But I had to ask, "He's behind bars, how?"
"Just like he can reach outside the walls of a prison, those on the outside can reach within."
Wow. I'd not thought of that. I wondered if Ryan had. If he'd known that was a possible outcome. I held his gaze in the mirror and I think, just maybe, Ryan had been aware. Law was not justice. This was Ryan going after justice within the confinement of the law.
The long stretch of windy road to Gulf Harbour rolled out before us, the lights of the houses flashed by in a haze through the windows. Stanmore Bay, Arkles Bay, Manly. I counted each beach suburb off in my head silently as we wound our way further and further out towards the tip of Whangaparaoa Peninsula.
After another half hour of travel I started to smell the salty air of the sea, caught glimpses of the Hauraki Gulf beyond. Darkness for miles and then the odd glow of lights in the distance across the water. Grand homes lined both sides of the road, dark surging waves glimpsed through the gardens of those on the seaward side. Ryan pulled the car up outside a small, well presented, white stucco single storey house, on the foreshore side of the street. There'd have an uninterrupted view toward Coromandel, I was sure.
He switched the car engine off and just sat there, staring at the house as though it was a monster about to swallow him whole. I couldn't move to reassure him, Daisy's head rested gently on my shoulder and upper arm, she'd surely wake if I reached forward to Ryan. But I knew he needed something to face whatever it was about this place that turned him to stone.
"It's pretty," I said, and then cringed at my pathetic attempt to reassure.
He twisted in his seat and offered a small smile. "It's got a nice view," he admitted, but I was thinking it was an understatement.
The short conversation had broken his stasis though, and he climbed out of the vehicle and opened the rear door. Helping lift Daisy out of the car while I calmed her back to sleep with a kiss to the cheek, he said, "I'll come back for the bags, let's get this one settled inside."
I nodded and followed behind him and Daisy up the front steps, retrieving his keys when he tried to fumble the right one into the lock. I opened the door and waited for him to cross the threshold. He hesitated... my heart damn near broke in half. This was hard for him and I didn't know why. I wanted to ask, but now was not the time when he was facing his demons.
Finally he straightened his shoulders and took the first step inside. I switched on lights as we progressed further into an interior straight out of a design magazine. Light and airy, modern and welcoming. His mother's house was simply divine.
He walked straight towards a bedroom just off to the side and waited for me to pull the bed covers back so he could slip Daisy beneath them. The sheets were crisp and clean. The bedroom furniture dusted and well maintained. If no one lived here, why was it in such good order?
Daisy stirred, but only enough to be reassured that she was in a new bed and I wouldn't be far away, and then the gentle snoring began again. I stood over her for several minutes, aware Ryan had returned to the car for the rest of our gear, and just breathed. We'd made it, we were possibly safe, but I couldn't get past the feeling that there were still mountains left for us to climb.
I tucked my daughter in, sang a verse of Daisy Bell softly as I brushed her hair from her face, and then walked back out to the main part of the house. Ryan was already in the kitchen, emptying out the ice bin into the fridge and cupboards.
"It's a beautiful house, Ryan," I said softly from my side of the kitchen.
He didn't say anything immediately, just finished what he was doing and then put the bin away in a room that ran off the side of the kitchen.
He walked back out.
The air shifted. Thickened.
A slightly haunted, yet hungry look graced his face. He slowly devoured me with intense dark eyes, his hands fisted at his sides as though he was fighting a compulsion to reach for me.
Butterflies exploded in a flurry of beating wings inside my stomach.
"I'll tell you all about it," he said, voice strained. "But I'm drowning here."
I took a step closer, he held up his hand to stop my progress.
"I need you," he admitted, the words lost in the deep rumble of his voice.
"You've got me," I assured him, no hesitation on my part at all.
He stared at me for a suspended moment and then lifted his hand up, palm open in invitation.
I took the last step necessary to reach him and clasped his hand in mine.
