by Karen Rock
“Your father was a monster.”
“He did what his father had done. He believed he was raising us right.”
Erica snorted. “And look how fucked up you are.”
She had him there. Ryan released a long breath, then continued. “After, I thought he’d be pleased that I hadn’t fallen asleep on my feet, that I’d stayed in one place. But he dragged me out to the shed anyway, took off his belt, and thrashed me until I stopped crying.” The words came out in a river, one tumbling after the other; he couldn’t stop himself from speaking now if he tried. “Every tear earned me another lash. He told me to be a man, something I’d never be if I let emotions rule me. That’s when I vowed I’d never cry again. I never wanted to be weak…ashamed…humiliated.”
“That was his doing. Not yours!”
He’d been looking at his hands, but now he lifted his head. Outrage colored Erica’s lovely face. He untangled her fingers from her hair and folded his hand around them. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“What made you open up now?”
He picked up her hand and brushed her knuckles against his cheek. “You. You get me.”
Her eyes widened. “You have to be careful saying things like that to a gal.”
He lowered their clasped hands. “It’s the truth. You call me on my shit.”
Her quick bark of laughter lightened his heart. “Someone has to.”
“How’d you get so tough?”
She was silent so long he angled his face to see if she’d fallen asleep. Instead, he glimpsed her stricken face, and his chest squeezed.
“My mother,” Erica said at last.
“You’ve never spoken about her. Your father died when you were five?”
Something wet splashed on their laced fingers. Was she crying? He tipped her chin up and met her glistening eyes. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to. I haven’t before…but…it feels right.” She dropped her head onto his shoulder. The top of her head nestled beneath his jaw, and a wave of protectiveness washed over him. “After my father’s car accident, my mother’s anxiety got even worse. She was afraid to leave the house.”
“That must have been hard.”
“She wouldn’t let me leave either. Any friends had to come to our yard to play, but I lost those once I began homeschooling.”
“But you must have gone out? Shopping? Church? Doctor’s visits?”
She shook her head. “I was basically a prisoner. I used to sit at my window and watch other kids play and wish—wish I was one of them. Running, jumping, screaming, unafraid, falling, skinning my knee but getting right back up again. It was then that I promised myself…”
She paused, and the hard rasp of her breath stirred his heart. He’d believed his own childhood had been rough, but Erica’s…Erica’s had been its own form of hell.
They were both walking wounded.
She cleared her throat. “I decided I’d never live my life like my mother. I’d never be a prisoner to fear again.”
Understanding detonated in his heart. It blasted his misconceptions about her recklessness, her impulsiveness. The last remnants of his anger over her behavior in Amman faded. He could forgive the girl who’d grown up determined not to let fear rule her, misguided as that belief still was.
“You’re afraid of being afraid.”
She scooted away and eased back into her seat. “That’s why I wanted to be in the CIA. It’s adventure, travel, risk… Everything I was denied. And I might still be an agent if you’d defended me—” She bit down on her lip and averted her face.
Ryan leaned over, rested his chin against the top of her head, and smoothed a hand down the length of her hair. “I couldn’t.”
She breathed deep, but otherwise remained silent.
“And I’m sorry,” he added quietly. Ryan dropped her hair only to place the tips of his fingers beneath her chin. Tilting her head back, he stared down at her. “You don’t know how much.”
Her eyes swerved to his, and their gazes locked. “I forgive you, too. You were raised to follow rules, not your heart. That’s all you knew.”
“Until now,” he said.
Thick tension hung in the air, settling over them like a too-warm blanket. Nothing and everything changed between them in that instant. And it terrified him.
“It’s late,” he said, moving his hand from her chin to her temple. “I should go so you can sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“No.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him closer. “Stay here. Tomorrow…things might get crazy at the consulate party, but tonight is ours. These hours belong to us. Whatever we want them to be. We can sleep…or just talk….”
Hell, he wanted to be with her…but being alone together and not touching her? Not happening. Not when he already felt exposed and raw and hungry for her—and not just physically. His willpower hoisted a white flag. Waved it hard. “I’m not interested in just talking. Or sleeping.”
“Me neither.” She leaned over and kissed him, tentatively at first, but wilder as he opened to her, her desire for him so real and intense it humbled him.
She sank her fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck. “Come inside,” she demanded. “Make love to me.”
He groaned, so hard it was painful. And it wasn’t even her beauty that affected him—though he wanted to lose himself in her soft curves. It was the knowledge that she wanted him. That she unmistakably and absolutely desired him.
The truth about who he was hadn’t doused the fire between them. If anything, it fed it, because she wanted him. The man, not the hard-nosed agent, not the colonel’s son. Just him.
Driving, demanding need pounded through him. A need so intense he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He wasn’t sure how he managed to move away from Erica, but somehow they made it to her apartment without invoking any public-indecency laws.
He had no idea how she found her key; he didn’t remember her getting it or her opening the door to her apartment. He just knew that in less than a minute after they left the car, her front door was slamming shut behind him.
