But rather than hash over what had already been done to death enough for one night, I asked, "What's our plan? How long are we staying here?"
He let a slow, purposeful breath out.
"I want to read more of the ledger," he admitted. "Make sure we know what exactly we're handing over."
I took a sip of my water to hide the sudden tremble in my fingers. It had been a few years since I last read that blasted book, but I remember it all in crystal clear detail. Every single page. I didn't need a refresher course in Roan McLaren Evilness 101.
"OK," I managed to say.
His hand snaked out and grasped mine from in my lap, his fingers squeezing reassuringly.
"I know this is hard, Marie. But we need to be prepared. And the only way I can assure that, is by making myself familiar with that book."
I nodded. Took another sip of water. Stared at the bedspread across my legs.
Ryan sighed.
"This will pass, you know," he said softly.
I turned my head to look at him. He was staring off in the distance, way past the far bedroom wall.
Neither of us were having fun being here, were we?
I squeezed his hand back. His head swung to the side, bringing intense brown eyes to my face. He smiled. It brightened the whole damn room, that one simple smile.
"It will pass," I semi-repeated his words back to him.
"You probably think I'm crazy keeping this place. But he took everything else of hers. By the time I made it back here, there was nothing personal left. I have no idea what he did with her things, it was as if he burned any trace of her from his life."
"She didn't die here?"
He shook his head. I let a small breath of air out. Thank God for that.
"But this was where I always met her, where we had morning tea and talked. This was her house, even if it was in his name. He bought it for her, so she was always available when he wanted her to be." A small, agony-filled sound escaped his lips. "He was about to move a new lover into it when I first told him I knew."
I didn't know what to say to that. Five years, he said it took, to gather enough evidence to convict his mother's murderer. Just when did Ryan let the man know he knew?
"He sold it after that," he whispered. "Cut his losses, before it could be used as evidence against him. It'd had two owners by the time I bought it and placed it in the trust. Despite the house never legally being hers, she'd loved it. She'd taken pride in it. Every corner, every nook, was all her. She loved the garden and the view out to sea. We spent hours, over the course of our fairly brief acquaintance, talking while taking in that scene. It was what I remembered best about her. This fucking house. That fucking view. When I couldn't find anything of hers to keep as a memento, I bought the whole damn thing."
"And yet you never visit," I remarked, wishing I hadn't said it as soon as the words were out.
He grimaced, took another long swallow of water, and then placed the glass on the bedside table.
"I wanted to," he said as he turned to face me, lying sideways on the bed, his head elevated by the pillows.
I turned and placed my glass on the table on my side and then reached up and switched the overhead light off. Then snuggled down on my side, letting my eyes adjust to the moonlight, and pulling Ryan down the bed until we were lying flat, one pillow beneath our heads, shared, our faces within inches of each other.
We breathed each other's air for a while, just staring into each other's eyes.
"You wanted to," I encouraged, giving him this chance to get it all out.
I know what it's like to keep something so monumental, so ingrained on your soul, deep inside. Even when there are good memories, the bad tend to grow in size, the longer it's kept locked up and hidden. The bad takes over, and eventually there is no good left to remember.
I have a shoebox of memories, and only recently when I retrieved them from their hiding place at the Salt Water Baths, did I actually remember there had been some good times with Rick, as well as the bad.
Ryan needed to remember the good, to let go of the bad.
He nodded, his hand wrapping around mine as he brought it up between our chests, holding it there. His thumb traced patterns on the back over my skin.
"I don't consider myself a coward, but although I couldn't bear the thought of letting this place go, I couldn't bring myself to embrace it either. It's all I have of her. But it's also the last place I saw her alive."
"The key word there is alive."
"But he owned it," he argued, his brow furrowing with anger and misery.
"He might have paid the bills, Ryan. But was this house ever truly his?"
He blinked.
I went on. "You said so yourself, every nook was her. Why else would you consider this place a link to your mother? If she hadn't imprinted on it, and you hadn't have spent some wonderful memories here with her, it wouldn't be a link. But it is. And not once did he have a part in that. You can possess something, Ryan, but that does not mean it's yours."
"How do you know when it is yours?" he asked, and I had the distinct impression the conversation had shifted somehow.
"When it reflects a part of you back," I whispered, running my fingers along the edge of his jaw, enjoying the sensation of his whiskers scratching the tips.
"What do you mean?"
"Take this house. When you look at the view you remember your birth mother. You remember sitting there with her sharing tea."
He nodded.
"The house belonged to her, legally or not, it reflects her in your memories. It does not reflect him."
He held my gaze patiently, as if expecting there to be more. I sucked in a shaky breath of air.
"What do you see when you look at me?" I asked.
"Beauty," he answered immediately. I smiled. "There, see? Beautiful."
I shook my head, but the smile remained.
"Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?"
His eyes widened fractionally, but his head nodded up and down eagerly.
"I see everything I want to be. I see all that makes up the good side of who I am. Morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. Everything I strive to be, but don't always attain. I see it in you, and it reflects the part of me I want to be. It reflects the part of me I know I can be. If I have you in my life."
