yes.” I put my hand in his. Held his gaze. “You can feed me and help my legs.”
Chapter 20 – Ryker
Little Willow wanted to play a game? She was about to find out just what kind of man I was. I didn’t lose and I certainly didn’t back down. She’d thrown down the gauntlet. I was only too happy to pick it up.
I’d have to bide my time a little bit longer. She wasn’t ready for what I wanted to do to her yet. But she would be.
A small part of me laughed at my arrogance. This wasn’t a woman who played with her life. She attacked it. I could see her walking away at the end of this…whatever this was…just as happy as she was now not to be in my bed.
My body screamed in denial. She was mine. I had to taste her. At least once. Just one taste and then I could move on. The longer I was in her orbit, the more she consumed my every waking thought. I needed to get her under me and then get her out of my mind. My life.
I pushed all of that aside. Nothing was happening tonight except food and making her legs feel better. I had to win this battle first.
We made it back out to the living area. I settled her on the couch, complete with ice packs on her thighs. I moved back into the kitchen section and panicked for a moment. What the fuck was I doing in a kitchen? I could barely boil water correctly, let alone cook for someone else.
I turned to the huge fridge. Opened the doors and prayed for inspiration. I really wanted to know more about her slipped comment. I’d almost imploded when she escaped to the bathroom. Horror after horror ran through my head as I tried to think of a way to take away someone’s ability to speak. But only temporarily. Duct tape was the least offensive option I’d conjured.
“Sandwiches okay?” I called, my head still stuck in the fridge.
“Sure. Mayo, not mustard, please.”
Thank fuck. I grabbed everything I could find that looked like it belonged on a sandwich. Laid it all out on the counter.
She watched me over the back of the couch. “So, Ryker, what do you do with most of your days?”
I looked up at her. “Mostly I tell people what to do and how to do it. You?”
She snickered. “For some reason, I can imagine you doing exactly that. I get to play with pastries and cakes and dessert and cookies and anything that’s essentially bad for you.” Her smile sparkled.
I examined her. “I don’t have a problem seeing you do that either. What got you into baking?” I asked as I slapped some mayo on her bread.
When she was quiet for a little too long, I looked up.
Her face was stark. Whatever color she’d gained after waking had washed away, leaving her eyes big green orbs in her tight, pinched face.
“Cupcake?” I called.
She blinked, shook herself. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I got into baking because it brings people joy and I think more people can use a little extra joy.”
I blinked. That hadn’t been anywhere on my list of potential answers. I looked at her. Her cheeks were pink again and her face had lost its tense lines. She meant exactly what she said.
“How did you get into your line of work? I’d think there were a lot of bossy people available. What makes your kind of bossy so special?” Her shoulders shook slightly as her lips twitched.
Oh, cupcake, you haven’t even begun to see my bossy side. “I took it over from my dad. PennCorp is involved in just about anything that has to deal with electronics or computers. A little of this—”
“A sprinkle of that,” she finished for me.
I nodded. “Exactly. Keeps things exciting.” I slapped the sandwich together, made a quick one for myself. “What’s to drink?”
“I only keep water or tea in the house,” she called.
I nodded. “Ice?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
I got us both glasses with ice water. Brought everything over to her. Set my plate on the coffee table. It had been a long time since I sat and planned to have dinner without business or fucking following.
“So, how did you get involved with the Amatuccis?” I asked after she had taken her first bite. It was remarkably easy to just sit with her. The silence wasn’t suffocating nor was it awkward.
She smiled as she chewed. Held