Chapter Thirteen

THE CHALLENGE

Ryker leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed as he watched Lyra stretch on her tiptoes to reach for a glass in the upper cupboard.

She was muttering to herself, frustration clear in every sharp movement. He couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at his lips—there was something disarming about the sight.

But disarming wasn’t the right word for Lyra. She was dangerous, an irritation he hadn’t anticipated. And that unpredictability was as maddening as it was enchanting.

When she didn’t notice him after a few seconds, he stepped inside, his movements deliberate.

“Need help?”

Lyra jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning to face him with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He ignored the question, closing the distance between them with measured steps. Her gaze flicked to the cupboard, and she quickly turned back to try again, pretending he wasn’t there.

She stretched higher this time, but the glass was still out of reach. Ryker raised an eyebrow, watching her determination with an amused expression.

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“I don’t need your help,” she snapped without looking back.

“Clearly.”

He came up behind her, his presence looming as his arm reached past her head with ease. His hand wrapped around the glass and brought it down, his movements unhurried. She froze, her body stiffening at his closeness.

“Here,” he said, holding the glass just out of her reach.

She turned to face him, her jaw tight. “You’re blocking me,” she said evenly, refusing to back away.

He leaned slightly forward, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “Am I?”

The challenge was unspoken, but it hung heavy between them. He wasn’t going to move.

“Give me the glass, Ryker.” Her voice was steady, but her hands clenched at her sides.

He tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved yet. Then, slowly, he handed it over, his fingers brushing hers as she snatched it from his grip.

She took a step back, putting space between them, but he closed the gap almost immediately, his eyes tracking her every move.

“Do you know what happens when you push someone too far, Jane?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She set the glass on the counter behind her, her chin lifting as she met his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, though there was a slight quake in her voice.

Ryker chuckled, the sound deep and unsettling. “You should be.”

Her hands clenched tighter. “You think intimidation will work on me? Newsflash, Ryker—it won’t.”

“Is that so?” He stepped closer, his body towering over hers. She tried to sidestep, but his arm shot out, caging her against the counter.

Her breath hitched, but she refused to look away. “You’re just a bully in a suit,” she said through gritted teeth.

His smirk widened, and his other hand moved to her chin, tilting her face up. “You think that’s all I am?” His thumb brushed her jawline, a deceptively gentle touch that only heightened the tension crackling between them.

“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice firm but quieter now.

Ryker didn’t move. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Not until you admit what we both know.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what’s that?”

“That you feel this, too.”

For a moment, she said nothing, her chest rising and falling with each quickened breath. Then she shook her head, her voice sharp.

“You’re delusional.”

His expression darkened, and without warning, he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. His lips crashed against hers, fierce and demanding.

She struggled, her hands pushing against his chest, but he held her firmly, his grip unyielding. His kiss was a battle—raw and unapologetic. His hands moved possessively over her body, sliding to her waist and pulling her even closer.

Her resistance faltered for just a moment, her body betraying her as heat coursed through her veins.

She hated herself for the way her lips parted, for the way her fingers clutched at his shirt despite everything screaming at her to stop.

Finally, she managed to break free, shoving him back with all her strength. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, her voice shaking.

Ryker’s chest heaved as he stared at her, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “What’s wrong with me?” he repeated, his tone mocking. “I could ask you the same thing. You say no, but your body says otherwise.”

Her hand shot up, and she slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed in the silence that followed.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she said, her voice trembling with both anger and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Ryker’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, but when he turned back to her, there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

He touched his jaw, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “There she is,” he said softly, almost to himself.

She blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You,” he said simply, stepping closer again. She backed away until the counter dug into her lower back. “The real you. The one who doesn’t play nice.”

“I’m not playing anything,” she bit out.

“Oh, but you are,” he murmured, his hand brushing against her cheek. She flinched but didn’t move away. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Jane. And the thing about games?” His hand slid to her throat, not squeezing but holding her in place.

“I always win.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs, but she forced herself to glare at him. “You’re sick,” she spat.

His thumb brushed her pulse point, and his smirk returned. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re in my world now. And you’re not going anywhere.”

With that, he stepped back, his absence leaving her feeling unsteady and off-balance.

“This isn’t over,” he said as he turned to leave, his tone almost casual.

She didn’t respond, too stunned to speak. But as the door clicked shut behind him, she finally exhaled, her hands trembling as she gripped the counter for support.

“He’s a bully, but I won’t let him win. No matter what it takes. She sighed running a hand through her hair.

“I need to get out of here”