Their conversation waned, and they each curled up on their side of the bed, hugging the edge to keep from touching. Their magical bed was having none of it and dipped in toward the middle.
They crashed into each other, GiGi bumping her nose on Ryker’s solid chest. “Ouch!”
He chuckled softly as she wiggled her nose. “Come here, sweetheart.”
“I—”
“Trust me. We’ll fight this bed all night if you don’t.”
“I’m not having sex with you,” she stated primly.
“I wasn’t suggesting you do. I intended to hold you while you sleep. It’s the only way we are going to get any rest.”
As he watched, she seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she nodded and scooted back to allow him to spoon.
After ten minutes, Ryker could hear the subtle shift of GiGi’s breathing, indicating she was asleep. He inhaled deeply. Earlier tonight, he’d been furious with Alastair for the trick he’d played. Now, he was feeling a bit more magnanimous. Sure, his marriage issues hadn’t all been resolved, but perhaps now he had a chance.
GiGi was receptive in a way she hadn’t been since the unfortunate event, as he considered it. She had listened without judgment or ridicule. Perhaps it meant she was softening. Or maybe she was well and truly done. If she really intended to move on, she would seek closure. The only way she would achieve it would be to talk the issue through.
Dread curled around his heart and squeezed. His stomach churned at the idea of facing life without her. Sure, they’d been separated for a little over fifteen years, but he’d been able to check up on her. He would have been there for her in an instant should she need him. But if they divorced, he would be on the outside of the Thorne family, no longer welcome or able to call them his.
He was swamped with sadness. A deep melancholy that permeated his bones and made him want to weep. He’d missed so much regarding the family already: the Thorne sisters growing up, meeting their mates. All the years of not being able to make love to GiGi or wake with her in his arms were moments he could never get back.
GiGi wiggled and backed her ass into his groin. He groaned aloud, and she stirred slightly.
“Ryker,” she said on an exhale.
Unable to help himself, he placed his arm around her waist and buried his face in her abundance of blonde hair. Again she shifted, pressing back into him. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head, and he prayed to whatever god or goddess would listen that he developed the strength to get through the night. Hiding his hard-on was out of the question, but maybe he wouldn’t embarrass himself by begging GiGi for sexual favors.
He must’ve eventually dozed off because the next thing he became aware of was the sun streaming through the curtains. It lit on his wife’s golden head, and the beauty of the moment made him catch his breath in wonder.
Her eyelids fluttered, and in slow increments, she woke. When she focused those devastating violet-blue eyes on him, they softened and she smiled.
“Ryker,” she whispered, touching his face.
He shut his eyes and let her fingers wander. As they got to his lips, he gently sucked them into his mouth.
Her light, breathy laugh made him instantly hard.
“Say the word, sweetheart. Please, please, please say the word.”
Her hand dropped, and he opened his eyes to stare at her. Gone was the warmth from seconds before, and in its place was cool caution.
“I’m getting out of bed now,” she warned.
To say he was disappointed was to put it mildly, but he refused to let it show. “On three?”
She nodded.
He bunched the sheet toga-style around his body and inched toward the edge of the bed. She shifted to the far side, and they rose in unison.
“Look at us, working together,” he quipped with a grin.
“Well, thankfully that’s over. Let’s figure out how to break out of this prison,” she said feelingly.
Prison. She would definitely view time with him that way. Ryker looked away and, for the first time, noticed the changes to their bedroom—or her bedroom. Not one item of his remained. His stomach flipped over. Some damned spy he was when he missed the differences the night before.
“I see you’ve redecorated.”
Her eyes traveled the room. “Yes.”
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks.”
Because their conversation was turning awkward as hell, he strode to the bathroom.
GiGi appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. “None of your toiletries are here, Ryker.”
“I can see that. Do you have a spare toothbrush, or should I conjure my own?”
“In the upper cabinet between the vanities.”
They brushed their teeth, each of them at a separate sink. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the most marriage-like action they’d had in forever. Still, it was a far cry from their old routine. Once, they would have shared the same sink. They would have exchanged light, flirty kisses throughout the teeth-brushing process.
