“I’m scared, Riley. I know better than to let fear get control of me. I know. But... I’m scared.”
He’d been scared during the encounter with Simms, too. Not because a bullet aimed at him had nearly met its mark. But because if that bullet had hit him, the next one would have landed in her.
She licked her lips, almost as though she knew what the action did to him. How it made it nearly impossible for him to look away. To think of anything but kissing those lips that he knew to be sweet and sassy. Strong and soft. The things those lips could do...
He knew every single one of them. His body knew them.
And wanted to know them again.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. He tried to believe he’d only imagined the words, but he’d watched her lips move with them. Enticing him to be led somewhere he knew he really shouldn’t be.
“I know it’s only for the moment,” she told him. “But I’m not asking for any more than that right now.”
She hadn’t moved. Was still seated at the dinner table they’d shared, her arms crossed, more like she was warding him off than calling him in. He heard the call, anyway. Felt it.
“It’s not right,” he told her, meaning to be strong. In charge. But he was hardly able to hear himself, his voice was so soft.
“As long as we’re consenting adults, it is,” she said. Shaking her head, she still held his gaze. “The world isn’t a pretty little wonderland, Riley. It’s hard and unpredictable and there are no guarantees...”
She understood. She really understood. That turned him on as much as her lips were doing.
“I just want one night that’s real,” she said then. “One night where I’m fully aware, not living in some kind of fantasyland. One night...being made love to by the authentic you...”
“I was authentic...” He started to assure her and she shook her head.
“I wasn’t,” she told him. “I grew up in fantasyland, Riley. My grandparents knew the minute they saw each other that they were going to be married—each knew separately. And their love lasted their entire lives. Both of my aunts...and then there was my mother. The youngest daughter. She wanted what everyone else had—wanted it so badly, she tried to see it in every single man she met. And when one after another didn’t work out, she turned to drugs and alcohol because they helped her keep the fantasy alive...”
Her eyes glistened. She was so beautiful, sitting there in the candle’s glow. Beyond anything he’d ever imagined he’d see.
“I believed in the fantasy,” she told him, and he wanted her to stop talking before she got to the part where she’d stopped believing. And why. He knew where the story was going.
Didn’t need to hear the end.
“You want a night without the fantasy,” he said.
She nodded. “You were authentic, but I didn’t see you authentically.”
Knowing that he’d blown her fantasy, that he wasn’t the man she’d waited her entire life to find, that he’d been a disappointment, should have been a huge turnoff.
But he was still hard and aching with wanting her.
“There’s a crazy man out there who wants me dead,” she said. “I can’t just sit here living in fear. I want to feel good. Alive. I don’t want to walk out of this house after they catch him, not knowing what a night in your bed feels like.”
There was no way he could deny her. “I’m still the guy who makes love once, in this case, twice, and it’s over.” He whispered the words because they had to be said. He’d screwed up the last time he’d been with her. The only time he’d been with a woman without first giving her the score.
“I know.”
He stood, his erection painful inside his jeans, held out a hand to her, and, blowing out the candle, led her down the hall.
* * *
Charlize memorized every inch of Riley Colton’s body. She asked him to undress, to let her watch, and lay up against the pillows on his king-size bed, fully dressed, cataloging every second. Her romanticized notions didn’t exist but she was getting just one night of the real thing and she had a feeling it was going to become the fantasy of a lifetime. Something that would be with her for the rest of her life as they raised their child from different homes and within different families.
The more she was with Riley, the more she believed that she’d fallen in love the night they’d met, just as she’d thought. And maybe he had, too, a little bit. But life didn’t always work out perfectly.
Sometimes you had to be thankful for what you had.
She was the only woman in the world having Riley’s baby. And because of that child, the man would be in her life forever. She wasn’t her grandmother or either of her aunts. She wasn’t her mother, either. She was her own woman. A strong and independent woman.
Feeling her power, she stared at his chest as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“I want to kiss every inch of that chest,” she told him, not the least bit shy. Or ashamed, either. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”
His gaze darkened. There was no smile showing through his beard. Riley Colton was as serious about making love as he was about everything else he did.
When his hands moved down to the button on his jeans, she let her gaze linger on the flatness of his belly. The small line of dark hair that ran downward from his chest, past his belly button, down to the goods he was about to deliver up to her.
There was nothing she could see that was forty-three about the man, other than the slight bit of gray at his temples. A graying that distinguished him from boys who didn’t yet have his wealth of experience.
Experience was good.
Very good.
He’d unzipped his jeans and his penis almost sprang out, only half covered by the black boxer briefs he had on under them. He was solid, bigger than she’d remembered, and there’d been nothing small in her memory. She watched his thighs as they appeared, too, noting the delineated muscles as he stepped up and out of the denim. Not even the dark hair covering them hid that structure from her. And when he was naked, taking a step toward her, she had one more request.
