Edge of Desire

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “Oh, God,” she whispered shakily, and he could hear the shyness in her voice as he began moving his fingers in a slow, provocative rhythm that made them both tremble and moan and gasp.

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” He breathed the husky words against the smooth, creamy curve of her shoulder, while grinding his painfully rigid cock against her lower back, wishing he could rip open the confining denim and just shove inside her. “You feel so good, Hope. So hot and wet and tight. You have no idea how badly I want to be buried inside this part of you, thick and hard and deep enough that you can feel me everywhere. Until you can’t feel anything but me.”

  A CHOKED SOB BROKE from Hope’s chest as those deliciously erotic words melted into her system, adding a deeper level of intensity to the stunning, breathtaking pleasure he was creating, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip, acutely aware of just how close by Millie and Hal were. No matter how badly she wanted to scream from the blissful, scorching swirl of sensation spiraling through her, she had to hold it back. But it wasn’t easy. He was insanely good, taking her apart with devastating skill, as if he were inside her head and knew just where to touch and stroke and rub. His long, talented fingers felt so incredible, she could already feel the tiny pulses of pleasure that signaled the rushing rise of release. Only…this orgasm didn’t feel like anything she’d ever experienced in the past. Not by a long shot. It was too powerful. Too strong.

  As if sensing the cues from her body, Riley shifted his hand, thrusting his fingers deeper while his thumb pressed down on her clit, rubbing it…stroking…circling, and she crashed, her body seized by a thick, devastating wave of ecstasy that slammed through her so hard, she couldn’t breathe…couldn’t see. She pulsed around his fingers…drenching him, clutching at him, while the wild, provocative heat of it swept through her—and she could have sworn she felt his teeth scrape against the sensitive curve of her throat, the erotic caress somehow deepening the shocking crests of sensation. Each hard, violent pulse slammed through her with a stunning surge of power, until her legs finally gave way. He had to hold her up with his left arm banded about her waist, while his right hand continued to stroke and thrust inside her body, prolonging the wrenching orgasm, ensuring she got every last drop of pleasure that could be had.

  Hope collapsed against him, her head resting on his chest, eyes squeezed tight as she concentrated on keeping herself together, instead of shattering apart in a million fragmented pieces. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, her face hot, lips parted as she struggled to draw in a deep enough breath, while his rich, woodsy scent filled her head, drugging her senses. Riley cursed something hot and gritty and sexy under his breath as he pulled his fingers from the tight, liquid suction of her body, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him putting his glistening fingers inside his mouth. She gasped, a fresh wave of heat searing through her veins at the carnal sight of him tasting her on his skin. His eyes slid closed while a low, guttural sound of pleasure vibrated deep in his chest, and then he lifted his lashes, his dark, oddly glowing gaze connecting with hers with a crackling force of emotion that practically sparked on the air.

  The moment spread out, rife with tension…with hunger and need and carnal, explicit desires that demanded satisfaction, his chest rising and falling beneath her head with the ragged cadence of his breaths. And then she suddenly heard Millie and Hal moving into the small service area that sat just beyond the swinging door to the right of the refrigerator, her aunt saying something about having a measuring tape in one of the drawers that they could use. Hope’s eyes went wide with panic, but before she could move, she heard Hal’s deep, rusty voice say, “I hear Hope caused quite a scene the other day with some pies. What was that all about?”

  “Well, I don’t blame her,” Millie murmured. “The man she was throwing them at is none other than her childhood sweetheart. He broke her heart, and to tell you the truth, I don’t think she’s ever gotten over him.”

  “He didn’t hurt her, like that other bastard, did he?” Hal asked, sounding endearingly protective. Hope would have been touched by his concern, if it weren’t for the fact that her blood had turned cold at what he’d just revealed. She had no doubt that Riley had heard every word and it made her feel sick.

