We hit the sand hard, Ryder’s body shielding mine as the rock whizzes overhead. For a moment, we lay there, our hearts pounding in unison. His weight presses me into the cool sand, his scent enveloping me.
“Are you okay?” Ryder asks, his voice gruff with concern. His hands roam my body, checking for injuries, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Before I can answer, a soft thud beside us makes us both turn. There, nestled in the sand, is a coconut—shaken loose by my ridiculous attempts.
I stare at Ryder, a slow grin spreading across my face despite the sand in my hair and the ache in my pride. “See? Told you I’d get us a coconut.”
Ryder shakes his head, but I can see the laughter in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Yeah,” I say, reaching up to brush sand from his cheek. My fingers linger on his stubble, rough against my skin. “But you like me, anyway.”
Ryder helps me to my feet, brushing sand from my dress.
I laugh, leaning into his touch. “So, do I get my prize?”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Sure it does. After all, I got the coconut to fall.”
Ryder’s eyes darken, his gaze scorching as it travels over me. “I’m a man of my word, Little Trouble. But maybe we should take this somewhere more private.”
We practically run back to our hotel room. The moment the door closes behind us, Ryder has me pinned against it, his body hard and insistent against mine.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he growls, his lips trailing fire down my neck.
I arch into him, my hands fisting in his shirt. “That’s kind of the point,” I gasp as he hits a sensitive spot.
He pulls back, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and mischief. “Well then, I think it’s time I made good on our bet. I hope you’re ready for a long night, Little Trouble.”
Twenty-Three
CORA
It’s been a week since we returned, and I feel like I’m trapped—each day stretching on, my surroundings feeling more like a jail than a home. With no meetings on the horizon and nothing pressing to occupy my time, I find myself spiraling into a restless void.
I turn from the window to find Ryder sprawled on my living room couch, his muscular frame taking up more space than seems possible. He’s scrolling through his phone, probably checking security feeds or whatever it is obsessive bodyguards do in their downtime.
“You know,” I say, breaking the silence, “I half expected the house to be raided when we got back. Or at least covered in crime scene tape.”
Ryder looks up, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Disappointed?”
I roll my eyes. “Relieved. Though I wouldn’t mind a little excitement that doesn’t involve death threats.”
He sets his phone down, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I can think of a few exciting things we could do.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, memories of our nights flooding back.
“You don’t have any events scheduled soon. You can just relax.” He leans back on the couch, one leg crossed over the other. He looks so smug and full of himself that I want to punch him. Or kiss him. Maybe both.
I pace the living room, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. “I hate sitting at home doing nothing. I might not have work right now, but there are tasks to do. Go to markets, order equipment?—”
“It can wait,” Ryder interrupts, his voice firm. “Safety comes first.”
I roll my eyes, frustration bubbling up inside me. “Says the man who relaxes by cleaning his gun collection.”
He grins, not denying it. “Are you provoking me?”
“No.” I wave my hand. “This time, I’m not letting you distract me with sex. I need to get out of here. I need air, I need something to do, or I’ll go crazy. I can’t stay trapped here.”