He backed her against it, and his mouth closed over hers. Tongue and teeth and fire and passion—a heady mix that drove him wild. Eager. He unzipped her sundress and shoved down the straps. It slipped to the floor, leaving Erica standing in a tiny pair of white lace panties and high heels.
And Ryan ready to explode.
His hands roamed over her body. Seeking. Claiming. And when she stroked his hardness, he growled as his teeth tugged her full bottom lip. Coherent thought fled, replaced by basic, primitive emotions—want, need, have, take.
When he cupped her through her panties, she whimpered, rubbing herself against his fingers. He gripped her shoulders, breaking the kiss long enough to look at her flushed skin. Swollen lips. Her eyes wild with desire.
Backing up, he dropped onto her futon and tugged her down beside him. They fell back onto the plush material, sliding their way up the sofa, Ryan holding her firmly against his side. Her elbow bumped the armrest. His knee flung over the edge.
None of it mattered.
Ryan cared only for the soft crush of smooth skin against his hard flesh. He could hardly absorb all the places that teased his senses—her thigh against his, her breasts flattened to his chest, her hips cradling his throbbing erection. His hands rubbed over her, claiming every inch. Then he pulled her closer still, kissing her hard, making her moan. She was nirvana against his tongue. The head-spinning taste turned him into a primitive creature, responding with his savage brain.
And when her hips moved… When she ground herself against his erection, he feared he’d come right then. “So fucking hot.”
“Tell me.”
“The way your skin is flushed. Your lips swollen.” His hand skimmed the fr
ont of her bare thigh, then slid over her hip to cup her backside. “Watching how much you want me drives me insane. I want to tease you. Torture you. Make you beg so there’s no doubt you want me.”
“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met,” she panted, and the truth of her words cut though him. “But that was physical. Now I want you, Ryan. I’m falling for you.”
Hearing her speak his own mind made his heart throb, then sink, since he stumbled to say the words in return. Despite his best intentions not to get emotionally entangled, he was failing miserably. He’d been involved with her since the day they’d met and all the days in between. She was the first woman he’d cared for, and he knew in his soul she’d be the last.
Her beautiful blue eyes filled with an uncertainty, doubt he’d put there. God, he was an asshole. A coward, just like she’d said. His father’s son. His tight throat worked, and his tongue swelled. It was tough for him to drop his emotional armor and lay down his sword. To allow her inside his fortress. She’d hurt him once, and he was still wary.
But her uniqueness, and the way she made him feel unique, astonished him. Yes, she might damage him again. He had to face facts. Though in this moment, when he wanted to devour her with his body, he also wanted to bask in the brilliance of her heart and return it with his own.
“I couldn’t have made it through tonight without you,” he murmured into the side of her neck.
“What do you mean?” She drew back, eyes wide.
“The way you helped my father, helped me…knowing you were there, supporting me.” He paused, cleared his throat. “I’m used to holding things in, but you…you open me up.”
“I do?” Her voice rose.
“Only you.” It amazed him as much as it amazed her. She’d gotten to him again. Slipped under his radar with her humor, her directness, her compassion, her grit, and that challenging grin begging him to stop taking life so seriously and play in the right here, right now. “I can’t promise how much I can open up…how much more I can give…but you make me want to try.”
Her eyes lit up. “Me too.”
As he watched, the pulse in her throat quickened. She melted against him and exhaled, softly, as he lowered his mouth and tasted her lips. Her fearless vulnerability left him exposed, shaking with emotion, desperate to be merged with her and terrified at the same time.
“Ryan.” The way she breathed his name on a sigh nearly pushed him over the edge. He’d never get enough of her. The fire at the base of his spine morphed into an inferno. He stroked her breasts, splayed his fingers over her belly, and skimmed the lace of her panties until she lifted herself toward him, seeking his caress. “I can give you so much,” she murmured. “If you let me. Mentally and physically.”
He whisked off the scrap of material and cupped her tight, round bottom. “I want that, too. Don’t think I don’t.”
“Make love to me.” She writhed against him. “I want to explode.” Her husky words were breathless as she skimmed her fingers down his forearms and met his eyes. “I want you to make me explode.”
That was an offer he couldn’t ignore. He traced his quivering hands over her body, mapping every part of her like it was the first time. Luxuriant curves and elegant bones. Taut, lithe muscles. He teased her breasts, drawing her into his mouth until he couldn’t take it another minute. She tasted like cherries. Wild and tart. Her ragged breathing told him she was close, even before he closed in on her slick heat.
When at last he slid a finger inside her, she came undone with a shattering cry.
He gathered her to him, shielding her body with his, absorbing her quivers until she quieted.
Only then did he kick off his shoes, unbuckle his belt and ease off his pants. Without a word, she disappeared into her bedroom and returned with a condom clutched in her hand. He almost laughed at the irony. Erica. He’d lectured her about thinking ahead, and twice now he’d been the one caught with his pants down—literally unprepared when she was not.