  Hunching her shoulders, she wished that she could draw in on herself like an oyster. Just hide away inside her shell and block it all out. The pain and fear. Riley and Neal and the feeling that her entire life was spinning wildly out of control.

  And the terrifying sensation that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KNOWING SHE NEEDED to interrupt Millie before she accidentally revealed any more of her secrets, Hope started to call out, but Riley covered her lips with his hand, whispering “Shh” in her ear. He listened intently as Millie said, “No, Riley never physically abused her. But I think that in a lot of ways the emotional scars he left behind did more damage than the ones Neal put on her body. That is, if it wasn’t for the loss of her and Neal’s child. Hope never recovered from that. She’s always been the sweetest person I’ve ever known, so much hope and faith in the world, but something died inside her when she lost her baby. And she’s never been the same since.”

  Riley’s breath was coming harder, faster, his body burning against her back, fever-hot and rigid with tension as he listened to her aunt’s words. Growling low in his throat, he ignored her attempts to stop him as he forced his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt, running his palms over the jagged scars that crossed her midriff.

  “Son of a bitch,” he snarled, loud enough that she worried Millie and Hal would hear, but they were already walking back into the restaurant. The minute Hope heard the outer door swing closed behind them, she wrenched free of Riley’s hold and headed straight for the living room on unsteady legs, putting as much distance between them as she could.

  Of course, he followed right behind her. She stopped at the bay window, keeping her back to him as she wrapped her arms around her middle, holding herself together. Her stomach felt ill at what he’d learned…at the fact that he’d felt her scars—not out of any misplaced sense of vanity, but because of what they symbolized. Her failures, her weaknesses, as well as the most painful loss of her life. She struggled to stay calm, but the shivering that had started deep inside her slowly spread outward, until even her teeth were chattering. “I th-think it’s time for you to l-leave now.”

  “Like hell it is,” he shot back in a low, hard voice that crackled with fury. “We need to talk.”

  She shook her head and tried to take a deep breath…mellow out, but it was impossible. The night had been too much, starting with that infuriating phone call from Neal, followed by the mind-shattering episode in the kitchen…and now this.

  “You should have told me,” he said in that same intense tone, coming up behind her, so close that she could feel the fevered warmth of his big muscular body blasting against her, helping to ease the violent shivers that were trembling up from inside her.

  “What, Riley? What should I have told you?” she asked, staring at his reflection in the window. “That my ex-husband’s an ass? That he’s one of the most worthless human beings on the face of the planet, and I was actually stupid enough to marry him? To stay with him?”

  “You lied to me,” he growled. She could only be thankful that he wasn’t shouting at her, which would have no doubt brought Millie rushing in. “Christ, Hope. You actually told me that son of a bitch hadn’t hurt you!”

  She shrugged, her gaze sliding away as a brittle laugh jerked from her throat. “You’re one to talk. God, Riley. You’ve lied about everything. In the past, when you told me you cared about me…that you were going to marry me…spend the rest of your life with me. Now, every time you try to feed those stupid lies about what you’re searching for. Why you think we’re in danger. I doubt you’ve ever told me the truth, not once, in your entire life,” she finished wearily.

  “Damn it, Hope. Stop turning this aroun
d. I asked you if he had hurt you, and you told me no.”

  Turning around, she lifted her chin and stared him right in the eye as she said, “Please, Riley. If this was something I wanted to discuss with you, I would have. But I don’t. I just want you to leave.”

  He stared down at her for a long, agonizing moment, a devastating blend of emotion swirling through his eyes and reaching deep inside her, squeezing painfully around her heart. “Millie mentioned that you lost a child,” he finally said in a strained, halting voice, the bleakness of his tone breaking her heart, as though he mourned the loss of that little life as much as she did.

  She stumbled back, wishing that she could somehow distance herself from the painful truth of his words. Shaking, her face began to tingle with tiny pinpricks of sensation, her breath coming in harsh, jerking pants, as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. “If you care for me at all,” she whispered, “you won’t make me talk about it.”

