by Joya Ryan
“I’m not your duty, Rhys.”
He didn’t say anything. The look on his face was one I’d seen many times. And it was enough to chill the achy heat that had been building up for the past several weeks.
He was a goddamn hero and I was the pathetic little victim in need. A position I refused to be placed in. Especially by him. I didn’t want to be someone’s obligation, even if I had a criminal after me.
The less Rhys knew, the better. Tomorrow I’d try Ben again, hopefully get my money, and be on my way, hiding out somewhere else until the parole hearing. For now, I’d stick to my words and whatever kind of front I could put up.
“Good night,” I mumbled and turned on my heel, heading back to the bedroom. I had a feeling sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon.
~
The dull blade sank in like a hot knife into cold butter . . .
“No!” I shot up in bed, breathing hard, a cool sweat covering my face.
I gripped my stomach. Just a nightmare. The same one I’ve had for years. The same one that had kept me from sleeping lately.
I glanced at the clock. At least I’d gotten a good three hours of rest before this newest dream awoke me.
It was another two hours of staring at the ceiling later, I tossed around in the massive bed, hating how cold I felt. In nothing but panties and one of Rhys’s T-shirts, I could smell him, but not feel him. The nightmare weighed heavily on me, but not as much as Rhys’s earlier comments.
He looked, acted like he cared. Genuinely wanted to help. Which was impossible because we had no real history. Right? I had to be seeing things. Yet here I was thinking of him more than any other man I had ever known before.
I closed my eyes and tried for the millionth time to sleep. But every time my lids closed, I saw him: Castor James. He was behind bars. Couldn’t hurt me anymore. I knew that. But his brother Mase could.
Mase James was big and mean and would do anything to get his baby brother out on parole. Including taking me out. When I got the summons for my appearance, it was the first time a ping of fear went through me. But when Mase found me in Chicago, hanging out by Adam’s workplace, I knew I had to get out of there.
I was the only witness from that night, and the James brothers knew as well as anyone that without a witness, the case was less solid. It had happened over ten years ago, but I could still hear the screams — feel the pain slice across my stomach —
Forcing my thoughts to stop and running a palm over the raised scar just below my bellybutton, I pushed my hair out of my face and took a deep breath. There was only one thing that felt right. The only thing that could calm my nerves. And he was on the couch.
I walked quietly to the living room.
A sad smile hit my face, taking in the sight. Rhys was well over six feet of chiseled muscle and all of it was smushed onto a narrow five-foot-long couch. Shirtless, one arm thrown over his eyes while the other rested on his stomach. Easy breathing, up and down. I watched the hard ridges of his torso move gracefully with every exhale. The blanket was covering his lap. A massive man in dog tags, boxers, and a knitted throw was a hot sight.
I reached out to touch the tags around his neck —
His hand snapped around my wrist like a cuff. Sleep quickly cleared from his eyes as he looked up at me.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Are you all right?” He sat up, causing amazing things to happen to his abs and making that drooling problem I had come back full force.
“I’m fine, I just . . .” I reached out again for his chest. He kept his grip on my wrist, but let me touch him. “I don’t want to be alone right now, Rhys.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then sighed a little. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Emma. Go back to bed.”
“No.” I sank to my knees. Rhys was a good man. Too good. I knew this just by the way he looked at me. The way he treated me. “I want to be with you.”
No more pretending otherwise or opting for a physical agenda. Rhys was different. Tonight would be different. Everything else didn’t matter. Mase after me, the trial, all of it wasn’t a concern in that moment. I had one more chance with Rhys, and it was right then.
I didn’t want to regret for the rest of my life not knowing what it felt like to have him inside of me. I could always go to denial tomorrow, but for now, Rhys Striker was the only thing in the world I wanted.
I laid my hand over his heart. The hard muscles jumped, the steady rhythm was strong, pulsing against my palms.
“This isn’t a game,” I said.
When I met his eyes, they were wild and alive. Even if I’d wanted to do my flirty, look at him from beneath my lashes number, I couldn’t. Not tonight. Not with him. Because for the first time since our spat in the hallway, I was telling the truth.
“I want you,” I said again. “For no other reason than that I crave you. Please, don’t send me away.”
Something in his expression grew fierce, while his whole body relaxed. He reached out, a masculine hand cupping my side, and pulled me on top. Both of my palms landed on his chest, caressing his bare skin as I steadied myself and straddled his hips.
Framing my face, he brought my mouth to his, but before kissing me he said, “Tell me, Emma. Stop running from me and tell me how to help you.”
Gently digging my nails into his pecs, I breathed against his lips. “You want to help?”
He nodded.
“Then just hold me.”
As though a dam burst and a silent understanding was reached, Rhys consumed my mouth in one long, penetrating kiss.
Rising up on my knees, I wound my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. Shoving past his teeth and drinking in everything he was. I was desperate. For his power, his attention. Everything about him lit me up and made me feel surrounded by his body — by his presence.
He returned every lick, every nip. Ratcheting up the passion. The only things I could hear were his short rasps and groans.
The stubble on his chin scratched my face and sent a zing of heat to my core. From the way he felt to the way his mouth devoured mine to how he commanded my body to respond to his without asking . . . everything about him was all man.
