Ryker (Cold Fury Hockey 4)

I tap lightly on Ryker's hotel door with just the knuckle on my middle finger. I look left and right about ten times in the five seconds it takes for him to open up, terrified that someone will see me lurking here. I still haven't gotten over the sick feeling in my stomach that occurred when Zack and Kate pulled up in Ryker's driveway yesterday morning and may or may not have seen us. I have no idea because I haven't talked to Ryker since then, other than a few short texts checking in with each other.

He seemed a bit preoccupied, and I just figured things were a bit crazy for him with Ruby's injury. This drove me batty, because when someone you care for is under stress, you should be able to be there for him. And in my mind, I know I should quit bitching about this because there's just no way around it at this time. If I have to order my priorities, right now my career and reputation take first prize.

The door swings open and the butterflies swarm when I look at him. He's had time to get out of his suit and put on a pair of workout shorts, and his hair is still damp from the shower he took at the arena after the game. God...that chest. Those arms.

Mmm. Those eyes. I could get lost.

Shaking my head, I step in quickly and he swings the door shut.

He looks tired. Really, really tired.

But not so tired that his hand doesn't immediately come out to cup behind my head, pulling me straight to his mouth. He gives me a sizzling kiss that electrifies me from the inside out. I've never had this type of physical reaction to a man before and I know exactly why. It's because I've never had true intimacy with someone.

Sure, I've had sex, and over the years since I became an adult, I've not been shy about it. I like sex. It feels great. Orgasms may be one of the best things ever created about the human body. If it didn't feel so good, our species would have died out long ago.

But with Ryker, everything is intensified, and I am brilliant enough to know that comes from my having true feelings for him and the fact that he's such a good man. It increases my attraction to him and makes every part of my body super sensitive to just the barest touch from him.

His kiss morphs...turns more erotic. His other hand comes to my hip and pulls me forward so he can press his erection into me. My blood rages as I kiss him back.

He pulls away from my lips, only to move his mouth to my neck, still just holding me by the back of my head with one hand and my hip with other. I'm amazed by his strength and determination...he seems like a man on a mission. But then I remember the fatigue I saw in his eyes and my concern pushes to the forefront of my mind.

With a tiny push against his bare shoulders to get his attention, I ask, "How are you doing?"

He lifts his head and stares down at me. Eyes darkened with desire but still no mistaking the ravages of stress on his face. "I'm fine, why?"

My hand comes to his face. "You had a rough few days with Ruby's injury."

For just a brief moment, his eyes soften and I think he might even give me a smile of gratitude for being intuitive about him, but then I see indecision war deep within. "I'm good," he says, and dips his face back toward mine.

I lean back to avoid his kiss. "You look troubled. Want to talk?"

"I want to fuck," he says determinedly, and jerks me into his body. Reaching down, he pulls my skirt up to bunch around my waist, and then he's lifting me in his arms. My legs automatically tighten around him and his hands go to my ass. "It's been too goddamn long and I want to fuck you."

Okay, fine...if I must.

Ryker kisses me again as he walks me toward the bed where he unceremoniously dumps me on it. I bounce slightly, but then he pins me to the mattress with his body, his hand going immediately between my legs. This is new, this almost urgent manner in which he's handling me, and it causes me to worry more. Not that he would hurt me, but that he might be hurting himself and trying to drown himself in distraction.

Is that all he needs from me? Or maybe he's just taking that because he thinks that's all I can give to him right now?

He pulls my panties to the side, slips his fingers in. My hips punch up, seeking more contact. With his face buried in my neck, he strokes me to life, making me hot, wet, and achy.

My breath hitches when he lifts his hips, takes his hands from in between my legs to push his shorts down, and the next thing I know he's pushing into me. I'm wet so I can take him, but there's still a bite of pain over his quick invasion. It's immediately soothed by his second stroke, and then he's all-out fucking me hard.

Face pressed back into my neck, his hips pistoning fast, he uses my body well. It feels so good.

My hands come up to thread my fingers in his damp hair and my pelvis flexes to meet each thrust.

He groans, bites down into that muscle that runs from the base of my neck to my shoulder, and drives into me harder. My orgasm ignites, flares, bursts so fast that I cry out in stunned surprise and my fingers pull at his hair involuntarily.

