Guts & Glory: Mercy (In the Shadows Security Book 1)

by Jeanne St. James

  The one he got protecting her.

  She pushed the thought of her being only a job to him out of her head. The job was over. He would be paid his fee and get his bonus. What was happening between the two of them right now needed to be about them, nothing else.

  He sucked on one of her plump lips, then the other before going back to flick her clit with the tip of his tongue. He slipped two fingers inside her with ease because she was so ready for him.

  She wanted to feel his weight on her again. Feel him inside her. A part of her. Two pieces, while so different, fitting together perfectly.

  How could he not see that?

  Maybe he could and simply ignored it.

  Curving his fingers deep inside her, he found the exact spot that would cause her hips to dance. They began to do just that this time, too. He never let up, followed every lift of her body as she dug her heels into the bed. With every grind of her pussy against his mouth, his tongue continued to tease her, lure her closer to that edge.

  Then she was falling, calling his name, unable to catch her breath for a moment as her muscles clenched and released around him.

  Before she could recover, he was gone, nothing but emptiness left behind where his heat had been. But it wasn’t even a couple seconds before he tugged her ankles until she was splayed out flat on her back before him as he sat on his knees, his gray eyes traveling over every inch of her body.

  Once again, she had no reason to hide her faults from him. If he could accept hers, she could accept his. Both of them were far from perfect. But being perfect was overrated and boring. Their faults, their pasts, made each of them who they were.

  She lifted a hand, wondering why he wasn’t moving. Why he only stared at her. “Ryan, what’s wrong?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nothing was wrong.

  Nothing was right.

  His mind was a sea of confusion as he studied Rissa, naked, ready and waiting on his bed.

  His bed. His house. Things that were his. But she wasn’t one of them, as much as he could see it in her face that she wanted to be.

  He couldn’t allow that. It would turn out badly for both of them. He’d never survive her looking at him with horror or censure, shock or shame.

  And that was bound to happen eventually.

  Her being in his bed wasn’t a “happily ever after” like the end of the romance books she submerged herself in. He wasn’t suddenly going to open his heart to her, declare that he couldn’t live without her. That he loved her more than life itself.

  He would never be that man who would beg her to stay, to ask her to deal with everything that made him who he was.

  It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of her.

  She needed to get on that plane and get as far away from him as possible.

  For her sanity.

  And for what remained of his.

  Her excuse to return was that she wanted to see him one more time. However, she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer him when he asked why. Most likely because if she had been truthful, he probably would’ve slammed the door in her face.

  He could never be what she wanted, what she needed. Someone who could love her deeply, worship every inch of her body, cherish every word she uttered, appreciate every thought in her intelligent mind.

  His own haunted memories and twisted thoughts would eat him alive if he dropped his barriers. If he allowed himself to feel.

  Out of all the hostages he’d rescued, she had been the most important to him. The most valuable. With a few exceptions, most had been just names and faces.

  A mission, a job, an assignment. Nothing more.

  She was much more than that. For that reason, she deserved so much more. More than anything he could ever give her.

  He lost track of how long he sat on his knees, staring at her. It wasn’t until her eyes became shiny with tears and she reached out her hand, whispering his name...

  Ryan.

  ...that he could shake his thoughts free.

  Falling forward, he covered her, snagging one of her peaked nipples into his mouth. He surged forward and up, taking her completely with one stroke. A single thrust of his hips.

  He regretted things couldn’t be different. That, because of how he was, he couldn’t love this woman as she was meant to be loved. Because if he could, Rissa would be his. He wouldn’t just be claiming her in his bed, he would be claiming her as his permanently.

  But for now, for this last time in his bed, he could pretend that it would work, and they could be a normal couple. That there was no risk of him hurting her in any way.

  He dug his knees into the mattress ready to give it to her as hard as he had almost every other time he’d been deep inside her. But surprisingly, this time he wasn’t experiencing that frantic pull, he didn’t crave total control. Instead, he wanted to savor this last time. While she never minded how rough he’d been with her in the past—in fact, she’d encouraged it, digging her nails in and riding him hard—he didn’t want this time to be like that.

  This time needed to be different.

  She needed to know how much she meant to him. Since he was unable to say it with words, he would show her instead.

  He wouldn’t—couldn’t—say it out loud because he didn’t want to give her hope.

  Her thighs squeezed his hips and she met him stroke for stroke, lifting her hips, squeezing him tight. Hot velvet encased him, drawing him deeper. So deep he wondered if he’d ever escape.

  Just like that fucking quicksand. If you weren’t looking for it, and you stepped in it, you could become trapped.

  He switched nipples and sucked the other one hard enough she gasped and clawed at his back, encouraging him to get rougher, move faster.

  Once again, he resisted doing just that.

  He needed to remain focused on her. Her body’s reactions, the little cries and gasps, the moans. All of which drove him forward.

  He wanted to remember all of that. How incredible it felt to be inside her, enveloped in her slick heat. How, when she came, her thighs would quiver, her breath would catch, her eyes would meet his.