He reached for the condom, but she shoved him back and stole the task. She was on a mission to take control, and only a fool would object. He held himself still. Slowly, tortuously, she wrapped her hand around him to roll on the latex. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, hiding her face.
Ryan’s blood surged harder than ever. He let his eyes roam over every inch of her. Her rosy nipples. Her smooth legs. Her sweet red curls, begging for his touch. And when he lifted his gaze to her face, he saw that she watched him, her eyes heavy with lust. Bold, audacious, not the least bit self-conscious. A woman who knew what she wanted and gave fuck-all about demanding it.
“You’re beautiful.” He sank his fingers into her thick hair and claimed her mouth as she straddled him. Their senses combined, expanded. He tasted the saltiness of their pooled flavors. He smelled the sweet richness of her femininity and listened to her raspy, excited breathing. His fingers tingled with the feel of her smooth, satiny skin.
“Please,” she begged when they broke their heated kiss. Her arms went around him, her fingers clutching his back. “Don’t make me wait.”
“Your wish,” he said. “My command.”
He didn’t hesitate. How could he when he was so close to losing control? When he was so desperate he might go insane if he couldn’t feel her tight around him. He lifted her hips, positioning her over his tip as he fought to restrain himself. A whimper escaped her, and he nearly lost it when she started to edge her way down his shaft.
His grip tightened on her waist. He couldn’t go slow—he tried, damn him—but she was so wet and so ready that when he plunged into her, he went hard and deep.
Her silken walls clutched him, made him forget his determination to let Erica have her way. He rose up to hold her in his arms, her soft whispers of yes driving him as he steered their movements, joining their bodies as far as they would go. Vibrant impulses shot through him. He felt himself expand. He was under her skin and she was under his, literally and emotionally.
“Give me everything, Ryan. All of you.” She was tight around him, milking him, her hands on his chest as she undulated her hips, forcing him harder and deeper still. “Don’t hold back.”
He had no choice but to obey; he couldn’t hold everything inside him any longer. It was like waking up from a long dream. He saw his life for what it was, what it had been, what it could be. He let go of his hang-ups, his fears and regret. It electrified his body while at the same time sinking him into a blissful peace.
Their breathing synchronized, quickened, grew shallower. They were one breath. Bigger than the world, and he was acutely aware of everything in it. The soft glow of her recessed lights, the chill air from her air-conditioning unit, the damp heat of their conjoined bodies.
It was in that moment he felt it. The click. The forging of the bond that had once been severed. They were connected in a way he’d never connected with anyone else. His old habits, agendas, beliefs vanished. Suddenly, he could feel, taste, smell, see, hear, and sense everything differently.
And in that instant, he was a changed man, forever altered by his feelings for Erica, so that when he finally exploded, it felt as if they were one person.
When the world fell away and she collapsed on top of him, his feelings weren’t about sex but about the woman snuggled in his arms. A woman who’d swept past his walls and into his heart. A woman who murmured his name and curled sleepily against him.
A woman who’d seen all of him and wanted him still.
Drowsy, she looked younger, the girl who’d grown up watching the world, denied the chance to join it because of her overly strict mother. He understood her now, and in so doing, understood his feelings, too. Before, he’d only ever wanted to make his father proud, to prove he wasn’t weak. Not Cryin’ Ryan.
How ironic that he was living his dream as a lead intelligence field agent, closing in on the terrorist organization he’d devoted his life to stop
ping, and yet his world still felt flat.
Or, he amended as Erica sleepily groped for his hand, it had been flat until she’d bounced into his life again, all vibrant and headstrong and genuine. She’s flipped a switch in him, and he didn’t know how to turn it off.
For that matter, he didn’t know if he wanted to.
Tomorrow, at the consulate party, an imminent terrorist attack might await them. Danger. Destruction. Death.
But that was tomorrow, and this was now, and right now, all he wanted to do was hold Erica. He dropped his head to rest against hers and breathed in the soft orange blossom scent of her shampoo, the sweetness of her breath. Whatever happened tomorrow could not destroy this moment. He’d let too many of them pass him by already.
He pulled her closer, not wanting to lose the connection even as exhaustion overtook him and he drifted, at last, into the unknowable dark where he didn’t care about their next move. All he wanted was to be with her, even if only for a little while. Life was short, and they were together right now. Ryan would take what he could get and be grateful for it.
No matter the emotional cost.
Chapter 12
The morning sun filtered through the gaps in Erica’s curtains as she stood by the bed watching Ryan sleep. In that moment, she wanted to crawl beneath the covers and stay locked in her apartment with him for the rest of the day.
Last night had been incredible.
The pleasant soreness between her thighs called a smile to her face. For such an imposing man, he’d made love to her with heartbreaking tenderness. With such ardor. Ryan might not have the words, but the wonder in his eyes, the reverence of his touch, and the protective embrace of his arms spoke volumes.
He wanted to try opening up more. For her. How unbelievable was that? But what would happen when he returned to his job a world away from hers? His work required him to go underground for days, months at a time. Could she love someone long distance, someone who couldn’t say he loved her back, when words would be all they had when he was away?
