Page 16 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Maddy

Ilost count of how many laps I’ve done on the ice while waiting for Ryker to show up to our skating session today.

Nerves fire off inside of me like cannonballs. I feel like my entire nervous system is out of whack.

I’ve felt like this ever since the elevator incident last week, when we kissed and he made me come with his hand.

Heat simmers through my body, even though it’s cold in the rink. I still can’t believe it.

Sometimes when I think about it, it feels like a dream—like it didn’t really happen.

But then I remember the kiss. The way Ryker held my face in his hands and kissed me slow and teasing, then hard.

I think about the things he said to me.

You’re so greedy, princess.

I hate that nickname. But in the moment, it was hot. It turned me on like crazy.

So did the way he made me say “please” over and over when I wanted more than just a kiss.

I think about how big and thick his fingers felt inside of me, how they filled me up…how it made me think about his cock…

I think about how he teased my clit until I came, screaming into his mouth.

I think about how I would have given anything to stay in that elevator with him so I could feel his cock buried deep inside of me…

A faint pulse hits my clit, and I let out a shaky breath.

Every night since then, I’ve played with myself to the memory of that elevator hookup with Ryker. I wonder if he’s thought about it as many times as I have.

I shouldn’t be doing that. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.

But I can’t help it. That was hands-down the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

As much as it turned me on, I need to talk to him about it, so we can clear the air. I should have asked him to talk right after it happened, but I was too flustered. I needed to be alone.

Maybe it won’t be weird. Maybe we can both admit it was fun and hot and wild and move on.

“Hey.”

I glance up and see Ryker standing at the edge of the ice. I take in the hard angles of his face, how tall and broad he is.

I forget to breathe. He looks so fucking good.

I swallow hard and skate over to him on wobbly legs.

“Hi.” My voice is on the edge of squeaky. I clear my throat. “So, um, about the other day. In the elevator.”

His eyebrows crash together, an unreadable expression on his face. “You’re not mad, are you?”

I frown, confused. “No. Why would I be?”

He rubs the back of his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I was just worried you might be upset at what I did.” He huffs out a breath. “If you want to report me to HR, I’d understand.”

I lean back, shocked at what he just said.

“I don’t want to report you, Ryker.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, looking at me with an embarrassed look in his bourbon brown eyes.

It takes a second for me to put it together.

“Wait, do you think I’m not okay with what we did?” I ask. He just shrugs.

My mouth hangs open. “Ryker, I thought it was pretty clear that I was into it.”

His jaw bulges as he swallows again. “Yeah, but you were upset. You were having a panic attack. I was just trying to think of a way to help you.”

The slow-moving gears of my brain finally put it all together. Our hookup meant something different for Ryker than it did for me.

For me, it was hot and lustful and wild.

For him, it was rooted in pity. He wasn’t into it the way I was.

It feels like I’ve been suckerpunched in the gut. Well, now I have the answer to my question.

Of course he hasn’t been fantasizing about our hookup—or me. Everything he did, everything he said, wasn’t because he was into me. It was because he pitied me.

A sinking feeling washes over me. That’s all I am to him. The spoiled princess figure skater, daughter of a billionaire, who’s also a claustrophobic weirdo.

I finally register the look on his face: he feels sorry for me. Nothing else.

I start to hunch over out of shame, but I force myself to stand up straight. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling all my defenses fall back into place.

“Are you going to use this against me?” I ask, my tone sharp.

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to use the way I acted in the elevator as another reason why you don’t want to work with me?” I swallow hard, through the ache in my throat at how humiliated I feel right now.

His frown deepens as he shakes his head. “Maddy, do you really think I’d do that? Do you really think I’d go to Coach Porter and tell him I don’t want to work with you because you’re claustrophobic?”

I shrug. He lets out a bitter laugh and tugs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with me.

He turns to me, pinning me with a hard gaze. “No. I’m not gonna do that. Why do you think I showed up to our lesson in the first place? I’m here to work with you.”

“Fine. Then let’s get to work.”

I skate off.

“Hang on, we need to talk about this.”

I spin around and glare at him. “No, we don’t. Let’s just forget it ever happened, okay?”

He stares at me for a long second. “That’s what you want?”

I almost laugh at how surprised he sounds. This is clearly what he wants, especially after he made that comment about me going to HR.

“It’s what I want,” I say.

He looks even more worked up now.

I exhale quietly, even more confused. Whatever. I’m done thinking about this.

“Let’s get started,” I say.

He follows me to the center of the ice.

“We’re doing figure eight drills,” I say. “I want you to alternate using the inside edge of your blade, then the outside edge.”

He nods, then takes off down the ice. I study his form, observing how he maintains good knee bend, even with his injured knee.

When he reaches the end of the ice, I tell him to do the drill again, only backwards this time.

“Again,” I say when he reaches me.

He catches his breath, aiming a pointed look at me. The memory of him saying that word to me in the elevator as I pleaded for more floats between us.

My skin tingles and I’m suddenly hot all over.

I swallow hard and look at him, ignoring the tension in the air.

“Again.”