Page 36 of Death Rydes Shotgun

A sudden, vivid wave of memories flashes behind my eyes, making my breath hitch in my throat.

The brutal, dominating pressure of his lips crushing against mine behind the tractor.

The cold possession and intoxicating danger on his tongue. The weight of his hands sliding over my skin, the way my body flushed hot and desperate under his touch, and the agonizing ache that still burns deep between my thighs.

I want him. God help me, I still burn for him, even knowing he’s a monster.

Ryder strikes a spark, using his pocketknife against a piece of flint from his kit, feeding the tiny flame with dry pine shavings until a crackling orange light erupts in the dark.

The sight of him has left me completely mesmerized.

The dancing flames cast long, flickering shadows across his broad frame, catching the rich, deep tones of his mahogany skin. The firelight paints his rich skin in shades of warm, burnt bronze, highlighting the sharp, lethal cuts of his jaw and the massive width of his shoulders.

Suddenly, his gaze cuts sideways, catching me staring.

I instantly drop my gaze to the dirt floor, my cheeks flushing hot with shame.

Who the fuck is this person I’m turning into whenever he’s near?

I don’t shy away from any man.

The slow, heavy crunch of his boots over the dry straw signals his approach.

There’s no rush in his steps. He stalks over to me like a predator closing in on cornered prey, stopping so close the heat radiates off his body before he even touches me.

A single, thick finger reaches out, hooking beneath my chin.

He tilts my head up, forcing me to meet his burning stare.

“You don’t need to hide from me, Harmony.” His voice drops to that low, gravelly rumble that sends heat straight down to my core.

He slides down the wooden beam, taking a seat on the ground right beside me. The second he settles next to my side, my entire body reacts.

The sheer, overwhelming heat of his body rolls off him in waves, cutting straight through the chill in the air.

His scent mimics fresh rain, cold night air, and the sharp, smoky scent of soot from the fire. It is an intoxicating, heady combination that makes my head spin and my pulse hammer against my ribs.

Ryder shifts, leaning his elbow on his knee as he stares into the crackling flames.

“You promised me a secret in the maze. Tell me about you and the history teacher,” he whispers in a terrifyingly sharp voice.

A heavy silence settles between us, filled only by the roar of the rain outside and the popping of dry wood in the center of the open space. Ryder cracked the barn door, so we wouldn’t suffocate from the smoke.

I swallow hard, my throat dry, fighting the urge to pull away from his side.

“It wasn’t a romance.”

I’m barely audible above the storm. I fucking hate talking about this, but I did promise him a truth.

“It was... a mistake. It started in summer school before my senior year. Marcus was my history teacher. He made me feel like I was special, like I was older than I was. It carried on through the fall and into the middle of the school year. Sneaking around after hours, meeting in his car, and behind the bleachers.”

Beside me, Ryder’s entire frame locks up into stone.

The warmth emanating from his skin shifts to cold, a frightening, overwhelming surge of sheer fury washing over him in waves. His jaw sets in a hard line, his knuckles turning white as his hands clench into tight fists over his knees.

Ryder growls, his voice dropping into a dark, lethal register that makes the hair on my arms stand up. “That fucker needed to die. Taking advantage of a student like that. He was a predator.”

I flick my gaze to his, watching the murderous storm churning in his eyes.