The immediate sense of loss I felt when he pulled out and rolled onto his back hit me in the gut like a power punch thrown by a professional boxer.
I refused to let my heart get involved. After tonight, I'd go home, back to the slum of an apartment I shared with Ma. If I was lucky, I wouldn't have to spend any more nights getting naked at Swank, but I wasn't even assured of that. This wasn't a fairytale, and Ryker didn't have on armor. His trusty steed was a black Harley, but the last time I checked, tattoos didn't repel bullets. Our worlds hadn't changed just because we'd gotten naked.
We'd fucked.
Twice.
That was it.
Ryker wasn't looking for a relationship, and I didn't need to be.