Captive (11 page)

“Mr. Ryker, can I get a picture with you?” a gangly boy with dark curls asked.

“Of course,” he said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Wyatt … sir.” His voice cracked nervously and my heart went out to him.

“What do you play, man?”

“I’m a Center, like you. I mean, not
like you
, because I’d never say that. But just that like you’re a Center, so am I.”

Poor kid. His face was flaming with embarrassment. The other players were being ushered into the Winnipeg locker room, but Wyatt hung back with us.

“Cool. Can you get this picture, babe?”

I nodded and Wyatt handed me his smart phone. Ryke, who was twice as wide as Wyatt, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they both smiled. I snapped a few photos and handed the camera back.

Wyatt’s cheeks darkened again and he looked at Ryke nervously. “Could I, uh, get one with your wife, too?”

Ryke laughed heartily and met my eyes. “Listen to this kid. You gonna feel her up if I say yes?”

“No. No sir, I won’t.” He looked solemn, and Ryke smacked his shoulder playfully.

“I’m teasing, kid. Give me the phone.”

Wyatt approached me and stood with his hands at his sides. I tried to suppress my smile. Ryke winked at me and I reached my arms around Wyatt’s waist and leaned my head against his for the photo.

“Thank you,” he said when Ryke handed back the phone. “Thank you so much. And good luck with your season.”

“Thanks, man. You’re a good looking Center. Need to hit the weight room, though.”

“I will. I really will.”

“Alright, have a good night.”

When we turned, a man with a notebook approached Ryke and introduced himself as a sports reporter. Ryke shook his hand and reached into his coat pocket for his business card.

“I’m sorry, man, but my wife’s here from Chicago and I really want to see her. Could you give me a call tomorrow, maybe?”

The reporter agreed and took the card. Ryke pushed a steel door open and took my hand to lead me through.

“We can get outside from here and no one will see us,” he said. It was an empty hallway, and he pulled me back into his arms for another kiss.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, running his fingers over a section of my hair.

“Thanks for asking.”

“Are you being sarcastic because I didn’t actually ask?” He furrowed his brows and I laughed.

“No. I’m saying it felt good that you wanted me here.”

“I always want you with me.”

“I’m sorry for missing so many home games. I’m ready to go back.”

His eyes warmed and he kissed me again, soft and slow. “I’m more than ready to have you there again.”

“And I’ve been thinking … I want to get my tubes tied.”

He pulled back a bit and looked at me. “Where’s this coming from?”

“Just … after the other night I’ve been thinking a lot. You’re right, sex is an important part of our marriage, and I don’t want you to think I don’t want it. I do, I just … need us to adopt a baby as soon as we can, and I don’t know if we’ll get one if I’m pregnant. And since we decided to not get pregnant again, this will take care of that worry forever.”

Ryke shook his head, narrowing his eyes with concern. “You’ve been through enough already. I’ll get fixed.”

“Ah … you realize that involves a scalpel to your balls, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll get knocked out for it if I need to. It’s fine, baby. As soon as the season’s over.”

“But I can get my tubes tied right now and then we won’t have to wait. I want to.”

“Only because I was such an asshole the other night.”

“No. I wasn’t the nicest, either. I just don’t ever want to worry about getting pregnant again.”

“Why don’t you go to the doctor and find out which one of us it would be easier for?”

I nodded, relieved. It was going to be me, because I needed the closure it would bring.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Ryke said, pulling me down the hallway. He turned back and grinned. “You look great, by the way.”

His steps were so much bigger than mine that I had to jog to keep up. He pushed a door open and we emerged into the cold night air outside the arena. A row of cabs waited on the street, and Ryke rushed to one and opened the door for me. When he slid in, he gave the driver the name of his hotel and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me against him.

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been lately,” I said in a quiet tone near his ear.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I really, really want to get my tubes tied. Please tell me it’s okay with you. I can do it on your next road trip and be fine before you even get home.”

He lowered his brows. “That’s surgery. I’m not letting you get surgery without me there. I’ll get snipped, Kate.”

