Bound (24 page)

“Yes.” My voice was dreamy. Tonight would help me see what living with Ryke would be like. I’d been planning on cake and ice cream with Mom and Dale followed by catching up with the DVR. My birthday was looking up.

***

Though he’d left the apartment this morning in workout clothes, Ryke wore a dark suit when he walked in to pick me up. Wore wasn’t the right word, actually. He pretty much owned it, every line fitting his body perfectly. His white shirt was perfectly pressed, open at the collar with no tie.

“Holy Christ,” he muttered when he saw me. I licked my lips, getting a taste of the pale pink lipstick I’d applied. My heart was pounding as he studied me from head to toe. The saleswoman had assured me this was
the
dress for tonight, even when I tried to change my mind at the checkout counter.

But she was probably a closet madam or something. This form-fitting
sleeveless black dress with a V that dipped down well past the center of my breasts was so not me. I needed a cardigan with buttons to wear over it.

“You look so fucking hot, Kate,” Ryke said, walking my way. “I don’t even need to leave the apa
rtment to get what I want for dinner.”

I was hot from head to toe. “You like it, then? The dress?”

“I love it. Let’s get the hell out of here before I change my mind about leaving. We have to go out, it’s your birthday.”

He reached out a hand and I took it, clutching my tiny black purse in my other hand. I picked up the wrap I’d bought on the way out the door
and arranged it over my shoulders in the elevator.

It surprised me how elegant I felt in this expensive dress. There weren’t price tags on the clothes in the downtown boutique I’d bought it at, but I’d looked at the receipt and been a little horrified by the high cost. I’d splurged with my own money and gotten my hair and nails done, too.

“So where should we go?” I asked Ryke on the way to the parking garage.

“I made us a reservation at a place I’ve heard is good,” he said.
When we got to the Mustang, he opened my door and I picked up on a fresh smell as soon as I got inside.

“The car smells good,” I said when Ryke got in.

“I had it cleaned today. You want some music on?”

“Sure.” I admired his profile, shadowed in the darkness of the car. His black hair was so neat that
I wanted to reach out and tousle it to restore its usual sexy, slightly messy look.

The classical music Ryke tuned in calmed my nerves on the ride to the restaurant.  A valet parked the ca
r and when we got inside, we were led to the back of a dimly lit side room, where a private table awaited.

I’d never been to such an upscale restaurant, and I should have been pa
ying attention to the details. But I dismissed the fancy appetizer arranged artfully on a pristine white plate, the wine glasses that were never allowed to get empty by our waiter and the steak that melted in my mouth. I couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Ryke.

He was telling me a funny story about his first year of pro hockey, and the way he stroked his jaw line and grinned made me want to crawl over the table into his lap.

“You look a little bit scared of me right now,” he said, his brows furrowed with confusion.

“I am a little s
cared of you,” I admitted.

“How am I scary?
”

“
It’s not you that scares me, exactly,” I said, pushing the last few vegetables on my plate around with my fork. “It’s your sex appeal.”

“My sex appeal? I don’t even have sex appeal. I’m just a hockey player. Christ, you make me sound like a . . .”

“An underwear model?” I offered, quirking a brow.

Hi
s single note of laughter made me grin. “Touché. But really, that whole thing came about because the marketing director for the designer likes hockey and met me at a charity event. I’m not some in-demand model or anything.”

“You’re hot as hell,” I said, sighing and resting my chin in my hands. “And the phone . . . um, conversations we’ve had . . . they make me want more, and I can’t have it.”

“Why not? Not even if we were safe?”

I
looked down at the table. “It’s still a risk. And I can’t ever get pregnant again. I was fine with my sexless life before I met you. You make me want things I don’t want to want.”

Ryke made a sound of amusement. “That’s a lot of wanting.”

“You have no idea.” I reached for my wine glass and swilled a third of it. “How much wine do you think I’ve had? It tasted bad when I first started drinking it, but now it’s good.”

“That probably means you’ve had enough, sweetheart. You look a little flushed, but I was hoping it was just my effect on you.”

“It is. You make me warm all over, Ryker. Can we go back to your place now?”

He smiled his approval. “They’ve got birthday cake for you in the kitchen, you want to take it with us?”

“Sure. This was such a great dinner, Ryke. Thank you. And for my present, too. Why was I so uptight about that? God, right now I just feel so good. I want to go home and kick off these shoes and get out of this dress.”

Ryke waved the waiter over to pay the check and have the cake wrapped up.

“Can I get some wine to go, too?” I asked.

“Uh . . .” The waiter glanced at Ryke and back at me.

“I don’t think we’d better do that,” Ryke said, his lips quirked up in amusement. “But I’m glad you liked it and I’ll have some delivered to the apartment this week.”

“Okay.” I
blew a stray lock of hair out of my face. “I’m hot.”

Ryke wrapped an arm around my waist as we made our way out of the restaurant, and I wondered what he had in mind for the rest of the night. I wanted him to work me up the way he did on the phone.

When the valet opened my door, Ryke edged him aside and slid a bill into his hand, helping me inside the car.

“I’m spending the night with you,” I whispered, giggling. He smiled silently and closed the door.

The ride home was quiet. I slipped out of my heels and rested my head against the seat, suddenly tired. When we got home, Ryke wrapped his arm around my waist again for the walk to the elevator.

“You think I’m drunk!” I said, the words sounding more appalled than I’d intended.

“You had a lot of wine. Let’s get you up to bed.”

My stomach dropped with disappointment. “Aren’t you going to seduce me?”

He laughed and pulled me a little closer. “Unfortunately, no.”

