by SM West
Seeing an ocean of red, I abruptly shove him. My hand strikes hard against his jaw. The throbbing of my palm matches the pulsating fury coursing through my veins. He put me in this position. I trusted him. Shock and hurt fill his beautiful face.
“Fuck you, Wolfe.”
Heading for the door, he seizes my wrist, jerking me toward him. Our foreheads, lips and chests are millimeters apart. Both of us breathing heavily. His eyes dark and stormy, brows pinched and lips tight.
“What the fuck?” He grinds out furiously. “I get you’re angry. I’m sorry for the way shit went down. I wanted to tell you before Tripp got here.”
“I trusted you,” I hiss. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Griffin?”
It’s a stupid question. Of course, he knew. Coop most probably did too. It all makes sense now. Why they approached me. Of course, they did their homework, they’re the fucking FBI. They likely figured I was the weak link, willing to turn coat. Thinking about my time with Coop and the recent months with Ry maddens me. What else are they withholding?
My hypocrisy isn’t lost on me. I’m using them as much as they are using me. Perhaps I am even more so than them? Anger overshadows that fact. Allowing myself to consider, let alone believe, they were my friends was my mistake. I’m a job to them. They’re a means to an end for me. That’s it. Nothing else. Sadness invades my anger. Why does this hurt so much?
“We’d hoped you’d tell us,” he states coldly.
The same eyes burning bright mere seconds ago, are now frosty and flat. Releasing my wrist, Ry turns his back to me. Done with my pity party, my anger rears its ugly head again.
“So what? It was a test and I failed?”
The words no sooner leave my lips and regret sets in. I hit him. He didn’t deserve it. My rage wants a punching bag and Ry is conveniently here. I’m angry at reliving Griffin’s death, at myself and most of all, that nothing will bring Griffin back. All of this is futile. What’s done is done. But the childish part of me wants to pout and act out because of it.
I’m usually so controlled, but now, emotions are drowning me like a cat in a bag. Control slips through my fingers as the bag is tossed into the rushing river. If I don’t get a grip fast, these wretched emotions will destroy me; pull me down into the deep, murky water.
“No, it wasn’t a test. I knew you couldn’t talk about it. I wasn’t going to push you, although…” he hesitates. I’m not going to like what he has to say but I nod, the unspoken green light to continue. “…you witnessed everything. If you agree to testify, we’ve got them on murder.”
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, my heart’s galloping like a racehorse at the Belmont Stakes. I’d be exposed. My identity revealed. Whatever it takes is my motto. My safety is neither a concern nor a reality. What happened to Griffin deserves justice, there is no choice.
“I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
“Good. You’d have the option of witness protection or protective custody. We can talk more about it when the time comes,” he states coldly. “It’s getting late. I have to meet your father.”
“Ry, I’m sorry for hitting you.”
Stepping closer to him, I raise my hand to soothe his red cheek. It must hurt as my hand’s still throbbing. His long, strong fingers encase my wrist, preventing my touch.
“Tate,” he warns. His harsh, penetrating gaze says it all, he’s done.
Releasing my hold, he grabs his suit and shuts himself in the bathroom. Regret coils my throat. My heart aches. A multitude of tears threaten to fall. I rarely cry. But twice in one afternoon, I’m fighting to keep the floodgates from opening.
His rebuff humiliates and hurts. My insides roil with self-recrimination, wounded pride and an unbearable longing for him. Before changing my mind, I knock. The door opens. He’s dressed in a charcoal suit, white dress shirt and a deep purple tie, his eyes are almost indigo. Damn, he’s handsome. Our eyes lock.
Despite my better judgment, the fight is knocked out of me and I’m reduced to one hot mess of emotions. My craving, my need to taste, my need to have, wins out. Pressing into his hard body, I lean upward on my toes. My hands cup his scruffy cheeks as my lips press against his soft, warm ones.
Anticipating resistance, I’m surprised when with one flick of my tongue along his seam, he readily invites me in. My tongue eagerly tangles with his, exploring and consuming.
