Ricochet (Renegades #3)(16)
Author: Skye Jordan

Of course he should have been thinking more clearly about this before he’d actually fucked her. And, if he were honest, he hadn’t thought about it very hard, because he’d expected her to pull out of the deal before they’d ever made it to the hotel room. She hadn’t seemed like the type to hook up with a stranger at a bar, and she’d offered spontaneously, after an obviously upsetting text message.

Then they’d gotten touchy in the van, and, well…yeah, after that, all he could think about was how he hoped she wouldn’t pull out. He hadn’t been thinking about the whole Troy connection at all.

Now, in light of how easy it had been to hook up with her and what an awesome fuck she was, he had to wonder—who else was she hooking up with?

Ryker’s eyes closed in dread. God, he prayed she wasn’t also having sex with some other member—or members—of Renegades. Worst of all Troy. But if she’d slept with, or was currently sleeping with, any of them, Troy would be in the mix. Ryker knew his buddy. Since Troy’s ex had dumped him for the bright lights of Nashville, he’d been hell-bent on fucking every relatively sexy chick he could charm his way into. And Rachel ranked well beyond the relative sexy mark.

He shut the water off and dried his hands with mixed feelings growing in the pit of his stomach. On one hand, Ryker really, really, really hoped he hadn’t just screwed his buddy’s girl. On the other hand, he really, really, really wanted to do it again. Wanted to spend the whole night fulfilling fantasies—hers, his, theirs. Wanted to spend hours finding ways to make her scream yes, and Nathan, and some other naughty vocabulary he planned on teaching her.

He growled, pushed his already-hard-again cock back into his pants, and zipped. Then shoved the boots and socks he’d removed into the space between the cabinet and toilet.

Straightening, he gave himself a stern glare. Friendship always came before pussy. Always. Even great pussy, like Rachel. Ryker would have to find some way to confirm or disprove the fact that she wasn’t seeing Troy without tipping her off to his own identity. Because, realistically, in her role as a secretary and his role as a temporary consultant in the field, they’d probably never meet up again. Which would make his identity a nonissue. No point in making it one.

Hell, it had been a long time since a woman made him toss logic out the window for sex. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been getting any either. But he didn’t want to think about why this woman was different. He needed to get this whole Troy thing straightened out first.

He exited the bathroom with his body amped for a literal fucking marathon. Great sex always hyped him. But he usually took that energy to the gym for a workout or the ocean for a swim. Tonight, he wanted to put all his energy right back into Rachel.

He passed the bedroom, a massive suite with a king bed, dresser, armoire, fifty-two-inch flat-screen TV, and adjoining bathroom, moved through the dining room with a full-size table, and turned past a marble-topped side buffet into the living room.

“What are your thoughts on fondue?” were the first words out of her mouth.

She was curled in the corner of the gray sofa, wearing his blue T-shirt, looking at something open in front of her, her bare feet curled beneath her. He glanced across the sofa and found her dress folded on an ottoman, her fancy cowboy boots sitting on top.

“That’s…a random question,” he said.

“Do you have any allergies?”

Her second question drew his gaze back. He took another look at her in his T-shirt. She had her thumbnail between her teeth, her head tilted down toward something open in her other hand, but her eyes were up and on him. And…damn…she was wearing his T-shirt.

“Oooo.” The word sounded more like a purr and skittered over Ryker’s skin. “Another tattoo.” She patted the sofa beside her. “If you let me touch, I’ll let you choose dinner.”

His cock thickened. It liked that idea way too much. “You read my mind.” He sauntered toward the sofa, unable to shake the strange sensation tumbling through his belly. “You’re also wearing my shirt.”

She lowered the menu and smiled. A knowing, sexy, teasing smile that made Ryker’s stomach fold. “I didn’t see a point in getting dressed.” She hesitated, raised her brows. “I’ll give it back if we can order fondue.”

He didn’t want it back. He wanted to look at her in it. Maybe even wanted to leave it with her. And wasn’t that the strangest fucking idea ever?

“Baby, you made me a hell of a lot hungrier than a few pieces of bread and a little cheese is going to fix.”

“No.” She pushed the menu toward him, her eyes bright. “They serve it with chicken, steak, roasted vegetables, potatoes, pasta, and bread. And,” she added, her tone and her gaze turning sexy again, “it comes with chocolate fondue for dessert.”

He did love chocolate. And he could think of all kinds of ways to use liquid chocolate.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head. “I don’t know. I’m a growing boy.” He lifted his chin. “Talk more about my shirt.”

She pursed her lips, let her eyes drift up toward the ceiling. “Okay, how about…” She focused on him again. “I give you the shirt as soon as dinner arrives and won’t put my dress back on.”

Ho-ly hell. Ryker couldn’t keep the smile from crossing his face. But he did send up a prayer that she wasn’t messing around with Troy. “I guess I could make that deal.”

She smirked. “But it’s a hardship, huh?”

“That’s one of my favorite shirts.”

“I can understand.” She closed the menu, tossed it aside, and rubbed her hands down her chest, over her breasts, and across her stomach with a decadent hum. “It’s super soft.”

“Sweetheart.” He lowered his voice in warning. “Do that again, and you will be my dinner.” He reached out to pick up the menu but grabbed the sweet little foot tucked underneath her instead and pulled. Rachel squealed and laughed and squirmed away. But Ryker held her easily and pulled her foot to his mouth for a kiss.

Her toes curled and her leg flinched. “I’m ticklish.”

When he released her foot, he caught a glimpse of the panties she’d put back on, and picked up the menu. “You’re going to be sorry you told me that.” As he strolled to the kitchen where a phone sat on the bar, he said, “And we need to renegotiate the fondue deal.”