Ryan's Renovation (The McKade Brothers #3)

by Marin Thomas

  Hell. Ryan should have kept his mouth shut.

  The stunned expression on Anna’s face sent a white-hot pang of regret through him. If she hadn’t already suspected, then his remark confirmed he carried plenty of baggage from 9/11.

  “The first year following the attack was difficult,” he fumbled to explain. “Nothing in life made sense.” Time passed in a blur. Months flew by. Holidays were ignored. “Since I began working at the station, I’ve been more alive the past couple of months than I have the past six years.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “And you, Anastazia Nowakowski, are the reason.”

  The blond Polish bombshell had knocked his world off kilter. For good or bad? Too soon to tell. “I wish I could hide the scars, Anna. They’re repulsive.” If only he could erase the image of her shocked reaction from his memory. “The surgeon had to remove part of the muscle from my shoulder.” He remembered the agonizing physical-therapy sessions he’d suffered through to regain eighty percent of the movement in his left arm—thirty percent more than doctors had predicted.

  Anna sniffed. “I was appalled by the sight, but not for the reasons you imagine.” She laid her cold fingers against his cheek. Her gaze, warm and tender, urged Ryan to rest his head against hers and soak up all the care and concern she possessed for him.

  “My first thought,” she continued, “was, dear God, the pain you must have suffered.”

  “I wish I could admit that I was brave, and courageous, and fought the good fight.” But he hadn’t. He trained his gaze on the ocean. “In the beginning, I wasn’t aware of the extent of my injuries. One afternoon my wife walked into the room while the nurses were cleaning my wounds. Her face…” He couldn’t make himself describe the repulsive twist of his wife’s mouth or the sound of her retching in the hall outside his room.

  “That evening Sandra apologized, but she couldn’t even make eye contact with me. I believed our relationship wouldn’t survive in the long run. Why drag out the inevitable? So I asked for a divorce. To Sandra’s credit, she made a halfhearted attempt to talk me into a separation. She was worried about how others would view her if we divorced so soon after I’d been injured. I was doped up and in a lot of pain and I said some terrible things to her. Called her names. Accused her of inexcusable things.”

  “But you loved each other, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. But our marriage had been strained even before 9/11. Sandra had hoped to start a family. I kept putting her off. I was traveling a lot and working long hours.” He took a steadying breath. “That’s what made my behavior unforgivable.”

  When he didn’t explain, Anna encouraged him. “Finish the story, Ryan. Tell me everything.”

  “The day after our argument, Sandra miscarried. She hadn’t even realized she’d been pregnant. I blamed myself. If I hadn’t called her those awful names…if I hadn’t upset her…”

  “The miscarriage wasn’t your fault or Sandra’s. Those things just happen.”

  “I hadn’t believed I wanted a baby, but the news that we’d lost a child showed me otherwise.”

  “Shh…” Anna wrapped her arms around him.

  “I’m to blame for my child not living.” He hugged her fiercely. Buried his face in her neck. “After hearing we’d lost a baby, I gave up on everything, including me.”

  “I’m glad you are who you are, Ryan, or I never would have had this moment with you.” She found his mouth and her kiss conveyed how badly she desired him—damaged goods and all.

  “Let’s go back to the room. We’ll search for Parnell later.”

  Without speaking a word, she stood and offered her hand. He couldn’t predict what the future held for them, but Anna’s unconditional acceptance lent him the courage to move one step closer to her.

  “RYAN? Are you all right?” Anna’s muted voice drifted beneath the bathroom door.

  Fully clothed, Ryan sat on the toilet lid, counting the squares in the black-and-white tiled floor. He’d returned to the hotel room a half hour ago, eagerly anticipating making love. He suspected Anna had slipped into a slinky nightgown. Despite his agony, he smiled. No. Anna would prefer a Giants football jersey.

  He had to answer her. But how? Anna, would you mind if I leave my clothes on, just unzip my pants and…He’d been positive he could do this—get naked with a woman. But Anna wasn’t any woman. Anna was…Anna. She’d reached deep inside him to the place he believed he’d sealed off forever. She’d wiggled through his defenses, and now here he was…about to lay more than his soul bare.

