Ryker rubbed a hand over his face and headed for the garage. Work on the bike. Clear his head. Anything to keep from thinking about how sweet she’d sounded coming undone for him.
Rebekah pressed her back to the closed door, heart racing, a secret thrill curling in her chest. He’d resisted. Barely. But the crack in his armor was there—raw, visible, trembling.
She had time. And she wasn’t done pushing.
Not by a long shot.
The rest of the morning passed in careful silence. Ryker disappeared into the garage, the metallic clang of tools and the occasional rev of an engine drifting through the house. Rebekah made herself useful in small ways—washing the few dishes in the sink, straightening the living room, anything to keep her hands busy while her mind replayed every heated word in the kitc
