“Hey, it’s your stuff. You can do whatever you want with it.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The stuff I wanted you to keep has already been decided on.” He jerked his chin at a smaller pile.
I smiled, shook my head. “Had I known you when I first escaped, I could have saved myself a fortune. Slutty, strappy, and barely there seem to be the bywords you live by when it comes to party wear.”
He glared at me. “Party wear, my ass. That’s for here at home. No other men get to see you in those.” He stabbed at the pile of sparkles and see-through fabric.
My smile went a little sneaky. “So I can wear it tomorrow night with the girls?”
I felt like if I listened hard enough, I could hear the steam whistle as it came from his ears.
I smiled wider. “No boys allowed, remember?”
He snarled. Shook his head. “No. Just me. Besides, if you’re having a sleepover, won’t you be in pjs or something else equally innocent?”
I laughed, the sound smokier than I’d thought myself capable of. “Something like that. But fine, you don’t want me to wear them, I won’t.” I’d wear something even shorter and more revealing. Granted it would probably just be a matching lingerie set, but if he was going to get dictatorial, then I was going rogue.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”
I smiled, nodded. “I’m so happy we know each other so well. But have no fear, hero, no other men will see me.” I winked at him.
He groaned, threaded his hands in his hair, and tipped his back to look at the ceiling as if asking for divine help. “I love her. I love her. I love her. Playroom’s off limits. Playroom’s off limits. Playroom’s of—”
My ears perked up at the second set of chants. “Playroom, what?”
He lowered his head. Shook it. He bared his teeth at me. “No. Not happening. Not even for those sexy green eyes of yours or that delectable mouth that makes me hard too fast. I’m gutting it. Then we’ll outfit it together.”
I licked my lips. “You think my mouth is delectable?”
He groaned, stomped over the piles of clothes, yanked me into his arms. “Like you didn’t already fucking know that.” He took my mouth in a hard claim of possession.
I would have laughed, but if my mouth made him hard too fast, then his turned me to liquid faster than a direct flame ignited newspaper.
A subtle ding, ding, ding sounded.
He groaned, set me back. “Not now,” he growled.
I caught my breath. “What’s going on?”
“Someone is trying to come up in the public elevator.” He walked to the side table, grabbed up his phone. After he unlocked it, he tapped the screen a couple times. Sighed. “Apparently, Foster has been talking to my mother. She’s on her way here.”
I felt my lungs seize up, shook my head. “Ryker, she hates me!” I started scooping all the clothes up. Stuffing them back into the suitcases. Luckily, the biggest pieces of luggage were empty. I could fit it all in two of them.
I scooped up another arm load. Stuffed it into the dark depths. Flipping the lid over, I sat on it. Jumped a bit. Wrestled with the zipper.
I was jerked up and into his arms before the zipper moved by one freaking tooth. Asshole suitcase.
“She doesn’t hate you. She hates your father,” he said, his grip on my chin was light.
Snarling, I glared at him. “Who fucking doesn’t? But she hates me, Ryker. Me, not just Winslow. The woman moving in with you. The one you love. No one is good enough for her little boy. I know mothers like her.” I could feel the sorrow eating away at my confidence of moments ago.
Hell, my own parents farmed me out and paid my taker ten fucking million dollars to take me off their hands. I was no one’s version of perfect for her son. If my own mother couldn’t love me—fuck, she couldn’t even stand me—how was this woman going to even accept me?
Ryker’s arms closed around me until I struggled to breathe. Until the pinch of his touch settled my brain like a blanket snuffed out a fire. I went limp as the pain surged through me enough that my brain shut up with her whirlwind anxiety.
“You done listening to the shitty voice in your head?” he asked, his voice tight.
I nodded, laid my head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry.”
He squeezed