Within fifteen minutes, we’re pulling into the parking garage that is all too familiar.
My prison.
With a sigh, I wait for Ryker to step out of the car and come around to help me out. I’m not leaning into the chivalry, this dress has worn me out.
He opens my door and helps me out of the car. I let out an audible sigh as I start to hike up the hem again. Would anyone care if I just ripped the bottom of it off?
But in hearing my sigh, Ryker sweeps me into his arms. For a second, the feel of his arms, the tipping of the world, scares me, and I let out a strangled cry, my hands grasping the only thing solid I can find, his shoulders.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he rumbles, carrying me toward the elevator.
I blink at him. Is this the traditional carry-the-bride over the threshold thing? Is the elevator a threshold?
Or was he just trying to keep me from escaping?
Like I could in this dress?
Is he actually helping me? He clearly has noticed how much I’ve struggled to move today.
I’m too tired to worry so I sink into him, my eyes closing as I relax my body into his.
He doesn’t say a word as the elevator opens, and we step inside. He holds me all the way up and I hear the ding of the bell, the doors sliding open, but I don’t open my eyes again.
I have no idea if this apartment is any different from the one I lived in just a few floors below, but I don’t really care.
I should be filled with dread. I’ve never even been on a date and now I find myself married.
But it’s like the future doesn’t exist. Or I just refuse to acknowledge that it does. Instead, I just enjoy the moment. The feel of his strong arms.
For just a second, I suspend belief, and I paint the whole situation with a different brush. I’m not in my sister’s dress, I’m in one of my own, and Ryker isn’t the man who frightens me halfto death. He’s my big, huge protector, who has me wrapped in his strong arms because he wants me so much, he’d do anything to keep me safe.
The need rises up in me, threatens to overwhelm me. I want to be free, not chained to a man.
But this one niggling question makes my stomach squeamish. What would it be like to be protected by a man who actually cared?
One who could wrap me up in a way that didn’t feel like a prison, it would just feel…safe.
I shake my head. It’s a stupid thought. I know that happens for other women, but they aren’t like me.
I’m not a woman that any man has ever loved…
He turns and I open my eyes. We’re in a short hallway, which is similar and yet different from our apartment downstairs. The wood trim is beefier, with a deeper, richer grain. The floors a high-end wood, I don’t know the name, and the doors are a stained mahogany. He opens the door straight ahead and flicks on the light. A large bed fills the room, dominating the far wall.
I tense to see it. This is our room. Our bed.
He sets me down and I land on my feet, stiff and unsure.
“Why don’t you take that dress off?” he rumbles as he strides away, opening a door I’m guessing leads to the bathroom.
Nothing would make me happier than to take off this dress. But I hesitate because I have no idea what I’ll put on after.
My hesitation is short lived however, because I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping in this dress. But as I reach back, I can’t get to more than the first few tiny buttons.
I’m starting to panic, like I’m going to be stuck in this dress for the rest of my life when a set of strong hands touch mine.
I let out a cry, twisting away in shock, but I finally manage to do what I’ve feared all day and tangle in the skirts.
Before I can correct, I’m falling.
