Captive (12 page)

I closed the distance between us and reached up to caress his dark-stubbled cheeks. “I don’t doubt you. I’m sorry I’ve been shutting you out sexually.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want you to force yourself.”

I smiled. “That’s impossible with you. And after the cab ride here … I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t finish what you started.”

I slid out of my coat, letting it fall to the floor, and he shoved his wool overcoat and suit jacket to the ground. He picked me up in a quick motion, one hand cradling my ass as he carried me a few feet and pushed me into a wall. I worked on the buttons of his dress shirt and he pulled the sweater dress over my head, taking my unfastened bra with it.

He licked and kissed the magic spot beneath my ear, and I arched myself into him. My unbuttoning of his dress shirt must have been too slow, because he pulled at the two sides of it and the last few buttons broke loose. I pushed it aside and reached for the pants, getting them undone just as Ryke slammed a fist into the wall, jolting me.

“Fucking shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have condoms. The ones at home are the only—”

“I’m on the pill,” I said. “It’s okay. I need to stop being crazy about it. I’m getting it taken care of anyway.”

“You’re sure?” He looked torn, and I threaded my fingers into his hair and tugged.

“Positive. Fuck me,
please
. I’m aching to have you inside me.”

His eyes lit and the corners of his mouth turned up.

“What are you aching for?” he asked, tracing a fingertip over my lips.

“For you to fuck me,” I cried, arching into him impatiently.

“With what?”

He knew dirty talk made me blush, and he liked it. “With your hard cock.”

“That’s right, baby.” He reached between my legs and gripped my leggings, ripping them down the middle. He shredded my satin panties next. The feel of his powerful hands destroying my clothes to get inside me was intoxicating.

His eyes didn’t leave mine as he entered me in one long, hard thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes closing for a second. “You’re fucking wet.”

“It’s so good,” I said, digging my nails into his back. “So good. Don’t stop.”

He pressed my thighs toward the wall, spreading me wide open, and gave me the deep, hard strokes I craved. I moaned every time he pounded into me, because it felt so good I had to.

His eyes closed and his face grew strained as he held on. The waves had gotten so close and so hard that I knew I was on the edge, too. I wanted Ryke to come as deep as I was going to, and I knew how to make it happen. I was feeling uninhibited, and I let bolder words than I’d ever used tumble out of my mouth.

“Fuck me hard,” I panted. “Hard, baby.”

His eyes widened and his deep exhale came out with a long, delicious groan of pleasure.

“Oh, shit!” he cried. “Kate! Fuck!”

He clamped his thumb and forefinger down on one of my nipples again and I lost control, moaning, screaming and pulling his hair. The waves continued and I closed my eyes, letting the deep, blissful sensation consume me for a little longer. Why had I denied us this? It was perfect – the way time stood still and nothing mattered but us.

When he released my legs, I wrapped them around his waist and his body dropped against mine. We stayed like that for a few seconds until he stood and carried me to the bed, setting me down.

“Better take those off for the next round,” he said, smirking when he looked between my legs at my shredded leggings and underwear. “That’s fucking hot. See what you do to me?”

I smiled as I leaned back and worked the ruined garments off my legs. “I love watching you undress,” I said. “Seeing a little bit more of your perfect body with each thing you take off.”

“There’s not much left, baby,” he said, stepping out of the pants and boxers around his ankles. He climbed in the bottom of the bed and took one of my feet in his hand, bringing his lips to my ankle.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as he kissed his way up my leg to my thigh, and then repeated the process on the other side. Then he dropped his head between my thighs and gave a low, satisfied groan.

“I’m taking pictures,” he said, raising his face. “But I’ll get hard just thinking about this, whether I see the pictures or not.”

He’d noticed the Brazilian wax. I hadn’t gotten one in a while, and he loved looking at me this way. He ran his tongue over the bare skin and a shiver passed through me. When he parted me gently with his fingers, I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. It was sensitive, but it felt so good that I wanted him to continue more than anything.

“Pretty and pink,” he said, licking me gently and pushing a fingertip inside. “And all mine.”

I covered my eyes with my hand as he reached down to his pants on the floor for his phone. This was supposed to be embarrassing, but it kind of … wasn’t. It turned me on to think of him looking at the pictures he was taking when we were miles apart. He snapped a couple and tossed the phone back to the ground.

His mouth made its way up my body lazily, stopping to lavish attention on most every inch of skin. When he was kissing my neck, I pressed my fingers into his back, my body humming for more than this tease. He’d set me on fire, and now he was slowly stoking the flames.

Ryke knew my body as well as I knew it myself; sometimes better. He pushed inside me at just the right moment. His hips moved in slow, deep motions that allowed me to lose myself in the fullness of him just before he slid back.

When he laced his fingers into mine and pressed our hands to the mattress above my head, I moaned and pulled at his lower lip with my teeth. He was controlling every delicious sensation that flooded me, reminding me I was his in every way.