He’d been a fool to come back here. Each memory was tainted by lies and pain. They were like open, gangrenous sores that would never heal.
“If you don’t mind, I need to use the toilet.” The light pink flush on her cheeks spoke of her uncomfortableness with the subject.
“Of course,” he returned. The politeness between them tickled his gag reflex and made him want to hurl. “I’ll go conjure breakfast. Do you prefer coffee or tea?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll fix my own.”
Unable to be courteous a second longer and certainly not trusting himself to speak, he left.
In the kitchen, he opened the cupboard to get down a coffee mug only to find it bare. Frowning, he moved to another cabinet. Again, bare. He tried one more before he gave up and moved to the refrigerator. Nothing. He got a sinking feeling that grew exponentially when he found the pantry empty as well.
He was leaning back against the kitchen island when GiGi finally joined him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Seems you’re out of mugs, plates, and silverware. I didn’t bother to check for pots or pans.”
As if she didn’t believe him, she rushed to the closest cabinet and pulled open the door. She repeated the action for five cabinets. No one could say she wasn’t stubborn or determined.
“What the hell?” she demanded. With her fists on hips, she faced him. “Your prank or Alastair’s?”
He held up his hands and tried to give the impression of complete innocence. It was hard to do when she glowered there in all her glorious fury and all he wanted to do was leap over the counter to ravish her.
“That rotten bastard,” she swore. “I swear to the Goddess, when I see him again, I’m going to rip out his guts and hang them from the nearest flagpole.”
They both blinked in wonder as her bra disappeared.
GiGi crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh!”
Ryker was forced to look away from her heaving bosom or show his own flagpole standing at full mast.
She exited the room in a huff, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief. If left to stare at her mostly naked form, he didn’t think he would hold out long. The animal inside was struggling to break free. After such a long hiatus from sex and a night of holding the love of his life within the circle of his arms, Ryker’s libido was on a hair-trigger.
A few minutes later, as Ryker was practicing Zen breathing techniques to cool his ardor, GiGi returned with the chenille throw tied like a towel around her torso.
“Have you tried conjuring utensils?” she asked in a controlled tone. Not easy for her to do, he was sure.
Eyes downcast to hide his amusement, he nodded. “Yep.”
“Food?”
“Yep.”
“Are we expected to starve?”
The shrillness of her tone set his ears to ringing.
“If I had to guess, we need to work together again,” he returned.
He was positive he heard her growl out “fine.”
She inhaled a deep breath that strained the limits of the valiant lap blanket, and asked, “How do you suggest we go about this?”
“Again with the loaded questions. Obviously it’s been too long if you’re asking things of that nature.”
A short laugh was the reward for his teasing.
“Okay, in all honesty, I’m not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t conjure food or dishes, so maybe you should try.”
Her attempt failed spectacularly. She cast him a worried glance. “Do you think this is an oversight on my brother’s part?”
“No. When have you ever known your brother not to think of everything or have a contingency plan?”
“Right. So what’s the trick?”
“I’m not sure. Knowing Alastair, it could be anything. He’s a sneaky bastard. I can say that now because I have no more clothing to lose.”
“Think he’ll steal your sheet?” Her eyes lit with laughter and maybe a little interest. The interest was most likely wishful thinking on Ryker’s end.
“If he does, try to contain yourself.”
“My hysteria or falling on you in a lustful attack?”
He grinned, able to find the humor in the situation, and perhaps because a flirty GiGi always made him smile. “I will not fight off a lustful attack. I may, however, be a little irked if you laugh hysterically at my predicament.”
With a prudent change of the subject and a slight smile still remaining, she asked, “When you tried to conjure your food, what did you think about? Or more precisely, did you only think about food for yourself?”
“Yes. You?”
“The same. Perhaps because he intends us to work together for the benefit of the other, I should try to conjure food for you, and you should try for me.”
“It’s worth a shot. What would you like to eat?”
“I’ll take a croissant and a small cup of berries, please.”
Sure enough, Ryker was able to produce her breakfast. “Your turn. I’d like an omelet and croissant, please.”