His hands landed heavily on my ass, gently rocking me against his erection, nestled between my thighs.
“I’ve missed you,” he said against my mouth. “Since that damn gala and that one kiss, I’ve thought of nothing else.”
He sat up even straighter, his hard torso flexing against my inner thighs and I couldn’t hold back anymore. He was a huge strong man and I felt small, in such a perfect way.
Normally, I associated being small with being meek. Not with Rhys. It was like taking on a femininity I didn’t know existed. So long as I was right there, wrapped up by him, there was no way anyone could touch me. Not my past, not Mase, no one.
“I’ve thought of you too. I wanted to show up that night,” I said before I could think better of it.
“Why didn’t you?”
Because there is something about you that makes me feel like I’m not the trashy girl outrunning her past. Because I believe you when you say things. Because I want to be near you.
“I don’t have a good reason.”
Thank God both our mouths were too busy for him to ask further. Because then I’d have had to try to explain why I felt the way I did for him, which I didn’t even understand. It went against logic for me to actually care for a man. A man who was so far out of my realm of possibilities.
Everything about Rhys Striker screamed warm, safe and all-American. I didn’t fit in his world, but tonight, I desperately wanted to. To be someone else. Someone without a past.
“I’m not going anywhere now. Don’t make me . . .” I bit his lower lip and he growled.
“Never.” Gripping the hem of my shirt, he lifted it over my head. Leaning back a little, he looked at me. I was bare, all but for my panties.
“You’re so beautiful, Emma.” Again, when his eyes met min
e, I wanted so badly to believe him. He trailed a finger along my collarbone, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “So delicate.”
No one had ever called me that. If they had, I probably would have socked them in the gut. But everything Rhys saw in me, spoke about, was the woman I wished I really was.
Calluses from his palms scratched down my spine as he ran his hands up and down my back, simply looking at me.
That gray gaze went from my eyes, to my lips then my breasts, down to —
“What’s this?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb over the three-inch scar on my abdomen.
“Appendix,” I lied. Same lie I always told and hadn’t been caught yet.
His stare was back on my face and something pained streaked across his face.
“Your appendix is on the right side,” he whispered, still running his thumb over the slightly raised and ruined strip of skin to the left of my bellybutton.
Why couldn’t this man be ignorant like everyone else?
“This,” he rubbed again, “looks like a battle scar.” One hand remained on my hip while the other snaked up to cradle my face. His palm took up my whole cheek and jaw. “Who hurt you, Emma?”
His tone was so sincere, so lethal, that it made something rise in me that hadn’t risen in a long time: Tears.
“Please, can we just . . . be? Just for tonight? I can’t think anymore about any of this.” I wiggled closer, wrapping my arms tighter around him.
I didn’t want to go into all of it. Didn’t want him feeling sorry for me. I just wanted a night with him. A night I was too scared to show up for last time. And I was tired of feeling scared.
Leaning in, I kissed his jaw, down his neck, my hands sliding across his shoulders as I moved lower, eating up his warm skin. “Please,” I said again.
In response, he lifted my chin with a single finger, pulled me close, and kissed me. His biceps bulged against my ribs and every tense limb I had, relaxed. Just being within his grasp I felt better. He was so much bigger than me. I’d felt overwhelmed by a man before, on more than one occasion. And I should feel the same now, considering that Rhys was the biggest man I’d ever been near. But instead of being frightening, his sheer size was welcoming.
There was so much of him I wanted to explore, but I couldn’t peel myself away to do so. I just wanted him. Now. Details could wait. Because the more I explored him, the more he’d explore me and I wasn’t ready to talk. Not yet. Not ever.
Dipping his head, he licked and nipped my breast and I let my head fall back. When he pulled my nipple between his lips and sucked, I moaned and arched my back, giving him more access, begging for more.
“Your skin tastes like honey,” he rasped against me, his breath fanning over my damp and pouting nipple. He moved to the other one and paid the same attention. Agonizingly slow and guaranteed to melt a woman from the inside out.
Taking his time, he ran his tongue around the most sensitive part, leaving me panting before sucking hard on the tip.
“Condom?” I asked — begged — my eyes squeezed shut as I basked in the sensation of his mouth on me.
“My bag.”
He absently pointed to the small pack by the couch, refusing to relinquish my breast, which I was more than fine with. As I reached down to rifle through it, he kept his mouth fused to me, tasting along my neck over to the front of my shoulder.
I finally found a small strip and yanked it up, ripping one off quickly.
Lifting up on my knees, I reached between us and tugged down his boxer-briefs. With my grip on the waistband, I skimmed past his hips and down his thighs. Raised welts, like gravel beneath his skin, brushed against the backs of my fingers and got my attention.
Looking down, I saw a smattering of scars ranging from dime to quarter size along his right side, hip and leg.
“Shrapnel,” he said quickly. It looked like Rhys and I both had our share of battle scars, but for very different reasons.
I paused. “Do you want to — ”
“I thought for tonight we were just going to be.” He used my earlier words to his advantage.
Knowing what it felt like not wanting to talk about things, I nodded.
