet, just buried balls deep inside me as my body stretched to accommodate him.

“Kiss me.”

No problem. I was pressed against him from the chest down to where we were connected, and our kisses became as deep and wet as his cock moving in and out of me. I wrapped my legs around his hips and held on for the ride.

Ryker’s hands were on my hips, holding me where he wanted me, and I didn’t disagree with his choice. I had to breathe, though, so was forced to tear my lips from his so I could suck down more air. My skin was hot and so was his, a sheen of sweat covering us.

He moved me slightly and I gasped. “Oh yeah, oh God, yeah, right there,” I half-moaned. Ryker was a good listener, and I could feel my orgasm hovering close. “Harder … faster … please …”

Ryker’s head was buried in my neck, but I swore I heard him growl and felt the scrape of his teeth against my skin. But then he did as I’d said and I was beyond caring if he barked like a dog, just so long as he kept doing what he was doing.

Cries and gasps spilled from me as he pushed me over the edge, my body convulsing around his. He groaned, his cock growing even larger inside me, then he was coming, too, the pulsing of his cock prolonging my orgasm in the best way.

Both of us were gasping for air and I felt boneless, draped against him. Wow. That had been … just … well, words failed me, but I’d never look at the kitchen counter in the same way ever again.

“You’re amazing, baby,” he whispered in my ear, making my lips curve in a tired but sated smile.

“Ditto,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the skin underneath his jaw.

He fastened his jeans and picked me up off the counter, sliding an arm under my knees and the other behind my back.

“Wait, my pajamas—”

“You’re not going to need them.”

And he was right.





CHAPTER FIVE


My head was spinning the next morning, thinking through the conversation we’d had the night before. I was thrilled with Ryker’s confession, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about him. On one hand, I wanted to tell him I felt the same, because I did. I’d been happy these past few months and was coming to depend on him and need him more than I ever had someone else.

Yet he’d pulled the rug from underneath me with his hang-ups about my father and money. I didn’t want to put myself and my feelings out there if he was going to end things just because I had wealthy parents. I’d been cautious about letting myself feel more for Ryker because it had seemed so surreal that a man like him would want to date someone like me—someone who was na?ve, a bit sheltered, had a boring job, and was a total non-badass.

I’d gotten ready for work and was pouring a cup of coffee the next morning when Ryker appeared. Fresh from a shower, his hair was damp and all he wore was a pair of jeans. Literally. I knew he went commando when he stayed over and showered in the morning. That knowledge, combined with the view of his bare chest and arms, tempted me to set aside my coffee and christen my kitchen table the way we’d christened the counter.

“Good morning,” he said, giving me a kiss that made my toes curl. Taking another mug from the cabinet, he filled it with coffee from the pot and took a sip.

I gazed longingly at the fly of his jeans, currently unbuttoned, and sighed a little. Time to get my mind off it. “So you didn’t tell me … how does Leo Shea know you?” I asked. “And why did he call you McCrady last night?”

Ryker’s mug paused on its journey to his mouth. “I can’t really talk about it,” he said, taking another sip.

“I figured maybe you used to do undercover work,” I said. “Something like that.”

“So he thought you were dead, and now he knows you’re not,” I persisted. “Isn’t that a problem?”

Ryker set down his mug and crossed his arms over his chest. I tried not to stare.

“Yeah.”

I waited, but he didn’t say anything more. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I can’t,” he said. “It’s police business.”

“Leo Shea knows who I am, and that I’m dating a man he knows as McCrady,” I said. “I think that ship has sailed.”

His lips thinned and I belatedly remembered that maybe I shouldn’t have brought up that part.

“He wouldn’t know anything about you if you’d done what I told you to,” Ryker said.

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” I replied, taking another sip of my coffee.

“Putting yourself in harm’s way?”

“No. Helping you,” I corrected.

“I didn’t need your help, Sage,” Ryker said with a shake of his head.

“I wasn’t willing to take that chance.”