Page 53 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
Gentle. Anchoring.
He pulled her toward him, slow but certain, and she didn’t resist. She let herself lean into his chest, his strength, his steady heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her fully against him.
The first brush of his mouth against hers was soft, but that didn’t last.
The kiss deepened fast, hot and full of everything they hadn’t had a second to deal with. Heat. Tension. The rush of nearly dying. Again. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, and he angled toward her, deepening the kiss with a low sound that rumbled in his chest.
His hand slid to the back of her neck, tilting her head to take him in deeper, and she let him. Let herself get lost for a moment in him, in the taste of him, in the feel of his body pressed so close it left no space for doubt.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. And itwasn’tenough.
But it tore through the fear, through the uncertainty, and left her breathless in its wake.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads touched, breathing heavy.
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to.
And neither did he.
Ryker’s forehead rested against hers, his breath warm, steady, and just as uneven as hers. Then he murmured, voice rough and low, “We need to take this inside.”
She shifted, crawling across the seat, straddling him as her mouth found his again. The kiss reignited instantly, hot, demanding, tangled in need. His hands gripped her waist, sliding up her back beneath her coat as she deepened the kiss, chasing the heat that had been smoldering between them for far too long.
Ryker fumbled with the handle and managed to shove the door open. They damn near tumbled out together, catching themselves against the frame, laughter mixing with breathless urgency.
She was the one who finally broke away long enough to get them moving toward the door into the house. They kissed theirway there, lips finding skin and mouths again and again, the heat simmering hotter by the second.
As they reached the keypad, a small thread of clarity threaded through the haze. Emma reached out and quickly disengaged the system, thank God she remembered, so they wouldn’t trip the alarms.
The moment the door opened, they were inside the mud room, and Ryker immediately locked it behind them.
Emma reset the alarm with practiced fingers while he hovered behind her, his hand brushing her hip. The second the beep sounded to confirm it was armed again, she turned.
And he was there.
The kiss started back up, harder this time. Deeper. No space left between them now.
Emma didn’t remember exactly how they ended up in the laundry room. One minute they were tangled together in the hallway, heat pulsing through every kiss, and the next, Ryker had her pressed against the wall, his hands gripping her hips like he couldn’t decide whether to hold her still or pull her closer.
Their mouths never parted for long.
Buttons slipped open. Jackets and holsters hit the floor. His touch was strong but careful, like he was learning every inch of her, like hewantedto.
She felt herself falling. No not falling. Moving toward the floor. Ryker was easing her in that direction, and she had no intentions of stopping him. She was all for whatever put them body to body. Breath to breath. Because this fire was burning hot inside her.
When they finally dropped to the floor, surrounded by the faint scent of laundry soap and the hum of the house settling around them, Emma didn’t care about the cold tile or how close they were to the dryer. All she cared about was him, warm,solid, his skin against hers, his breath catching when her fingers dragged across his chest.
Ryker’s hands moved with purpose, peeling away her clothes piece by piece, every inch of skin revealed under his touch, leaving her more breathless than the last. He kissed her neck, slow and deliberate, then lower, his mouth tracing along her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the softest parts of her until she arched against him.
Her breath hitched. The need built, pressure coiling inside her like a lit fuse.
He kissed lower, teasing and deliberate, and she forgot where they were, what day it was, even the name of the man they were hunting. All that mattered was the fire he was feeding with every pass of his mouth, every graze of his hands.
By the time he came back up to kiss her again, she was burning, wild with it, and she dragged him closer, her body more than ready to meet his.
What followed wasn’t soft.
It was heat. It was desperation. It was everything they’d held back, poured into every movement, every sound, every gasp between kisses that had nothing to do with survival and everything to do withwant.