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
"I used to use confidence and an icy distance as a shield to keep me away from anything that could harm. When I look at you I see a new shield, one that embraces life with passion and honesty. I see a warmth that I desperately want to possess, an alternative to the ice and confidence. Something alive and vibrant and real."
I licked my lips and searched his face for a reaction. He was immobile, possibly with shock.
A deep breath in, and then, "When I'm with you, I am all of those things. I am morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. I use passion, honesty and warmth to shield me from those things that could harm." My voice lowered, became a husky whisper. "Without you, I am ice. With you, I am the power of fire."
"Bloody hell," he murmured. "I so want to make love to you right now."
"Well, that's one reaction to have," I said with a huff of a laugh.
His lips pressed into mine before the laughter finished. It was in no way innocent or sweet. It was hungry, desperate, and alive. Real in the same way I felt when I was with him. It was Ryan showing me what I made him feel. What he saw when he looked at me.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Marie Cox," he murmured against my lips, each word interspersed with a nip or a lick or a nibble. "Inside and out."
His hand swept down my side, and then deftly came back up under the loose t-shirt I'd put on after our shower. He stopped just shy of my breast, stroking the underside of the curve, teasing. The kiss deepened, our breaths intermingling, his fingers just touching, our moans escalating in the dim quiet of the room. The world outside the windows disappeared. The memories all fled and we
re momentarily forgotten. We got lost in each other, lost in that kiss. Our hands never ceasing their exploration, our lips and tongues dancing a duet that could have lasted all night.
Ryan's kisses stole all reason, and yet I had never felt more connected to another, more aware than when he kissed me. Heat and passion and fire and exquisite bliss, all wrapped up in his lips. I could kiss Ryan forever and never need anything else. If all we did tonight was kiss, I would still be in heaven.
But he pulled back, breaking the dream-like moment, allowing us to catch our breaths, and leaning his forehead against mine.
"When I look at you," he said, breathlessly, "I see my future. I see the woman I want to share the rest of my life with. Someone who challenges me, someone who lights up the part of me that's dark. Someone who understands that dark, but doesn't let it taint her. I see a strength of character that thrills me. An unending depth of conviction that awes me. An immeasurable amount of desire to live that captivates me. And an unfathomable mountain of love for her daughter that speaks to me, right here." He tapped his chest above his heart, twice. Hard. "I want that, Marie. I want you to teach me. I want to be a part of everything you are and will be."
Wow.
I more than wanted that too.
He rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him, making my legs spread over his hips, my shins either side of his thighs. And pressing his erection right into my moist centre.
"You're wet," he rasped, rocking his hips up to meet the roll of mine. "And I think you might be mine," he added, as the tip of his arousal slipped through the gap in his trunks and brushed me just inside. Just a teaser, just a hint of what was to come.
He pulled back, then rubbed through my folds, returning to place his broad head inside my entrance. I could feel the material of his underwear, I knew it was getting soaked by my juices. I wanted it gone. Just naked skin on naked skin. But there was also something decidedly erotic and elicit about doing this while almost fully dressed. I wasn't wearing panties, but Ryan hadn't removed my t-shirt. He was wearing underwear, no top, but his trunks had remained.
And still the tip of his cock was teasing me.
"Are you, Marie?" he breathed out. "Are you mine?"
Oh, dear God. What did he think? Of course I was. I'd just laid my heart on my sleeve, and he'd returned the favour and laid down his.
"Yes," I gasped, as he teased with an upward thrust, his head pressing inside, but no more. "Remove your underwear," I demanded. I wanted all of him inside and his underwear was preventing full penetration.
"Not yet," he argued. "Can I make you come like this? Just inside."
Oh, yeah, he could. But I was greedy.
I squirmed on top of him and his hands clamped down on my hips, stilling my motion. His eyes locked on mine, a heated look in amongst the brown. He held me motionless above him, the challenge obvious in his eyes, Don't move. I bit my bottom lip and made a throaty moan, his lips parted on a sexy sigh, and then he rocked his hips. Small presses upward, minute pulls back, over and over again. The broad tip of his erection rubbing over my sensitive clit as it slipped just inside and then retreated back out.
Again. And again. And a-fucking-gain.
He had me panting and breathless and sweaty and needy all within a matter of minutes, and his eyes never left mine once. It was so intimate. So playful, yet full of an intensity that rocked me to my core.
"I think I'm gonna come just like this," he announced in a roughened whisper that sped my heart up. "Come all over your pussy, while you come all over my trunks."
I whimpered, threw my head back, arched my shoulders, making my breasts stick out above his face.
"Ah, fuck this," he groaned, moving his hands from my hips to the hem of my shirt and lifting it up and off my body in one frantic and slightly rough move. "There they are," he declared, once the offending garment was on the floor and his hands were back on my hips controlling my movements. His eyes locked on my breasts and watched them bounce, an appreciative smile gracing his lips.
