Ryan (The Mallick Brothers #2)

by Jessica Gadziala

  I wanted it more than I wanted to be able to be normal again, to be able to breathe in public again, to not break out into a sweat at the idea of making a phone call.

  My eyes dipped to his lips, wondering for a spare second how he kissed- hard and ruthless as his hands claimed he could be or sweet and passionate as his words seemed.

  I didn't have to wonder for long though.

  His fingers slid out, moving to frame one side of my face as he moved forward, eyes watching mine until I couldn't take it anymore and mine fluttered closed.

  My belly was flip-flopping and my heart was pounding and I couldn't draw a proper breath.

  But it didn't matter.

  Because the next second, his lips pressed down on mine. Tentative, but sure at the same time. Like he was gauging my reaction, but didn't have any hesitance of his own.

  And I... melted.

  His head slanted and his lips pressed harder into mine and my arms moved out and up, closing around the back of his neck and pulling him toward me. His free hand left my thigh and moved around my lower back, putting firm pressure there, hard enough to pull me toward him until I did the absolute unthinkable. I climbed onto his lap and he held me tightly to him as his tongue traced the seam of my lips until they opened for him and he moved inside, lavishing over me until I let out a low whimper against his lips.

  My legs tightened around his sides, trying to pull him closer though it wasn't possible, begging for things I hadn't let myself want in longer than I cared to admit to even myself.

  My breasts swelled; my nipples tightened against the soft fabric of my shirt; my panties started sticking to my skin with desire.

  His body twisted as his hand slid from my jaw and up into my hair, sliding in and curling, but not pulling, as he sat back against the couch, taking me fully onto his lap.

  The hand that wasn't in my hair moved to the side of my hip and sank in, an impossible to ignore firm pressure. My hips sank down and I felt his hardness press against my cleft, making me let out a surprised gasp as I pulled back, my eyes opening.

  His opened more slowly, heavy, as his hand loosened in my hair.

  "You okay?" he asked, barely more than a rumble.

  I didn't answer.

  Because I was.

  I was more okay than I had been in an impossibly long time.

  So instead of responding, my lips crashed back down on his, feeling them curve into a smile before they started kissing me back- harder, hungrier, as needy as I felt.

  Without me being conscious of telling my body to do so, my hips rocked against him, making his hardness press against where I needed him most, making me let out a moan as he made a growling noise in response, his fingers tightening hard enough to bruise.

  And it was right then that I felt an unmistakable vibrating against my inner thigh where his pocket was situated.

  "Fuck it," he mumbled against my lips.

  I had to agree.

  Fuck it.

  It stopped, but as my hips did another delicious swipe, it started again, making him make an angry sound as I pulled back. My eyes opened slowly, feeling weighted, finding his equally heavy-lidded.

  "It might be important," I heard myself mumble, my voice low with desire, a little breathless.

  Then like to prove my point, there was a short pause before it started up again.

  "Fuck," he snapped as I slid off his lap and to the side, pressing my thighs tightly together to try to stem the desire there. He reached for his pocket, slamming his finger against the screen and bringing it up to his ear while barking out, "What?"

  He listened for a long moment as I tried desperately to get myself together.

  It wasn't that I didn't have a normal sex drive. I did. In fact, back in the day, it might have been considered high. But when you are shut-in your apartment all by yourself for long enough, it slowly ebbed away. Because, quite frankly, your own fingers and vibrators, well, just didn't cut it. It wasn't the same. It was lacking. And eventually, I lost interest in it.

  So to have it come roaring back to life after so long it was almost completely overwhelming- the racing heart, the tingling skin, the heaviness in my breasts and lower stomach, the aching need between my legs.

  "Honey," Ryan's voice called, making my head jerk up to find him watching me, the phone already tucked away.

  "Yeah?"

  "That was work," he offered, sounding sorry already.

  I knew what that meant.

  "You have to go."

