She’d been too caught up in her memories to notice the tears pooled in his eyes. Which was just as well because half an hour earlier he’d been teasing her mercilessly for bawling like a baby when he’d told her about his miserable childhood. But at least he’d had a couple of tough-as-nails guardian angels with mean right hooks and hearts big enough to love the world to rescue him out of the system and save his scrawny arse. Abi hadn’t had to just save herself, but also her kid sister. His childhood had been one disaster after another before he’d met his mum and dad and joined their home for wayward strays, but he hadn’t known any better. She’d had it all only to have it stolen from her.
Photo after photo scrolled by. Each added a few more pages to the story of her life and drew him deeper. Dozens of kids of every size, shape, and color smiled and laughed into the camera with faces almost as joyous as their teacher’s. While he’d found his calling through blind luck and a selfish, childish need to check if life was any better beyond the stock fences marking the boundaries of his dusty world, Abi had always wanted to be a teacher.
In all the recent photos, Abi either sported a short spiky bob that made her look like a sexy Tinkerbell or a variety of psychedelic scarves. No hollowed-out cheeks, no graying of her porcelain skin, no fatigue dragging on her features. It was like one minute she had hair, the next she didn’t. The only indication that something was wrong was the darkness lurking behind her smile. If he hadn’t known what to look for, he’d have missed it, but it was the same shadow he’d seen fall across her face when she’d glossed over what she had planned when she got back home. He hated seeing her features sober, hated that something hid behind her playful grin and devastating eyes.
He was no stranger to fear—a decade marching through one hell after another had stocked his closet full of bogeymen, creatures he was still figuring out how to fight—but the fear that gripped him whenever he glimpsed that shadow drift behind her eyes tore something deep inside him. He wanted to hunt down whatever scared her and kill it, which was fucking crazy because whatever was happening between them was just a short-term physical thing driven purely by lust…wasn’t it?
Chapter Eight
Darkness enveloped Abi as Ryder crushed his lips to hers and captured her in his arms. She molded herself against the planes of his chest and surrendered to the power of his embrace. His hot, wet tongue drove inside her and explored every hidden part of her mouth while his hands slid under her butt and hoisted her onto the counter in the plane’s first-class bathroom.
Raw desperation burned her throat as she sucked in air and braced herself against the mirror before grinding her hips into him. She didn’t care if the cabin crew knew, wasn’t worried if the other passengers overheard. If this brief escape from reality was all fate offered, she wasn’t letting go.
He thrust upward and massaged her sex through her jeans.
Too many clothes. Oh God, she was going to come, and she hadn’t even seen the incredible body pulsing and rippling around her.
His stubbled jaw set fire to the flesh he’d ravaged with his lips, his tongue, and his teeth while he sucked and nibbled along her cheek. “Come for me.”
The whispered order joined the symphony of erotic grunts and groans enveloping her as he inhaled her earlobe into his mouth and sucked. The scents of leather, sweat, and sex overwhelmed her.
“Come for me.”
The order propelled her higher as he thrust against her.
“Now.”
A primal scream erupted out of her as she arched her back and cried into the darkness. She slumped against him with her mind smoldering in the glowing embers of the firestorm that had just decimated her world and left her body floating on clouds of smoke.
“We’re not done.”
His words penetrated the ashen remains of her sanity. Like gusts of wind, they fanned the flames of her need and set the ruins of who she’d been ablaze again. His lips brushed her ear, her neck, and her cheek until his mouth consumed hers. She snaked her trembling hands around his neck and pulled him closer. She drifted limp and helpless as he trapped her to his chest and carried her through the inky blackness of their private world.
With the delicate touch of a sculptor, he lowered her onto the cushioned bench lining the bathroom wall and trailed liquid fire down her neck with the tip of his tongue. The calloused pads of his fingers ignited her skin while his hands inched beneath her T-shirt and crept up her torso to cup her breasts. His fingers were so huge, so powerful, yet so gentle as he kneaded her flesh and caressed her nipples through the microfiber separating her from his touch.
Too many clothes. Too many clothes. The words screamed inside her head, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Too many clothes.
He slid higher and dragged the hem of her T-shirt up her stomach as he lifted her arms above her head. He eased the cotton free and unfastened her bra to allow the still, dark air to quench her naked skin. Her breasts spilled free and rubbed her aching nipples against the cups. A feral groan echoed through the room before he descended on her. His hands caressed and massaged her while he tortured her flesh with his mouth. He sucked, pulled, and licked until her mind once again tumbled into madness.
Sweat beaded across her chest and trickled between her breasts. He followed the trail with his tongue and lapped and sucked. He kissed and nibbled lower, lower, oh so gloriously lower until his teeth ground against the zipper concealing the most private part of her from the world. His fingertips pushed between the waist of her jeans and the way-too-succulent flesh of her belly, but she didn’t care. Under his touch she was a goddess, a siren, a woman worthy of going to war over. Her zipper grated open while he worked her jeans over her hips. Only when both his calloused hands rasped down her thighs did she realize he’d unzipped her with his teeth. Her moans filled the bathroom as she lay before him with only a soaked layer of cotton separating her sex from him.