Giving into our compulsion, both of us too weak to challenge or even remember why we resisted the temptation of the flesh, we fervently take. Minty freshness floods my mouth. Sparks blaze a trail through my chest, down into my belly, quickly spreading to my thighs and my most intimate of places.
His strong hands circle my body. His fingers splayed across my lower back, deliciously digging into my hips, firmly holding me in place. His touch grounds me and also sends me soaring to new heights.
The hard contours of his torso and my soft curves meld, like magnets, drawn tight together. Difficult to pull apart. My hands cling to him, one on his shoulder, the other feathering his thick silky strands. We are one.
Cupping the back of my neck, he repositions our connection. His lips demanding, devouring. My breasts and core throb for more. I’m starved, greedy for him, pouring all of my pent-up lust into my lips, tongue, hands. My low ragged moan slips into his mouth. I had definitely forgotten how fantastic a wanted, desired kiss could be.
One hand glides up my waist and rib cage with his thumb lightly caressing the underside of my breast. I’m awakened. Every nerve ending alive. Writhing, I arch my chest even more into his hand. Understanding my unspoken cue, his strong fingers mold my breast, his thumb gently but firmly rubbing my nipple through the fabric of my blouse. My body instantaneously responds. My nipples pebble and harden at his tantalizing touch.
Unnamed emotions are stirring, twirling inside me. Feelings I never knew of, emotions I never wanted and feelings I thought were long dead and buried. This attraction, this hold between us, is undeniable, and deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before. One part of me is spellbound and the other, terrified.
Our attraction is physical, but so much more. Deeper, more tempting, and if I’m honest, scary. Anytime I’m with him, my awareness is heightened and my sensations are overwhelming. Slowly breaking apart, with matched heavy breaths, our eyes open. Like a crackling live wire, our insatiable intensity keeps us connected.
Burying his face into the crook of my neck, his gravelly voice and warm breath ignites a shiver down my spine as he says,” Fuck.”
Unable to look into his face, his eyes, I can’t tell if he’s regretting our foolish moment of weakness. Or is he like me? Hungry for more with my brain having checked out. All caution or reason long gone.
His day old scruff tantalizingly rubs my neck, the abrasion intensifying the ache in my core. He marks me with warm, wet kisses along the column of my neck and jaw. Okay then, I think he and I are on the same page. I tilt my head, giving him better access.
Breaking away, he solemnly says, “I have to go. Your father’s downstairs.”
Before I can stop myself, my lips turn down. I don’t want him to leave. Our shattering kiss wasn’t nearly enough. Holding me at arm’s length, his knuckles gently skim across my cheek, stirring goosebumps across my body. His eyes peer down into mine.
“Believe me, I don’t want to go,” he says reading my mind. “Stay for another twenty minutes before you leave. Use the side entrance, Noel will be waiting. See you soon.”
Leaning in, he softly plants one, two and three small, sweet kisses on my lips. They’re different than our first, deep surrendering kiss. These are closed mouth, tender and promising. Damn, he can kiss. His luscious, firm lips and commanding tongue. I want to taste him again and again.
“So sweet,” he whispers against my lips before leaving.
With the click of the door, the reality of our kiss, and my intense disappointment at his departure sinks in. Despite the stupidity of it all, I desperately wanted him to stay.
My admission is a revelation. For years, I’ve been on my own. Depending on no one. My vengeance, survival and the protection of those I love were my sole purpose. I never dreamed I’d need someone. Never again, it’s too painful and devastating. The risk too high. Yet, I want Rylan Wolfe. I need him.
But this is wrong. Guilt is a nasty thing. Moments after reliving the death of the only man I ever loved, I willingly ran into the arms of another man. Not just any other man. A man with a strong connection to Griffin.
It wasn’t just a kiss. Our first earth-shattering kiss is the dawn of something...something consuming, forbidden and dangerous. I can’t put this plan at risk. And Ry’s also taking a huge risk. If caught, it could cost him his job. Never mind if Bobby finds out. I must protect Rylan from me. I can’t put him in any more danger than he already is.
“JUST FUCKING DO IT,” I yell, ending the call.
