“None of their reasons are legit—no matter how either of us chooses to sugarcoat it—but like I said, it is what it is.” I stand and shove my belongings into my satchel. “So what’s the deal? Are we cool?”
Madeline rises with a smile. “Yeah. We’re good, Amber. I think I get you.”
“Nice. Not many people do,” I say, fully aware that a small hole inside has been filled . . . even if it’s just a little. “Thanks again for what you did. I owe you. I’ll figure out some twisted, fun way to pay you back. Maybe Hailey’s head on a platter?” I tap my chin, seriously pondering the idea. “You can showcase it next to the apple fritters.”
She giggles, her brow drawn up. “You’re scaring me again. You’re good at this.”
“I am.” I laugh, turning toward the exit. “But you have nothing to fear. Just get the bakery section prepped.”
I push open the door and hear her drop another giggle, this one holding a hint of genuine nervousness. I can’t help but wonder if she thinks I’m serious. As I get into my car—destination: Ryder’s place, buried deep in the ’hood—I can’t help but wonder the same thing.
• • •
I’m pretty sure the crazed southwest Baltimore neighborhood of Edmondson Village can hear the loud pounding of my heart, which is currently trying to leap out of my chest. As I wait for Ryder to open his door, I’ve decided I’m being paranoid. I killed a blunt on the way over, so one must assume Mary Jane’s driving some of my thoughts.
Before I can swallow the pasty saliva coating my dry mouth, the door swings open, revealing my darkest nightmare and wettest dream. As my breathing hitches, the normal sledge-like paradox I’ve become accustomed to hits me. My toes curl with want for Ryder that I know I shouldn’t have. But I do. I do so much, it makes me feel dirty.
Hatred—rooted somewhere between wanting him and despising the fact that I do—simmers in my stomach. Its scorching flames lick across every organ in my body as I allow my gaze to drift over his shirtless chest. Starting at the right side of his neck, my eyes follow a devil’s horns and body along the muscled curve of his shoulder, its spiked tail fading into Ryder’s name, etched in intricate black tribal ink above his heart.
With the corner of his mouth curled up in that cocky I’m an asshole smirk he’s known for, he scratches at his balls—which are hidden beneath a pair of navy blue basketball shorts—and rolls his head from side to side. “I’m a little busy right now, peach. I figured you might get bored with Brock, but the chick on my couch may not be down with me inviting you in.” He kicks me a wink, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I’ll shoot you a text after I bring her home. We’ll get our sex on then.”
“You’re a dick.” My hand darts up to smack his cheek.
He catches my wrist before it can connect. My other hand automatically shoots up and experiences the same treatment from his free hand.
“Let go of me, Ryder!”
“Now why the fuck would I do that?” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his smirk widening as his blue eyes flitter across my face. “Besides the fact that you’re trying to smack me again, I’m kind of digging this. I bet you’re a feisty little one in bed.” He tugs on my wrists, my chest pressed to his as I attempt to breathe. “Mm. Yeah, I have no doubt you are. I’d gladly welcome whatever torture you see fit. But this smacking shit’s getting played out, momma. At least while lube, lingerie, and sweat aren’t involved. Let’s switch it up a bit. Sound good?”
I push up on my tiptoes, my lips grazing his ear. “I thought you were never going to fuck with me again? There goes that willpower.”
“A man has his limits,” he whispers, his grip on my wrists tightening. “Apparently you love testing mine.”
“I can’t say that I don’t. But I can say that if you don’t let go of me, your balls are my next target.” A smirk dusts my lips as his vanishes. “How’s that for a switch up and a test?”
“Please don’t hurt my brother,” a meek voice says from behind Ryder.
Spine tightening, I step back, my nervous gaze landing on the crystal blue eyes of what I’m sure is an angel. Hairless head wrapped in a hot pink bandana, porcelain skin famished of color, and tiny lips quivering, she clutches a teddy bear as she offers me a dollar bill.
“Here.” She stares up at me, her eyes glassed over. “Mommy paid me my allowance. I can give you this if you promise not to hurt him.”
“I, uh,” I stammer, my attention floating between her and Ryder.
Appearing marginally entertained, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb, watching me sweat my way through this beyond-mortifying experience.
Sure I’ve slammed a dent into her childhood, I kneel in front of her, hoping to undo the damage. “I don’t want your money, sweetie.”
“Then you’re going to hurt him?” A tear slips from her eye. “I lied. I have two dollars. I can give you those.”
It’s official. I’m the devil.
“I have candy too,” she continues, her voice shaky. “Do you like candy? I can give you a Hershey bar and two dollars.”
“I love Hershey bars.” I shake my head, a slow smile lifting my mouth. “And I was never going to hurt your brother.”
“But you said you were going to hurt his balls.”
Yep. The devil. Open up the ground and toss me in with the fucker.