  "Unfortunately," he agreed, nodding. His hand reached out to touch my knee, his thumb rubbing across it reassuringly.

  Unsure what I was supposed to say, I tried for casual and shrugged a shoulder. "Okay."

  "Hey," he said, ducking his head a little to catch my eyes that had fallen slightly, wanting to not show how disappointed I was. "What are you doing New Years Eve?" he asked oddly, making my head snap up, my brows drawing together.

  "New Years Eve?" I parroted.

  New Years Eve was five days away.

  Five.

  Work was going to take him away for five days?

  "Yeah, with the champagne and the big ball falling from the sky and that song that is supposed to cheer people up but always sounds sad..."

  I smiled a little at that. "Um, I don't exactly have a wild social life here, Ryan," I said, waving a hand out. "I'll be watching the TV with Rocky," I added, looking around and realizing he hadn't come charging in to scratch the ever-loving hell out of Ryan. It was completely unlike him. I even had to lock him in the bedroom when my uncle visited.

  "How about you think about coming over to my place?" he offered.

  His place.

  Considering it was all of five feet away from my door, it almost seemed laughable that he was asking that so far in advance.

  "Figured I would suggest it early so you could work yourself up to it," he added, making my lips fall open slightly, surprised that he got it.

  I would have to work myself up to it.

  And even then, there were no guarantees.

  "I can work on that," I said, nodding. "I can't make any prom..."

  "Wasn't asking for promises," he cut me off. "Just tell me you'll try and I will be happy. And not," he went on as he started to slowly stand, "disappointed if you can't do it."

  "No expectations?" I asked, standing as well, finding myself both impressed and confused. Confused because everyone always had expectations. Impressed that he thought to tell me that he wouldn't mind if I couldn't force myself to do it.

  "Nope," he said with a head shake as he shrugged into a jacket. Then his smile went just a tiny bit devilish as he added, "If you don't come my way, I'm inviting myself over here. So either way, I win." I smiled at that- big, happier than I had been in longer than I cared to admit. "Thanks for the present and the cookies and the company," he said as he moved toward the door. Good manners had me following behind, reaching to hold the side of the door as he stepped into the doorway. "Merry Christmas, Dusty," he said, leaning down and planting a chaste and utterly melt-worthy kiss to my forehead before moving down the hall.

  "Merry Christmas, Ryan," I called after him, making him shoot me a smile over his shoulder before he disappeared into the elevator.

  I closed and locked the door, taking a slow, deep breath.

  Then, just for good measure, reaching down and pinching my arm. You know, just to make sure I hadn't died in the carbon incident after all and wasn't experiencing some long, drawn-out hallucination before I finally croaked.

  The pain stung my arm and my head fell back against my door as I smiled at my empty apartment.

  It had certainly been a Christmas for the books.

  And it was shaping up to be a New Years Eve for them too.

  Whether or not I managed to make it across the hall.

  As it turned out, I would.

  But not because I had worked myself up to it, though I had certainly tried.

  No, the circumstances for which I foun
d myself in his place were a lot less inspiring, a lot less groundbreaking than that.

  It was a hell of a lot more ugly.

  And, to be honest, it had been a long time coming.

  I had always known there was a risk.

  I had always known that some day it would catch up to me.

  It just so happened to do so on the day before the night that I wanted to go a lot differently.

  SEVEN

  Ryan

  So, it was no secret; I had always had a thing for nice girls.

  Blame my rough lifestyle, the violence, the pain, the uncertainty, the hard I was always surrounded by, the scum, the blood, the nasty shit.

  I respected hardass women like my mother, like Lea, even Fee in her own way. But they had never been the kind of women I found myself interested in.

  Hell, it went all the way back to high school where I spent a goddamn year trying to get this shy, glasses-wearing, book nerd to give me a shot. She never did. Didn't blame her either. My brothers and I, well, we didn't have the best of reputations. We were always getting into fights, always starting shit, always joking around.