“Okay.” I finished pulling his underwear down and —
I gasped. Rhys was a big man, a fact I should have applied to every area of him, but the sight of his hard cock was daunting.
“Something wrong?”
My eyes shot back to his and I bit my lip. “No. It’s just you’re . . . big.” I once again ran my gaze along the length of his body. “Which is no surprise but,” and I gave him a saucy grin, “wow.”
His lips quirked up enough to show those perfectly straight white teeth. “Careful or you’ll give my ego a complex.” He kissed my chin. “We don’t have to do this, Emma. If you feel uncomfortable we can stop.”
“Shut up and kiss me.” I snagged his lower lip between my teeth and that got him going.
He returned my attentions, his tongue dueling mine to get the upper hand. I blindly tore the condom package open, reached between us and rolled it on him.
Lifting and adjusting a bit, I place the tip at my entrance.
“Emma, let me get you ready first.” With our noses barely touching, he held my stare and didn’t let it go as I lowered myself onto him.
“I’m ready. I just want to feel you.” I sank down an inch.
My lips parted on a swift inhale.
His brows furrowed.
It was a snug fit and the whole crown wasn’t even in.
Slowly, I tried to work him inside. Yes, I was turned on, but he was challenging to take. So I rose back up and tried again. Just an inch more this time. I gasped because it stung a little and I couldn’t take anymore.
Without warning, he lifted me off him and sat me on the couch while he knelt before me.
Gripping behind my knees, he spread my thighs and settled between them. Throwing my legs over his shoulders, he ran his tongue along my pussy.
“Mmm, you’re wet.” He licked again. “Just not enough.”
My head fell against the back of the couch. I wove my fingers through his hair.
“You’re a stubborn woman and I know better.” He gently nipped my inner thigh and I squirmed. “I shouldn’t have let you even try without this — ” He licked from my entrance to my clit, stopping only to flick the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. “First. Will you forgive me, Emma?”
That amazing tongue flicked again and I arched further and moaned.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Anything, just don’t stop.”
“Never.” Again with that word. As though he really wouldn’t let me go.
Delving his tongue into my core, he ate at me. My body shot bright, like sparks coming off a freshly hit piece of iron. Flushing hot but pricking with anticipation at the same time. I rocked my hips to meet him and he let me. I’d never felt more awake, more turned on. Sitting there while he devoured me, moving against his mouth.
He laved at my clit hard, snaking that practiced tongue over and over, sending my heart soaring from my chest, pleasure rising like it was physically boiling in my veins.
I pulled his hair and held on, my entire body melting for him.
“Next time, you’ll listen to me, won’t you?” he said against my flesh.
“Y-yes.”
“Good.” He sank one finger inside me. “Jesus you’re tight.”
Slowly, he pumped in and out until my body shuddered and delivered another dose of arousal.
“There you go, baby. But I still need you wetter. You ready for more?”
I nodded. “Yes, more.”
Withdrawing completely, he returned with two fingers. I threw my hips toward him, taking him deep. He pumped again, only this time, sucked on my clit while he did.
“God, yes!” I was on the brink of coming. But he stopped and once again, withdrew completely.
“I’m ready,” I said quickly.
“No, not quite,” he rasped.
�
�I am, I swear.”
“I thought you were going to listen to me.”
I huffed. My body relaxed but tensed at the same time. Desperate for the climax he denied me.
“Still so stubborn,” he chided, a hint of a grin splitting his face. “If you can handle what’s next, then you’re ready.”
“Okay. I can. I will.” I sounded like a kid whining for a lollypop just out of reach. I was so gone, wanting more and willing to do damn near anything to get it.
Rhys’s stormy eyes looked up at me and kept my gaze locked as he returned three fingers to my entrance. “Tell me if this gets uncomfortable.”
Breath refused to leave my lungs, but I nodded. All I wanted was him. Like crazy. Wanted to finish what he’d started. I had never been with a man of his size in any respect. I had also never been with one so considerate. Which was making it more difficult to leave my emotions out of this.
He slowly pushed inside and though it was a tight fit, it didn’t hurt. I wiggled a little and, oh yeah, it felt good.
“I’m ready,” I whispered. And he nodded.
He rose to his feet just as I got on the floor and lay on my back. He frowned down at me.
“What are you doing?”
“The couch is too small.” I reach my arms out. “Come here.”
“Let me take you to the bed.” He bent to scoop me up.
“No.” I hugged around his neck and pulled him down on top of me, moving and adjusting until he was between my thighs, his cock prodding my entrance. “Stay here.”
I couldn’t do the bed. The cold floor at least kept my senses clear about what this really was. Just sex. Just one night. I had to remind myself yet again. But judging by the look on Rhys’s face, he didn’t like my proposal.
His hands were splayed on either side of my head and his cock was right where I needed it, and I hoped to God he wouldn’t walk away. “I don’t want to do this on the floor, Emma.”
“I’m not some delicate thing, Rhys.” I hated that my voice choked a little. “Please, just come inside me. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
I raised my hips, taking just the tip. He groaned and when I felt the muscles in his back relax, I knew he had caved.