“Turn around.”
Cocking his head, he gave her a playful frown. Almost as if to say, “really”?
“I want to see all of you. This is real night, remember? I don’t just want glimpses, or partial sight.”
With a look that told her she was going to get everything she’d bargained for and then some, he slowly turned, showing her the tightest ass she’d ever seen. Memory of that butt alone would turn her on for the rest of her life.
As it was, Charlize was about ready to come just looking at him. Because it was Riley. One touch to a hot spot and she’d be gone. She could feel it. Her body was wet, ready, and when he came forward again, she opened her arms to him. Needing to get her clothes off so that he could do what he clearly needed to do—sink himself inside her so they could both find release.
She’d never been one to be ready quickly. For her, sex generally meant a need for a lot of foreplay, but not with him.
Reaching for her pants as he lowered himself beside her, she yanked them down, lifting her hips to get them gone as soon as possible.
“Whoa, there,” he said, a hand on hers, halting her progress, not by force, but because she didn’t know what was wrong.
“You want the real me, then you need to let me do some of this my way,” he told her. “I want to enjoy unwrapping you. Lord knows I’ve been doing it in my head for days...”
He’d been mentally undressing her? Charlize smiled up at him. Not a grin, a full-blown smile. And raised up to plant her lips against his in a kiss that gave him everything.
Her body. Her mind. And her heart.
* * *
As much as Riley needed to be inside Charlize, he didn’t want to slide into home. He didn’t want the lovemaking to end before it ab
solutely had to. So he held himself back like never before. Distracting from his own need by paying attention to hers. From her toes to her ears, he tasted her. Noticing when she squirmed, when she moaned, when she giggled. And revisited anything that elicited moans. Again and again.
He’d never held anyone as magnificent as she was. Yet, it wasn’t about the looks, although she was about as fine as they came. Or the long, dark hair that draped over her protectively when she sat on top. It wasn’t the responsiveness, or even the look in her dark eyes—though it was all of those things.
He didn’t know what it was; he just knew that he was experiencing what would forever be the best night of his life.
There was no tension. No misconceptions. No concern about false expectations. There was nothing but the two of them coming together because their need to do so was stronger than any reason either of them could come up with not to.
He lingered over her still flat belly. Kissing softly. Touching gently. He didn’t speak of the baby growing inside her. But knowing it was his gave him a sense of male satisfaction that should have embarrassed him and didn’t.
When he couldn’t hold back any longer, he poised between her legs, lined up and ready to go, and still held back. “I think I’m going to do this more than once tonight,” he said.
“You can do it as many times as you like, Riley, just do it now! Please!” With that last word, she raised up her hips and took him, all of him. Drew him in, holding him tightly, caressing him with her body and inner muscles until he couldn’t think. Didn’t know.
He moved. Pulled out and went in again.
And when, after only the second thrust, she cried out, pulsing around him, he let go, spilling himself inside her.
It was the first time he’d ever had condom-less sex and it was glorious.
Because of the lack of condom, his bleary mind told him.
But he knew better.
The sex was phenomenal because he was having it with Charlize. And was going to do it again.
As soon as he had a second or two to rest.
Pulling her close, he liked how she fit the crook of his arm, her naked body half lying on his, skin to skin. The weight of her head just above his heart was...nice.
The silkiness of her long hair clothed him.
And life was good.
Chapter 17
Shocked awake, Charlize lay still, heart pounding as she struggled to figure out where she was. What had woken her.
The bed, the sheets, the room were unfamiliar. She was alone.
A shadow moved by the bed. Riley.
He put a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet as he slipped into jeans and grabbed his gun.
Memory came flooding back as she watched him hold his gun in front of him as he moved toward the door.
She’d fallen asleep in his arms. In his bed.
Every muscle in her body shook as she slid slowly, quietly, out of bed, pulled on her pants and a dark pullover shirt of Riley’s that was folded on a chair, leaving her underwear by his on the floor.
A board on the stairs creaked.
Someone was coming up and she had no idea how far up he was.
There wasn’t just one board, or one spot in those stairs that made noise when you walked up them. They were old wood. They talked.
Simms. He’d found them. It had to be him.
Unless, could it possibly be Brody come back in the dark of the night, with information for Riley? Would the man come upstairs?
With her eyes trained on Riley, ready to receive whatever silent message he sent her, she moved toward the wall, her chest tight, breath coming hard.
Should she hide? Under the bed, in the closet, behind the door...all places someone would look and when he found her she’d be trapped.
Was Ronny Simms in Riley’s home? He was after her. She knew that. He blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Laurene had told her so.
Because he had to blame someone besides himself.
What did she know about him? She tried to think, to know how to help. He lost it if he didn’t feel in complete control. Took stupid, irrational risks.
He was armed.