She raked her bare toes up his calf and reveled in the solid muscle encasing his body. Toes? When had he removed her socks and shoes—and what were they doing in first class? Shut up, Abs. Mind back in the game.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of her way-too-comfortable granny panties and gently dragged them over her hips and down her legs. He eased between her knees and splayed her thighs with his massive shoulders.
She flinched and dug her fingers into the slabs of muscle sheathing his neck. But she’d been stuck on a plane for twelve hours and hadn’t showered. Shut up, Abs.
His breath caressed her core and flooded her sex with erotic warmth.
Her surrender was total and absolute. Like an offering to a god, she opened her mind, her soul, and her body to him. He descended on her. Her ferocious need for him overwhelmed the gentleness of his attack. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him onto her and into her. Deeper, she needed him deeper. She pumped against his mouth as her groans and whimpers fell into rhythm with her thrusting and grinding hips. Harder, deeper, closer. With each gentle suck from his mouth, with each plunge of his tongue, with each thrust of her hips she plummeted further and further.
A tortured, ecstatic scream tore through the darkness like a crack of thunder before she exploded over his tongue and into his mouth. Her lungs heaved to suck in breath while her chest pumped in rhythm with her thudding heart.
He rose above her like an invisible mountain of power. The darkness consumed his face, consumed his body, but it was him, the indestructible warrior who’d made her laugh, made her cry, and made her crave like she’d never wanted anything before. He braced her legs apart with his thighs and opened her to the world while shooting bolts of electricity into her exhausted muscles with his worshipping hands.
She trailed her fingertips down the taut landscape of his torso. Everywhere she touched burned with a violent heat that almost had her flinching. She was doing this to him; she was responsible for turning this gentle man into the loving predator that had just feasted on her body. With her fingers slick with his sweat, she teased his nippl
es and explored the deep ridges and valleys carved into his abdomen.
She tensed as he covered her with his body. Instead of crushing her, his massive bulk engulfed her in a protective cocoon that insulated her from the outside world and everything she was leaving behind. The head of his cock caressed the delicate folds of her sex. Like the rest of his amazing body, the most private part of him was overwhelming, unyielding, and unforgettable.
Where had his clothes gone? Shut up, Abs.
She tensed and prepared for the anxiety, the doubts, and the fear to consume her, but there was no need. This warrior with a guardian angel’s heart would never hurt her.
He cupped her face and brushed his lips to hers.
She gripped the rock-hard flesh of his butt and pulled him into her sex, into her body, and into her soul.
A decade of fear, a lifetime of wondering, an eternity of longing evaporated with each gentle thrust. She curled her legs around him and encouraged, willed, and commanded him deeper.
Olivia had been lying through her perfectly whitened teeth, the bitch. This wasn’t painful, messy, or awkward, this was…this was…oh God, this was…
A firestorm of sensation roared through her and incinerated the girl she’d been. The flames ignited a hunger within her she feared would never be sated. She thrust against him and drove higher until their bodies finally molded together.
There was no pain, no discomfort, just an incredible sense of belonging and peace. This wasn’t sex, this was so much more. This was two people whose paths had crossed on a magical pinpoint of destiny. She didn’t need to listen to her head, her heart, or her gut. Her soul knew. She cupped his face in her hands, drew him down until their foreheads touched, and gazed into the inky blackness consuming his features.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Roberts again. We’ll be commencing our descent into Brisbane shortly. Local time is seven thirty p.m., and the temperature is a balmy twenty-seven degrees Celsius. That’s about eighty degrees for our American friends…”
Blinding light accompanied the voice blaring in her head. She clenched her eyelids and groped for the man that had just been making love to her like she was a precious artifact.
“If you’d kindly hand your rubbish to the cabin crew…”
She froze. Something warm and hard brushed against her. She latched on and pulled herself closer. His presence enveloped her and eased the tension crushing her chest. She flinched away from the light and nuzzled into him while reveling in the reassurance and protection he offered. She knotted her fingers into his threadbare T-shirt and burrowed deeper.
T-shirt?
A distant hum penetrated the void left by her retreating memories. Memories, or dreams?
The hum grew louder. Like a dentist’s drill boring into her skull, it screamed in her ears and destroyed the lingering euphoria and peace flowing through her mind. Murmured voices, muffled thuds, metallic clicks, and a chorus of noise overwhelmed her. The foreign aromas of coffee, perfume, and stale air masked the scent of his sweat and their shared sex. Dread coiled around her as ice water flooded her veins.
Please, God, no. She forced an eyelid open and peered through her crooked lenses into the blinding chaos surrounding her. With each pounding heartbeat, her vision cleared and his features sharpened. Moments ago he’d been a mass of warmth and power concealed in darkness, now he stared down at her in all his fully clothed glory.
The unruly hazelnut-streaked hair she’d tangled her fingers through, the smooth-muscled neck she’d sunk her teeth into, the mouth she’d ground herself all over like a nymphomaniac, and the lips now slowly curling into a devilish grin that stole the last of her breath. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Nine
Abi unleashed a glare that would’ve melted the flesh off Ryder’s face if she’d held it much longer. She yanked the strap of her laptop bag higher onto her shoulder and marched through Brisbane airport’s arrival lounge.
