He moves from memory down the hallway and lays me on the bed, his mouth between my thighs before I have a chance to protest. Before I can stop him from making me even more vulnerable than I already feel.
His fingertips part me, and his tongue makes its slow descent to dip inside me before sliding back up and circling around my clit.
The groan he emits into the room is like his fingertips dancing over my most intimate of flesh—all-consuming and everywhere at once.
There is no urgency. No rush to get me off. Just a slow dance of his mouth and the soft slide of his tongue as he worships me in a way no one ever has.
And when the warm wave of bliss hits me with its pulsing vibrations, I allow myself to fall prey to him once more. I let him have one more piece of me I’ll never be able to get back.
He rises to his knees and presses a row of kisses up my thigh to my navel. He rests his forehead there as his fingers reach out to find mine.
“I love you, Vaughn.” His words float out into the room and make every part of me he didn’t just warm with his tongue light on fire.
“Ryk—”
“No. I love you, and I’m sick of pretending that I don’t because you’re not ready to hear it. I love you, Vaughn Sanders, and I don’t know what the hell is going on right now, but I know whenever it’s done and over with, I’ll still love you.”
We stay like that for a few moments, entangled in every way imaginable. When he slips into me like a soft sigh moments later, tears course down my cheeks and fall to the pillow beneath my head.
I love you too, Ryker.
I’m just so afraid I’m going to lose you.
Everything I’ve loved before I’ve lost.
But I close my eyes and force myself to live in the moment. To feel his sweet push in and soft grind on the way out. To memorize his hiss of pleasure. To revel in the way he touches me—as if he can’t get enough of me and how he never wants to.
And when he leaves the house under the same cover of night he came to me in, he doesn’t ask any questions, and he doesn’t beg me to explain the tears he kissed from my cheeks as he brought us pleasure. He just kisses me tenderly one last time and trusts that I’ll tell him the truth when the time is right.
Yes.
I love you, Ryker Lockhart.
More than you’ll ever know.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Ryker
“I have to admit, this is a first if I’ve ever had one before.” I shake my head and stare at the speaker on my desk phone as if Bianca can see me through it.
Obviously she can’t, but it doesn’t stop me from doing it.
“You didn’t deliver on what you promised,” she accuses.
“I didn’t deliver?” My voice starts to rise in pitch. “How about you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain? How about every question I asked you to answer took weeks to get a half-assed response?” My temper simmers to boiling at her accusations. “How about it feels like you hired me to represent you as some kind of fucked-up challenge to your husband? You never had any intention of actually filing for divorce. You just wanted to make sure to put him in his place by letting him know you could. By waltzing in here with some outrageous check as if it were some kind of challenge to see if I would throw it in his face.”
“You’re fired, Mr. Lockhart.” Her voice is cold and unfeeling, just like she is.
“Good. I’ll gladly cease representation. I refuse to be a pawn in your dysfunctional relationship.”
She chuckles for some reason. “You already were.”
“Good. Great. Go play your fucked-up games with some other firm. I won’t be manipulated.”
“I’ll expect my retainer returned less the small amount of billable hours, which are yours, of course. Promptly.”
I’m dumbfounded as she sits on the other end of the connection with her demands and bitchiness.