"I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you, and every second since," he murmured, holding my gaze as his free hand came up to cup behind my neck. "I'd planned on this being a little different. Please forgive me." He sounded genuinely pained. "But I need to get lost in you. I need..."
He stopped, closed his eyes and let a shaking breath of air out.
My hand came up and cupped his cheek, his beard scratching my naked palm. His eyes flicked open, such depth of pain evident in the deep brown that stared back at me. I didn't know what caused it, but I didn't need to in order to give him a life line right now. And Ryan Pierce was a man drowning, in desperate need of being saved.
I started pulling him in the direction of the hallway, where I guessed the master bedroom ran off, somewhere near Daisy's room. It wasn't hard to find. The main bedroom was at the back of the house with a stunning view of the tiny twinkling lights on darkened Coromandel Peninsula far in the distance and the closer Waiheke Island in the foreground. The odd buoy light breaking up the view, and a container ship lit up like a Christmas tree wending its way across the Hauraki Gulf.
I turned my back on the vista and looked at the man before me, preferring this view to any other, any day of the week.
"I'm yours," I semi repeated. He held my gaze for one single beat in time, that felt like an eternity.
Then pulled me hard against his chest. A pained, but excited groan sounding out as his lips met mine, the heat of his body fuelling the inferno inside.
How could I ever feel like ice again if I had this man in my life?
The answer was simple. I couldn't. And I embraced that reality with fervent desire, as I embraced the man before me, melting into his touch.
Chapter 22
Change Of Plans
He touched me like I was a fragile treasure. Or perhaps a prize he'd coveted for too long, which he knew could be stolen from him at any second. One moment his lips were firm and unyielding. Taking everything he wanted without pause. The next they'd skim across my flesh, tentative and questioning.
Did I want this? Would I push him away?
Every stroke of his fingers along my neck, across my cheek, over my jaw sent electric jolts of desire through me, which were swamped by uncertainty in the next instant through the tremble in his arm, or the hesitation in his movements.
He was a dichotomy of longing and fear. I wondered if that reticence had anything to do with his role as my police protector, or if it was to do with where we were.
But a hunger burned beneath the surface of his touch. Beneath the press of his lips. Ryan kissed like he was dying, like the world was about to end and he had to taste a little more, lick a little more. Have a little more of me. Before it all was taken away from him.
One hand cupped the back of my head gently, the other spread flat against my spine, above my hips, pressing me close. Then in a flash the hand at my nape fisted fingers in my hair securely. The one at my spine moved to grip my hips, fingers across my butt cheek, thumb digging into the crease along the top of my leg.
I couldn't tell if he was fighting his attraction for me, even now when we'd both succumbed. Or if he truly didn't know how to handle me, how he should act, what he should do next. I hadn't expected this from Ryan. He'd been so controlled, so in charge of his environment. But the moment I stepped into his embrace, accepted his desire, offered him mine, he'd floundered. Want and need warring with something else. Propriety and decency?
I did not want Ryan Pierce to be dece
nt with me. That was not what I saw when I looked at the goatee wearing bad-boy cop. It was not what I had come to know of the man either. Ryan worked in law enforcement. He lived and breathed it. But he was not above finding justice however he could within the confines of the law.
He made an erotic sound when I nipped his bottom lip in an effort to send a message home. Hey, I'm yours. Take me. His hand in my hair tightened and he tipped my head deepening the kiss. I groaned into his mouth and his body shook in answer. The kiss took on a life of its own. Our bodies moulded together, still standing, still in the middle of the dark room. But we could have been anywhere. That kiss. Dear God, that kiss was all I needed to stay alive.
Then in the next second his hands were coasting across my back; gentle and calming, when all I wanted was hard and hot. I let a breath of frustrated air out as his lips trailed down my neck, slower and slower still.