I toss the phone on the bed, before I crush it. Squeezing the back of my neck, agitation builds as I pace the bedroom.
I’m in another safe house, minutes from my family bar. I want to head over there, grab a beer and shoot the shit with Carys and Ma. The holidays are near and I’ll likely not see them. But that’s not what’s got me wound tight. Bobby’s out of town and we lost him. Stupid idiots. There’s only one thing that’ll help right now, seeing Tate. Thank fuck, she’s on her way.
It’s not a scheduled meet. I took shit from Noel. He’s no dummy. But I don’t give a crap. This is my operation; I call the shots. He knows not to question me. Things have been okay the past two weeks, not as easy going since Tripp, but getting better. At times, betrayal and disappointment cloak her features and regret drowns me.
There’s also our mind-blowing kiss. Our meetings are like Russian Roulette. The gun is locked and loaded. The question is, who’ll pull the trigger? Will she succumb? Make the first move? Or will I finally put an end to this agonizing temptation and obliterate us both? Either way, this shit ends tonight. We’re just spending time together. No Bobby, Warren or the case. Just us.
It’s not smart. I’m still questioning why I’m willing to jeopardize everything for a piece of tail? But who am I kidding? That’s just it. She’s more than that.
Despite her history with Griff, which eats me up, risking my career and this case no longer matters as much as she does. She’s seeped into my bones, my blood, my heart, touching a deep, clean, untarnished part of me I didn’t even know existed.
A small sound causes me to twist in the direction of the doorway. Tate. She’s here. Every time I see her, thoughts of touching her, breathing her in, being near her drown out everything else.
She’s casually dressed in tight black jeans, a white tank top and a brown wool sweater. Her honeyed-blond hair is loose and wavy. Her skin’s glowing with pink cheeks, rosy lips and shining eyes. My chest tightens at the sight of her. I missed her.
“I knocked, but it’s windy out there. Noel told me to go in.” She scrunches her nose, cocking her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah, nothing,” I say, shaking off my stupor. “Just glad you’re here.”
A smile graces her lips. Restraining my desire has been real hard, among other things. Keeping it strictly professional tests my willpower. The little I have left.
Breaking my trance, my phone rings. Tate lingers in the doorway, unsure.
“One sec.”
“I can wait out here,” she says.
“No, stay,” I say to her and then answer the call. “Wolfe.”
She takes a step back. On instinct, I close the gap, grab and squeeze her hand reassuringly. I made this awkward between us, I have to fix it.
Fortunately, the call’s quick. They found Bobby. Good news. Tate’s here. Finally, things are looking up.
“Thanks for staying.”
“You asked me to.”
“Good answer. Does this mean you’ll always do what I say?”
It’s a straightforward question, intentionally laced with innuendo. A little flirting to lighten the mood.
“That depends. I won’t commit to anything,” she grins.
“Not the answer I’d hoped for but fair enough. You hungry?”
“Yes, what’d you have in mind?”
You. I hold my tongue. Closing the distance, I take her hand, walking us to the kitchen.
“I feel like home cooking. You up for helping me fix something?” I challenge, knowing this woman doesn’t back down from anything.
“You cook?”
Nodding, I draw her in, our foreheads touch and her eyes widen with surprise and hope. Gently brushing her lips, she’s so sweet. Fuck, so tempting. I need more. Pressing my lips to hers, she’s soft and yielding, granting me access as we begin this intimate, drugging dance.
Swaying further into me, her soft, subtle curves rub against me. My cock twitches. Her lips wander to my jaw, soft kisses morphing into sucking the tender spot behind my ear. My balls tighten, cock thickening.
Shit, if she keeps this up, I’ll blow my load in my jeans. Wanting to slow it down, I reluctantly step back. Looking down at her, her eyes are half-lidded, face flushed and lips swollen.
“We should most probably get started on dinner.”
“I don’t want dinner right now. I want you,” she whispers, boldly leading me to the bedroom.
Spellbound by the hypnotic and seductive sway of her hips, I struggle to keep my thoughts clear. Fuck, I want this, but is she ready? Forget about the risk to my career or this case, I can’t seem to bring myself to give a damn, all I care about is her.
