“But if it had happened like that, I don’t know if I would have fallen for you. There’s something about being locked in the woods; about being kidnapped by a stranger...”
“Is that what this is?” he asks, stepping toward me. “Stockholm Syndrome? Falling for your captor?” He runs his hand over his beard, and I shake my head, knowing it isn’t that at all.
“Maybe you were my captor but not anymore.” I lower my chin and lift my eyes. “Now I am free to do what I like.”
Ryder meets my gaze. He may feel responsible, but I have forgiven him. After meeting Luther, I know he did what he did because he had my best interests in mind.
“You’re too fucking good for me, Justine. I moved to the woods, doing everything I could to get away from the bullshit, but you aren’t running, you are fighting for what you believe in.”
“Don’t you help with your mom’s organization?”
“I don’t even show up to the meetings, even though I sit on the board. It hurt too much to be a part of her world after she died. So, I left it.”
“Who says you have to leave it behind forever?” I ask, stepping toward him. “You can always go back. Make a different choice.”
He runs a hand over my hair, pulling me toward him at the waist. His voice is low, his words sincere. “You fight for what you believe in Justine. You auctioned your virginity to raise money for a cause that mattered. How did you become so good?”
I shake my head. “I may have had good intentions, but I’m a fool, Ryder. I was warned that this auction could bite me in the ass, but I didn’t really understand what I was selling. How intimate giving my body to another person really is.”
I close my eyes as his hand runs up my back, holding the base of my neck, drawing my mouth to his. “I’m so grateful you kidnapped me,” I whisper.
“We can lie on the cot together,” he tells me. “Let me hold you in my arms. I know you’ve been through so much back at the house.”
I shake my head, appreciating his thoughtfulness, but knowing what I need. “I want to be with you in every sense of the word, Ryder. Now. I want to erase those horrible memories now and forever.”
I give my mouth to him, our tongues colliding and our hands holding on to the one thing that matters. One another.
Ryder’s hands trail up and down my body before landing firmly on my ass. He squeezes my cheeks and I whimper as he pulls me closer.
His lips move away from me, and with our foreheads pressed together, he asks, “Are you sure you want this??”
“Yes. You’re all I want, Ryder.” My words are truer than anything I’ve ever spoken.
I’ve never been a wishy-washy person. Someone who straddled two lines. I’m the kind of girl who’s always known what she wanted. And I’ve gone after it. Whether or not it was a cause or a protest or a decision; when I make up my mind, I don’t waver.
“I just want you,” I tell him and his eyes are no longer wounded, hurt. When I look in his eyes, I see devotion. I see desire. I see our future.
“I’ll never let you go,” he tells me.
He carries me to the cot and lays me down on top of a wool blanket.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” I tell him.
He doesn’t. I’m wearing nothing but his coat and he pulls it open. I shrug out of it, wanting to be completely bare as I give him my heart.
He tugs off my panties and drops his pants, kicking off his boots and pulling his T-shirt over his head. I’ll never get tired of the sight before me. His broad shoulders, his chiseled abs, the deep V leading my eye toward his groin. My pussy grows wet as I take him in.
“You look so solid,” I tell him. “Hard. Firm. Mine.”
“And you, Justine, you look so soft.”
My body responds to his words, and I release a long sigh. People never describe me as soft. I’m described as forthright and no-nonsense. But Ryder sees me as more than that. He sees me as vulnerable, as a woman, he sees me as someone with more dimensions than I sometimes see in myself.
Ryder pulls off his boxers, his long thick cock so hard and ready. He leans over me and I reach for him. On this