  She rarely closed them. Instead she watched him, more closely than he liked. And while they would lose focus, they always remained on him. It was as if she was trying to stare into the depths of his soul. To catch a glimpse past the darkness that hovered on the edge.

  She mistakenly believed somewhere beneath the surface, there was light. And he didn’t want to prove her wrong. Unfortunately, that’s what would happen if she stayed.

  Even so, she couldn’t stay here. With him. In Shadow Valley. She had an established life elsewhere, in a city where she was successful. Where she owned her own business and was her own woman.

  And no matter what she thought, he wasn’t worth the sacrifice of giving any of that up. Again, she’d find out the truth, that he wasn’t worth it, and she’d come to hate him. Despise him. Regret her decisions.

  If that happened, it could result in a final break which he could ultimately never recover from.

  He released her nipple, shiny and swollen from his mouth and shifted until his face was directly above hers. Her eyes had followed him and now with her head on his pillow and her long, light brown hair spread out, she almost looked like an angel. Untouchable, unreal.

  A dream.

  In the end, he could be her nightmare.

  He rolled his hips gently, slowly and he dipped his head until his lips were right above hers.

  He wanted to whisper her name, but he couldn’t get it past his lips. Instead, it swirled like smoke inside his head until it vaporized.

  Jesus fucking Christ, he didn’t want her to leave.

  But he couldn’t rid himself of the truth. He’d destroy her if she didn’t.

  Yes, she was strong, but was she strong enough? Could she handle everything that he’d kept buried? Because as a therapist, she would try to dig all that shit up. Maybe not in the beginning, but eventually she wouldn’t be able to resist.
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br />   Eventually she’d want to know what made him tick. Not like a clock, but a time bomb.

  His thoughts swirled again, now like a tornado. Picking up speed. Becoming dangerous to anyone in its path. He needed to shut that shit down.

  He took her mouth, tangled their tongues, capturing the groan she released.

  He wanted to speed up, fuck her hard, fuck her fast. Instead, he forced himself to keep at his slow rhythm, to draw this out, to make this last.

  Because soon he’d only have another memory. Remembering Rissa would be a good one to add to his mental bank, which already included too many bad.

  He needed to hold onto this memory of her. Ignore the rest.

  He deepened the kiss and even though he thrust slowly, he took long, full strokes. All the way in and almost all the way out. Just to the point where he didn’t quite leave her, but the chance was there.

  He needed to keep that connection between them. For once he needed someone other than himself. Someone other than his team at his back.

  Someone to show him the softer side of life. Someone who could bring him some happiness.

  He broke off the kiss when he realized the direction his thoughts were headed. Again, he felt the drag of the quicksand. The closing of his throat. The restriction of air.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He needed to breathe.

  He needed Rissa, so he could breathe.

  He was afraid he couldn’t breathe without her.

  How did this happen? When did she become a necessary part of his very existence? When did she become someone he couldn’t live without?

  This was all wrong. He didn’t need anyone.

  No one.

  Not one soul.

  He pressed his forehead against hers when her second orgasm began to build. He now recognized the signs, the reactions of her body.

  He wasn’t wrong. He paused when her muscles rippled around him, so he could concentrate on remembering that sensation, too. And when she was done, her warm breath beat rapidly along his cheek.

  The longer this time with her lasted, the more his thoughts began to spin. So maybe it wasn’t a good idea to extend their pleasure. He quickened his pace a little more, making her mouth part, her breath escape in a rush with each forceful thrust.

  Once again, her name was on the verge of leaving his lips, but he wouldn’t let it go. Instead, he swallowed it and kept it for himself. He would tuck this moment, that unfamiliar feeling away. He might need to revisit it sometime in the future. Use it to ground him.

  She was still matching his movements, keeping with his slightly quicker pace, digging her nails into his back, like he craved so much.

  He needed that reminder he lived. That he wasn’t just a shell, that once he’d been someone who had empathy for others. At one point in his life, he hadn’t been so cold and calculating, shutting everyone else out.

  She whimpered when he plucked her tightly beaded nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. The harder he twisted, the louder her cries became. Her back arched and her head tilted back, but he stuck with her, keeping their foreheads pinned together. Feeling those warm puffs of breath along his own heated skin.

  Rissa whispered through his head. Rissa.

  Fuck!

  He released her nipple, dug his fingers into the hair on both sides of her head and began to pound her like he needed. Like she wanted.

  He crushed his lips to hers and took her mouth fiercely. Completely.

  With a hand now wrapped around the back of his neck, she squeezed, and twisted her head to break the kiss.

  Was he hurting her?

  “Ryan,” she cried out.

  No, there wasn’t an ounce of pain in the name she cried out. The name no one used but her.

  He demanded against her ear, “Tell me how good this feels,” before catching her earlobe between his teeth.

  “You tell me how good this feels,” she countered on a groan.

  Like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my fucking life.

  “Tell me how much you like this,” she demanded.

