Chapter 44 44

Chapter 44 44
  ~TESSA~
    I had Ryder pressed up against the headboard, my legs draped across his lap.
    We were coming up with a plan... to destroy Marcus for good.
    If only that was possible...
    I wanted that jerk crushed into pieces... so bad!
    I wanted nothing to do with that fool...
   Absolutely nothing.
    Somehow, Ryder and I started planning like two seasoned spies.
    Red X’s... Circles... Ryder had even drawn a tiny skull over the alley behind the shop.
    I held back a laugh.
    “We’re either setting a trap,” I said, “or playing murder-themed bingo.”
    Ryder tilted his head and grinned. “Could be both.”
    I leaned back, tracing one of the Xs with my pinky. “I just want him to see it, Ryder. That I’m not scared of him anymore. That I’m not his to chase.”
    “You’re not,” he said. “You never were.”
    The air kinda shifted... 
    Something about the way he looked at me... like I wasn’t just his to protect, but his to stand beside.
    I shifted in closer.
    “Promise we’ll take him down together?”
    He nodded, brushing hair behind my ear. “Together.”
    And then he kissed me.
    Soft at first. Like we had time...
    But we didn’t. Because the bedroom door burst open with the kind of dramatic force that could only belong to one person on earth.
    “Oh! I—oh my God, I am so sorry!” Mrs. Bishop gasped, nearly dropping the tray of drinks in her hands. “I thought you two were dressed! I mean... dressed for dinner! I meant dinner!”
    I scrambled off Ryder’s lap like I’d just been caught doing something illegal... which, okay, it kinda felt like we had.
    “We were just—uh—”
    “Kissing?” Ryder offered, completely unbothered, that infuriating smirk on his face.
    Mrs. Bishop, still red as a tomato, backed out of the doorway. “Well! Yes! Good for you two... carry on—NO—don’t! Just come down to dinner soon! Please.”
    The door clicked shut.
    And I buried my face in Ryder’s chest, laughing so hard it hurt.
    “She’s never going to un-see that,” I mumbled into his shirt.
    “She’s had three kids,” Ryder said, still smug. “She’s seen worse.”
    I swatted him. “You are too calm about that.”
    “Maybe I’m just trying to look tough in front of my girl.”
    “Your girl?”
    He leaned in, lips brushing my ear.
    “My very brave, very sexy, pain-in-the-ass girl who’s going to help me take down a psychopath.”
    I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowed. “You forgot clever.”
    “And clever,” he added, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Can’t forget that.”
    ~
    Dinner was… a circus.
    Debbie couldn't stop grinning. Not after the door moment.
    Said she was passing by, and secretly got to witness all that happened.
    She kept dropping phrases like “young love” and “bedroom strategy meetings,” which earned her a firm elbow jab from Mrs. Bishop and a snort of laughter from Duke.
    Yes... Duke.
    Ryder had him come over for dinner. 
    Ryder? Silent.
    But not the quiet kind of silent.
    The smug, brooding... 'I was just caught making out with my girl and I don’t regret a second of it' kind of silent.
    He kept stealing glances at me over his glass of whiskey. 
   Every time I caught him, he raised a brow like wasn't doing anything, and that I was the one who was obsessed with him.
    Yep... You could say that... I was obsessed with my biker boyfriend.
    My hottie.
    My entire body was very aware of how good he looked in a black t-shirt. Muscles, tattoos, and those damned forearms.
    After dinner, I told the family goodnight and made a beeline upstairs.
    Ryder had already slipped into the room and into the shower.
    I heard the water running... steady, steaming.
    I took a breath.
    He’s just showering.
    No big deal.
    We’re adults.
    Functional, emotionally-stable... ha! ... adults.
    I opened the bathroom door at the exact moment he stepped out of the glass shower, towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water tracing down his abs like some kind of ancient Greek sin.
    And of course.
    Of course.
    My foot slipped on the tile.
    “Shit—!”
    I caught myself on the wall... but not before bumping full-body into Ryder.
    And not before the towel hit the floor.
    “Oh. My. God.” I slapped both hands over my eyes like it would undo what I just saw.
    And what I just saw was... considerable.
    “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to... uh... ”
    “See my entire front row performance?” he said, teasing.
    “Ryder,” I hissed, still covering my eyes, “put the damn towel back on.”
    “Why? You look like you enjoyed the preview.”
    “Ryder.”
    I heard him step closer.
    Felt his voice low against my ear.
    “I could just share the shower instead,” he said. “Warm you up a little.”
    My fingers parted just enough to peek.
    He was grinning.
    Still gloriously naked.
    Still gloriously... confident.
    “I promise not to drop the soap.”
    “Ryder.”
    “Unless you want me to.”
    ~
    I should’ve walked away.
    Closed the door.
    Let Ryder be his smug, half-naked self and taken my very normal, very boring shower alone.
    But I didn’t.
    Instead, I raised an eyebrow, crossed my arms, and stepped back toward him.
    “You really think you’re irresistible, don’t you?”
    Ryder smirked, and oh, that smirk... cocky and dangerous like he already knew the answer.
    “I don’t think,” he said. “I know.”
    He reached for the shower knob and twisted it. 
    I met his gaze for one long second.
    Then reached for the hem of my shirt.
    His smile faded... replaced by something slower.
    Hungrier.
    I peeled the fabric over my head, tossed it aside, then worked the rest of my clothes off in silence. Ryder didn’t move. 
    His jaw tightened, and I could see his throat working like he was swallowing every possible comment.
    When I stepped into the shower, he followed.
    The heat hit me first... followed by his hand, slow on my waist, guiding me under the spray. The water was hot, but his touch?
    Scalding.
    We didn’t talk at first.
    Not when his fingers brushed soap over my back.
    Not when I traced the ink on his chest...
    He kissed my shoulder.
    Then my neck.
    I turned to face him.
    There was something in his eyes... something that went beyond teasing, beyond lust. 
    Like he was memorizing me. 
    Like this moment mattered.
    I reached up, threading my fingers through his wet hair, and kissed him.
    He caught me around the waist, pulling me up against him with no space to spare.
    Water dripped down my spine. His mouth moved like he’d been waiting for this exact second.
    Every touch was slower now. Deeper.
    The tension that had been building between us for days.... finally gave way to something raw and consuming.
    We didn’t need to speak.
    Not when his hand slid lower, and my breath caught against his lips.
    Not when the entire world fell away and left only this.
    Him and me.
    Here and now.
    And nothing else.