Exasperated, my hand slid over his taut stomach muscles and delved beneath his trousers. He sucked in a breath of surprised air, allowing more space between his belt and skin, making it easy to snake my fingers around their goal. He wore stretchy fabric underwear. Not satin boxers. I wondered if they were tightie-whities, or those skin tight boxer ones that showed off every attribute the wearer had.
God, I wanted to know.
He jerked in my palm, swore softly under his breath, his body rigid, his lips no longer kissing soft caresses against my skin. The world stopped. I held my breath as the pulse in his erection thundered beneath my fingertips.
One second.
Two.
Three.
And then his fingers found his belt buckle and with a flick of his wrist it came undone. The button at the top of his trousers followed, then the zip.
"I need..." he rasped as I started to make good use of the increased space he'd provided.
"What do you need, Ryan?" I whispered against his jaw, my tongue flicking out to lick the taste off his skin. Salty, soapy, manly. I made a low sound in the back of my throat.
"Fuck," he whispered back. "You are so fucking sexy."
"What do you need?" I repeated, laying hungry kisses across his neck.
He dipped his head down, holding me away from him so he could look me in the eye. My hand stilled its exploration and I sucked in a surprised breath of air.
"I need to know you want this. Truly want this, Marie. Not just because I'm falling apart here and you feel obligated to ease my pain."
Holy shit. He had been battling his attraction and desire. Because he was unsure of mine.
Even in the midst of his own passion, Ryan was making sure I was OK.
"Ryan," I started.
But he interrupted me. "This is not a one night stand for me. This is the start of something I intend to pursue from this night forward."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was wound so tightly, so close to unleashing his hold on that control he'd always had. So close to the explosion I knew would happen when we finally broke through our self imposed shields and let the other person in. But for some reason he couldn't see in me what I could so clearly see in him. An honest longing and hunger, a need that could only be fulfilled by the other.
I pulled my hand out of his trousers, thinking this conversation would be better had without me palming his arousal. My thumb inadvertently stroked over the broad head as I withdrew, and moisture registered on the tip. Without thinking, my eyes still focused on his, I lifted my thumb up to my lips and licked. Bloody hell he tasted amazing.
"Fuck," Ryan muttered. "Was that good?"
I nodded, unable to stop the edges of my lips from tipping up at the sides. I held his gaze and for a second we both got a little lost in there. Couldn't he see I wanted him for longer than tonight as well? I tried to tell him that with my eyes. I tried to let him see what was inside my head. Something I have never, ever done before with anyone else.
I realised, as I stood there, staring into the beautiful deep brown of Ryan's eyes, that he was already behind my shield. How long he'd been there, I don't know. But Ryan Pierce had made it to the other side. He was in.
No one had been in before.
"You're behind my shield," I whispered, the words somehow finding their way from my brain to my tongue. He shook his head softly, his thumbs starting to rub gentle circles on my upper arms. "No one else," I added, and a frown line appeared above his brow. A soft snort of air left my nose, making his lips twitch. "Ryan," I said, my voice certain and firm. "You think I'd let you in and walk away?"
This time when he shook his head it was with a smile.
"You're beautiful," he murmured. "So fucking beautiful." But as he looked at me, I could have sworn he was looking into me, not at whatever beauty was on the outside.
"From this night forward," I said, my hand coming up to cup the side of his face, my thumb rubbing through his whiskers, relishing the texture and feel of his goatee against my skin. I wanted that feeling all over me, not just against my lips or under my fingers.
"From this night forward," Ryan repeated, and neither of us mentioned the dangers I still faced or the rules he was breaking. We just stared at each other, seeing inside our respective souls.
There wasn't much Ryan didn't know about me. Well, as far as the big things went. My past had been relived in a most public way over the past few days with him in the front row seat watching. He knew where I'd come from. What I'd done and how I'd survived. He'd picked up on my quirks from the beginning. He'd seen my tells and recognised what I used to just make it through each day mentally intact.
He'd fallen for my daughter. Considered her part of the package when he took me on. And he was still here. Still beside me. Still asking for more.