He could’ve sworn the acrid stench of charred flesh and singed hair hung in the sterile air-conditioned air as he dropped his head and plodded after her. “Coming, dear.”
Their descent into Brisbane had been a marathon of awkward silence and nervous sighs. While she’d been too mortified to even look at him after her not-so-private carnal nap, he’d been too busy imagining the video accompanying her dream’s mumbled soundtrack to meet her gaze.
What the hell do you say after something like that? Do you pretend it never happened? Do you smile, shrug, and ask if she slept well? Under the circumstances, you’re welcome was pretty bloody good. It was truthful enough not to be a lie, teasing enough so she’d know he wasn’t embarrassed, and smooth enough to let her know he’d be definitely okay with reenacting the dream in person, but like most of his recent attempts to seduce women, his plan had crashed and burned on approach.
Even now, with her stomping toward baggage claim and the automatic doors leading to the real world, he was still having a hard time focusing on anything other than her whispered moans and breathless sighs. The fact her jeans-clad butt was almost as sexy as her boobs wasn’t helping. God, what he wouldn’t give to hear her groan his name over and over for real.
He hefted his gear higher onto his shoulder, readjusted his grip on her backpack, and chased after her. He must have looked like Beyoncé’s personal assistant, but he didn’t give a shit. He had her backpack; that meant he still had a shot.
She jerked to a stop at the top of the escalators leading down to the luggage carousels and spun around. Sucking in a breath, she opened her mouth, and stabbed a finger at him only to freeze as her eyes slid down his body and settled on his exhausted yet unsatisfied junk. Her eyes snapped back to his, but not before the crimson tide she’d woken with once again flooded her cheeks.
She looked so adorable he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from grinning, but something must have snuck through his defenses because she muttered something about a smart-ass caveman before stepping onto the escalator and drifting away in all her lime-green, shocking-pink glory.
Yup, definitely still embarrassed and understandably a little pissed, but at least she’d looked at him. Once he got her naked and methodically ticked off the wish list of debauchery he’d concocted on the plane, she’d forget all about her dirty dream.
Refusing to hand over her backpack had been a dick move. He’d instinctively shouldered her bag when he’d fished it out of the overhead locker. He’d have done exactly the same for his mother, his sisters, or any female friend—it was how he’d been raised—but he should’ve returned the pack when she’d held out her hand for it. He’d tried, he’d honestly tried, but somewhere between his brain detecting her unspoken order and his fingers releasing the bag, he’d frozen.
They hadn’t discussed what they’d do after landing. Hell, she hadn’t even looked him in the eye. And somewhere deep inside his reptile brain he must have realized that if she had her backpack there’d be nothing stopping her from simply disappearing into the sea of passengers rushing through the airport and out of his life. It’d been a desperate move from a desperate man but it’d bought him time. Time he was wasting admiring her bootylicious butt as she waded through the mass of exhausted passengers crowding the luggage carousels.
A siren cut through the mayhem as the carousel shuddered to life and started spitting out their flight’s luggage. He was too scared to open his mouth and say something that’d piss her off even more, so he stood stone-still beside her like the idiot he was and silently cursed himself as he fumbled through one plan after another.
It wouldn’t have taken much more than a shout or wave from her to have the federal police loitering near the lost-and-found counter charge over and taser him. He could see the headlines now: “Sergeant Ryder Harper, Victoria and Distinguished Service Cross recipient, veteran of half a dozen tours of duty, shot in the arse by federal police while harassing an American tourist.”
His mum would be so proud.
He edged closer to her to prevent the
stressed-out businessman hovering behind her from shoving between them. He’d made sure not to touch her, but her jaw clenched and her shoulders stiffened as if she was deciding whether to make a break for the police. It was taking all her stubbornness to hold her ground, but she remained silent and pretended not to notice him.
Had he misread the whole thing? Had she just been passing the time? Had he gone from trying to pick her up to stalking her somewhere over the Pacific? His resolve faltered as he ran through the last thirteen hours. When they hadn’t been laughing, teasing, and prying into each other’s lives, they’d traded nervous glances and private smiles. Surely that had to mean something? Christ, had his sex-starved brain conjured up the whole thing? Was she just being nice to a crippled veteran? Had her dream been her way of exorcising the fantasy of getting down and dirty with a man she’d never think of spending time with in real life? Hell, had he even been the lucky son-of-a-bitch on the receiving end of those whispered moans and groans?
He’d used a bunch of different strategies, asked her to come home with him a dozen different ways, but she’d shot him down every time. She’d done it playfully, casually, and without making him feel like a desperate loser, but she’d turned him down all the same. Which proved she was a hell of a lot smarter than he was because there was absolutely no point starting something they couldn’t hope to finish. She was setting off on an adventure that would eventually return her to the other side of the world, and he was ending a decade-long search for enlightenment right back in the heat and dust where he belonged. At best, this crazy thing they shared was a short-term gig that was getting even shorter with every second he wasted.
Against All Odds (Outback Hearts) Page 8
