Page 239 of Better When Shared
His hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their work. “This and that. He spent a lot of time complaining that you didn’t like his helicopter ride as much as you liked my shelf.”
I rolled my eyes, because that wasn’t the problem at all. I liked them both too much. Liked every sweet thing they did for me. That was the problem. Knowing they expected me to choose. Knowing I was going to break one of their hearts.
I narrowed my eyes, not believing him for a second. “That’s it? You spent two hours locked in a tiny bathroom together, and you just... made small talk?”
Ryker’s eyes flicked up to mine, something unreadable passing through them. “We talked about you, too.”
My heart stumbled in my chest. “About me?”
“Mmm.” The noncommittal sound was infuriating.
“What about me?” I pressed, unable to stop myself.
Ryker tightened the final screw before sitting back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans. “About how we both care about you. How neither of us wants to fuck this up.” He looked up at me, his eyes serious. “How complicated this whole situation is.”
How complicated I’d made the situation. My stomach lurched. I was suddenly very aware of how small the bathroom was, how close we were standing. “And did you come to any conclusions?”
“Not really.” He stood up, towering over me in the confined space. “Except that we’re both here because we want to be. Because you matter to us.”
He reached past me to test the doorknob, his arm brushing against mine, sending electricity skittering across my skin. The new knob turned smoothly, the door opening and closing with a satisfying click.
“There,” he said, his voice lower now, intimate in the small space. “Good as new.”
“Good boy,” I said without thinking, the praise slipping out like it had so many times in our late-night chats, when I’d tell him what to do, how to touch himself, when he could come.
His reaction was immediate and visceral—his pupils dilated, his breath catching audibly. His chin dipped, a flush creeping up his neck as his eyes skimmed over my body, lingering on my lips, my breasts, my hips. For a heartbeat, I thought he might reach for me, might press me against the wall and claim my mouth with his.
Instead, he took a deliberate step back. He was always so fucking respectful, always waiting for clear consent. He knelt again to gather the tools, placing them carefully back in the toolbox he’d borrowed from Makai.
My stomach twisted with a familiar longing. Online, I’d been so confident with him. The domme persona came naturally as I ordered him around, told him what I wanted, how I wanted it. I’d made him edge for days, commanded him to send photos of his cock straining against his boxers, wet with pre-cum because I’d forbidden him to touch himself. I’d been so fucking brave behind the safety of my screen.
But here, in person, with his physical presence overwhelming all my senses, I felt my courage faltering. What if the real me didn’t match up to the online version he’d fantasized about? What if I couldn’t live up to the image of a domme he had of me?
Ryker snapped the toolbox shut, the sound jolting me from my spiral of insecurity. He leaned back against the wall, looking up at me with a crooked smile that made my heart race.
“Now what?” he asked simply, the question hanging in the air between us like an invitation.
Maybe it was the way he was looking at me—like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Maybe it was the memory of all those nights we’d spent talking, sharing our deepest secrets, our darkest desires.
Whatever it was, something snapped inside me. I was tired of being afraid, tired of hiding behind screens and carefully constructed personas. I wanted him. I wanted Kiaan. I wanted to stop overthinking every fucking interaction and just feel.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved forward, dropping to my knees and climbing into his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands immediately went to my hips, steadying me, his eyes wide with surprise.
“Sky—” he started, but I cut him off, pressing my mouth to his.
For one terrifying second, he didn’t respond, and I thought I’d made a horrible mistake. Then his hands tightened on my hips, and he was kissing me back, hot and deep and desperate. He tasted like coffee and honey, and I moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against mine.
His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer until my breasts pressed against his chest. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging slightly the way I’d always imagined doing, and was rewarded with a groan that vibrated through his entire body.
“Fuck, Sky,” he gasped against my mouth. “Baby. Wanted this so much.”
I rocked against him, feeling the hard length of him pressing against me through our clothes. “Me too,” I admitted, breathless. “So fucking much.”
He captured my mouth again, one large hand sliding under my t-shirt to palm my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple through my bra. The sensation sent sparks shooting down my spine, and I arched into his touch, grinding down against the impressive bulge in his jeans.
We were so lost in each other that neither of us heard the bathroom door open. It wasn’t until a throat cleared loudly that we broke apart, both of us turning to see Kiaan standing in the doorway, his face a carefully controlled mask.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice flat. “I didn’t realize the bathroom was... occupied.”