And although I knew there was much more to Ryan Pierce than I'd already seen. The fact that he had accepted me, with all my fucked up history and in all my fucked up ways, meant everything. It meant I'd let him behind my icy shield. I'd let him into my heart. And no matter what skeletons existed in his past, he'd stared mine down with me, and I'd be happy to stare his down with him as well.
"Make love to me, Ryan," I whispered, never having wanted something so much in my life before. I wanted him. My next breath depended on it.
"Babe," he murmured, then slipped his hand down my arm and laced his fingers with mine, turning and guiding me to the bed.
This time when he reached for me, and lowered his lips to mine, there was no hesitation. His hands deftly undressed me, while his tongue worshipped my mouth. Every touch was sure. Every caress was hungry. Every sound was a mixture of longing and desire.
We tumbled to the bed in a tangle of naked limbs. His hard body a feast for my fingertips, a lavish smorgasbord for my teeth and tongue. I wasn't sure if he was still drowning from whatever this house did to him, or if he was simply drowning beneath my touch, but I was determined to distract him. To make him forget everything but what I was doing, what I was making him feel, what I was about to do next.
He'd landed on his back with me halfway across his body, coating him like a blanket. I made sure he remained there with a purposeful press of my hands to his shoulders. The bed dipped beneath him from my gentle shove.
"I thought I was making love to you," he queried, but there was a lightness to his tone that hadn't been there before. It gave me incentive to keep doing what I was doing, because I was sure he was beginning to lose himself to my touch.
And I needed him to. The look on his face when he'd come out of that side room in the kitchen was still haunting me. Ryan Pierce was not a man who should be drowning.
And even though he'd been unsure if I was willing to sleep with him out of compassion or just plain lust, I didn't have any doubt at all. This man made me feel things, passionate, hungry, wicked things, that no man had ever made me feel before. And behind all that delicious desire was an even stronger one.
I'd thought Ryan was becoming my shield, replacing the ice with his heated touch. But I think I was becoming his too. And God, I wanted to be. I really, really w
anted to be Ryan's shield, like he was mine.
My lips trailed down his chest and over his stomach. Discovering his shape, investigating all those beautiful ridges and hollows, committing the feel of his ribbed muscles to memory. Making a map of his body I could come back to at any time in my mind.
He must have worked out regularly, I knew cops had to be fit, but his physique was more developed than what I'd think on the job exercise could attain. He had broad muscular shoulders, thick upper arms, and a frame any underwear model would be proud of. His smooth cream skin glowed softly in the muted light of the stars and moon that shone through the large picture window at the end of the bed. A dark line of hair from his navel to the thick thatch of curls at his groin was all that graced his torso.
He was perfect. In every single way.
His erection jumped eagerly the closer I came. I glanced up the length of his body, seeing his hooded eyes devouring every inch of me hovering above him. Both hands were behind his head, in an open and relaxed stance. The look on his face was pure male. He had no doubt of what I was about to do and he fucking well would have it.
He wasn't drowning anymore. He was floating on anticipation. And I hadn't even placed him in my mouth yet.
My hand stroked down the side of his hip, over his thigh, as my eyes held his. I felt his erection jerk beneath my chest, my breasts were in exactly the right spot for the tip to gently smack between them. He made the same motion again, his arousal slapping my cleavage, a smirk on his lips.
I raised my eyebrows, my hand skimming back up the length of his thigh and over his hip, goosebumps following in its wake.
"Did you want me to do something?" I asked, enjoying the moment, aware that as soon as I tasted him all sanity would be lost.
I think he knew it too. I think that's why we'd both drawn this out. The tension was exquisite, but it stole all air in the room. When we touched, electricity arced between us. It always had. But right now, even just hovering a mere inch above his body, that connection was lit up, a hundred thousand volts pulsing in the small space between us. Sizzling, crackling. Begging to erupt.
Sweet Seduction Shield Page 21
