Laney waited for him to say something, anything, but he stood there staring at her, which only made her nerves worse. How could he have so much power over her? She was an O’Shea, for crying out loud, and he was just standing there.
Standing there looking all half-naked, sexy and perfect.
Focus, Laney.
Ryker held up the cuff links. “Was this all?”
Laney narrowed her eyes. “Am I interrupting something?”
Or someone? It hadn’t even occurred to her that he may be entertaining. A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, and she hated the spear of jealousy that ripped through her.
“Yeah, my morning session with the punching bag.”
Which explained those perfectly sculpted arms, shoulders and pecs, though Laney figured he used a punching bag as a means of releasing his emotions rather than to stay in shape. Ryker was the epitome of keeping to himself and never letting anyone get too close. So what did that say about that night they shared? Clearly he’d thrown all of his rules out the window because they’d been as close as two people could get.
Nausea pushed its way to the front of the line, bypassing her worry, her fear. Laney closed her eyes, waiting to see if she needed to find the bathroom or take a seat and let the wave pass. Please, please, just pass. Of all times to appear vulnerable, this was not the one.
“Listen, I get you want to discuss what happened,” he began, oblivious to her current state. “I take the blame. I shouldn’t have followed you into your room and—”
“Ripped my clothes off?” she finished, holding a hand to her stomach and glaring across the room at him. “I’m not sorry it happened. I’ve been waiting on you to notice I’m not just Mac and Braden’s little sister. I’ve fantasized about you ripping my clothes off, and I don’t even mind that you ruined my favorite dress. So, I’m not sorry a bit. I’m only sorry about how you treated me after.”
Other than the muscles ticking in his stubbled jaw, Ryker showed no emotion.
“This wasn’t just some one-night stand,” she argued.
“It was.”
Okay. That hurt—the truth often did—but still. They were more, so much more, than a quick, albeit amazing, romp.
“How dare you act like I was just some random stranger?” she yelled, throwing her arms out wide. “I’ve known you almost my whole life. You think it’s okay to have sex with me and—”
He moved in a flash, gripped her shoulders and hauled her against his bare chest. “No, I didn’t think it was okay, but I couldn’t stop. Damn it, Laney.”
Ryker released her and took a step back, letting her go as if she’d burned him. “I couldn’t stop,” he whispered.
* * *
She had to get out of here. The last time they’d been alone his control had snapped, and he was barely hanging on by a thread now that she was in his living room, on his turf.
He’d purposely been avoiding her since their one-night stand, only communicating through texts for stuff related to O’Shea’s. They’d been working together for the past several years. He could admit that when she came on board, his job had become so much easier. With her being able to dig deeper, to infiltrate systems he never could’ve...she was invaluable. Laney’s computer hacking skills were eerily good. If she ever worked with the wrong crowd, she could be dangerous. Granted, some considered the O’Sheas the wrong crowd, but whatever. He couldn’t do his job without her, so avoiding her altogether wasn’t an option.
The torture of working so close together was worth it, though. Even the slightest communication with Laney kept him going. He shouldn’t enjoy the pain of being so near, unable to fulfill his every desire, but he chalked up his masochistic tendencies to his less than stellar childhood.
When he wasn’t on assignment, he typically would hide out at his home in London or take a trip to some random destination just because he could and had no ties. When he was in Boston, he was too tempted to give in to his desires for his best friends’ and bosses’ little sister.
When Laney started to reach for him, Ryker held up a hand. “No.” If she touched him, this whole distance thing would crumble. He’d been playing with fire when he’d grabbed her a second ago...but damn if she didn’t feel good against him.
This had to stop. He owed it to the family who saved him from a living hell. For years he’d ached for her, watched from afar as she grew into a breathtaking woman who managed to slip beneath his defenses. When she’d dated other men, it had nearly gutted him, but what right did he have to say anything?
She was the mafia princess, and he was the family...problem solver. He’d been involved with a lot of dark deeds before her father passed away and left the family business to Braden. Now they were all on the path to being legitimate. But legitimacy didn’t change what he’d done in the past. And no matter that his bank account had more zeroes than any one person would need, that didn’t change the fact he wasn’t worthy of Laney. Not only was she the daughter of one of Boston’s most powerful men, but she’d never made it a secret she wanted a large family, complete with babies and pets. He opted for lovers in other states and countries, to keep things physical and void of all emotions.
To put things simply, they were on opposite ends of this warped world. Since Patrick’s death months ago, Braden and Mac protected her, and rightfully so, from the harsh realities their family faced each day. Actually, Laney’s protection had also been part of Ryker’s job.
Not that he needed the money or the job. But he owed the O’Sheas. Anything they asked for, he would provide or die trying. And it was all of that watching over Laney that had damn near done him in.
Blowing out a breath, he shook his head and faced her, but froze. Laney had stepped back and was leaning against the wall. Her closed eyes, her long, slow breaths had him narrowing the distance between them.
“Laney?” He was near enough to touch her, but kept his hands to himself. See? He could do it. He’d just be right here in case she needed something...like his hands on her.