Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2)
Page 17
“Oh, trust me, this one’s going to win.”
“I tell you what, let’s get out of here and we’ll swap stories on the way to the restaurant. We’ll see who has the worst one.”
Her delicate brow arched in question. “What will I win?” she asked, her voice dropping a soft, husky octave.
“What do you want?”
She laid her palm against his chest, sending a current of energy straight into his dick. How was it possible that such an innocent touch could pack such a punch? Could she feel his heart hammering against his rib cage?
“Surprise me.” Without giving him a backward glance, she dropped her hand and turned away. Grabbing her purse off the chair, she sauntered out the door.
“No way.”
“Yep, true story.”
“I’ll kill him. Do you want me to kill him? Cuz I’ll do it.”
Ryann laughed, which surprised her, because there was nothing funny about your maid of honor fucking your fiancé a week before you were supposed to walk down the aisle and vow until death do us part. She hadn’t talked about it since it happened, not to anyone—not her father or her friends—so it surprised her that she was actually doing so now. Aiden was easy to talk to—easier than she’d thought. That he’d championed her throughout her story had made it easier to share the harder parts.
Her tale had taken longer than the car ride to Suzie’s Steak and Seafood House. Apparently “fancy restaurant” was a relative term in Portage but, hey, at least she wasn’t underdressed. The place was cozy and rustic with knotty pine walls and a large stone fireplace in the center of the restaurant. Aiden had gotten them a table near the roaring fire and it was actually very quaint and, dare she think it . . . romantic. Her glass of Lambrusco was nearly gone, and she was feeling warm and tingly all over by the time she finished her story.
Aiden was three-quarters of the way through a dark brew from the tap, his attention fixed solely on her. If he noticed the attention he attracted, he paid no mind to it. Then again, he was probably used to that sort of thing. As for her, someone who preferred the shadow to the limelight, it was a bit unsettling. But the wine seemed to take the edge off, and she enthusiastically agreed to another glass when their waiter came by.
Aiden chuckled. “You seem nervous.”
“Do I? Well, I suppose that’s to be expected after sharing a story like that. To tell you the truth, I’m not really used to all the attention.”
His pierced brow quirked in question. “What do you mean?”
“Look around—half the women here are staring at you.”
His amber gaze broke away from hers long enough to take a quick glance around the room, before locking back on her, looking entirely unimpressed. “It’s not me they’re interested in, it’s Disco.”
“Oh, they’re interested.”
“Does it bother you? We can leave if you’d like.” Aiden drained his glass, set it on the table and scooted his chair back. Before he could rise, Ryann laid her hand on his arm, stopping him.
“No. That’s all right. I don’t want to leave. I was just making an observation, though I can’t promise after I finish this next glass of wine that I won’t give them something to talk about.”
Aiden laughed, a husky, masculine rumble that sent shivers into all her feminine places, sparking a slow burning fire of need deep in her core—a fire she knew from experience only Aiden could quench.
“Be my guest, sweetheart, though you’ve got nothing to worry about. Those women have nothing on you.”
“How would you know?” she scoffed. “You haven’t even looked at them.”
“I don’t have to. I’m looking at you.”
If he kept that up, Ryann was going to drag him into that restroom down the hall and jump him like a pogo stick. Wow, was it getting hot in here or was it just her? Perhaps she could have blamed her flush on the fireplace, but there was no excuse for the moisture in her panties other than raw, hot need.
Gone was that arrogant, cocky fighter that oozed superficial charms. No, this was the man she’d sensed all along and briefly glimpsed now and then when his mask of indifference slipped. He was easy to talk to—maybe too easy, for she’d found herself revealing more about herself than she’d intended. The last thing she wanted from this man was his pity. Was all this flattery his misguided attempt to balm the hurt she’d endured over Tyler’s betrayal? God, she hoped not. But just to be sure, she decided to lay the question to rest.
“Aiden, I didn’t tell you that story so you’d feel sorry for me. Sure, it sucked and I went through a bad time, but it was a long time ago. Nine months feels like nine years after burying my father. It wasn’t easy to lose my fiancé or my best friend, but looking back on it now, I know it was for the best. In a crazy way I’m kinda glad it happened.”
“You are?”
“Yeah . . . If Tyler wouldn’t have done what he did, I’d be stuck in a loveless, passionless marriage. I mean, not once in four years did he ever come close to making me feel—”
Abruptly, she cut herself off. Her cheeks flushed hotly when she realized what she’d almost said. Holy shit, this wine must really be getting to her. But he wasn’t letting her off the hook so easily. Just then, the waiter came by and asked Aiden if he wanted another beer. He barely cast the guy the briefest glance while nodding, because Aiden’s whole attention was solely focused on her. It was a heady feeling, having the full weight of those amber-flecked eyes locked on her.
“Feel what, Ryann? He never made you feel what?”
Picking up her glass, she took another sip of liquid courage and swallowed it down before she said, “The way you do.”