I groaned my disapproval and leaned against him. When we got upstairs, he walked me into his room and then his closet. He stood at my back and laid my hair over one of my shoulders, his hands finding the zipper of my dress.

Air hit my bare skin as he pulled the zipper down and I wondered if he’d changed his mind. The dress fell to the floor and his warm lips skimmed over one of my shoulders, sending a shiver through me. I wanted more, but he stepped away. When he returned, he was pulling something over my head.

I looked down and saw I was wearing one of his hockey t-shirts. He helped me get my arms in it and then walked me to bed. I crawled under the soft covers and listened to the rustle of him undressing. When he got in bed and settled his chest against my back, wrapping himself around me, I murmured my approval. He was solid and warm and I only wished I wasn’t on the edge of sleep.

“I have to go to the rink early,” he said softly. “You sleep in. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” I mumbled, already unable to open my eyes.

***

I was surrounded by people who’d gone temporarily insane. They were screaming, stomping
, dancing and some were trying unsuccessfully to get a wave going. I was lost in a sea of red – Ryke’s team color – and I was having the time of my life.

I was in th
e friends and family section, near the ice, with Dawn. She was the closest I had to a friend among the players’ wives, and she always saved me a seat at home games.

She bounded up with a frustrated cry and I jumped up, too. I still wasn’t completely sure what to get outraged about at games, but I was trying to learn. I knew a goal meant go crazy, but the other stuff I needed Dawn’s cues for.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Ryke. He glided down the ice with precision, sliding to a stop to fight over the puck with other players. Sticks swung and elbows flew. Ryke’s stick was knocked from his hand and he delivered a punch to the gut of a player from the other team that made me clutch my stomach.

The other player shoved Ryke, and in an instant Ryke was plowing into him. His expression was twisted in anger and I heard a muffled grunt from the other guy even over the roar of the crowd.

A wave of swirling colors made its way down the ice as all the other players headed for the other end of the rink. Ryke and his sparring partner each got in a final shove before they took off that way, too.

I leaned into Dawn and spoke into her ear. “Does watching this make you hot?”

“Hell yeah,” she said, her brows arching as a grin spread across her face. “When Vic gets in a good fight we always have amazing sex that night. I hate it when he’s out of town and I see him fighting on TV.”

“There’s always phone sex,” I said, grinning.

“Oh yeah, you’ll get good at that.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she spoke. “And you have to send random texts occasionally, too.”

My head snapped her way. “You mean . . . sexy ones?”

Dawn’s gaze was focused on the ice, and her eyes widened as several players vied for the puck.

“Vic!” she screamed, jumping up and cupping her hands around her mouth. “Hit somebody!”

I jumped up, too, when I saw Ryke easing the puck to pass it to another player, but then he drew back and slapped it toward the net with such force that I couldn’t even see it flying.

The slump of the other team’s goalie onto the ice told me it was a goal, and Dawn and I jumped and hugged and screamed with the rest of the arena until my throat was sore. I was about to sit back down when
Ryke looked our way. Our eyes met for a split second and he gave a tiny nod.

“Speaking of good sex,” Dawn said in a low tone. “You’re wanting some right now, right?”

Damn
right. My inner thighs were radiating warmth. The attention of the entire arena was focused on the strapping hockey star whose attention was focused on me. The fighting and aggression were like foreplay, slowly and deliciously heating me up. I’d never wanted him as much as I did at this moment.

“So anyway,” Dawn said as we sat back down. “Yeah, I send Vic messages like
wish you were inside me
and
let’s fuck tonight
because, you know, you’ve gotta keep it hot. Lots of women chase my man and he likes me to sink my claws in.”

“Hmm,” I said, wondering if I’d ever have the guts to send a message like that to Ryke. I knew I wouldn’t mind getting one from him, but the idea of being that forward made me squirm.

The roar in the arena had died down, and I could actually hear Dawn when she spoke now.

“
You’re a lot different than Maggie,” she said, glancing at my hands in my lap. My nails were painted bright red, with tiny decals of Ryke’s team logo on each one. My cheeks heated with a flush. Maggie had been polished and sophisticated and I probably looked like a giggly high schooler with the team logo on my nails, t-shirt and baseball hat.

“I found a photo of her in Ryke’s filing cabinet when he asked me to dig through it and find his tax records one day,” I said. “She was beautiful.”

Dawn shrugged. “I guess she was, but her personality was . . .” She shook her head as she considered and her loose red curls bounced a little. “She was a bitch, basically.”

“Uh . . .”
I tensed at the thought of saying anything negative about Ryke’s dead wife. Dawn held a hand up to silence me.

“You’re not the one saying it, I am,” she said, seeming to read my mind. “Maggie wasn’t meant to be a hockey wife. She hated hockey, hated Ryke travelling and hated all the attention he got. Vic said she gave him major hell all the time.”

I wrinkled my brows as I considered her words. “Why’d they get married, then?”

Dawn’s lips drew together in a line as she leaned in to speak in a low tone. “Honestly? I think she figured his fame w
ould help further her career. They dated for about six months, and he loved her, but he wasn’t ready to get married. She told him if he wouldn’t marry her she was moving on, so he did.”

“Wow,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like the start of a happy marriage.”

“No. But don’t say anything about it to him, because he doesn’t know any of us think that’s why she married him. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need any more heartache.”

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“My point,” Dawn said, smacking my thigh, “is that I think you’re good for Ryke.”

“Well, we’re not—”

Her cocked brow and glare silenced me. “It’s obvious to everyone and it’s just a matter of time. And it’s great to see him with someone who supports his career and makes him so happy. I haven’t seen him happy like this before.”