The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Hannah—"

  "—but I don't need protection. Not then. Definitely not now." She inched forward, reached up and pressed her hands in the center of his chest. She could feel the powerful beating of his heart, deep and heavy, strong and powerful—and maybe just a tad too fast.

  Dark hair teased her palms. She slid her hands along his chest, entranced by the contradictory sensations of soft hair against hot, firm skin. Need filled her, making her touch bolder as she trailed her hands lower—until he reached up and captured her wrists. There was a soft whisper of material as the towel he'd been holding dropped to the floor. The tip of his erection brushed against her waist and she shifted closer, pressing against him, needing to feel more.

  "Hannah, you're playing with fire."

  She leaned forward, pressed a gentle kiss against the center of his chest. "Am I?"

  "Yeah, you are." He maintained his gentle grip on her wrists as he stepped back, putting distance between them. "And we're not doing this. Not after the other night. Not when I know you'll regret it before we're even finished."

  Surprise cooled some of the desire running through her. Surprise—and confusion. "Regret? What are you talking about? I didn't—"

  "Bullshit." He released her hands and stepped away. "I saw your face, remember? My damn cock was still inside you but you couldn't get away fast enough."

  She ignored the crudeness of his language, knew the words were meant to shock her. To push her away. And oh God, was that what he thought? That she regretted what they'd done? If she had regretted it, she wouldn't be here now.

  "What you saw was embarrassment!"

  "Hannah, I know the difference."

  "Apparently not. I was mortified because Colter walked in on us!"

  "It was more than just being mortified." He backed up another step, stopped and folded his arms across his chest. Big. Strong.

  Stubborn as hell.

  Did he realize he'd just backed himself into a corner? Literally. The bathroom was tiny and there was no place for him to go, no way for him to get past her unless he forcibly moved her out of the way—something he was certainly capable of doing with very little effort. But would he?

  She stepped forward, close enough that her breasts brushed against his crossed arms. Need flared in his eyes then just as quickly disappeared behind that careful mask. It didn't matter because she had seen it—and seeing it gave her the confidence to stay. To go after what she really wanted.

  What she'd always wanted.

  Tension gripped him, making his body even harder. The muscles of his forearms flexed under her touch and he tried to step back, to escape her trailing fingers.

  There was nowhere for him to go.

  And he didn't push her away. Thank God, he didn't push her way.

  Hannah's hands closed over his wrists, much the way his had done to hers only moments ago. She tugged, smiled to herself when Ryder allowed her to uncross his arms and place them at his sides. She threaded her fingers through his, holding his arms in place. Then she dipped her head and pressed a kiss against his chest, right over the steady pounding of his heart. Crisp hair teased her lips as she dragged her mouth over tight skin and hard muscles. His muffled gasp of surprise ended on a small groan as she playfully nipped the sharp point of one flat nipple. His fingers tightened around hers as she slowly made her way down that hard body, kissing every inch of bare skin. His chest. His ridged stomach. Lower, until she dropped to her knees and gently pressed her mouth against his hip. His erection brushed against her cheek and she turned her head, ran her tongue over the tip. Once, twice. Tasting. Teasing.

  His body stiffened and he tugged on her hands, tried to pull her up. She yanked one hand free and placed it against his hip, fingers pressing into hot flesh. Pulled her other hand free and curled it around the hard length of his thick erection.

  "Hannah—" Her name was nothing more than a hoarse growl that ended in a low moan as she closed her mouth over him. He stiffened again, his hands fisting in her hair.

  Not pulling her away, as she had feared, but holding her in place.

  She sighed, pulled him deeper into her mouth and sucked. Slow. Teasing. Reveling in the taste of him, a combination of soap and salt and pure male musk. A thrill shot through her at the sound of his groan, low and deep. Damp heat pooled between her legs, the ache growing, need spiraling outward.

  Raw. Hungry. Consuming.

  One rough palm cradled the back of her head. The fingers of his other hand tangled in her hair, guiding her, holding her in place as his hips rocked. Slow at first, then a little faster.

  The air around them grew more humid. Thick with desire. Heavy with need. Filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing, with Ryder's rough groans and her own smaller gasps.

  Hannah reached between his legs, cupped his soft sack in her palm. Gently squeezed, sighed when another low growl echoed around her. She lifted her gaze, feasted her eyes on the sight of Ryder's head tilted back, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

  And then he looked down at her, pure hunger dancing in his fiery gaze. She didn't look away, held his gaze with her own as she swirled her tongue around his length. She curled her fingers around him. Sucked. Stroked. Harder, filling her mouth with him.

