Damn it! how many times are Ryker and Ethan going to win me!?
I mean look at this:
Tears streamed down his face. “You left, and I needed you fucking here.” One minute I’d been trying to kill him. The next my hand closed over the back of his neck, and I’d pressed my forehead to his.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Then I was hugging him… like I used to do with my younger brother before he’d been ripped from me. Only my brother had been a Beta, whereas Ryker was an Alpha. He was also built like a tank and stiff as a board, so it was more like hugging a rock.
There was a brief struggle before he relaxed.
And, damn if it didn’t feel good. “You’re a fucking maniac, but I love you,” I muttered—someone, shoot me now. A few catcalls came from above, but I could hear sounds of them dispersing.
Ryker chuckled. “Is this you cracking? Because I’m pretty sure I cracked a while ago, and it’s only fair you get a turn.”
I punched him without any heat. "Tell me you love me, dickhead, or I'm going to crack a rib".
"So fucking needy—” He wheezed when I thumped him again “—Fine, I love you, although I’m not sure it counts if it’s coerced.”
Leaning up, I put him into a fake headlock as we headed for the exit, ruffling the top of his sweaty head roughly.
“Now you’re play-fighting with me,” he grouched. “That’s just fucking insulting!”
And also this:
I turned around to see what the hell Ryker was doing.
What the actual fuck! "No."
I swear his grin was bigger than the rocket-propelled grenade launcher he was holding.
"We need to pop the door," he said, approaching me and making no attempt to put the fucking thing back. Who had let him loose with it, to begin with?
"Fuck, no." I thumbed in the direction of the munition's truck. "Put it fucking back."
His smile dropped. "We don't have time for a discussion," he said, sounding confused that I was questioning this.
"I'm going to break your defective head," I said, ready to do precisely that when Woodrow approached.
"We're up," Woodrow said. He sized up Ryker. "A bazooka would be better."