  “May I come in?” The quiet plea squeezed his heart.

  For the past few minutes he’d listened to the patter of her feet as she paced the hallway. Why was this so difficult? Shoving a hand through his hair, he answered, “Door’s open.”

  Anna poked her head around the edge. When she noticed he hadn’t undressed, her blue eyes softened. “Everything okay?”

  The concern in her voice clawed at his heart, leaving him with his throat swollen and unable to answer. He shrugged, angry and embarrassed he couldn’t get a handle on his emotions.

  She slipped into the room, shut the door and leaned against it. The corners of his mouth curved when he noticed her full attire—a Giants football jersey. She plucked at the helmet logo plastered across the front of the material. “I’m not really a Victoria’s Secret kind of girl.” Her gaze passed over his face, then glued itself to the floor.

  Her pink toenails winked beneath the fluorescent lights. He noticed how sturdy and wide her feet were. Strong feet. Strong enough, he wondered, to hold him up through this experience?

  Agitated, he went to the sink and gripped the sides of the porcelain bowl. He’d attempted sex once after his divorce. The lights had been out, the woman had been drunk and he’d kept his shirt on. But the demons had escaped, and he’d panicked and fled before anything had happened.

  Head bent, eyes closed, he confessed, “I didn’t expect it to be this difficult.” Damn, he was stumbling badly. “It has nothing to do with you.” Liar. It has everything to do with Anna. She possessed the power to convince him to forgive himself and get on with his life. What if he disappointed her?

  Caring hands rubbed his back, then slid around his middle. She rested her cheek against his damaged shoulder. Those lush breasts caused a certain part of his anatomy to stir. His body craved sex. His heart wanted unconditional acceptance.

  Her careful strokes lulled him into a state of lethargy. Not until he heard the scrape of her long nails against his skin did he realize she’d snuck her hands beneath his shirt. Her caresses left a path of goose pimples across his torso. When she tweaked his nipples, he groaned, the sound rumbling through his chest. Her fingers danced to the waistband of his trousers. Flirted with the hairs on his belly. He sucked in his stomach and held his breath. Waiting…Wanting…

  When he opened his eyes, he discovered Anna watching him in the mirror. Blue eyes spoke to brown eyes…. Let me heal you.

  I don’t want you to be repulsed.

  There’s nothing repulsive about you.

  If you change your mind, you can stop.

  I won’t change my mind. Let me love you, Ryan.

  On tiptoe, she kissed his neck, then her clever fingers bunched the hem of his shirt and shoved the material up his chest. When she could go no farther, her eyes sought his in the mirror.

  I can do this. For Anna. He lifted his arms and she whisked the shirt over his head.

  Wonder spread over her face as she caressed his puckered, grotesque flesh. Then she pressed her mouth to the deformed muscle. Heaven help him. He closed his eyes and fought to control his emotions before they overpowered him and he crumbled at her feet.

  He focused on his body’s physical reaction, rejoicing in the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his muscles, reassuring him that his male plumbing worked fine.

  Showing no mercy, Anna slid her magical hands inside his briefs and cupped him. Stroked him. Held him. He lowered his head and groaned. Her tongue
dipped inside his ear and he jerked. Her giggle eased his tension and he relaxed, leaning more fully against her, allowing her greater access to his loins. Taking advantage of the position, she explored the length of him. Her lips nibbled his neck, his face, his shoulder. But not where he needed them most.

  He spun her, grabbed her by the shoulders and backed her up against the door. He wanted her mouth. Open. Wide. Lots of tongue. While he devoured her lips, her fingers tore at his belt, lowered his zipper, pushed his pants out of the way, taking the briefs with them. He shoved her nightshirt up to her waist, relieved to discover she wasn’t wearing panties. He played with the moist curls between her thighs, until she was as ready for him as he was for her. Then he lifted her thigh and rested it over his hip. Foreplay was over. In one smooth thrust he entered her.

