“Say it, Tesoro. Say the fucking words.”
“I’m yours,” I whimpered, and I hated myself for the weakness.
“Damn right you are, Sunshine." Those fingers circled my clit in the perfect motion, a perfect replica of what I would have done when I touched myself, and it only took two strokes before I shattered around him. My orgasm was so strong I could feel the way I pulsed around him, and he roared out my name as he flooded me with heat.
We stayed like that for a moment, catching our breaths while reality sank in and I felt my bottom lip quiver.
What the fuck had I done?
He kissed my temple, and when he pulled out of me, it seemed to take forever. The way his flesh glided against every part of me went on and on and felt too sensitive, and when he finally popped free a gush of fluid followed.
He stared down at my pussy as if fascinated as I got my first good look at where the length of him hung down his thigh, and I wanted to wince at the way it glistened.
He hadn’t worn a condom.
Twenty-One
Calla
I blinked up at him, feeling disoriented and confused. He’d overwhelmed me, consumed me. There’d been nothing but him, no second thoughts about doing something I knew I’d regret.
I’d fucked a serial killer only moments after finding out he killed someone that day.
r />
He hovered over me, crowded me even though he’d gotten what he wanted. And I’d given it up to him like an idiot.
My legs had to spread obscenely wide to accommodate his hips between them, and I suddenly wanted them closed. I wanted his eyes off me, wanted him to never see me again. He stared at me so intently it felt like he examined every piece of my flesh. So when he touched his hand to my overheated skin, rubbing his release into it with a growl, I jolted and used my legs to propel myself away from him.
I bolted from the bed, making for the bathroom where I could lock myself in until morning. I couldn’t trust myself, couldn’t be around him.
“Calla!” he yelled, and the thunder of his footfalls sounded behind me as he chased me. I spun, pushing the door closed, but his foot stopped it from latching and his hand curled around the edge of the door as he shoved it back open and prowled into the space. “Calla,” he said calmly, and he stepped toward me slowly. There was something in his face, something so gentle it hurt as he made his way to me. The shower door rattled when my back hit it, and I stumbled forward in a moment of panic.
It brought me right into his arms, and I shoved him back. When my head twisted, I glimpsed myself in the mirror, eyes wild and panicked with the worst sex hair I’d ever seen in my life. The skin of my chest was flushed from the sex, but my face had already paled.
“Sunshine, it’s okay,” Ryker murmured, wrapping his arms around me. He tugged me tight to his chest, and the moment his soft cock touched me, I squeaked in the most pathetic voice I’d ever made.
“It’s not okay!” I yelled as the first sob wracked my body. “What did I do? I have a husband. I can’t—”
“Tesoro, he’s dead.” Ryker’s voice stayed gentle, an agonized tremble to it as he clutched me to him against my struggles. “You’re not his wife anymore.”
My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized I’d always still considered myself Chad’s wife. Even with him gone. “I will always be his wife,” I spat, twisting my face to glare up at him when he wouldn’t release me. I knew the words weren’t true, but they gave me a place to hide. I couldn’t remarry or date or move on with someone else I could lose. Not if I already had a husband. I needed the protection that offered me.
Ryker nodded, though his own face hardened in anger. It frustrated him that I clung to the memory of a dead man. “He never deserved you even when he was alive. I will not allow you to waste your life grieving a man who never loved you.”
I blinked back tears, feeling my heart stop in my chest. “Of course he loved me. I was his wife,” I whispered.
“Tesoro, he wasn’t capable of love,” Ryker told me, touching his thumb to my bottom lip where it quivered. “But even if he loved you, he’s gone. Does he protect you? Does he provide for you? Does he feed your children and tuck them in at night? Does he bring Ines stuffed wolves and play soccer with Axel? Does he kiss you and make love to you?” he asked when I jerked my head away from his hand. “No. I do those things, Calla. He is not your husband anymore.”
“Neither are you,” I whispered, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. He was quick to wipe it away, to rub the salty liquid into my cheek. His hand stunk like sex, like us and I jerked my face away in disgust.
“Yet,” he said, reaching in to turn on the shower. “We both know where this is going, Tesoro.”
I shook my head, and he didn’t press the issue further, but he didn’t do what he should have done either.
He didn’t free me. Didn’t give me the option to make my own choice about our relationship.
I would never marry a man who killed other men. A man who could be killed at any moment and abandon me and the kids.