37 Times You Called My Name のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

MIA POV I followed Ryder down to the apartment two floors below his penthouse suite. My legs still felt unsteady from the desk. Every step reminded me of how easily he had broken me — pinned, counted, and shattered. The worst part was the small, traitorous voice in my head that whispered I had let him.The apartment was beautiful and cold. Modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, a kitchen bigger than my old studio. My bags already sat neatly in the bedroom. He had moved me in without asking. Again.“Home for now,” Ryder said, closing the door behind us. He locked it. The sound made my stomach flip.“This isn’t home,” I shot back. “This is a cage.”He crossed the room and poured two glasses of water like we were normal people after a normal day. “A safe cage. Jax and the others won’t reach you here. The building has security that answers to me.”I took the glass but didn’t drink. “And who protects me from you?”His eyes darkened. He set his glass down and stepped closer. “No one.

MIA POV I woke to the sound of the bedroom door opening. Ryder stood in the doorway, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, holding two coffees like this was normal. Like he hadn’t spent the night on my couch after making me come twice the day before. “You locked the door last night,” I said, sitting up and pulling the sheet higher. “You didn’t.” His voice was rough with sleep. He set a coffee on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. Too close. The mattress dipped under his weight. “That tells me everything I need to know.” Heat crawled up my neck. Sparrow’s heroines always fought until the fight felt like foreplay. I was doing the same thing — pretending I hated him while my body remembered every second of his fingers inside me. “I was tired,” I lied. Ryder’s hand landed on my blanket-covered thigh. Not moving. Just resting there like a claim. “You were scared. And wet. And hoping I’d test that lock.” I shoved his hand off. He caught my wrist and brought it to his mou

MIA POV Morning light hit Ryder’s penthouse like a spotlight on my shame. I woke tangled in his sheets, his arm heavy across my waist, body sore in ways that reminded me exactly what I’d done. I had let him inside me. Let the man who once broke me become the only thing holding me together.I tried to slip out of bed. His arm tightened.“Stay,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.“I can’t.” I pulled away and grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor, pulling it on like armor. “Last night was a mistake.”Ryder sat up, the sheet falling to his hips. Even half-asleep he looked dangerous. “You came three times screaming my name. Doesn’t feel like a mistake.”Heat flooded my face. I turned away, walking to the window. The city looked the same, but I was different. Ruined in the best and worst way. Sparrow’s heroines always woke up regretting the wrong brother until the regret turned into addiction. I felt that shift happening inside me and it terrified me.A phone buzzed on the nightstan

MIA POV The silence from the old teammates lasted exactly three days.I woke up on the fourth morning wrapped in Ryder’s arms, his body warm and solid against mine. For the first time in weeks I felt almost safe. Almost. His hand rested possessively on my hip, thumb stroking lazy circles even in sleep. I traced the lines of his jaw, wondering how the boy who once made me cry on a school floor had become the only person who could make me feel whole.He stirred, blue eyes opening to find mine. “Morning, Mia-Mia.”The nickname still sent a shiver through me — part fear, part dark pleasure. I kissed him before I could overthink it. He responded instantly, rolling me beneath him, sliding inside me with one smooth thrust. We moved together slow and deep, no counting this time, just raw connection. I came whispering his name. He followed with a groan that sounded like surrender.Afterward, he held me close, fingers playing with my hair. “I could get used to this.”“Me too,” I admitted softl

MIA POV The calm after the storm never lasted long with Ryder Vaughn. I learned that the hard way the following morning when I woke up alone in his massive bed. The sheets still smelled like him — ice, citrus, and that dark masculine scent that had become my addiction. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, expecting another threat. Instead I found a note in his handwriting. *Had to handle one last loose end. Stay in the penthouse. I’ll be back by noon. You’re safe. — R* Safe. The word felt like a lie wrapped in silk. I showered quickly, pulling on one of his shirts and a pair of leggings from the closet he had stocked for me. Every piece of clothing in there carried the same message: you belong here now. No escape. No independence. Just his. I made coffee and tried to work from my laptop at the kitchen island, but my mind kept drifting. The sex from last night still lingered in my body — the way he had taken me slow and deep, whispering that I was his while I fell apart ar