Ryker twirls a lock of my hair around his finger, pressing a soft kiss beneath my ear. "What's so funny?"
"It's nothing," I assure him. "We should get back home and rescue Holly and Cruz from Bryan the early morning terror."
"We'll stay here," Ryker says firmly. "You need rest before court tomorrow, Cleo. Cruz will understand."
And he probably knows we're sleeping off the exercise we just indulged in.everyone knew about Ryker's infatuation before I did. There's probably a pool going on in the MC to see how long it takes brainless Cleo to get a clue. The thought makes me heat with embarrassment.
Ryker rolls my earlobe between his teeth gently, coaxing a soft moan from me.
"Stay with me?" he says in a soft, wheedling tone.
I roll over to face him, draping my arms over his shoulders. The kiss we share is soft, almost chaste, an odd juxtaposition to the down-and-dirty sex we'd just had.
"Always," I murmur.
* * *
I take longer than I expect to shake the post-coital languor the following morning. My legs still feel unsteady, though sex has been over and done with for hours. Ryker insisted we turn in after a second vigorous bout of fucking.
I dig in my closet, bare-assed and mussed as Ryker watches in amusement. I chuck a wrinkled blouse at him with a groan.
"I have nothing in here that's court-worthy."
"The little black dress was nice."
I scoff. "It's covered in blood, and it's not going to win me any favors with this judge. She's not into women, that I know of."
"Though that would make for an interesting turn of events," Ryker says, stroking his chin with a playful smile tugging at his lips.
I toss another wad of clothing at him with a light laugh. "Pig."
"But you love me anyway."
I sober for just a second. I'd said it aloud only once, and then it had been a hopeless plea, lost to the wind. Now that it's a real possibility, I choke, the words lodging themselves in my throat. Why is it so difficult to say them? Instead I just nod.
In the end, I find something barely adequate at the bottom of the pile. It's a skirt and blazer combination that my aunt gifted me before her death. The boxy shoulder pads are outdated, the blouse makes me appear as though I'm trying to sell bibles on a street corner, and the skirt barely fits over my newly rounded ass, but it's probably the best I can do.
"How do I look?" I say, turning to him.
He's biting his lip to fight off a wave of laughter, I can tell. Mirth dances in those beguiling eyes as he takes in the ridiculous ensemble.
"You'd look right at home in the Red Hat Society."
The swipe I aim for his bicep is too slow, and he backs away from me, hands up in a gesture of mocking surrender.
"Fine, fine. You look good, Cleo."
"I look like a linebacker."
"But a very cute linebacker," he adds with a grin.
"You don't have to spare my feelings."
"It's going to be fine, Cleo. You've got this court case in the bag. I just wish you were letting me go with."
I frown at my ridiculous pointy shoes. They look like something the wicked witch would wear. Though considering they're my aunt's, that oddly fits. I want Ryker to come with me. However, I'm afraid that Trent might use that against me, claiming that I was bringing strange men around his grandson. Never mind that Ryker and I have been living together for weeks and he never said a damn thing about it. It seems like just the sort of thing he'd do.
"I'm going to be fine," I repeat, trying to convince myself.