“It needs to be me,” I whispered, grateful the driver was jamming to loud music on the radio. “Something could happen to me and if you ever got remarried, you’d—”

His face crumpled with emotion and I felt bad for bringing it up after what happened to Maggie.

“Don’t say that,” he said, warning in his tone. “Go to the doctor and look into it, okay? But not because something’s gonna happen to you. I can’t even think about that.”

I reached up to lace my fingers in his dark, shower-damp hair.

Repeating his words, I met his warm brown eyes. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. You’re stuck with me until we’re both old and gray. This is something I need to do. Please understand.”

He leaned toward me and my heart raced like it was our first kiss. We’d been far apart for so long, even when we were right next to each other, but the distance closed when his lips touched mine. He cupped my cheek in his hand and kissed me slow and easy. For such a big, powerful man, his tenderness caught me by surprise sometimes. The caress of his mouth on mine made my skin tingle for more, and I moaned softly into his mouth. He knew my cues well. In an instant, his kiss grew deep and insistent.

When his tongue met mine, I was flooded with desire. I leaned in closer and he grabbed my waist with his huge hands, pulling me into his lap. My yelp of surprise was drowned by his lips. Straddling his lap, I pressed my body against his and let my hands explore his wide, muscled shoulders.

He wrapped his hand around the ends of my hair and pulled slowly, tipping my head back and exposing my neck to his mouth. I shivered from the brush of his soft beard when his lips met my bare skin. The hard lines of his muscled body were warm and perfect. I dug my hips into him, gasping at the shockwave caused by the close contact my thin leggings allowed with his erection. The rock hard feel of him between my thighs was reminder enough that my husband was sex-starved, but it was reinforced by his hot, heavy breathing against my neck.

Was the cab driver watching us get it on in his backseat? Screw it. I needed this – to be in the moment, thinking only of me and Ryke.

His mouth found mine again, and I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough. I’d missed every little thing that was distinctively my husband. The cinnamon taste of the mints he was always chewing. The warm, cedar scent of his cologne. And the way his huge arms encompassed my entire back, molding my body against his.

When his hands roamed beneath my dress to grip my ass and pull my hips against his, I moaned into his mouth. My body had missed his so badly. His hands moved higher, to unclasp my bra in a quick motion, and I tensed slightly.

“Shh,” he whispered against my lips. My coat still covered me, and the driver had his eyes on the road anyway. Ryke’s eyes were locked on mine as he slid his hands around to my front and cupped my breasts in his hands. He was breathing fast, and I let myself slide into a blissful state of thinking only of him in this moment.

Arousal swam through me from the feel of the steel rod I was grinding against. Nothing mattered but climbing higher and holding on to this feeling. Ryke pulled the front of my dress up and ran his tongue across one of my nipples. He nipped it lightly with his teeth and a jolt shot down my chest and through my thighs.

Though we’d been married almost a year, we were still discovering things about each other’s bodies. He moved his hands back to my breasts and pinched my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, his eyes staying on mine as he increased the pressure.

The harder he pinched, the deeper the burn between my legs became. He watched my face and squeezed harder. It hurt and was excruciatingly good at the same time. His face grew darker and more turned on as he gripped me harder. He pulled my nipples outward and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. The pleasure that was radiating through me from this pain was going to send me into an orgasm soon.

He let go suddenly and I whimpered, immediately missing the pressure. When he gently sucked each nipple, they were both so sensitive from the pain that I felt the caress of his moist lips more intensely than I ever had.

When the cab cruised to a smooth stop, I pulled my dress back down to my hips and climbed off Ryke’s lap. He quickly dug for his wallet and handed the driver several bills.

“Thanks, man,” he said. I stepped out of the car and he hurried out after me. He took my hand and pulled me through the tall glass doors of the upscale hotel and we made our way across the lobby in speedy silence.

The elevator doors were closing, but the dark-spotted hand of an older man sprang out at the last second to hold them. Ryke stepped aside to let me on first and then followed, pushing the button for the fifth floor. There were two other couples on the elevator, chatting about the restaurant they’d just eaten at.

“You kids ever been to Bistro Twelve?” one of the men asked, looking at us.

