She holds it out to me with her good arm, and I reach out with numb fingers to take it. “I see,” I tell her with a smile, and damn if my voice isn’t raspy from a serious case of nervous dry throat. “He looks like you’ve been hugging on him hard.”
I hand it back to her and she nods happily. “He sleeps in bed with me along with Ollie.”
“Who’s Ollie?” I ask.
“That’s her stuffed octopus,” Violet says as she comes up to us.
“You remember Miss Brannon?” Ryker asks Violet.
She nods shyly and casts her eyes downward. I want to make a connection with her, so I search through my nearly eidetic memory for all of the things that Ryker has told me about his little girl who has stars in her eyes half the time. Usually shy but easy to coax out of her shell, if you spark her vivid imagination into play.
“That’s quite the tea party you had going on over there,” I say to Violet, and her eyes raise up to mine. “I particularly like the pattern on your china.”
I walk over to the table, look down at the imaginary kettle and cups, and tilt my head to the side. “Are those little purple flowers on the cups?”
When I look back at Violet, her eyes are bright and she’s nodding her head enthusiastically. “Ruby’s cup has pink roses, but I have violets on my cup.”
I slap my palm to my forehead. “Of course, now I see. Violets just like you…Violet.”
She grins and comes up to me, tugging me by the hand. “Want to have a tea party with us?”
Before I can answer, Ryker’s stepping in. “Not now, Violet. Dinner’s ready, but after we can come up and play for a little bit before you have to go to bed.”
Violet looks disappointed, but Ryker also told me she’s the most obedient child in the world. She never thinks to push back at her father and his rules, whereas Ruby questions everything. In fact, Ruby likes to argue and try to get him to concede every point. Ryker admitted to me one night that Ruby sometimes can talk circles around him, and at least eight times out of ten, he ultimately has to trump her with, “Because I’m your father and I said so.”
Ryker turns his body sideways and holds out his hand, indicating to us that we need to go. Ruby scampers out the door, seemingly undisturbed by her broken arm, and Violet follows. I go next, and as I pass by Ryker, he palms my ass with his large hand. I jerk in surprise, shoot a glare over my shoulder at him, and then hear him on a low laugh. “Told you I’d cop a feel too when they weren’t looking.”
—
Much, much later, I lie in Ryker’s bed with his arms wrapped around me tight. Spooning me.
It’s only the third time in the nearly three months since we started seeing each other—fucking, whatever—that we’ve stayed all night in the same bed together. The first time was Christmas and the second time was Valentine’s Day. Special occasions for sure, and I think then I was caught up within swirling romance and newbie jitters.
But tonight I’m contented.
Settled.
Pacified.
Just lying here like this, exhausted from good food, wine, and sex; high off my victory with Ruby and Violet, who apparently adore the way I put on an imaginary tea party. They actually like me.
I mean, really like me as in they didn’t want to go to bed but wanted to stay up and play with me. But for the sizzling looks that Ryker had been giving me all night, I would have readily agreed to a sleepover party with them. I knew, however, that Ryker needed me more. Our moments are always stolen, so very fleeting, that I couldn’t pass up a chance to spend as much time with him as I possibly can.
When we got to his house, he made love to me…so very slowly. Just rocked against me, holding my hands, kissing me softly. I loved every single, romantic, gentle, and soft moment of it. I had never had it before. I wanted it again immediately after he came inside me.
I can’t lie to myself any longer. Whatever this is between us, it’s now beyond a what-if. When I look at my future, it’s not hazy anymore where Ryker’s concerned. I know that I need him in it, and I only pray that it comes to fruition sooner rather than later.
It seems, with Ryker, I’m saying this a lot.
For the first time in my life…
For the first time in my life, I feel interest in something other than my career.
I feel needed.
I feel happy.
I feel cherished.
I. Feel. Everything.
And I don’t want to let it go.
For the first time in my life, I feel love for a man other than my father.
Chapter 23
Ryker
There haven’t been many things that I’ve truly desired in my life, and I can probably count them on one hand. I mean things that would make me happy and fulfilled, give me peace of mind, and satiate me from the inside out.
One: Ruby forgetting the pain of her broken arm. She was terrified when it happened and it was gruesome. I hope that memory dulls quickly for my little girl, because it kills me to remember her crying in that emergency room bed.
Two: winning my first Stanley Cup. I wanted it so bad I swear I could taste it. It was metallic and tangy, exactly the way I imagined the actual cup would taste when I kissed it.
Three: wanting both of my daughters to be healthy and happy in their lives. I want them to grow up to be confident, successful, and find the love of good men who will adore them like the princesses I know them to be inside and out.
Four: having Gray sit at my kitchen table every morning from here on out. Her hair mussy, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of black-framed glasses while she reads the newspaper, which make her appear even more of a genius. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. Or perhaps we’ll both just sit in the morning sunlight—her in a tee, me in just my pajama bottoms—and play footsies under the table while we talk over coffee.
