He dug his face into her neck, his entire body shuddering as he came.
Slowly, his heart rate calmed down. He chuckled against her damp neck as she relaxed beneath him. Now, that hadn’t gone exactly according to plan.
Yep. Definitely a dangerous woman. He had to keep her—it was too late to turn back now. The sense of possession gripped him hard, compressing his lungs. Slowly, muscle by muscle, he released the tension. That was that, then.
*
Zara’s body turned to mush, and her hand slid from Ryker’s ass to the bed. Her other one was trapped beneath his, but right now she didn’t really care. Her eyelids fluttered shut.
“Oh no.” He pressed harder inside her, sending quakes throughout her abdomen.
She lifted one eyelid, beyond exhausted. “Tired.”
“Talk.”
“No.” She wiggled a little beneath him. Her excitement had ebbed, but the guy was apparently still semi-hard inside her. “You’re an impressive man, Ryker.” She yawned.
“Jesus.” He withdrew and shoved from the bed to pad toward the bathroom, masculine irritation deepening his tone.
God, she loved that tattoo. Fierce and strong, a wild bird decorated his right shoulder with its wings spread and rising out of fire. Two intricate Bs combined in the center. She’d asked once what it meant, and he’d shrugged.
She smiled as she shimmied her butt up, grabbed the bedclothes, and slid beneath cool, clean sheets. A small groan of pure pleasure erupted from her, and she stretched before curling onto her side. A minute later, the bed shifted, and warmth enclosed her.
“What do the Bs stand for?” she mumbled.
“Blood brothers,” he said against her hair. “We thought we’d name the agency that, but we don’t want it traced, so we went with Lost Bastards.”
“Blood brothers?” she murmured, realization dawning. “The scars on your hands?”
“Yeah. We didn’t have family, so the three of us created one with an old knife and blood.”
“How old were you?” She blinked. They’d created their own brotherhood. There was so much more to know about him.
“Twelve. I’ll tell you more tomorrow,” he whispered, sounding drowsy.
How sad and sweet at the same time. “Tomorrow sounds good.” She snuggled right into Ryker’s hard warmth and fell into dreamland.
The dream caught her around the neck and threw her into the past.
She was ten years old, humming quietly in the backseat of her mother’s clunky car on the way to yet another farmers’ market, this one in northern Washington State. She liked the trees and wildlife in Washington, and hopefully her mother would stay with this boyfriend for a while before they moved on again.
Well, usually the boyfriend moved on. Sometimes with screams and shouts, and sometimes in the dark of night…while taking any money they’d found. But Chuck seemed like a nice guy, even though he had three cats, four dogs, and a llama. Who the heck had a llama?
Lightning flashed outside, and Zara frowned, peering out the wet window. “I forgot my umbrella,” she muttered, patting her nice and dry jeans. She’d learned early to plan for herself.
Her mom turned around from the driver’s seat with a wide smile, her hair in a wild mane and her face freshly scrubbed of makeup. Apparently Chuck liked the natural look. “It’s fun to get wet.”
Actually, it wasn’t fun to get wet. Not really. “My hair gets all wild and curly, and then I sneeze.” Zara shook her head and focused on Chuck in the passenger seat. “Did you remember the ledger?”
He turned, his green eyes dilated. “No, dude. Totally forgot.”
Zara sighed and started organizing her hair into two neat braids the rain couldn’t ruin. “We need the ledger to keep track of how many of the pottery pieces you sell, Mom.”
Her mom laughed and concentrated on the road while shoving back curly black hair. “Why? I mean, if we have money, we sold some. If we don’t, then it wasn’t a good day.”
Zara shook her head. The old jeans barely fit her, and she just didn’t understand why her mom didn’t care. Somebody had to be a grown-up and take care of things. The world was dark and scary. She shivered.
They’d never go global with the pottery pieces without organization. While she’d given up any idea of having a college fund, it’d be nice if she could start a savings account for her mom, for when she went to college. On loans, no doubt. College was her way out, and then, to get rid of the guilt of leaving, she’d send money to her mom.
If she made it into college. Fear clawed up her throat, and she swallowed it rapidly down. She eyed the marketing book she’d borrowed from the library. “Have you contacted that distributor in Seattle?” It had taken her three days to understand exactly what a distributor did, and she figured they needed one now.