  I don’t like this. I live for this. Being inside you. Being a part of you.

  I can’t get enough of you.

  The word addiction blew through his scrambled brain like a wild wind before a violent storm.

  He released her earlobe and asked, “What do you want from me to make you come again?”

  He needed for her to come one more time before he did. His balls were getting tight and his heart was pounding uncontrollably. He was approaching that ledge and scrambling to hang on before he fell.

  “Come for me once more, Rissa. Once more. Let me feel it one more time.”

  She went completely pliant, almost melting into the mattress at his words. She probably was surprised he uttered them. But not as surprised as he was at her next plea.

  “Stop fucking me. Make love to me instead.”

  His pace stuttered at her request.

  She wasn’t done with her demands. “Slow down. Look at me. See me.”

  I do. “I see you.”

  “No, Ryan. See me.”

  When he asked that simple question, he was not expecting that complicated answer. He lifted his head, staring down into her eyes, once again shiny with unshed tears.

  Fuck!

  “Rissa,” he whispered roughly. “I see you.”

  He caught a flicker of disappointment, even a bit of frustration, behind her blue eyes. She didn’t believe him. The last thing he wanted was to be the source of her disappointment.

  “Then let me see you,” she insisted.

  Impossible. He struggled to get his response past the closing of his throat. “You won’t like what you see.”

  “Let me decide that.”

  I only want to save you from a world of hurt. Shock and disappointment when you discover who you’ve been sleeping with.

  When he didn’t answer, one of the unshed tears slipped down her cheek, disappearing into her hair.

  He closed his eyes, warring with himself. And when he opened them again, a few more tears were escaping unchecked.

  This cemented what he believed. She needed someone to make her happy, not someone who made her cry.

  Somehow he needed to turn this around, to keep this memory a good one, instead of one full of tears and regret. He just didn’t know how to do that without ripping himself open and serving up his past to her on a plate.

  He had wanted to give her one more orgasm, but unfortunately, he feared they were past that point, so he needed to end this before things got worse and became darker.

  With his thumb, he wiped the one lone tear that remained hovering at the corner of her eye, then leaned in to kiss her gently.

  The kiss he intended to be more soothing than sexual became frantic when she clutched his cheeks and held him there, sweeping her tongue through his mouth, exploring every corner, taking it deeper, encouraging him to continue.

  She gave control over the kiss back to him and he began to move again, rocking against her, capturing her sexy little mews.

  When he broke the kiss, he shoved his face into her neck and murmured, “Come for me one more time, baby,” against her heated skin. Her head tilted back again, exposing her delicate throat, and he traced the tip of his tongue over her pounding pulse, sucked her flesh into his mouth, then ran his lips across her jawline.

  He shoved one arm beneath her hips, tilting them to a sharper angle and he began to piston his own at an almost desperate pace. Her cries, no longer contained within his mouth, rose into the space around him, filled his head, making it difficult for him to wait for her to come.

  But he was determined her next orgasm would wash away any sadness that remained, to make this time together something worth remembering.

  Whether for later today. For tomorrow. Or for forever.

  As her face went slack, as did her mouth, his name once again escaped her on a breath. She clenched around him tightly, dragging him along with her.
Thank fuck for that, because he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  His whole body heaved forcefully when he came deep inside her. He hoped she thought it was from him coming and not from something so foreign ripping through him at that moment it almost tore him completely apart inside.

  He ground against her as he kept his face buried against her neck because he was afraid she’d be able to see how exposed he was. She’d be able to see it on his face, in his eyes. How desperately he wanted to hold on to her. To keep her for himself. To do his fucking damnedest to be the man she wanted. To be everything she needed.

  But the truth was, he’d fail.

  He’d fail.

  He knew when a mission was impossible. And he wasn’t going to set himself up for that failure.

  He’d never survive it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hours.

  They laid there for a couple hours. Their limbs tangled. The sheets a tousled, damp mess.

  Silent.

  Nothing said. Not one thing discussed.

  Just complete... utter... silence.

  It had taken him longer than normal to disengage himself from her after he came. Even after his breathing had returned to normal, he had kept his face planted firmly in her neck. It wasn’t until his cock softened and slipped from her that he finally moved.

  He only shifted enough to slide to her side, a heavy arm draped over her waist, pinning her in place, while he tucked his other arm under her head. But through all that, his face remained pressed under her chin.

  Hidden.

  She beat back the disappointment creeping through her, because she had asked him to show himself to her. The real Ryan Mercer. Not the Mercy he showed everyone else.

  But he hadn’t. He either outright refused to or was incapable of it.

  The reality was, he wouldn’t rip himself open for her. And while she understood why, it still made her chest tight and her heart squeeze that he’d let no one, not even her, in.

  She had hoped by showing back up on his doorstep, he would see how much she cared for him. How hard she had fallen in the short amount of time they’d spent together. But all that was nothing but an illusion. Some stupid pipe dream she got from all the romance novels she read, making her believe it was possible for them to beat the odds and have their “happily ever after” despite his issues.