“Ian, you’re right,” she said, and he came down on top of her and spent the next thirty minutes catering to her body, giving her two orgasms that had her screaming out her release.
Then he plunged deep inside her, whispering mine in her ear and taking her to heights she’d only dreamed of before he’d come barging into her life.
* * *
Riley drove to work the next morning, on a high from how well Ian and her stepmom had gotten along. Ian had charmed Melissa and had a long after-dinner drink with her husband, David, while Melissa gushed over the new man in Riley’s life. In her mind, Ian was the perfect catch, and she heartily approved. With her husband being a Thunder fan, the two men had had plenty to talk about.
The only downside to the night, in Ian’s mind, was that not only had Melissa not heard from Douglas Taylor, she’d offered him no new insight into why he’d suddenly started harassing Riley.
For Riley, however, this was good news. The best, really. It meant that, in all likelihood, she didn’t have to worry about her father going after Melissa, and now that both she and David were aware of the possibility, they could take steps to protect her, just in case.
That Ian had invited Melissa over spoke volumes about his unspoken feelings for her, Riley thought. Although she knew she loved him, she’d remained silent on the subject. She might be changing, but she was old-fashioned at heart, and she wanted, needed him to say it first.
Mine, while possessive and arousing, wasn’t the same thing. She needed the words. In her mind, saying them was the ultimate vulnerability. For as much as he’d given her, as much as he was learning to compromise—and laugh—as much as she believed in his feelings for her, him saying those three little words would be the ultimate gift. The final breakdown in that wall they’d each erected to protect their hearts.
Once in her office, she settled in to work, and the morning passed quickly.
Her phone rang, and she assumed it was either Dylan or Ian, ready to go out for lunch, and she answered on the first ring. “Riley Taylor.”
“You’re not a big shot to me,” a familiar voice from her past said.
Her blood ran cold, and she sat up straighter in her seat. “What do you want?” she asked the man she’d hoped to never hear from again.
“To tell you that you don’t impress me. You’re just playing dress up, little girl. I know you’re not worth a damn. You never have been. And now that you’re with that hotshot, I have leverage.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, gripping the phone so hard her fingers ached.
“I mean, I don’t have to worry about your football player and his threats anymore. Even if he manages to find me, I can do plenty of damage to your new boyfriend’s reputation before he does.”
So Alex was right when he’d worried about those photographs with Ian. Nausea filled her, and she fought the swirling sensation in her stomach.
“Leave him alone. In fact, go back into whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“Then do something for me.”
She began to shake. “What do you want?”
“Money. Thanks to you, I lost my wife, my house, I have nothing left, and I’ve just been waiting for the right time to collect.”
“I don’t have any money,” she said, her throat dry.
Her father let out a mean laugh she remembered from her childhood, from the times she’d curl in a ball while he used it on her mother. Before he slapped her around.
“The whole city knows how much money your boyfriend’s got. You make sure I get my share, and I won’t show up everywhere he goes and make a scene.”
“Ian won’t care,” she whispered, hoping she was right.
“But you do. You never liked to be the center of attention. Never liked it when people looked at you. Because you’re trash, and everyone knew it.”
“Because I had an alcoholic father who beat the crap out of my mother,” she shouted at him.
“Don’t blame me for your failings. I’ll be in touch by the end of the day. Get me money, or I’ll call the news and create enough scandal for Ian Dare to drop you like the trash you always were.”
Tears leaked from her eyes. “What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?” she asked, but he’d already hung up.
She slammed the phone down, missing the cradle. So she banged it again and again, sobs wracking her body. By the time she pulled herself together, her head pounded, and she was sure she looked like roadkill. She grabbed her compact mirror and fixed herself as best she could, not wanting to alert anyone at work to her personal problems.
Her father wanted money, she thought. The one thing she didn’t have. The two men in her life both did, but she discounted going to each, for very different reasons.