Within moments, his piping-hot food was sitting on a plate in front of him.
“Thank you! Is coffee too much to hope for?” Ryker asked as he reached for his French pastry. The plate flew across the counter and came to an abrupt stop in front of GiGi. “What the hell?”
GiGi’s wide-eyed gaze locked on the plate. She shoved the dish back toward him. His hand didn’t make it halfway to its objective before his food slid back to GiGi.
Ryker picked up his wife’s breakfast and walked to her side of the counter to place it there. Sure enough, as she reached for the croissant, it slid out of reach.
“Try to handle my food,” he instructed as he reached for hers. “Since I can touch yours, and you can touch mine, but we can’t touch our own, what does that tell you?”
“That my brother should die a slow, painful death.” Her eyes flared wide, and Ryker suspected she’d lost the last material barrier between her and bare-assed.
He chuckled. “The gods of mischief made off with your panties, did they?”
“I don’t suppose we will be able to eat unless we feed one another, will we?” she said with a resigned sigh.
“That appears to be the case.”
He ripped off a small piece of her croissant and held it to her mouth. The color flooding her face as she ate the food made him squirm inside. He hated her uncomfortableness. Hated that she was forced to endure his presence when she wanted anything but. Yet when her lips gently closed over his fingers, and her wary gaze met his, there was a deeper emotion hidden within the violet-blue depths.
She duplicated his gesture with his pastry, and Ryker resisted the urge to nip her fingers. On and on the feeding went, each bite more erotic than the last as fingers and lips lingered.
GiGi wasn’t blind to the spell being woven around her and Ryker. Each touch of his fingers against her lips brought to mind their relationship when things like this were almost a daily occurrence. Neither she nor Ryker had considered feeding the other a strawberry or a bite of toast out of the ordinary. Indeed, it had almost always ended up with the two of them making love.
GiGi also wasn’t blind to Ryker’s building arousal. It was hard to ignore when he was only covered by a sheet. She suspected he had picked up on her own signs of desire. The most telling of all would be the heat in her cheeks. Resisting those bedroom eyes of his—the ones that saw everything whether she wished them to or not—was next to impossible. A single look was able to singe her. Did she continue to fight the attraction? Why, when she wanted him too?
“One last time,” she murmured softly.
“What’s that?” He leaned closer to hear.
“You and me. Sex. One last time.” The words came out as jumbled as they were in her brain. She frowned when he did. “What’s wrong?”
“No, GiGi. I don’t think so.”
The sadness and resignation on his face disturbed her. “I don’t understand. You’ve been teasing about sex since you returned.”
“Not sex, sweetheart. Making love. And I don’t want one last time. I want forever.” Ryker dusted his hands of crumbs and left her sitting with her mouth hanging open.
The rejection stung, but she understood his reluctance. It was going to be hard enough to walk away as things already were, but if they complicated the ending with sex—she wouldn’t think of it as making love, couldn’t really—then their parting was likely to be more difficult still.
With slow precision, she rose and brought the dishes to the sink. As she washed their plates, she wondered how long they’d be forced to endure this exquisite torture. For that’s what it was. This game of Alastair’s was a constant reminder of times gone by. A time when she and Ryker were hot and crazy for each other. Being trapped here with him was slowly eating away at her determination. All she wanted to do was forgive the past and welcome him back with open arms. Yet, she’d be a fool to do so.
Despite what Ryker said, there was no doubt in GiGi’s mind that he would grow bored without danger and intrigue to entertain him. How was she supposed to trust him to put her first? It was all she had ever wanted: to be first. Instead, she had been ever the convenient spouse, available whenever he decided to return home. There were times when she went weeks without hearing from him, and she remained in a constant state of worry until the day he returned. He’d ease her fears, make mad, passionate love to her, then disappear again after a few days.
No, she couldn’t do that again. She wasn’t cut out to be the wife of a spy. Not for one moment did she believe Ryker could walk away from his career. His identity was wrapped up in what he did. Having lost so many people who mattered to her—most recently her brother Preston—GiGi couldn’t take any more death.