  “I can’t, I can’t…” he muttered, pounding into her. He cupped her head to protect it from bumping the door. It ended before it had even begun, his release so shattering he cried out in shock and awe. Anna held him, cradled him, protected him. Exhausted, he rested his head in the crook of her neck, amazed that she was strong enough to hold him up.

  They stood tangled together against the door for a long time before he slipped from her body. He reversed their positions and held her close, nuzzling his face in her hair. He prayed he wouldn’t lose it in front of her. His chest threatended to explode from raw emotion. “I’m sorry, honey.” His voice cracked and he cursed his weakness. “It’s been so long…I couldn’t—”

  “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

  Tears pricked his eyes. What had he done to deserve this woman? This moment of joy?

  Wrapped around each other, they stood until Ryan’s body cooled and his sanity surfaced. “Sweet Jesus, Anna.” He tilted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I didn’t use a condom.” The box of protection was in the bedroom.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m at the beginning of my cycle. And in case you’re wondering, I don’t have any communicable diseases.”

  “Me, either.”

  Anna grinned and Ryan returned her smile. “What’s so funny?”

  “Discussing sexually transmitted diseases isn’t very romantic.”

  “Neither is conversing with your pants around your ankles.” He kissed her well-loved mouth. “What do you say we move this party to the bedroom?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” She jumped into his arms and Ryan stumbled sideways, almost landing them in the tub. Chuckling at her playfulness, he worked his feet free of his pants and briefs. Naked save for black dress socks, he carried Anna through the suite and dropped her in the middle of the bed. He stretched out next to her, then worked the jersey up over her head and tossed the material to the floor.

  Anna held her breath while Ryan studied her. The two men she’d slept with in the past had both been put off by her large breasts and hadn’t paid much attention to them. She really wanted Ryan to appreciate all of her, big boobs, curvy thighs and more than a handful in the derriere department.

  The awe on his face eased her fears. He pushed her breasts together, then buried his face between them. “Every inch of you is gorgeous, Anna.”

  That Ryan appreciated her physique helped Anna relax and enjoy his erotic touches and hot, intimate kisses.

  “Mmm,” he groaned against her nipple. “My turn to play.” His hands and mouth were everywhere at once, building sensation on top of sensation. He delighted in making her squirm and…beg.

  Desperate for relief from the escalating tension winding through her, she butted his shoulders until he offered her his attention. “I need you,” she whispered. Pressing her hand against the back of his head, she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him with every ounce of feeling she possessed. She drew her legs up and dug her heels into the mattress. Open. Exposed. Vulnerable.

  A condom materialized from the nightstand drawer and he sheathed himself. Mouths fused, he slid home. The relief Anna sought never came. Stroke after stroke after stroke, the pressure continued to build. Her hips thrashed, but Ryan’s hands steadied her. He drove Anna to the edge, where she hovered, waiting for him to shove her over and free her soul.

  Instead of freeing her, Ryan drew out her agony by flipping their positions. Now Anna straddled him. Pushed beyond her limit, she rode him with wild abandon. He added to her torment when he leaned forward and lavished attention on her breasts as his hand snaked between her thighs. One, two, three caresses and Anna went soaring off the cliff.

  Head swinging from side to side, her long hair dusting the tops of Ryan’s thighs, she moaned her release. Caught up in her own climax, she barely heard Ryan’s masculine shout. She collapsed on his chest, her cheek stuck to his slick skin. Never had she been this emotionally, this physically drained. Tears dribbled down her face and plopped onto his shoulder. With the pad of her thumb, she smeared the wetness across the scarred flesh.

  “Tears?” A worry line formed between his eyebrows.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right,” she insisted. For the first time in her life, Anastazia Nowakowski had offered her whole heart to someone—Ryan.

  Ryan kissed her. A slow, thorough caress. No words. No promises. Only a kiss.

  For now, that was enough.

  ANNA SNUGGLED deeper into Ryan’s arms, reveling in his warm, solid body. She imagined waking each morning next to him. Sharing a smile. A kiss. She’d learned more about him in the past twenty-four hours than she had the past couple of months—except for one thing. Why had he signed on with Parnell Brothers?

