one that is. That’s your decision.” He pushed his nose to mine. “Yours or mine?” He held my gaze, challenge practically wafted off of him.
I gritted my teeth. “You’re so bossy.”
He chuckled. “You’ve yet to see bossy, cupcake. Your decision?”
I was going to be answering questions either way, so I made it easier on myself for tonight at least. “If I say yours, will you promise not to put the moves on me?”
He blinked a couple times without saying anything. “Yes.” A smiled tugged at his mouth.
I glared at him. “What? Why are you smiling?”
He shook his head. “I promise not to put the moves on you. Are you satisfied?”
I studied him. For some reason, I didn’t think we were talking about the same thing, but I couldn’t put my finger on why that was. Unable to come up with a good reason, I nodded. “Yeah.”
He spun me around, dipped me back. Within moments, I was up in his arms. One arm under my shoulders, the other supported my knees. He stopped by the cabinet in the corner where I kept my purse and home stuff.
“Slap the lights,” he said as he passed through the doorway out into the show space.
The room plunged into darkness. Beyond the frosted glass door, only streetlights provided illumination.
“What time is it?” I asked as I unlocked the door from my perch in his arms.
“A little after ten.” He stepped out into the night, turned for me to lock up again.
I grimaced. “Sorry. You should have left a long time ago.” I felt like a selfish ass.
He pinched my thigh softly. “Wasn’t going to happen. Besides, I got to watch you work.” He said like he’d enjoyed it as much as watching a live sporting event.
I chuckled. “Yeah, watching me bake is so thrilling.”
He jiggled me up a bit higher in his arms. “My keys are in my left pocket. Can you reach them?”
I slid my hand down his body. Fought to push the awareness of his body away. I bit my lip as I plunged my fingers into his pocket.
He grunted, his eyes fell closed. “I like watching you bake. You move around your space so gracefully. Like watching a professional dancer—who happens to have hot pans in her hands.”
I breathed a laugh as I had to lean down a little farther. I could feel the edge of the key ring with the tip of my middle finger, but I was still too high to hook it. I pressed my face into his chest, right over his heart.
A quick thud, thud, thud beat against my cheek.
“Sweet fuck, woman,” he said softly. Sweet pain laced his voice.
I sucked in a breath. Keys. Keys. Keys. Keys. Find the damn keys. With a slight hunch, I hooked the key ring with my middle finger. “Got them.” I straightened, a smile on my face. I looked up at him, intended to hold the ring up for him to see.
Hunger lent his face an almost sinister cast in the low light from the street lamps.
I didn’t move. Almost afraid to draw attention to myself. I barely breathed as I waited for him to decide on a course of action.
My chest felt like I had an elephant making itself comfortable on it. My heart tripped into high gear as the breath backed up in my lungs. I was caught.
After a moment, he closed his eyes. A shivery breath slid from between his lips and fanned over my cheeks. He swallowed a couple times before he said, “Let’s get you home. I can rub your legs again. If I don’t, you might not be walking tomorrow.”
He took the handful of steps to his car without looking down at me. His chin was up the slightest degree. His fingers flexed and relaxed against my body.
I hit the unlock button on his key fob as he turned. The lights flashed and I was settled in the leather depths of his front passenger seat. I sighed at the feeling of being off my feet, at having my back supported in all the right ways.
He slammed the door. His face was tight as he rounded the front of the car. Emotion radiated from his stiff body. He yanked open his door and slid behind the wheel. His fingers wrapped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles went white.
“Ryker?” I called softly. Maybe I should go home? My home. He didn’t seem in a good frame of mind right now.
“Not yet, Willow,” he said, his voice