  He locked his jaw, and she could see the rage he was trying so hard to control, as well as the grief. “I just want to help you, Hope.”

  A sound jerked from her chest, too painful and stark to be a laugh. She’d have cried, but her tears had dried up when she’d lost her baby. She’d cried for days, weeks, and then Millie had come and taken her away, and the tears had dried up. The pain that lingered stayed inside, unable to make its way out, bottled up and slowly eating her alive.

  “Help me?” she burst out, the words jagged and raw with hurt. “Why would you want to help, Riley? I meant nothing to you before, and I obviously don’t mean anything to you now.”

  “That’s not true,” he argued, his massive body trembling with a violent wave of emotion, one strong, dark hand raking his hair back from his forehead as the words tore out of him, choppy and hoarse. “Damn it, Hope, I was insane about you! I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I know you’re not going to believe me, but I turned my back on you because I did care about you. Because I knew you didn’t deserve to deal with the shit I’m going through now. So don’t stand there and tell me that I never cared about you. I cared more about you than I’ve ever cared for any goddamn thing in my entire life!”

  She stared, stunned…wondering if she dared to believe him. It would be madness, but then, that was how he made her feel. Mad. Wild. Reckless. If there was so much as an ounce of truth to his words, then why couldn’t she just do it? Just be crazy. Take Millie’s advice and get her fill of Riley Buchanan while she could, before the opportunity had passed her by and he’d walked right back out of her life.

  “Did you mean it?” she asked, the words thick on her tongue, her body going heavy, pulsing with excitement. She took a deep breath and finally allowed herself a moment to look him over, soaking up the physical beauty of him in a way she’d been too afraid to do before, knowing he’d be too much of a temptation. His tall body was wrapped up in a clean pair of jeans and an untucked, navy-blue, long-sleeved T-shirt that revealed the lean, powerful muscles in his shoulders and arms, while bringing out the navy flecks in his eyes. He had on the same pair of big, sturdy hiking boots that he’d been wearing on Saturday, when she’d thrown the pies at him, and the corner of her mouth twitched at the thought. Every part of him was a thing of dangerous, provocative beauty and rugged, masculine power. She loved the arrogant angles of his face and the windblown, spiky mess of his ink-black hair. Loved the lines that fanned out around his eyes and the hollows of his cheekbones. The strong, corded column of his throat. The sexy, shadowed shape of his jaw and chin, as well as the midnight slash of his brows.

  God, she loved it all. Every single breathtaking, mouthwatering detail.

  She wondered if he was going to stand there and let her stare at him forever, when he finally rolled one shoulder in a frustrated gesture and broke the silence.

  “Did I really mean what?” His voice was low…breathless.

  She rolled her lips together, painfully aware of the wild flush burning in her cheeks. Of the butterflies swarming through her belly. The crazy, frenetic rhythm of her pulse. “What you said about wanting to help me. Did you mean it?”

  SPELLBOUND…FASCINATED and wary as hell, Riley watched the change in her. Watched as her anger and hurt shifted, bleeding into something that made his heart race, his muscles going hard, tight, as if he were facing an unknown threat. Something snapped in her changing expression, the crack deafening, as if it’d been an actual blast through the room, and he flinched, his hands fisting at his sides. “What’s going on?” he asked, unable to shake the feeling that he’d somehow stumbled into someplace he shouldn’t be. Someplace that was going to land him in a world of trouble.

  “You want to help, Ri?” she whispered, taking a step closer to him. “Then help take my mind off my troubles.”

  He jerked back, sensing a trap looming before him, one that was yawning and deep, capable of swallowing him whole. “What the hell, Hope?”

  She came closer, her shaking fingers spreading out over his chest, kneading and pressing as they curved over his shoulders, her topaz-colored eyes wild and bright with a carnal hunger that made him want to roar, because he knew there wasn’t any chance he could feed it.

