by Joya Ryan
“What’s going on, Emma?” His tone was a little softer and he took a step toward me.
Something in my eyes kind of hurt and felt a bit more moister than usual. Shit, all these feelings and lack of sleep probably made me look like a sad sack.
Something Rhys was obviously picking up on, because he softened even more and asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
My automatic self-defense mode kicked in and I found my voice. “What? Why would you think that?”
“Because I caught you. Trying to break in. To my hotel room.”
The way he stated the obvious — something I had yet to acknowledge myself — for the second time in two minutes made me realize that I must really be sounding crazy. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. That I was desperate for a night to hide away, to explore that charm and intensity I had gotten a glimpse of all those weeks ago.
That wasn’t really an option at the moment. Yes, I came here to see him, but I couldn’t really admit that now. And I definitely couldn’t tell him the whole truth, not without putting him in danger too.
“Did you come here to see me — ”
“You wish,” I said, cutting him off, feeling like my pride was suddenly in jeopardy.
“I was going to say, did you come here to see me so I could help you with something? But now that you mention it,” he stepped closer, “yes, I do wish. Every damn day since you stood me up.”
The way his rough voice rolled over every vowel with the slightest east coast drawl made me want to catch every word with my teeth and swallow them down . . . preferably while his lips were against mine.
Casual, Wade. Keep it casual.
“I had stuff to do,” I offered before I lost the ability to speak. Rhys was the only man who’d ever made me feel so . . . uneasy. Scratch that. He was the only man who made me feel uneasy without inspiring fear. He was hard, strong; just the size of him could be off-putting, but instead of being nervous, I was anxious. Anxious to know what it felt like to have that kind of strength, that ability to be effortlessly intimidating.
Only problem was, I wasn’t intimidated. I was turned on. Like I always was the moment he stepped into my space.
Mentally slapping myself, I chalked up my overly revved hormones to the fact that I had been “on the run” and permanently stressed out for the past several months.
“Stuff to do, huh?” He laughed. “Attempted theft can be taxing.”
“Why do you assume I was going to break in to rob you?”
He smiled. Yeah, I’d just admitted it, but I was caught long before so it didn’t really matter.
“So you weren’t breaking in to rob me. Then maybe to surprise me? Because you enjoyed my company so much the last time we met?” The obvious mockery in his voice said he was playing along for my sake.
Did I have it bad for Rhys? Did I wish I had spent the last several weeks with him instead of alone in a small apartment, coming out of hiding just to go to work at a job that didn’t end up paying me? Yes and yes. But knowledge was power and admitting to Rhys that I wanted him was not smart. I had bigger things to worry about. Time to take the power back and check his ego.
“Did you enjoy my company the last time we met?”
His gaze was hot as it skated down the length of my body. Very different than how any other man had ever looked at me. Like I was exotic. Sexy. Worthwhile.
“I did. Of course, you were either devouring my mouth or smarting off with yours, so it was hard not to enjoy it.”
“You kissed me,” I said, correcting him.
“And you liked it.” All that male confidence and swagger was hypnotic. He merely stated facts. And yes, I did like it. And that was a fact.
“Let’s not argue semantics. You shot me down, I shot you down. We’re even now.”
His blond brows sliced down. “I shot you down? How did you come up with that notion?”
“Because I was there. I offered to take you and that kiss home for the night and — ”
“I offered you dinner first. That’s not shooting you down.”
It was to me. Dinner meant a date and dating was something I didn’t do. Mostly because a couple meals and weeks into “seeing” a guy, he turns out to be a total tool or still lives in his mother’s basement. And the kind of men that held any ounce of self-respect or ambition were from a different world than me. They were the kind that came with a promise of picket fences and two point four kids. Which was an even scarier concept.
Not that Rhys put that out there, but based on the limited details I had learned about him over our few run-ins, he and I weren’t long-term compatible. Judging by his football scholarship, small-town upbringing and insistence on buying a woman a meal before seeing her naked, I already knew he was in a different league. And if I were honest, it was a better league.
“Sex is simple,” I said honestly. “I wasn’t interested in more than that.”
“And you think dinner is — ”
“More. Than. That,” I said. Now was not the time to explain why I felt lacking. I stuck with, “So like I said, we’re even.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m the one who lost?” The way his eyes bore down on me, like he was seeing my very soul, made a violent shiver race up my spine and every nerve ending turned on as if he had verbally flicked a switch in me. “And you said wasn’t.”
“What?” I eyed him and he merely grinned.
“You said you weren’t interested in more than sex, then. Does that mean you’ve changed your mind now?”
“Maybe . . .” My eyes shot wide because I had just admitted that out loud and hadn’t meant to.
Rhys stood there, looking like he’d just won some kind of victory.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get a grip. This man was disarming me in a single conversation and I couldn’t allow that. I was at my most vulnerable when my guard was down. And after the last few weeks my guard was obliterated. Not a good place to be, when Rhys Striker affected me. Deeply.
