Captive(53)

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked, remembering the hit he’d taken in last night’s game. Watching it on TV, I’d covered my mouth in horror as he curled up in pain after being shoved from his feet and landing shoulder-first on the ice.

He reiterated his words from our phone conversation the night before. “I’m okay.”

I opened the fridge and leaned in, searching for the spicy mayo he liked on sandwiches. He was staring at me when I turned to make his sandwich.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. I sighed and looked at him.

“Alright. I’m glad you’re home.”

His face softened and he walked over, reached around my waist and pulled my back against his chest. His rigid body against mine made me tingle with awareness. I set the knife down and turned, wrapping my arms around his waist and letting the curves of my body settle into his.

He let his head fall on top of mine, and I felt him smelling my hair. The tenderness of the gesture set me on fire. Despite my imperfections, he was still mine. He was coming home to me. I pushed my hands under the bottom of his shirt, letting my fingers roam the defined lines of his solid back. He stiffened slightly and I froze.

“Are my hands cold?” I spoke against his chest.

“No, it feels good.”

His encouragement sent my hands higher, and I ran my nails over his skin and gripped his shoulders. His groan vibrated against my chest, and I slid my hands down again, beneath the waistband of his jeans.

He let his hands explore me, too, and I moaned when he cupped my ass in his large, all-encompassing grip. I pushed myself against him tighter, hoping to encourage his erection, which was growing against my stomach. He squeezed my ass hard and it about undid me. I positioned myself so I could rub the heat between my legs against his thigh, and the friction felt so delicious I moaned every time I felt it.

“I need you so bad,” I said, unable to look at him. There was a hint of shame in my tone.

“That’s a good thing, baby,” he said, sounding amused. “I need you, too.”

“No, I mean … all the time. I was just dreaming you were doing me against the wall at the rink. And I fantasized yesterday during group counseling that your game would be cancelled and you’d walk into the apartment and bend me over the kitchen table.”

“Mmm. I’m trying to see a problem here, but I’ve got nothing. I fantasize about you all the time, too.”

I was getting close to coming on his leg, which made me feel like a dog in heat. I pulled back and looked at him.

“I mean all the time,” I said. “When we woke up the other morning and I knew you were leaving, I wanted you to want me so bad. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s kind of uncomfortable sometimes.”

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he furrowed his brows in a serious look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I flushed and shook my head. “It’s embarrassing, having to ask you. I thought that if you wanted it—”

“Baby, I want it.” He cupped my face in his hands and raised it toward his. “I want it so bad I’ve got a raging case of blue balls. I just didn’t know, because things have been off lately with you getting pregnant and being upset.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I know. And it’s crazy, being sad one second and feeling like a nymphomaniac the next.”

“As much as I want to, I can’t help you with everything you’re going through,” Ryke said, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “But an appetite for lots of sex I can absolutely handle.”

Against my will, my nipples tightened at his words. “It’s not just lots of sex,” I admitted. His playful grin faded.

“What, then? Something I can’t fix?” His jaw tightened and I cringed at his hurt expression.

“No, it’s not that.” I pressed my palms to his chest and looked away.

“Kate.” He spoke firmly. “Don’t hold out on me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

I took a deep breath, hoping he meant it. “I’ve been fantasizing about being used by you. About you coming and not letting me.”

His eyes narrowed skeptically. “Won’t that just frustrate you more?”

“It makes me hot in the dreams I’ve had. You just come up behind me and … do it. Really hard. And you love it, and that’s what makes me hot. Sometimes you just … jerk off on me.”

My cheeks were warm, even though I was talking to my own husband. I’d always been a vanilla girl, and I was embarrassed about the secret fantasies I’d been having.

Ryke looked into my eyes, seeming to consider what I’d said. “So it makes you hot in the dreams. But if I jerked off on you right now, would that turn you on?”