Chapter Twenty Eight: His ego

Aurora POV
Ryker swung his legs out of bed. “I’m going to clean up.”

My eyes raked over his muscled body, mesmerized by the hard planes, the ridges of his six-pack, and the narrow V of his hips. I was attracted to his body, which was a relief. My gaze dipped even lower, and the blood on his penis drove heat into my head. I looked away. I had been staring too long anyway. Looking down at myself, I cringed at the sight of my smeared inner thighs—a disgusting mix of blood and sperm. I slid out of bed, taking in the mess on the linens A small mortified sound slipped out of me.

“Are you all right?” Ryker rumbled somewhere behind me.
I turned, grimacing. “Do we really have to show these sheets?” “That was the point of us sleeping together.”
Ouch. “So, you only slept with me because of the presentation of the sheets?”

Now that we were married, I wanted Ryker to be attracted to me. It seemed a horrible fate to spend your life with someone who couldn’t bear touching you. I definitely enjoyed the sight of his body. His touch was still unfamiliar and sex had been painful, but it hadn’t been the ordeal my mother and a few of my aunts had made it out to be. I could imagine enjoying it very much, especially Ryker ’s mouth between my legs.

Ryker regarded me strangely, as if I was an unknown creature. Then he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m a man.”
I headed toward him, also in need of a shower. I felt sticky and sore between my legs. “Is that a reply?” I asked curiously.
Ryker stepped into the bathroom, and I followed him. His eyes traveled over my body, sending an unfamiliar shiver down my back. Now that he’d seen me naked, I didn’t really see the point in covering myself, and he didn’t look as if he minded. Quite the contrary.
I picked up my pace when I felt something trickling out of me and practically leaped inside the shower. Sighing, I relaxed, glad to have avoided a mess.
“You can shower first,” Ryker said.
“We can shower together.” I flushed. “I mean, why waste water? There’s enough room for both of us.”
The corners of Ryker ’s mouth twitched. “Save water, right?” He stepped into the shower. With him inside, there wasn’t as much room as I’d thought, and suddenly the realization set in that despite what had happened, we were still very much strangers. I focused on the shower gel, trying to ignore Ryker ’s presence as I soaped up my body. It was impossible. Ryker was everywhere. His heat singed my back. His manly scent still clung to me, overpowering the shower gel.
He didn’t say anything, only cleaned himself. From the corner of my eye, I saw him rub his cock clean of my blood. Soon the water at our feet was a soft pink. As I cleaned myself between my legs, I winced at how tender and sore I felt.
“It should be better in a couple of days,” he said.
I turned halfway so I could look at his face but wouldn’t bump into him —which didn’t even make sense considering we’d been much closer only a few minutes before. “That long? I thought I’d be fine tomorrow.”

The shadow of the past crossed his face, his ocean eyes becoming tumultuous. What had happened between his wife and him? “We’ll see,”

was all he said, and then he turned off the water. He reached for a towel and handed it to me before he gripped one for himself. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself.
I watched him as I wrapped the towel around me. Physically, we’d been as close as two people could get, but emotionally we were worlds apart. We’d share the bed again—because I’d seen the desire in Ryker ’s gaze and because I wanted to. On an emotional level, however, getting closer to my husband would be difficult, I could tell already.

He moved to the washbasin and brushed his teeth. Watching him doing that felt more intimate than being naked in front of him. His expression was guarded. Only briefly during sex it had been anything else. I slinked out of the bathroom, giving him privacy. I’d already gone through my evening routine. I’d mostly managed to keep my hair dry during our shower and didn’t want to blow-dry it with him in the room. How could all these mundane activities feel too personal after what we’d just done?

Dropping the towel on the bench, I grabbed my nightgown from the floor and pulled it over my head. Trying to ignore the stain on the sheet, and still seeing it, because I simply couldn’t not see it, I slipped under the covers.
I’d been tired before. I wasn’t now. My body still hummed with adrenaline. When Ryker emerged ten minutes later in low-cut black pajama bottoms, my eyes traveled over him. Many men gained weight once they were married, not enough to be frowned upon by their Capo, but enough to cover up whatever muscles they’d worked hard for in their younger years. Ryker hadn’t. Every inch of him was pure muscle. Nothing soft about this man—not his body, expression, or eyes. If he noticed my silent scrutiny, he didn’t comment. Instead, he got into bed but left enough room to fit another person between us.

Weren’t we going to snuggle against each other? It was something I’d wished for from a marriage.
In the last few years, snuggles had been absent from my life. I wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend, who might have given them to me, and I was too old to seek that kind of closeness with my father. My mother had never been the type to show her affection on a physical level to begin with.

I’d hoped that marriage would open the door to affection that went beyond sex. I wanted to be held and cuddled. Maybe I had been foolish to think Ryker was someone who would be up for that.