"My turn," I breathed. "Now your trunks."
"No," Ryan argued. "Come for me like this. Spread your thighs wider, grind against the tip of my cock. Then I'll let you ride me."
I moaned, it was halfway frustrated, halfway turned on, but in the next second he changed his angle, making his cock slide lengthwise over my clit, the tip dipping up and inside with a swirl of his hips on the end of each thrust forward. He reversed the motion and then repeated each slide, swirl and dip inside again.
Three more times and I shattered. A noise building from the base of my throat and erupting out of my mouth, which Ryan caught in one smooth move, rising off the bed to wrap his lips around mine and sucking the sound back down. I shuddered above him, my body trembling with the release, bright lights blinding me for a brief moment and all breath long ago lost.
He'd made me come and he hadn't even sunk himself inside.
"Fucking brilliant," he rasped against my neck. "That was fucking amazing to watch."
My body offered one more shudder against his and he chuckled, enjoying the obvious total lack of control on my part. His erection jerked between us; the material of his underwear feeling decidedly wet and slightly sticky when I lifted myself up to catch a glimpse of that fantastic appendage. I admit, I might have been a little in awe of his cock, right then.
"Take them off," he husked, leaning back down on the bed and placing his hands behind his head in that typically masculine stance.
I offered a smirk of my own and pulled his now completely ruined trunks down his legs, letting his erection finally spring free. I threw the underwear over by my t-shirt on the floor and returned my eyes to his arousal. It bobbed a little under my gaze.
"Ride me, babe," Ryan purred. "Take everything I've got."
My eyes flicked back up to his face to see his expression. It was hungry, filled with lust, but there was an honesty there. The words meaning much more than just sex.
I crawled up his body, keeping my eyes locked to his, and reached for his cock. One stroke up and down. His lips parted, his hips rising off the bed. I tilted my head, watching him. Another stroke up and down, a squeeze of my hand at the base. A breath of air expelled on a sexy grunt.
I shuffled forward, positioned myself directly above him, and while I held his beautiful brown intense eyes with my own, I sank down, taking him all the way inside.
"Fuuuuck!" he exclaimed in a long harsh whisper. His hands coming down and clasping my hips, fingers digging in.
He rocked up meeting me off the bed, then retreated with a low moan. In the next instant he slammed back into me again, making my breath leave me in a rush of air. Another and another and then finally with shaking hands he lowered himself back to the bed, sucking in air, and closed his eyelids slowly. We sat like that silently for a few seconds, and then as though he had to make a conscious effort to do it, he removed his hands from my hips and returned them to beneath his head.
His eyes opened and pure lust stared back at me.
"I can't fucking help it," he rumbled. "You make me need so much." It was almost a plea.
"Then let me give it to you," I whispered, holding his hungry gaze.
He nodded his head. "Show me."
I started slowly, a rock of my hips, a lift of my pelvis, a roll and swirl when on my knees. Then stillness. All breaths silent. Then just when I saw him crack, his arms shaking with the need to move from behind his head, his hips starting to lift, I slammed back down again.
He lasted exactly four times on repeat.
Then came so violently he bit into my shoulder to stifle the cry. His arms wrapped around my waist, his cock buried to the hilt inside my hot centre, pumping his release in warm bursts of liquid ecstasy. His heart thundered through his chest, beating against my skin, sending thrilling shockwaves of adrenaline throughout my body.
We shuddered against each other, lost again, but anchored to the moment by touch.
Then he pulled back, sweat coating
his forehead, and looked me in the eyes. One hand came up and brushed my hair from my face, then cupped the nape of my neck.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine, a connection between us that felt like it could never be broken, could never be found anywhere else.
I smiled. He smiled back.
And then he completely and utterly ruined everything, by saying...
"Marry me."
Chapter 26
And Then It Became Real
"Marie, talk to me."
It wasn't the first time Ryan had asked that. He'd tried last night, after we'd made, yet again, the most unbelievably fantastic love I'd ever had. And then gone and ruined it all by asking me to marry him.
Was he mad?
Yes, I'd fallen in love with him, in a ridiculously short period of time.
Yes, he'd obviously fallen in love with me, in that same ridiculously short period of time.
It wasn't the length of time that froze me though. Life is short. Danger lurks behind every corner. He and I know this. You grab what you can and hold on for dear life. No, the ridiculously short time frame was not the issue here. When you fall in love, you have no say on when it will happen. It just happens. And I am not the sort of person to think it couldn't happen in less than one week.
Love is not logical. It is not ordered nor can it be placed in a box. There are no set rules. For someone who thrives on order, who can only ever survive with set boundaries, and hard and fast rules, I'm surprised I've accepted the notion of loving Ryan so easily. But I feel it. Inside. It is like nothing I have ever felt before. And a part of me knows that it is not something I will ever feel again either.
It thrills me. He fills me. My mind. My heart. My soul. There is no room for any doubt, it just is. An inexplicable, inescapable sensation of completeness. He is the reflection of everything I long to be.
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