From the buzzing beneath my skin to the ache in my gut. All I wanted to do was pull him close. Breathe him in. Which, I knew from experience, was the first step in a downward slide toward dependence.
A stupid notion when everyone always ended up leaving or screwing me over in the end.
I raised my chin, gathered my brass and glared. “Do you really think that feeding me before we fuck somehow makes a one-night stand better? Makes you a better man than the rest?”
He was close enough now that I could hear a growl break low in his chest. “I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, Emma. I don’t lie. Or hide.”
That made my lower lip tremble and my attempts to get the ice back impossible. It was the same ice that had formed around my ribcage sometime between losing my virginity to a creep at twelve and getting beat to hell by a skeezy homeless man who stole everything I had. I had learned quickly that calling out for help was useless because it never came. And being a victim wasn’t an option.
Neither was crying.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I argued, because Mr. Army of One with his muscles, prying eyes and suffocating sex appeal was too much to deal with. Now was not the time to start sharing.
“I know you’re smart. I know you’re strong.” His arm barely bent, as if he were debating on whether or not to touch me. “I knew that the moment I met you. But you are running, Emma. Right now. Just like you were at the gala, just like you were after Megan and Preston’s wedding.”
His tone relaxed a bit and he cupped my neck, the same way he did all those weeks ago before he kissed me.
I looked up and words wouldn’t come. I was tired. The fight in me was dwindling and all I wanted was to get lost. Fade away. Preferably in his arms. If that made me weak, so be it. But only for one night. Tomorrow would be better. I would be better.
“What are you afraid of, Emma? What are you running from? Because we both know you weren’t breaking in to surprise me,” he said, and gently tugged
on my neck so that our lips were only a whisper apart. “Tell me.”
“I’m afraid of . . .” so many things.
There was something about Rhys. Something that made me feel scared in a very different way. It was a fear of hope. Because if he kept looking at me like he was, I just might start to believe that he was being sincere.
Normally, that would be my cue to leave. To figure this mess out and get on the next bus, train, hell, anything to get me out of New York. But the only thing my mind and my body were screaming was to stay. Right here. Next to him. Just for a night.
For no other reason than that I wanted to.
“We’re in the middle of the hallway,” I stated.
My fuzzy brain snapped out of the obviously sleep-deprived fantasy I was drowning in. I might be in distress but I was no damsel and Rhys wasn’t Prince Charming. Adam was the one person who ever came through for me, and other than that, the male population was better with no strings attached to them.
“Would you prefer to come into my room with me?” He was so close that I could feel the heat of his skin. Could smell him — leather and spice. His longish blond hair hung around his face, lining his sculpted jaw and strong chin. During our few encounters, I told him he looked like Thor, which made him grouchy, but damn it, strip him down and hand him a hammer and —
“ . . . to talk?” he said.
“Huh?”
He smiled. “I said, would you like to come in so we can talk? I have a key, so clawing the lock to death won’t be necessary.”
I chanced a look at his eyes, which I shouldn’t have because those things sucked me in.
“Talk about what?”
“About what you’re running from.”
“I’m not — ”
“Don’t lie to me. I know something is going on with you. I recognize fear, and it’s written all over your face.”
That kind of stung. Mostly because I couldn’t allow myself to be afraid, much less show it. If that was the vibe I was giving off, that was a problem. I was handling things myself, I was just in a bit of a bind at the moment, nothing I couldn’t squeak my way out of. However Rhys wasn’t letting this go.
Did I want to talk? No. But I wasn’t ready to give up Rhys’s presence yet.
“We can go inside,” I said. Because the only times I had felt wanted, felt safe, in the past couple months were when Rhys was near.
Chapter Two
“After you.” He held out his hand and pulled the keycard from his back pocket. And yes, I noticed the grin plastered to his face when he used it while he mumbled something along the lines of, “Works better than a hairpin.”
As soon as we got into his room, he shrugged off his jacket, giving a primo view of those bulging biceps and how the tight black cotton molded perfectly around them.
“So how have you been?” He stood in the doorway, taking up most of the space, and stared me down.
How have I been? I had been fantasizing about Rhys for a month and he was the only thing that felt . . .
Safe.
The thought stuck to the inside of my skull and I didn’t like it. The feeling of weakness never sat well. Weakness, or reliance.
“I’m fine,” I said, not knowing how to attack this obvious awkward small talk, so I just walked straight toward the nearest open door. He followed right behind me.
Bedroom, great.
I sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, needing a moment to gather my thoughts, but I was instantly enveloped by his scent. Feeling the soft comforter beneath my palms, I wasn’t gathering anything, instead, my mind turned to the one thing I’d been dreaming about since I met Rhys.
What would a night with him be like?
There was no doubt it would be incredible, but knowing him, it’d also come with a date and chatting. Still, if I had the chance to experience what I should have shown up for all those weeks ago, would I take it?