“Tate, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t you want this?” Sensing her trepidation, I close the gap, selfishly, my mouth devours hers. Pouring all my lust and want into this one kiss.
“I want nothing more than this,” I whisper into her mouth.
We frantically remove each other’s clothes as we continue to kiss the ever-living daylights out of each other.
In a brief moment of sanity, I slow things down, pull back. She stands before me in sexy white boy shorts and a matching bra, barely containing her divine breasts. My dick is as hard as steel.
“Tate, we don’t need to go any further,” I whisper reassurance.
“Please,” she whimpers. Her sultry, half-lidded eyes are marked with her desire for me. With her fingers on the front clasp of her bra and a click, it falls away. Her perfect breasts with pink, pebbled nipples beg to be sucked.
“Tate,” a strangled groan passes my lips.
“Don’t turn me away,” she boldly says. Rejection is the last thing I want her to feel. Slow and steady is my course of action.
“We can stop at any time or we don’t have to do this at all.”
Gently moving her to the bed, my mouth latches onto her lush breast, worshipping with every suck, lick and nip. She tastes pure and sinful. Sexy mewls match my every touch. She’s so responsive. My hands wander, memorize her body as I blaze a path to her sex.
One finger swipe along her waistband and her back arches, breasts thrusting into my face. Snaking my hand lower, beneath the fabric of her underwear, I gently stroke her bare folds. So wet. She’s ready for me.
Her legs slightly widen, inviting me. One finger slowly enters her, staying still, giving her time to adjust, making sure she’s okay with this. As my finger begins to move, she tenses. It’s slight, instantly gone, but I notice. Slowly removing my finger, I raise myself above her.
“Let’s stop,” I say adamantly.
“No,” she shouts, her cheeks reddening. Unable to keep my gaze, she turns her head, eyes closing.
“Sorry,” she whispers, biting her lower lip, faintly shaking. I rub my hands along her arms, soothing her.
“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t apologize. If you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay,” I reassure softly.
The thought depresses me but only because of my overwhelming desire for her. I don’t want this if she’s having doubts or concerns. Holding her chin, I
turn her face toward me. Unshed tears glisten her eyes.
“Ry, I want this,” she emphatically states, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “I really do but…but, I’m messed up.”
We break apart, both of us sitting on the bed. She wordlessly and willingly climbs into my lap, arms and legs snuggly wrap me. This is a good sign. I didn’t mess this up.
We’re skin-to-skin from groin to collarbone, one. With tender rubs along my back, she comforts me when that’s what I want to do for her.
I’d be content to stay like this and if I’m not mistaken, I think she would be too. She’s calmer than she was minutes ago. As much as I want her, need her, I can wait.
“Hey, it’s okay. Seriously, I want you but not if you’re not ready,” I whisper softly into her hair.
My hands mimic hers, stroking her bare back. I’ve got my suspicions about what spooked her, but I’m not pushing. At least, not right now. I can only imagine how Thornton has screwed with her head. My fingers trail over the odd scar, in various places, on her back. I want to end him like a valiant dragon slayer and keep her safe from harm.
“I want you,” she whispers, softly kissing me. “I’m ready for this, I just need…” she trails off.
“Take what you need,” I respond, my voice low and thick. I’d let her have anything, do anything. Whatever she needs.
She pulls back, remaining seated in my lap. The movement has her wet pussy sliding over my hard dick. She whimpers, her eyes darkening, I moan. Pushing me till I’m lying flat on the bed, Tate straddles me.
Resting her hands flat on my chest, her fingers skate softly, and at first tentatively, over the planes of my torso. Lightly brushing and stroking like she’s learning my body. Watching my reaction. Her touch almost tickles, traveling down my arms and then up my lower abs. Involuntarily, my muscles clench at her delicate and enticing touch.
Her cherry-red tongue darts out to lick her lips. Not once do her eyes break contact with mine. She’s intent on watching me, my reaction to her touch. I patiently let her explore, take me, own me. Willingly giving her all of me.