  And, as we got old enough for those things, screwing around. Not exactly breaking hearts, at least not on purpose, but getting around.

  But from then on, it had always been a trend.

  I liked soft and sweet.

  Which was why I was standing in the fucking party store the day before New Years Eve.

  Yes, the mother fucking party supply store.

  I was standing there debating what decorations I should get for my apartment. Me, who never even put up a goddamn Christmas tree, was getting New Years Eve decorations.

  "Okay, does my car have some kind of gas leak or something?" Fee's voice called from the side, making me stiffen. Of course. Of fucking course I would run into a family member while doing something completely uncharacteristic that would therefore be a topic of much discussion. I turned to find Fee, dressed in skinny baby pink jeans, five inch heels, and some sort of shimmery gold sweatshirt that rode up slightly to reveal a sliver of stomach. Fee was, among many other interesting things, really into clothes. Even after three kids, she looked like she was ready to walk a runway at any given time. "Because there is no way this is not some kind of hallucination brought on by fumes of some sort."

  "Hey Fee," I said, leaning down and kissing her temple, noticing the huge pile of confetti poppers she had in her hand basket. "You're going to be cleaning up confetti for weeks," I warned her, shaking my head.

  "Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "Becca somehow learned what a glitter bomb was two months ago. I'm still finding that shit everywhere. This is nothing a broom can't catch. Now, changing the subject isn't going to work. What the hell are you doing in a party store? Is Chaz's finally going to spiff things up for the holiday? I've only been suggesting that for years."

  Ranting and raving about more like.

  Pops was old school. He didn't like decorating for shit. Not even a strand of lights for Christmas.

  "No," I said, reaching out and grabbing some of the party poppers, at a loss for what the hell else I was supposed to get. Anita would be pissed at me, but considering I kept a clean place and she usually only ever had to run a vacuum or a mop once a week, I figured I could get away with it for a holiday.

  She watched me for a second with small eyes before a little, teasing smile pulled at her lips. "You invited her over didn't you? Okay, spill. What happened?"

  "Drop it, Fee," I said, shaking my head at her as I walked past the plastic champagne flutes. I had some real ones at home that I had literally never used. Which reminded me that I needed to brave my brother's goddamn liquor store that was sure to be mobbed. His ass better have taken my advice and moved the champagne front and center so I didn't have to fight for elbow room in the back corner where it was usually stored seeing as no one ever bought champagne any other time of the year.

  "No. Come on," she said in a more reasonable tone, grabbing my arm to stop me from walking away from her. "Just this once, we'll keep it between the two of us. I won't even tell Hunt I saw you here," she offered, sounding genuine. "I know she has issues and maybe you need someone to talk to about that."

  "She dropped me off a Christmas present," I surprised myself by admitting.

  "And you of course couldn't stop yourself from going over there and thanking her," she said with a knowing smile.

  "Something like that," I agreed.

  "Was she freaking out?"

  "No. Actually, she was good. Almost calm for the most part."

  "Her apartment is her comfort zone and you're a safe person for her. She doesn't have to worry about you getting pissed at her or anything. Did things get... physical?"

  "Let it drop with the bet thing, Fee," I warned.

  "I wasn't asking for the bet. Christ, relax a little," she said, shaking her head. "I was just asking to ask."

  "I kissed her," I admitted, leaving out the fact that it was the fucking best one I'd ever had. Maybe it was as simple as her open, sweet, unexpectedly overwhelmed reaction to it. Maybe it was more than that. Who knew. All I did know was I was pissed as hell when I got a call about one of the guys I had paid a visit to that morning showing up at Ross Ward's underground fighting ring, throwing around money he owed us.

  I'd never been pissed to be the one called with a work problem, not even on a holiday.

  But just that once, I had been.

  And, though I generally wasn't the brother who spilled blood anymore, I had just-healed cuts on my knuckles from the anger I went at that bastard with. First, for screwing with my family. Second, for screwing with something good that was developing with me and Dusty.