  “Spit it out,” Ryan grumbled.

  “Spit what out?” She’d assumed he’d been asleep.

  “Whatever’s troubling you. Your sighs are driving me crazy.”

  Okay. He asked for it. “Why are you working at the rubbish company? It’s obvious you don’t need the money.” She held her breath, hoping the question hadn’t ruined their newfound intimacy. Seconds elapsed into a lengthy silence. One by one, his muscles hardened to rock.

  Her first instinct was to say, Never mind. But she stopped herself. This was important. Ryan was important. She wasn’t positive when or how it had happened, but suddenly she wasn’t willing to settle for a make-believe family the rest of her life. No more portraits of strangers. No more pretending her coworkers were distant relatives. She yearned for her very own real family. Loving Ryan made her realize that living on the fringes of other people’s lives wasn’t enough. She deserved more—a husband and another child, one she could be a real mother to.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  So much for an answer. Maybe now wasn’t the time to push him. Besides, she had secrets, too. “I guess I could eat.”

  “We skipped lunch and went straight to dessert.” He scooted lower in the bed and kissed her neck. Ah, he made it easy to let him off the hook. The nuzzling stopped and his face hovered above hers, his expression serious. “What happened to your mother?” he asked.

  Men. She supposed he expected an answer, even when he’d avoided her question a few moments ago. Maybe if you open up first, Ryan will follow. His question hadn’t surprised her. People were naturally curious to learn how she’d ended up in foster care. “My mother died of alcohol poisoning. A guest alerted the motel manager to a nasty odor in one of the rooms. She’d been dead a week when the police found her.”

  “Jesus, Anna. Where were you all that time?”

  “I was four years old and don’t remember much. The information in my case file says I was a passenger on a bus destined for Kansas City.”

  “Alone?” Outrage flashed in his eyes.

  “Not at first.” After all these years, Anna still hurt that her mother had put her in such danger. “We boarded at the Port Authority. When we stopped in Cleveland, my mother left me. I must have fallen asleep, because another passenger alerted the bus driver before he drove too far that I’d been abandoned.”

  “You could have been kidnapped or molested,” Ryan declared.

  Or killed. “The police w
ere contacted. Social services picked me up at the next stop and I was brought back to New York City. The authorities searched for my mother in Cleveland, but she’d already returned to New York.” Again tears leaked from Anna’s eyes and she sniffed.

  Ryan brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “What happened next, honey?”

  “They put me in a temporary foster home. When my mother turned up dead, they looked for relatives.”

  “Oh, baby.” He kissed her temple. “Such a brave girl.”

  She had been brave, hadn’t she?

  “Did they locate any relatives?”

  “A grandmother and an aunt. Neither had the resources to care for me. By the time I entered high school, my grandmother had passed away and my aunt had moved from the city. Not that it mattered. They never had any contact with me.”

  “She left you on a bus….” Ryan shook his head in disgust. “I can’t imagine any woman willingly giving up her child.”

  Anna’s heart beat erratically for several seconds. She thought of Tina, the tiny baby she’d offered up for adoption. She yearned to tell Ryan about her daughter. To share her memories of holding Tina for the first time and the sorrow of handing her to a stranger to raise.

  “Hell of a Hallmark story, Nowakowski.” Ryan rolled her beneath him and distracted her with kisses and caresses.

  She threw herself into the moment. Allowed herself to enjoy, to savor the here and now with Ryan. Because deep in her heart she believed this Little Orphan Anna’s tale was destined for an unhappy ending.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You have mustard…” Anna pointed at the corner of Ryan’s mouth as they strolled along the Boardwalk, eating corn dogs.

  “Where?” He stopped, lowered his head and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, daring her to remove the mustard smudge—not with her thumb but her…

  Oh, yeah. Her tongue flicked his skin. Not once but three times before sneaking inside his mouth. Now who was teasing whom?

  “Mmm…I believe I could kiss you forever, Ryan Jones,” she muttered before stepping away.