  “You know what I want, Riley?” she asked in a breathless, shivery rush. “I want what I never had before. What I’ve always wanted. I want to finally get my fill of you. I want you to cover me. Want you inside me. And I want it right now.”

  There was a rough, desperate edge to his words as he grabbed hold of her wrists, saying, “Damn it! Don’t do this. Scream at me. Throw things at me. Be pissed at me.”

  She lifted her gaze to his face, staring into his eyes. “Why should I?”

  His breath jerked from his chest, so hard that it actually hurt. “Because it made it easier,” he rasped, wondering if this was one more cosmic prank being played on him, just to see how much torture he could take. He felt like the proverbial child being offered candy from a stranger. The helpless fish that caught sight of the juicy, wriggling worm in the water. Here he was, with the woman he wanted more than any other being dangled in front of him, telling him she wanted him, and he couldn’t take what she was offering. Couldn’t touch her, lose himself in her warmth and goodness and light, for the simple fact that he wasn’t the man that she thought he was. She didn’t know what he’d want from her…didn’t know what he would become. Not to mention the monsters he’d brought to her town, lurking out in the night, who would be all too happy to use her to get to him. God, he shouldn’t have even been in her house. Should have stayed away from her!

  He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers as he held her wrists, her mouth full with sensual promise, face flushed with a wild, radiant bloom of color. “I hate to break it to you,” she said in a low voice, “but I’m not looking to make anything easy for you, Ri.”

  “What do you want from me?” he demanded, the guttural words fractured and raw.

  “I want to feel alive. To do something wild, for the first time in my life, before I’m too old to enjoy it. If I even live that long.”

  “Don’t say that,” he growled, while fear slithered through his insides, painful and cold. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Hope. I won’t let anyone hurt you. And I’m not going to use you. That’s not the life you deserve.”

  “The life I deserve?” She laughed and shook her head. “You mean the one with a husband and white picket fence, in a soccer-mom neighborhood? I tried to live that life, and look what it got me. For once,” she told him, tugging at her wrists, “I’m going to follow my instincts and see where they lead.”

  “And what would Millie say?” he rasped, letting go of her wrists as he grabbed onto her shoulders, towering over her while he glared into her bright, beautiful eyes.

  She lifted her right hand, cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking the shadow of bristles. Staring at his mouth, she said, “Millie already told me that I should have a hot, torrid affair with you.”

  God, he wanted to accept what she was offering so badly
, but the only way he could take that kind of risk was for love, like Ian and Saige had done. A commitment where he’d be by her side forever, protecting her, watching over her, which was impossible. He wouldn’t be around to protect anyone in the long haul. Which meant that touching her would be the biggest prick thing he’d have ever done.

  No matter how badly he wanted her, he couldn’t do it.

  “This argument or whatever it is is pointless, Hope. Because it’s not going to happen.”

  She fluttered her hand toward the kitchen. “Then what the hell was that about in there?” she questioned, a tremulous edge to the words that tore at his heart. Made him feel like the biggest jackass alive.

  Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Riley worked his jaw. “It was a mistake,” he rasped, forcing the words through his clenched teeth.

  She flinched as if he’d struck her. “That’s cold, Ri. Even for you.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was strained…rough. “It shouldn’t have happened. Won’t happen again.”

  She pressed her hands to her face. Closed her eyes. “I don’t believe this. What kind of head games are you playing, Riley? I’m trying to understand, but you aren’t making any sense.”

  “I know, damn it. But I can’t explain.”

  Her eyes flew open, a volatile blend of anger and hurt and frustration brewing in the burnished depths that made his chest ache…his face burn. “If you don’t want me,” she snapped, “then just say it!”

  He vibrated with tension, his gut knotted with too many emotions to name or control. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then what’s the bloody problem? I’m not asking you to save me or marry me or even take care of me. All I want is to take what you’ve no doubt given to so many other women. Why should I be the one who misses out? Why should I be any different?”