Convict

He was falling for this woman, and now that he’d had a taste of her, he knew he wasn’t ever going to be able to walk away.

Ryker didn’t doubt that his name would be cleared. He had all the evidence, and some of the men he’d met on the inside had warned him that he had to make sure people thought he was either dead or in a different country.

She pressed a kiss against his palm. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’ll make us some breakfast.”

He watched her climb off the bed and walk away.

Her ass captured his attention, and collapsing to the bed, he rubbed at his eyes. “You cannot fall in love. You cannot fall in love.”

Even as he kept on speaking those words to himself, he knew he was already doomed. There was something about Scarlett, and it wasn’t because she’d had her mouth on his dick, and swallowed his cum. It was something more.

He wanted to protect her, to chase away the bad memories, and be the one guy that never let her down.

His life had just become a lot more complicated.

****

Ryker chopped the salad while she cooked up the marinated chicken. Every now and then, Scarlett kept looking at him, wondering if he thought about this morning. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Did he enjoy it?

She knew he did because he’d come, but she wondered if he was regretting it.

When he moved past her, he placed his hands on her hips and kissed her neck before grabbing something out of the fridge. He’d been doing that all day. Touching her, finding a reason to be near her, and she wasn’t about to turn him down.

Scarlett adored his touch, craved it even, and she certainly didn’t want it to end.

When the chicken was cooked, she placed it on the platter and focused on the next thing she wanted to do. Tomorrow’s dinner was steak, and once again, she was using all of her seasonings to create even more flavor. She loved spices and experimenting in the kitchen, even if some things were awful.

He grated up some cheese and tossed the salad together with the dressing ingredients. He liked a lot of garlic, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she hated it raw and wouldn’t enjoy it. Still, she loved watching him when he tried something.

Prison couldn’t have been fun, especially prison food.

The pleasure on his face at each little morsel of food was a testament to that.

Chopping up the chicken that had rested, she placed it on top of their salad, and they took a seat at the table.

After their time together in the bedroom and after breakfast, Ryker had been repairing some loose floorboards, while she’d been going around removing her pictures, replacing them with different images.

“I was wondering if you’d start a small fire in the barbeque pit,” she said.

“Sure thing. Why? You want to have some grilled food?” he asked.

“No. I want to burn those pictures.” She didn’t know why she’d kept them. Cutting that evil bastard out of each picture had been freeing, but now, they were just a reminder that she really didn’t want or need.

“He was in your life for a long time?” Ryker asked.

She paused with a piece of chicken near her mouth. “He got into my mom’s good graces, and then she wouldn’t get rid of him.” She shrugged. “In the beginning he wasn’t all that bad. It was later, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Talking was something she’d done enough of.

He reached out, grabbing her hand. “I’m here.”

“I know.” She looked at him. “He’s never coming back.”

“Your stepfather?”

“Yes, he’s dead.” She didn’t elaborate any further on what her real dad had done, nor did Ryker ask for more.

Her father had killed him, and saved his daughter. There was nothing more to be said. Afterward, no one sent her father to prison, but that was because he handed her the gun once he’d done it, and told her that she didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

She told the cops that she couldn’t take it anymore, and reported the years of abuse.

It had all been wrapped up nice and tight.

She pushed some of her salad around her plate, and Ryker chuckled. “You know I’m not a monster, right?”

“I know.”

“So, why didn’t you just tell me that you hated garlic?” he asked.

“You love it.”

“But I also saw that every time a recipe calls for raw garlic, you cross it out, and it has the word ‘yuck’ next to it.”

He got up from the table, and she watched as he pulled another plate from the fridge. She’d been so lost in her own little world that she’d not seen him serve up three people. “Dressing without garlic.” He winked at her. “Enjoy.”

Okay, now that had to be one of the sweetest things she’d ever seen. “You knew?”