"Fuck yeah," he groans, and slams into me one more time as he starts coming.

I hold him tight while both of our bodies shudder with relief. I revel in the euphoria of my orgasm, but with every heartbeat that I start to come down, my worry starts to increase. While that was amazing--absolutely fucking amazing--sex, there was purpose and need within it. I'll never withhold that from Ryker, but I have to know the drive behind it.

Ryker rolls to the slide, slipping out of me before collapsing onto his back. This is also different, because he normally takes me right along with him. He's a cuddler...a man who likes to touch and stroke long after he's gotten off. I turn my head to the side and see him just staring at the ceiling.

His shorts are still pushed down his hips a bit, his sated cock still wet and lying along his left hipbone.

My skirt is bunched up around my own hips with my panties pulled to the side.

That was the extent of our undressing, and while I'm all for some hurried, urgent, can't-wait-to-get-inside-you sex, this isn't sitting right with me.

This seems detached.

I push up on my elbows so I can see him better. "What's wrong?"

He looks at me distractedly, tries to focus, and says, "Nothing."

I repeat in a firmer tone, "Tell me what's wrong."

Ryker reaches down and pulls his shorts up. Doesn't look me in the eye when he lies to me. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"You're full of shit," I tell him as I roll away, right off the bed, and pull my skirt down. I start marching for the door, realizing that my shoes never even came off.

"Where are you going?" he calls out.

"Back to my room."

I'm not sure how he accomplishes it--quick goalie reflexes I'm thinking--but he's on me in a flash. He grabs my elbow and turns me toward him. "Wait a minute. What's wrong?"

Brows furrowed, lips drawn. I find it ironic he's worried about me at this moment.

"What's wrong with me?" I ask with a laugh. "What's wrong with you? There's obviously something bothering you and you lie to my face point blank when I ask you to share it."

Ryker lets out a huge sigh and he nods his head in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry."

I step into him, put my hands on his shoulders, and gaze into his face. "Is it me? Us?"

"No," he says quickly, and brings his arms around my waist. "Not at all."

"Then talk to me," I urge him.

He smiles at me then, with just his eyes alone. "Okay. But first let's get naked and get back in bed. I want to hold you."

I hadn't realized how fearful I was over

Ryker's seeming detachment until he said those words. My body almost sags with relief to hear that demand, and I don't argue with him. Within moments, we're both stripped and under the covers. We lie on our sides, facing each other.

For a moment, he just stares at my lips, and one might think he was contemplating a kiss, but I know he's collecting his thoughts.

Finally, he talks. "It's been a rough week."

"Let me see if I can sum it up," I say, because I want him to know that I think about him. That I worry about him. "Ruby breaks her arm, you had probably the biggest scare of your life. You watched your daughter suffer. Frank Lessier, in his role as Cold Fury management, wasn't supportive of you at all. You had to miss a game and you love hockey--not as much as your daughters, granted, but it's damn close. You had to watch while another goalie that many fans and some of the management want to see back in the game play amazingly well coming off an injury, so your starting goalie status is in question. You had a loss tonight, which is only going to fuel the debate about you and Max. And finally...finally, I can't be there for you fully, so you don't even know how to go about sharing this stuff with me because the boundary lines of our relationship are muddied."

Ryker drops his gaze back down to my lips for a moment, then looks back up to me with such seriousness in his eyes that I know I didn't even come close to hitting on what was really bothering him.

"Hensley wants to reconcile and try to make our marriage work," he says quietly.

That feeling when you're on a roller coaster just before you plunge down that first big drop...that's how my stomach feels at this moment. It drops so hard and fast that I become light-headed. My heart squeezes painfully, because I fear his next words. My tongue is dry, stuck to the top of my mouth so I can't even beg him not to consider it.

That explains the detachment. His refusal to talk to me. It must be weighing so heavy on his mind.

He must be considering it.

I give a little cough to clear my throat. "Why the change of heart?"

Ryker's eyes narrow and flare with anger. "Because Patric dumped her and she's all alone. She's floundering and seeking the comfort of her family she left behind."

I'll hate myself later for doing it, because this may go down as one of the dumbest things to ever come out of my mouth, but I go ahead and do it anyway. "Maybe you should consider. You have the girls to think of."