His exhale told her he’d been holding his breath as he anxiously waited for her answer. Leaning back in his seat, he scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck and muttered a curse. The waiter came back just then with another beer and took Aiden’s empty. He snatched up at the brew and downed a healthy amount of it. When he sat the glass down, there was something in his eyes that lit up every last one of her nerve endings.
“This is a bad idea, Ryann.”
What was? Did she miss something here? “What’s a bad idea?”
“What I’m thinking about doing to you right now.” His rich, smooth voice turned rough and husky.
She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable, but the ache was too deep, her flesh too sensitive, and her wiggling only seemed to make it worse. “It doesn’t have to be,” she found herself rationalizing. “We both know this can’t go anywhere, and that in two days it’s going to be over. Why not enjoy it while we can? Otherwise, we’re both going to be miserable, and what’s the point in that?”
Oh, Lord, was she really suggesting what she thought she was suggesting? This was insane. This wasn’t her—or was it? Ryann wished she could blame her Indecent Proposal on the wine. But in truth, it only gave her the courage to say what she’d been thinking all afternoon. On paper it made perfect sense. She wanted Aiden, badly, and he wanted her, so why not get each other out of their systems before they got to New York? It seemed the perfect solution, the only solution, and as long as they both knew the score, they could keep their emotions out of it and nobody would get hurt.
“I don’t know, Ryann . . .”
What was his deal? Now, all of a sudden the player was getting cold feet? She thought he would have jumped at the no-strings-attached opportunity. The guy was the king of flings.
Looking as if he were fighting an internal battle, he said, “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple. I’ve done this sort of thing—a lot—and something about this feels different. Someone could get hurt.”
Was he seriously considering refusing her? And by “someone” she was pretty sure he was talking about her. He said it himself—he was a pro at this, the master at not letting his emotions get involved. And she was what, the naïve, foolish, inexperienced little gr
oupie? More than anything she wanted to prove him wrong. She could handle this. People had flings all the time, and she was long due hers.
Giving him her sauciest smile, she asked, “What’s the matter, Aiden, afraid you’re going to fall in love with me?”
At that taunt, he tensed, sitting a bit straighter, those impossibly wide shoulders thrown back, the fighter in him inherently responding to the challenge. Thoughtfully, his tongue toyed with the loop piercing running through his bottom lip. “What if you fall in love with me?”
Yep, of course it was going to be her. He was afraid she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Well, it was sixteen hours from here to Manhattan, two days of driving, less if they could get out of here at a decent time tomorrow. What could possibly happen in two days?
CHAPTER
20
Was Ryann seriously suggesting they become fuck buddies during their road trip back to New York? She had no idea what she was saying if she thought they could do this and then just walk away like it never happened. She was fresh—inexperienced—and although he couldn’t deny those were qualities he loved about her, they were also an emotional spiderweb just waiting for the unsuspecting fly—i.e., him, or more specifically his dick—to get sucked in.
Emotions were going to get involved; it was inevitable, and she was going to get hurt. But hey, it wasn’t like he didn’t try to warn her, right? He’d have to be a total idiot not to jump at Ryann’s offer to bed and bail. Hell, it was what he did.
Yet, something inside him, some nagging part of his conscience, told him this was a mistake. But that didn’t stop him from telling his Jiminy Cricket to shut the fuck up. So why was he hesitating? Maybe you’re afraid you’re the one that’s going to get hurt, asshole.
Ryann gave him another saucy grin that made his eager flesh stand up and take notice. She wouldn’t have to ask him twice. As the seconds ticked by, the unfortunate realization dawned on him: What if he didn’t want this to be just about sex? God knew he was getting tired of being used for his cock. Back in New York, he’d had nothing but a string of one-night stands, because that was all he’d had time for. Working sixty-hour weeks and running a law firm didn’t leave much time for a social life. And when he did happen to carve out a few precious hours a week, he’d been at the gym.
You couldn’t miss what you never had, so relationships had fallen to the bottom of his priority list. Then, when he’d gotten to Vegas, the women he’d encountered never wanted anything more from him than a good time, not that he’d been looking for more, and the hours he’d spent in the firm were now replaced by hours in the gym. But, what if . . . ?
Ryann laughed, pulling him out of his thoughts as she lifted her glass to her lips. He watched as she took a sip of her wine, taking the time to let it sit in her mouth and saturate her taste buds before swallowing it. He knew if he kissed her right now that sweet, potent taste of Lambrusco would be heavy on her tongue. He wasn’t a wine drinker, but hell if that woman couldn’t turn him into a connoisseur of the fruit of the vine.
“You should see yourself,” she teased. “I can’t tell if you’re about to leap across the table and attack me right here, or bolt out of this place and run for the hills.”
Neither could he—hence, the hesitation. She was pretty, with that flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, that wine-kissed flush to her cheeks. In this low lighting, her hair looked almost black, were it not for the fire’s glow reflecting against her deep copper strands. Fuck it. Reaching across the small intimate table, Aiden caught Ryann’s chin between this thumb and forefinger. Her laughter turned into a startled gasp when he stood, leaned over, and kissed her. It was a kiss just hungry enough to be scandalously indecent. His tongue twined with hers and just like he’d imagined, the Lambrusco flavoring her kiss was spectacular.