  "Then invited her over for New Years Eve?" Fee asked, eyes going a little soft. "So you need to get decorations to make a thing of it. I don't use this phrase often, Ryan, but that's fucking cute."

  "I think you tempered the 'cute' with the 'fucking' preceding it. No one is taking your badass card away from you."

  She ignored that. "What about if she can't come?"

  "Then I'm going to her place."

  "Solid plan," she agreed with a nod, reaching for her cell as it chirped. "Oh, don't forget food. Not a sit down meal kind of thing. Snacky stuff. So it doesn't get in the way of, ah, other activities. Oh," she added, having started to walk away then turning back, "and condoms. If she's been agoraphobic for that long, I doubt she's up to date on birth control. Actually, I have a whole bag full off..." she trailed off, moving to rummage through her purse.

  Fee kept a literal fishbowl full of condoms on the bathroom counters at her work.

  "Fee, I have condoms," I said with a smirk as she stopped shuffling.

  "You're sure?"

  "Yeah, babe, I'm sure."

  "Okay. Just checking. If you need a reminder of why you need condoms, I am happy to drop off the hellions for an afternoon," she added, waving over her shoulder at me as she walked toward the counter. "Have a happy New Year, Ry," she added as I contemplated the row of black, gold, and silver paper dishes and napkins.

  Figuring Anita would hate me less if I didn't leave a sink full of dishes on top of the confetti, I grabbed a bunch and headed to the counter myself.

  From there, I hit the liquor store and then the food store and made my way home.

  I was barely halfway out of the elevator when I knew something was wrong.

  First, the noise.

  There was crashing and cursing and yelling and the whacking sounds that my history told me was the unmistakable sound of fist hitting flesh.

  My stomach twisted painfully as my eyes went to my door.

  Second, there was the fact that her door was wide open.

  Everything fell from my hands in a blink as I ran down the rest of the hall and into her doorway.

  I froze for the barest of seconds, the message not seeming to transfer from eyes to brain to body fast enough as I watched two men, not Bry and his cohort, but two other men- big, ugly, mean-
looking, in her apartment. One was rummaging around the already destroyed living area, overturning drawers, ripping open pillows.

  The other, yeah, he was on Dusty.

  Meaning he was straddling her waist and those fist hitting bones sounds came from him.

  I heard a roaring sound and didn't know it actually came from me until eyes shifted in my direction- the dark, almost black ones from both of her attackers and the one not-swollen-closed green eye of hers.

  And I fucking flew at the guy who did it.

  He couldn't even get to his feet before I had him by the throat, throwing him so hard that he cracked the plaster in the wall behind him.

  Then it was what it was. It was fists and blood and howls and cursing and bones breaking under my knuckles and adrenaline surging through my system and my blood racing so fast that it whooshed in my ears.

  I didn't know how long it went on. It felt like seconds, but judging by the raw-meat look to the man's face, it had to have been long minutes. But then arms grabbed me, yanking me back, making my back crack against Dusty's kitchen counter hard enough to wind me.

  The guy who grabbed me hauled up his friend and they took off.

  I took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm it back down. For the first time in maybe my life, I went into a fight something other than cold and detached and calm. For me, it was like any other aspect of my job. I did it rationally. I finally understood what happened with Eli when he lost it, when he went hot, when he was an unstoppable force of rage.

  It was right then, ears no longer whooshing, that I heard the low, sad, pained whimpers coming from my side and I looked over to see that Dusty had rolled and curled up in the fetal position, rocking gently. One of her hands held her face, the other her stomach.

  Fuck.

  Mother fuck.

  I rushed over toward her, getting down on my knees by her side and reaching out to touch her hand.

  She let out a shriek and jerked away, making my stomach drop in a nauseating way.

  "Honey, it's me," I said, making my voice soft even though it felt like my jaw was going to crack from how hard it was clenched. "It's okay. They're gone. You're alright."