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He laughed, standing up, turning to me. “She has a point.”
“I’m not mad at either of you. But we’ve got enough things. You already have enough toys to keep you busy for a while.”
Avery pouted, looking from me to Ryker, who nodded.
“Excellent. So we’re done?” I asked.
“Avery wants to check out the playground,” Ryker said. “We can drop her there while we wait for the store to bring the sheets from the storage room.”
We dropped Avery off at the playground, where a supervisor assured us she wasn’t letting the kids out of her sight.
“Just say it,” Ryker said as we went up again on the escalator.
“What?”
“I know you’re dying to make fun of me.”
“Well....”
“I just don’t know how you say no,” he said.
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Practice.”
“Doubtful. She just has this look in her eyes, like her entire world revolves around buying this next thing.”
I was on a higher step than him, so I easily laced my arms around his neck, playing with his hair.
“Yeah... she’s good at blackmailing without even using words.”
Once we reached the floor, Ryker put one arm around my shoulders, keeping me close. When he nibbled at my earlobe, I elbowed him lightly.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“I’ve been dying to touch you for hours. Didn’t want to do it with Avery watching.”
“How about everyone watching right now?”
“Don’t give a fuck about them.”
Warmth coursed through me, rising to my cheeks.
“Fuck, I love seeing you blush. Especially because I know how far this blush spreads.” He dragged the back of his fingers from my cheek down to my neck, and then lower still, only stopping at the neckline of my dress. That warmth instantly turned to heat. I licked my lips, pulling slightly away, needing fresh air. The combo of cologne and testosterone was not easy to resist.
The bedsheets were supposed to be delivered to the cash register on the main floor, but the woman working behind it informed us it’d take a while until they’d be here.
“You’re welcome to look around until then,” she finished.
“Thanks,” Ryker said. We moved along the counter toward the back, where there were no buyers.
Now that we had time for a breather, I took time to admire him for the first time today. He wore a light blue shirt and jeans and looked simply delectable. He was just getting hotter by the day.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Blushing, I turned around, glancing down at the glass counter.
“That you’re basically like George Clooney. Getting sexier all the time. When you’re fifty, you’re going to be winning sexiest man of the year awards, and I’m just going to keep out of the pictures so I don’t cramp your style.”
“Already imagining us at fifty?”