A small whimper escaped her throat when he pulled away, but dammit, if he didn’t stop now, he might not have the willpower to do so. And the last thing he needed was to wind up back in the Portage Police Department, this time for public indecency.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ryann, if you think it’s going to be that easy to quench this fire,” he whispered against her lips before sitting back down. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Shock and amazement were just about the only words to describe the look on her beautiful face. Aiden gave her a crooked grin that promised all sorts of debauchery. And feeling triumphant, with his point well made, he turned his attention to the waiter approaching with their dinner.
Dinner was delicious, but after that kiss, Ryann was hard-pressed to drum up an appetite for anything other than Aiden. She remained contemplatively silent through their meal, and she suspected Aiden was intentionally letting the warning hang in the air between them. He’d tossed the ball back into her court, and he was an expert player, letting just the right amount of sexual tension simmer between them.
“You feeling all right, Ryann? You’ve hardly touched your steak.”
Aiden took a bite of the medium-rare meat and gave her a closed-lip grin. “I gotta admit, I was skeptical at first. Just goes to show, you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
She got the feeling he was talking about something other than the restaurant. Not that she could call him out on his enigmatic comment. So Ryann decided to steer the conversation back in his direction. Sending him a sassy grin, she said, “I feel great. I guess I’m just hungry for dessert.”
His cocky smile fell, his chewing halted, and she nearly busted out laughing. “You never told me your story. You know, about your worst date ever.”
He resumed chewing and relaxed a bit, easing a touch of the tension crackling between them. She tried not to notice the way his throat worked as he swallowed, or the thick ropes of flexing muscles as he lifted his pint of beer and downed another third. When he set his glass down, she saw he was smiling—a genuinely humorous, wholly infectious grin. “You sure you want to hear it? It involves a prostitute, a bar fight, and a rubber chicken,” he warned.
“What?” Ryann busted out laughing. “You’re kidding!”
“God, I wish I was,” he grumbled, but humor laced his voice.
“Of course I want to hear it. You can’t preface a story with a rubber chicken and not tell me.”
“All right, but I can’t promise there were no animals harmed in the making of this story.”
She laughed, stabbed her fork in her cranberry walnut salad, and said, “I promise not to report you to PETA.”
The rest of the evening settled into an easy, relaxed dinner. Aiden told outrageous stories, and Ryann laughed more than she had in her entire life. She laughed until her sides hurt, until her stomach was stuffed with one of the best dinners she’d had in longer than she could remember, and her head was swimming from too many glasses of wine.
Aiden was utterly charming, impeccably mannered, and to her complete and total surprise, he had the most fabulous sense of humor. She had seen many sides to Aiden Kruze, but this one, without a doubt, stole her heart. She was seeing a side of him she had no doubt he kept very closely guarded, and sharing that level of intimacy with him was more erotic than she ever could have imagined, because she knew this was a part of himself he didn’t give other women.
No, it wasn’t just about how great the sex would be—and she had no doubt it would be fantastic—or how amazing he made her feel with his skillful touch. There was something else here between them, and she was a fool if she thought she could pretend it didn’t exist. He must feel it too, or else he wouldn’t have tried to warn her off at her suggestion of a fling.
“I still can’t believe that happened to you,” she said, coming back to his rubber chicken story. “How could you not know she was a prostitute?”
“It was a Halloween party. Half the women there looked like prostitutes. Besides, it was Easton’s fault for slipping her a hundred bucks and telling her I was into that kinky shit.”
“Oh, I can laugh about it now, but I tell you what, it was months before I could step into a Chick-fil-A without my ass getting phantom pains. Fucking Easton . . .” he chuckled, shaking his head. Aiden lifted his beer and drained his glass. “But I got that bastard back. Broke his nose, which then started a bar fight that landed half of Coach’s CFA team in the county jail for the weekend. He took his sweetass time bailing us out, too.”
“Wait, which one is Easton again?”
“He’s the guy I was sparring with at the gym the day you showed up. The one that punched me in the jaw.”
Ahh . . . that was the broody guy at the after party Aiden had been talking to. Wow, after everything that had happened, it felt like months since they’d met, rather than days. “So are you two still friends?”
“The best. He’s the brother I never had.”
“That’s who you were visiting at the hospital?”
He tensed. Whether from the serious turn in conversation or the reminder that she’d been following him, she couldn’t know. His expression turned slightly guarded, but he wasn’t pulling all the walls up yet. She regretted bringing it up, then again they were going to have to talk about it eventually, right? Perhaps easing into it wasn’t such a bad idea.
He nodded, offering her no more information.
“Is he all right?”
“He will be.”
“And the blonde you were with?” She tried to keep the flicker of jealousy from her tone and realized she’d failed miserably when Aiden gave her a crooked smile.
“That’s Easton’s girl. Her name is Katie Miller. She’s Coach’s niece.”
“Wow, if that isn’t sticking your hand in the cookie jar.”
Aiden laughed, seeming to relax once again now that he could see the direction their conversation was going, hovering on the outskirts of personal without getting too deep.