I hand it back to her and she nods happily. “He sleeps in bed with me along with Ollie.”
“Who’s Ollie?” I ask.
“That’s her stuffed octopus,” Violet says as she comes up to us.
“You remember Miss Brannon?” Ryker asks Violet.
She nods shyly and casts her eyes downward. I want to make a connection with her, so I search through my nearly eidetic memory for all of the things that Ryker has told me about his little girl who has stars in her eyes half the time. Usually shy but easy to coax out of her shell, if you spark her vivid imagination into play.
“That’s quite the tea party you had going on over there,” I say to Violet, and her eyes raise up to mine. “I particularly like the pattern on your china.”
I walk over to the table, look down at the imaginary kettle and cups, and tilt my head to the side. “Are those little purple flowers on the cups?”
When I look back at Violet, her eyes are bright and she’s nodding her head enthusiastically. “Ruby’s cup has pink roses, but I have violets on my cup.”
I slap my palm to my forehead. “Of course, now I see. Violets just like you…Violet.”
She grins and comes up to me, tugging me by the hand. “Want to have a tea party with us?”
Before I can answer, Ryker’s stepping in. “Not now, Violet. Dinner’s ready, but after we can come up and play for a little bit before you have to go to bed.”
Violet looks disappointed, but Ryker also told me she’s the most obedient child in the world. She never thinks to push back at her father and his rules, whereas Ruby questions everything. In fact, Ruby likes to argue and try to get him to concede every point. Ryker admitted to me one night that Ruby sometimes can talk circles around him, and at least eight times out of ten, he ultimately has to trump her with, “Because I’m your father and I said so.”
Ryker turns his body sideways and holds out his hand, indicating to us that we need to go. Ruby scampers out the door, seemingly undisturbed by her broken arm, and Violet follows. I go next, and as I pass by Ryker, he palms my ass with his large hand. I jerk in surprise, shoot a glare over my shoulder at him, and then hear him on a low laugh. “Told you I’d cop a feel too when they weren’t looking.”
—
Much, much later, I lie in Ryker’s bed with his arms wrapped around me tight. Spooning me.
It’s only the third time in the nearly three months since we started seeing each other—fucking, whatever—that we’ve stayed all night in the same bed together. The first time was Christmas and the second time was Valentine’s Day. Special occasions for sure, and I think then I was caught up within swirling romance and newbie jitters.
But tonight I’m contented.
Settled.
Pacified.
Just lying here like this, exhausted from good food, wine, and sex; high off my victory with Ruby and Violet, who apparently adore the way I put on an imaginary tea party. They actually like me.
I mean, really like me as in they didn’t want to go to bed but wanted to stay up and play with me. But for the sizzling looks that Ryker had been giving me all night, I would have readily agreed to a sleepover party with them. I knew, however, that Ryker needed me more. Our moments are always stolen, so very fleeting, that I couldn’t pass up a chance to spend as much time with him as I possibly can.
When we got to his house, he made love to me…so very slowly. Just rocked against me, holding my hands, kissing me softly. I loved every single, romantic, gentle, and soft moment of it. I had never had it before. I wanted it again immediately after he came inside me.
I can’t lie to myself any longer. Whatever this is between us, it’s now beyond a what-if. When I look at my future, it’s not hazy anymore where Ryker’s concerned. I know that I need him in it, and I only pray that it comes to fruition sooner rather than later.
It seems, with Ryker, I’m saying this a lot.
For the first time in my life…
For the first time in my life, I feel interest in something other than my career.
I feel needed.
I feel happy.
I feel cherished.
I. Feel. Everything.
And I don’t want to let it go.
For the first time in my life, I feel love for a man other than my father.
Chapter 23
Ryker
There haven’t been many things that I’ve truly desired in my life, and I can probably count them on one hand. I mean things that would make me happy and fulfilled, give me peace of mind, and satiate me from the inside out.
One: Ruby forgetting the pain of her broken arm. She was terrified when it happened and it was gruesome. I hope that memory dulls quickly for my little girl, because it kills me to remember her crying in that emergency room bed.
Two: winning my first Stanley Cup. I wanted it so bad I swear I could taste it. It was metallic and tangy, exactly the way I imagined the actual cup would taste when I kissed it.
Three: wanting both of my daughters to be healthy and happy in their lives. I want them to grow up to be confident, successful, and find the love of good men who will adore them like the princesses I know them to be inside and out.
Four: having Gray sit at my kitchen table every morning from here on out. Her hair mussy, wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of black-framed glasses while she reads the newspaper, which make her appear even more of a genius. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. Or perhaps we’ll both just sit in the morning sunlight—her in a tee, me in just my pajama bottoms—and play footsies under the table while we talk over coffee.
