As quickly as I’d put myself in his lap, he deposited me back into my seat and buckled me in. I stared at the belt in my hands in confusion, then widened my eyes as he wrestled my wrists together and used it to secure them together. “Ryker!” I glared at him and struggled, but the belt wouldn’t let loose no matter how much I pulled.
“You’re adorable when you’re pouting,” he said, and I leveled him with my fiercest glare as I tried to shove his hand off my thigh.
“Fine then. Leave me alone. I’m too drunk for your shit.”
He snorted a laugh, putting the car into gear. “Sunshine, I’ll never leave you alone.” Those fingers tightened on my thigh like the sweetest torment.
I’d kill him in his sleep.
That was decided.
???
It didn’t seem fair that my head throbbed the next morning. It didn’t seem fair that I would be punished continuously. Nothing about me and alcohol was fair.
The foggy memories of Ryker holding my hair back while I threw up made me groan, and I thanked whatever God there might have been that it was Saturday at the least. Ryker wasn’t in bed, despite the early hour.
It was so early I knew even the kids wouldn’t be awake. I ran down the hallway, peeking my head in their doors to make sure they were both sleeping in their beds.
When the sight of them exactly where they should be comforted me, my shoulders sagged in relief and I made my way back to the master. The pain medicine and water bottle on the nightstand beckoned me over, and I swallowed both pills with a huge gulp. I tried not to think about the fact that it was sweet or that he’d taken absurdly excellent care of me in my drunken stupor the night before.
I was fairly certain I’d tried to cuddle him like he was a teddy bear while the kids watched. I was setting an impeccable example for encouraging my kids to keep Ryker at a distance.
I didn’t know where Ryker had gone, but I was in no hurry to go find him. Especially not when my cheeks flushed in embarrassment. A glance in the mirror confirmed just how much of a hot mess I was, with my wildly tangled hair and sallow skin that made me look just as sick as I felt. With a groan, I started up the shower and went to brush the taste of my hangover out of my mouth.
I’d already been hungover by the time Ryker tucked me into bed the evening before, and it seemed like if someone could be hungover at night they should get a break from the pounding head the next morning.
But not me.
I never could handle my alcohol.
By the time I stepped into the shower, I already felt more human. Drowning myself in the scalding water helped even more, despite how much it hurt to work the conditioner into the knots of my hair.
When I finally felt like my head wouldn’t explode the second I stepped out of the shower, I turned it off and went through my skin care routine. I stalled to my best ability, taking my time with tugging a comfortable dress over my head. After the jeans the day before, I was in no hurry to wear something so constricting. Even my yoga pants felt like they’d be a mistake.
I knew the moment I walked out of the master that the kids were still asleep. The sun had only just started to rise as I got dressed, and the house was mostly silent except for a subtle, rhythmic thumping from the loft space. I walked toward it, thinking I’d find Ryker downstairs, but when I peeked over the edge he was nowhere to be found.
The sound of metal clanking came through the open door to the empty office as I passed, and I stepped in to look around. Around the corner where there should have been a wall, there was nothing but a balcony overlooking wherever the sound came from.
Walking toward it, I tried to stay inconspicuous as I peered over the edge. The last thing I needed was to watch Ryker commit a crime or something and be seen doing it.
I didn’t expect to see his body folded in half, hanging from a bar as he slid his knees over it and hooked them to support himself.
Once that was done, he dropped his torso down and let it dangle for a moment. Shirtless, his muscles seemed to ripple with every subtle movement he made and his grey sweatpants clung to his hips. He kept his arms in line with his torso, using nothing but those abs that flexed like they were angry to do a crunch as he hung there. When he came back down, the motion was slow, controlled. Like everything he pushed his body to do was his choice, he owned every movement he made. He wouldn’t let something like gravity take away his choice on when and how he lowered. He did it again. And again. Droplets of sweat dripped down over his abs and chest, and I couldn’t remember there ever being a time that I thought sweat was sexy.
Until Ryker.
I let my eyes drift away from the half-naked man who proved all too tempting with every day that passed, looking at all the other workout apparatuses in the room. It was massive, at least half the size as the garage had been. The industrial nature of the gym was more apparent than in the house, but he made it work in a way that looked like he used the bones of the warehouse to exercise.
My eyes snapped back to him when he wrapped his hands around the bar, pulling his knees free and grasping it tightly. The change in position meant I stared at his back, at the intensely masculine lines of corded muscle along his shoulders and upper back and the beautiful ink of the angel tattooed on his skin. He hung for a moment and then swung his entire body up. When the bar lifted off the posts at the side, I panicked for him. But it jumped up to the next groove and snapped into place. He con
tinued on, one after another until he reached the top, climbing the posts with nothing but the bar in his hands on the pole and the strength in his body. Then he came back down, and when he reached the bottom post, he dropped to his feet and spun to face me, those blue eyes smoldering into mine in a way I knew without a doubt, that he’d known the exact moment I’d started watching him.
Fucking showoff.
It shouldn’t be possible for a man to be such a beast, for muscles to tempt innocent women against their better judgment.
I would not explore the grooves of his abs with my tongue.