One shot could take Riley down.
But Riley was well trained. And moving toward the door. Alone in the home as they’d been, they’d left it open.
Where was Pal?
She had no idea what time it was.
Midnight? Three in the morning? Close to dawn?
The silence seemed too loud. She couldn’t tell what was going on. If the intruder was upstairs yet.
Riley had his back to the wall by the door. With his gun in front of him, peering through the doorway.
Could he see who was out there? Was it Simms?
She focused in the gloom, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She wanted to stay close to Riley. Slid a couple of steps along the wall toward him.
He shook his head and she stopped. Trembling so hard she was afraid she was giving them away.
A hand on her stomach, she feared for her baby. Had to keep it safe...
A step sounded in the hall...she could hardly breathe...stared at Riley...and...felt a surge of nausea as he dove out through the doorway.
A crash and thump sounded in the hallway. It must have been the table at the top of the stairs falling, the vase with artificial sunflowers inside it hitting the ground. She heard a thump, followed by a human-sounding deep growl. Bodies wrestled.
She heard fists hitting flesh and started to pray. Felt hopeless. A gun slid into the room, as though thrown or knocked away.
She started toward it, knowing fear as she never had before. Real fear. She heard another thump, grunts, was two feet from the gun when bodies crashed through the doorway, Riley on top. The guy on the bottom reached for the gun, grabbed it...
“Riley!” she screamed, but too late. The intruder had slammed the butt of the gun into Riley’s head and he lay slumped on the floor.
“Now you’re mine, bitch.” Simms’s voice wasn’t recognizable, filled with anger and evil and violence, but it was his face coming toward her. All she could see was that face. Those eyes shining a beam of hate.
Charlize wanted to fight, knew she had to fight, and wrapped her arms around her stomach instead, as though she could protect her baby from the bullet that was about to go through her. As though the baby could survive without her.
“You’re coming with me,” the man snarled, grabbing her by the hair. He could have her hair. He could pull every strand out of her head as long as he didn’t touch her belly. “You’re going to talk to Laurene, tell her that you were wrong. You’re going to tell her to stay with me, you got that?” He continued to growl at her as he hauled her toward the door.
She tried not to look at Riley’s supine body—all of the vitality gone. Prayed that he wasn’t dead. She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t lose focus. She had to save their baby.
It was all up to her now.
With the gun in one hand, Simms half pulled, half pushed her toward the stairs. Sunflowers lay scattered around the floor, the vase on its side in a corner. She stumbled; it was all she could think of to do to slow their pace. To give herself another second or two before she was forced down into hell. The man had a gun. Could shoot her at any moment. And he was out of his mind. She couldn’t afford to piss him off any further.
She stumbled a second time, started to lose her balance and reached out a hand to catch herself, grabbing at the banister. The movement took her sideways, putting a foot of distance between them. He was yanking so hard at the hair he held, tears sprang to her eyes.
And in that instant, Simms went down. Her head yanked once more, she felt hair ripping and Simms was on the floor, with Riley on top of him.
There was blood on Riley’s temple. And in his hand a gun—with the tip of the barrel pu
shing into Ronny Simms’s head.
“Call 911,” he said, his tone soft, menacing.
Without another thought she ran for her room, grabbed the cell phone she’d put on the charger before dinner that evening.
Saw that it was just past one in the morning.
And when the dispatcher picked up, she gave her information quickly. Clearly. She dialed Iglesias next, from the number he’d had her program into her phone the day Simms had tried to run her down. Told him what had happened, just as concisely. By the time she hung up, she could hear sirens. Ran downstairs to open the door.
That was when she saw Pal lying on her side in the dining room and started to cry.
* * *
Dawn was on the horizon by the time Riley had a moment alone with Charlize. He’d spent a couple of hours in the emergency room, being checked out for concussion, though he knew he was fine, and had just nodded when the doctor told him he had a hard head.
He’d only lost consciousness for a second or two, just enough for Simms to have a chance to get to Charlize, and then he’d lain in wait, knowing he was only going to have one chance to save her and the baby she was carrying for them.
By the time he got back to the house, the police crew was just leaving, having taken the samples and pictures they’d needed so that they could release the crime scene.
CI headquarters, his family home, a crime scene.
Pal had met him at the door, groggy, but wagging her tail. He already had an appointment at the vet when they opened that morning, made through the emergency number. The vet on call suspected she’d either been drugged, or hit on the head. There was no sign of a bump or cuts.
It was Pal’s initial bark that had woken Riley to begin with.
He was going to have to text his siblings. Phone calls would be better, but he couldn’t do five of those at a time.
Charlize, who’d been checked and deemed fine by medics at the scene, had wanted to come with him to the hospital, but he’d known that wasn’t a good idea. Iglesias needed her at the house, needed her statement.
Colton 911--Family Defender Page 18
