Page 54 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
And Emma wanted Ryker like nothing else. And now, finally, he was hers.
Emma was frantic to get his clothes off.
She tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the hem, then yanking it over his head in one breathless move. Her mouth followed the path her hands had taken, pressing kisses along the firm lines of his chest, his stomach, the warm slope of his shoulder.
Every inch of him was muscle and heat and tension barely restrained.
Ryker groaned, low and rough, his hands sliding over her with a kind of reverence that made her shiver. Then one hand moved between them, finding her with enough precision to pull a gasp from her throat and send a wicked urgency pulsing through her.
“Now,” she whispered, shifting beneath him, tugging him closer, needing more,needing all of him.
But Ryker stilled, his breath brushing her cheek.
“Condom,” he murmured, his voice like gravel as he reached for his wallet in his jeans, still half-pushed down. He found it fast, tore the foil with practiced ease, and then he was back, above her, over her, his body braced but trembling with the same need she felt burning through her.
Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat.
And then they moved together.
The moment he entered her, it shattered something inside her, pressure, grief, fear, all of it undone by the way he touched her, the way heheldher. There was nothing slow about it, nothing measured. It was wild and deep and absolutely right.
Emma clung to him, breathless, lost in him, her world narrowing to the sound of his voice whispering her name against her throat, to the heat between them building and crashing and pulling them both under.
When they had found that release from the pressure cooker heat, when her body stilled and his weight settled against her, she kept her arms wrapped around him.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. They didn’t need to.
They were still here. Still alive. And for now,for now, they had each other.
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Chapter Fourteen
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The morning sun slanted across the kitchen counter as Ryker stirred a can of black beans into a pan with leftover rice and a packet of taco seasoning he’d found in the pantry. It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but it was warm and edible, and he figured it beat Pop-Tarts and adrenaline.
The house was quiet, still heavy with the scent of last night, warm skin, soap, heat, and something about the silence made him want to hang onto it a little longer.
He set the burner to low and padded toward the bedroom barefoot, hoping she was still asleep. But the bed was empty, the bathroom door cracked open, steam curling into the room. He pushed the door open farther and saw her.
Emma, standing beneath the spray, her eyes closed as the water poured over her. Her shoulders were tense, her head tilted forward. It wasn’t a relaxed shower, it was one of thosereset your nervous systemshowers. One he understood too well.
Still, he stepped in.
She hadn’t heard him yet. He leaned against the doorframe, letting himself watch her for a moment. The curve of her spine,the way her fingers pressed into her scalp, the quiet strength she didn’t even realize she carried.
Finally, turning to notice him, she didn’t jump. She just smiled, small and tired and real.
When she stepped out, dripping and radiant, he met her with a towel and his mouth. Kissed her, slow and deep, tasting steam and skin and the edge of something that could’ve easily tipped intomore.
But she pulled back, breath catching, and tipped her head to her phone on the vanity. “Lexa texted a few minutes ago,” she said, her voice already tightening into work mode. “A woman just came into the station asking to speak to us, that she maybe has some info about Ethan. She didn’t give any details, just her name, Celeste Harper.”
Ryker frowned. “You know her?”
Emma shook her head. “No. Do you?”
“Never heard of her.” He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned in for one last kiss, brief but lingering.