We both built slowly this time, our heavy breathing the only sound in the room until we both cried out at the very end. He wrapped me in his arms then and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. I knew we’d both be asleep soon, and it would be the deep, peaceful sleep of total contentment.

I was checking voicemails on my phone, and the last one made me so excited I couldn’t even finish listening to it.

“Hi, Kate, it’s Christina Harrington from Cradle of Hope. We talked the other day, and I’ve got some encouraging news for you—”

I hit the button to call her. This was the local adoption agency I’d immediately gotten a good vibe about.

“Hello?”

“Hi Christina, it’s Kate Ryker.”

“Mrs. Ryker, hi, how are you?”

“Good, thank you. Just excited to hear about the good news you mentioned in the message.”

“Yes! I went through the paperwork you sent over, and everything looks really good. I found out in the reference check that your husband is an NHL player?” She phrased it like a question, though she already knew.

“Right. Yes. I thought I listed hockey player as his occupation, did I mess that up on the application?”

She laughed lightly. “Not at all. That’s what you wrote, I just didn’t know you meant … well, anyway, now I know why you left the income section blank.”

“Yeah … honestly, I’m not sure what it is annually. I know what my husband’s contract terms are, but—”

“It’s not something we need. That question is just to make sure you have the resources to care for the child when the adoption goes through. But I imagine that, and the private adoption fees, won’t be an issue for you and your husband.”

“No, it won’t be an issue,” I said. “So what happens now?”

“We can get you through the home-study process quickly. I have two pregnant birth mothers right now that I think you might be interested in learning more about.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m going to have Tracy call you early next week about setting up the home study if that’s okay.”

“That’s great! I’m so happy.”

“Me too. I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Ryker.”

“Thank you so much.”

When I hung up, I jumped out of my chair and squealed. This was finally happening. I had to call Ryke and share the good news. But when I reached for my phone, I remembered the other call I still hadn’t made and dialed another number instead.

“Dr. Chastain’s office, may I help you?”

“Yes, I need to schedule an appointment,” I said. “To get my tubes tied.”

I’d been on cloud nine since getting the call from Christina at Cradle of Hope two days ago. When Ryke finished his road trip, we were planning to celebrate over dinner at our favorite downtown restaurant.

I often daydreamed about our baby. Whether it would be a boy or a girl, what we’d name it and how it would feel to rock my own child to sleep. This was probably the excitement most pregnant women felt, and it was enough to keep a smile on my face all day long.

My phone sang out the song that signified a call from Ryke, who was in Nashville for a game tonight. I set down the blanket I’d been folding to answer it.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” I said.

“What were you thinking?” His deep, warm voice instantly made me miss him.

“I’m folding up the red and white quilt in the living room and I was thinking about that time we stayed all night on the roof with it,” I said, my voice dreamy from the memory.

“Mmm. That was a great night.”

When we were engaged, we’d had dinner on our rooftop deck one night. I still remembered what we grilled – steak, baked potatoes and sweet peppers. We’d gone through a bottle and a half of champagne, made love under the stars and fallen asleep in the hammock with the quilt wrapped around us.

“I miss you,” I said, curling up in Ryke’s favorite leather recliner in our living room.

“I miss you, too. And I just found out I have to go to Vancouver tomorrow for a meeting about contract negotiations.”

My heart sank. Tomorrow afternoon seemed like a long enough time to wait, but now it would be longer.

“Is it an overnight thing?” I asked.

“Yeah. Come with me. I can connect in Chicago and pick you up.”

I thought about it. “I might. I have to check my work schedule first.”

“Alright. I’m on my way to my pregame skate, so if you can go, look up my itinerary and change it around so we can fly from Chicago to Vancouver together. And don’t look at any of the prices.”

I smiled. He knew me well. There had been times I’d wanted to jet off to his games at the last second, but not been able to bring myself to spend more than $1,000 on a plane ticket to do it. We had a lot of money, but I never wanted to take it for granted.

“The money’s irrelevant,” he said, repeating what he’d already told me about expensive plane tickets. “We’re apart too many nights, and the season’s long. If it means we can be together, don’t even think about the cost.”

“Okay. I’ll text you about it.”

“I’m at the arena,” he said. “Gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I hung up and the apartment seemed too empty and quiet. I pictured Ryke chasing our toddler across our large living room. And likely teaching him or her to play hockey on our wood floors. I craved a home with dents in the woodwork, sticky-handled appliances and toys on the floor.

My work schedule was on my phone, and I groaned when I clicked it and saw my appointments would keep me from joining Ryke in Vancouver. I really wanted to see him, too. The night of sex in Winnipeg had brought us closer, and I’d been missing him since we parted at the boarding gate for my flight home.

I was about to text him the bad news, but I looked back at my schedule instead and saw that today was wide open. I wasn’t even working. I smiled. What better way to prove to my husband I could buy obnoxiously expensive last-minute plane tickets than to go straight to the airport and buy one? I was flying to Nashville. As soon as possible.