Chapter 3

Jayden

Sunlight shines off the hood of my car, almost blinding me as I click my keys to unlock it. The college campus is bustling with students milling about, but my thoughts are already racing ahead to the night shift at Sand Dunes Bar Ryder is my little enigma, too wrapped up in his own world to notice someone like me.

A laughable thought really, considering Ryder Raines is the epitome of a walking, talking challenge—a man whose mere presence screams 'stay away if you value your sanity.' Yet here I am, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, or maybe like a puck to a hockey stick—irresistibly pulled in despite the inevitable crash.

With each step toward my apartment, I indulge in the fantasy of what will never be. How could someone like Ryder ever look at someone with freckles and fiery hair and see something worth exploring? He’s just another chapter in my book of untouchable dreams.

Real life isn't inside one of my steamy hockey books. I chastise myself, fumbling with my keys.

The apartment door clicks shut behind me, and I'm engulfed in the silence of my own space.

Memories from a few days ago race through my mind. Ryder was on the ice, a blur of muscle and focus, commanding the rink with an authority that made my pulse quicken.

I toss my keys onto the counter and lean against it, closing my eyes as another scene replays vividly.

The memory of Ryder's deep voice, laced with a hint of frustration, as he talked into his phone that night. He clearly asked if his dating match would be at an event he was invited to. Was he signed up to a dating service?

Ryder Raines looking for love? The notion stirs something daring within me. It feels ludicrous, really, considering the leagues separating us. He's a tangle of muscle and authority; and me—I'm more pixie than alarm.

I let out a chuckle. What has Mom and Dad always encouraged me to do? Go and chase down every single dream, no matter how far it seems to sprint away. Ryder, with his rugged jawline and those eyes, he's the kind of dream that keeps you up at night.

A flush creeps up my neck at the image of Ryder leaning against the bar, throwing me that smirk he often has on his face.

God, that man’s totally out of your league. Maybe so, but since when do I play by the rules?

My skin prickles with awareness, every nerve ending alight with the thought of him.

With a shake of my head, I push away from the counter. I need to get ready for work, but the thought of seeing him again is intoxicating.

I kick off my shoes and drop my bag on the floor with a satisfying thud. My body is hot and bothered, and my skin thrums with an energy that demands to be released. I make a beeline for my bed, kneeling to retrieve the worn shoebox tucked away beneath it. It's a hidden treasure trove for when the nights of longing becomes too much.

The lid comes off with a gentle tug, and there they are: my toys, my silent partners in this dance of fantasy. My fingers skim over the different smooth surfaces, each one promising a different kind of escape. Tonight, there's only one I crave. It’s a sleek, dark blue vibrator that thick and will jit it just the right place.

I clutch it like it's the lifeline it is, I sink onto the edge of the bed. I don't bother with undressing completely; time is not a luxury I have right now. I flick my dress up and lower my panties.

The toy feels cool against my heated flesh, but as I begin to slide it between my wet folds, it warms. I close my eyes, switching it on, a soft purr of vibration coming to life in my hand. The sensation is immediate with a bolt of pleasure that has me biting back a groan. However, it's not enough. Not yet.

I coax my mind to drift to that place where fantasy blurs with reality.

Only a moment later, I'm there, in the middle of a scene from my favorite hockey book.

I’m in the Renegades locker room just after Ryder’s game. He and I are alone, but I can imagine I hear the distant echo of cheers, and the resonant baritones of victorious men. None of that matters because he's there. Ryder, the captain and star player, or at least the version of him that haunts my dreams. His body is still humming from the game, and his eyes are alight with that same hunger that gnaws at me now.

I angle the toy, pressing it where I need it most, and the images become more vivid.

He's walking toward me, that predatory grace of his making my heart stutter. There's no preamble, no coy words exchanged. It’s just the raw need that propels him forward, his hands finding my skin with a desperation mirroring my own.

"Fuck," I whisper into my empty room, the word a plea as the pressure builds. I move the toy in earnest now, chasing the high, the sweet unraveling that's just within reach.

Ryder has me pinned beneath him on a padded trainer’s table. His touch brands me, igniting every nerve ending as he pushes his hard length inside my pussy, and his mouth trails hot kisses down my neck. Ryder moves with a purpose to claim what’s his.

"Jayden," he growls. He sees me for who I truly am. He sees not just the bright smiles and easy laughter but the woman aching for someone to share life with.

"Ryder," I gasp out, clinging to the edges of control. The tension coils tighter, a delicious agony, and I'm so close, teetering on the brink.

My back arches, making me lean back from my seated position as an exquisite release shatters through me. His name is a chant on my lips as I come undone.

After a few deep breaths in, my breathing returns to somewhat normal as I stand. My shaky legs betray the intensity of my release, but there's work to be done.