“No, we’re not from here,” Ryke said. I clutched his hand, digging my nails into his palm. If we were alone in the elevator, I’d be pressed against the wall right now with his hands under my dress.

“Where are you from?” The man had a neat white mustache and a warm smile.

“Chicago,” Ryke said.

“Ah, the windy city. What brings you to Canada?”

“Hockey. I play hockey,” Ryke said, stroking my wrist with his thumb.

“Well, you’re in the right country for that, son,” the older man said with a small laugh. “And this is your girlfriend?”

“My wife.”

The doors opened onto the fifth floor and we stepped off the elevator.

“You lovebirds have a good night,” the white-haired man said. Ryke nodded and smiled at the couples and I offered a small wave.

He pulled out his key card and carried it, ready, as he led me down the long hallway and around a corner. At Room 562, he slid the card and pushed the door open.

He pushed me against the wall with his powerful body, his hand running up my thigh and under my dress. I shifted my back and accidentally flipped the light switch on.

“Oh, shit.”

A woman’s voice made me turn. Lauren Monroe was sitting on the bed, naked. Ryke had turned too, but he spun his head around to the back of the door as soon as he saw her.

“What the fuck is this?” he yelled.

“You know what the fuck it is,” she muttered.

“Holy shit!” I cried. “I’d like to know what the fuck it is!”

“How the hell did you get in my room?” Ryke demanded.

“Like it’s really so hard? Groupies do it all the time.” Lauren was walking to the chair she’d left her clothes on, and I took in the long, graceful lines of her body. Her big, round boobs were perfect. And definitely bigger than mine.

“Not with me,” Ryke said, shaking his head. The venom in his tone made me sure he hadn’t expected to find Lauren here. “Get your ass dressed.”

“What’s she doing here?” Lauren demanded, glaring at me as she put her clothes back on.

“What am I doing here?” I yelled, cutting off Ryke’s response. I stormed across the room toward her. “I’m his wife! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just offering what everyone knows he needs,” she said, narrowing her eyes and pushing her face up to mine. “A good lay. A great one, actually. I won’t cry or whine. Bet that’ll be a nice change for him.”

“Is she dressed?” Ryke’s voice was level, but laced with white-hot anger. Lauren had a shirt on and had pulled up her jeans, but I wasn’t ready for Ryke to turn around yet.

“No,” I said, turning back to her. “Listen, bitch. That’s
my
husband. His groupie-banging days are over. Take your desperation somewhere else because the only woman my husband will be fucking tonight – or any other night — is me.”

She laughed and shoved a finger in my face. “You? Please. Everyone knows he’s not getting any from you. He gets a hard-on when I walk past him.”

I’d never wanted to catfight until this moment. I wanted to jump this bitch, slap her across the face and pull her hair until she cried. My anger was simmering, close to the boiling point.

“If he wants you so bad, why did he ask me to come here tonight?” I asked innocently. “Why did he just feel me up in the taxi on the way here? Why’d you have to sneak into the room?”

Lauren’s expression morphed into hatred. How long had she been trying to get with Ryke, anyway?

“Kate?” Ryke demanded impatiently. “Is she dressed?”

“Yes.”

He turned and stormed across the room, rounding on Lauren.

“What the hell are you thinking? How many times have I told you no? This is the kind of shit that starts rumors! Get the fuck out of here! I swear if you try this again I’ll have you arrested for stalking.”

“Good luck. You know who my father is.” She folded her arms across her chest and smirked.

“I could give a shit who your father is. Jean doesn’t expect me to put up with sexual harassment. I’ve had it with this bullshit, Lauren, I’m serious.”

I picked up her designer bag and carried it to the door. She shook her head with disgust and walked to the door, where I shoved the bag into her chest.

“You may give my husband a hard-on, but I’m about to give him a hell of a lot more than that. Go share your diseases with one of the rookies.”

“You’re a frigid bitch,” she muttered, stepping out the door.

“And you’re a desperate whore. Goodnight.”

I closed the door and turned to Ryke.

“I swear to God I haven’t encouraged that,” he said.