I looked up at him, those smoky eyes burning me up, and knew the answer right away:
Yes.
But what I wanted and what was smart were two very different things. The best option was to keep things between us as surface as possible. Though I had a good suspicion I was kidding myself. Everything about Rhys screamed intense.
His gaze was still fastened to my face and he had yet to say anything in response to my latest lie.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked.
“I’m looking at you,” he replied easily.
“No, you’re staring.”
“Observing,” he said. Same thing in my book.
“Why?”
“Because you’re beautiful,” he said with that same ease as before, as if merely stating a fact. Something in my chest skipped a little. “And I’m trying to figure you out.”
Damn. I thought maybe he was going to try to finish where he’d left off with that kiss a few weeks back.
“If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can tell me and I can help.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Great, we were still on this topic.
“What makes you so sure I need help?”
He took a step toward me. “Aside from the fact that I found you on your knees and frantically tugging at my door handle?”
He looked me over, his eyes pausing on certain parts of me, like my lips and breasts. But not in the way most men did. He wasn’t ogling, he was observing.
“I can tell you’re afraid by the way you breathe. Your mouth parts a little and your chest struggles, like you’re choking back on something.”
That time when I swallowed I did feel my throat close and damn the man for noticing. This was supposed to be simple. But it wasn’t. Not since the day I met him had anything been simple. Simple would be to forget about him. To not crave his stupid strength or the way he kissed me. To not have a month long stomachache of regret from standing him up.
No, not simple. Because staying away from him, like everybody else, was the best thing I could do. I was tainted by my past. Put those I loved in danger by association. Yet every night I thought of Rhys.
It was without thinking that I ran here tonight. Looking for him. Needing him.
Taking a page from his book, I tried to observe. His eyes were fiery. His whole body seemed relaxed, but there was a tension rolling off of him, his hands barely clenching into fists, as if trying to hold back from . . .
“You want me, don’t you?”
He frowned. “What? Where did that come from?”
“I was just noticing you, the way you seem to notice me. You think I’m breathing with fear? I think you’re breathing with lust.”
“Emma . . .” The way he said my name was a half warning, half dare. I heard it as clearly as the thumping pulse in my neck, speeding up with desire for this man.
“I don’t want to talk anymore, Rhys.” I just needed him. Needed to feel his skin against mine. Feel his lips again. “Like you said, I didn’t show up last time, but I’m here now.”
Rhys walked straight at me. Finally! No dating, no questions, just the closeness I was craving. A craving only he could satisfy. I scooted to the middle of the bed and leaned back on my forearms behind me. He bent at the waist, hovering over me, his mouth brushed my earlobe.
“Emma,” he whispered, “get some rest.”
With that, he pulled away, taking a pillow from the bed with him, grabbed his pack from beside the nightstand and marched out of the bedroom.
“Wait, what?” I shot up and scooted off the bed, following after him. “Are you kidding me?”
Rounding the corner, I entered the living area as Rhys dropped his pack, pulled a throw off the back of the couch and tossed the pillow down. “You can have the bed. Good night.”
“Good night?”
“Yes,” he snapped and faced me. “I’m not going to play this game. You distracted me the first time, but I know better now. Know that this is just a routine you pull.”
“I don’t pull any routine. You can’t assume — ”
&nbs
p; “I can’t assume? That’s all I’ve been able to do when it comes to you. You think you can manipulate me with sex? I may be hard up since I met you, but I’m not stupid. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on, fine. You can stay here as long as you need, but I’m done trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” The second the words came out I wanted to call them back. Because there was a slight tremble on the last word and it made me want to grab my throat.
Apparently Rhys heard it too, because he turned his attention to me fully and his expression softened.
“Okay, Emma. I believe you. You don’t need help.” And just like that, he let me keep my secrets and have my dignity.
It was a shallow victory because we both knew better. Only I didn’t do help, didn’t know how anymore.
Relying on someone usually ended up badly. And for whatever reason, I liked Rhys. From the second I met him at that damn party and danced with him. The way he looked at me, held me, like nothing in the world could touch me when I was in his arms. It was that same intensity that got me hooked on him. The same reason I didn’t follow up that kiss with dinner.
I wasn’t a classy, take home to Mom kind of girl. Rhys was out of my station and comfort zone. I didn’t know how to handle him, or how he made me feel.
I cared. Enough to know that we would never work. He was former military with three tours under his belt. A self-made man who owned a security company that protected the rich and famous. Facts I’d gotten out of him a few weeks ago. He never gave details, but he wore honor like a very real badge in every move he made.
“Is this your area of expertise?” I asked. “Gaining information and supplying aid?”
There was something very haunted behind his eyes. As though he went somewhere else, to a different time or memory, right in front of me.
“Something like that,” he admitted. “People break into places looking for things to steal or a place to hide. Whatever is going on with you, I would never want you in danger. Especially if I could prevent it.”