  His eyes grew hotter, fanning the desire consuming her. Power filled her at the raw need in his gaze, power at the knowledge that she had put that hunger there.

  She trailed her fingers along his powerful thighs, muscles clenching and jumping under her touch. More. She wanted more. Needed more.

  Needed all of him.

  Needed his surrender.

  His hands tightened around the back of her head and he started to tug, to pull her to her feet. "Hannah—"

  She wrapped one arm around his hips, sighed when he stopped tugging. His head fell back, his chest rising and falling with each ragged gasp ripped from his lungs. His hips rocked against her mouth then suddenly stilled. A low groan, harsh and desperate, echoed around them. Heat exploded in her mouth, unleashing something wild and untamed inside her as he climaxed. She drank him in, reveling in his complete surrender, sighing when he slowly eased away from her.

  His hands closed over her arms, hauled her to her feet. Dark eyes held hers for several long seconds, the intensity in their depths taking her breath away. Then his mouth crashed over hers, his tongue sweeping in to dance with hers.

  This was no gentle kiss. This was a claiming. A conquering. A demand that would accept nothing less than her own surrender.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer, giving him the surrender he was asking for. Hands closed over her waist and lifted, carried her to the bed and gently eased her down on the mattress. Ryder broke the kiss, dragged his mouth along her jaw. Her throat. Her ear. His teeth closed over her lobe and gently bit, the sensation nearly catapulting her from the bed. Then he was gone. Rough hands tugged at her, peeling off shoes and clothes and tossing them to the side.

  Then he was back, his hard body stretched along hers. The crisp hair on his chest teased her breasts and she arched her back, pressing herself closer as she spread her legs. Hands drifted along her sides. Her hips. Her outer thighs. Gentle. Teasing.

  Hannah didn't want gentle. She didn't want teasing.

  She wanted him. Ryder. All of him.

  That's all she had ever wanted.

  Did he know? Could he tell from the way she moved against him? From the tiny whimpers of need that fell from her mouth? He must, because he shifted his body to the side and eased one large hand between her legs, cupping her. Just that small touch was enough to make her gasp and cry out.

  But not enough for him.

  He slid the tip of one finger along her clit. Back and forth, back and forth. Slow. Teasing. Hannah dug her heels into the thin mattress and raised her hips, rocked against his touch. Cried out when he slid that finger inside her.

  "You are so fucking wet. So fucking tight."

  She cried out again, bit down on her lip when he l
owered his mouth to her. When his tongue slid across her clit. Licking. Teasing. Faster and faster. Pushing her higher, so high she knew she'd never survive the fall.

  But he didn't let her fall. He held her there, just on the edge. Knowing where to touch, knowing when to pull back. Her body writhed under his touch, seeking the completion that hovered just out of reach. She moaned in desperation, in pleading, unsure how much longer she could withstand the sweet torture.

  Then he was gone and she moaned his loss. Reached weakly with one arm, searching for him. She heard the rustle of material, a small thud followed by the faintest sound of tearing, the noise nothing more than a soft whisper. The bed dipped under her and she finally opened her eyes, her lids heavy with need.

  Ryder knelt between her legs, his dark gaze hungry as he stared down at her. He reached between them with one hand and stroked her and just like that, she was once again hovering on the edge, her body demanding the release he so carefully kept her from reaching.

  His gaze lifted to hers, held it—

  And then he drove into her. Hard. Deep. Filling her. Stretching her.

  She cried out. Reached for something to hold onto, something to anchor her against the sudden onslaught of sensation. Ryder's hand caught hers, holding tight as he drove into her. Hard. Fast. Faster still, until she was flying.

  Exploding.

  Losing herself as her body shattered into a thousand little pieces that would never be found again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rain pattered on the roof overhead, a gentle drumming that filled the darkness of the room. Hypnotic, teasing him with the lure of blissful sleep. The sound was so different from the heavy rain that had passed by an hour ago, pounding the roof with such force that he expected it to crash in on them.

  Hannah had slept right through it, not even stirring when lightning cracked nearby, immediately followed by an angry rumble of thunder so loud, he felt the bed shake with it.

  She had slept through dinner, too, barely stirring at the knock on the door. It had been Ninja, who'd taken one look at Ryder's disheveled appearance, rolled his eyes, and told him he'd save them both a plate.

  Those plates were sitting on the dresser now, untouched even though Hannah had awakened an hour after they were delivered. They had both been hungry—but food had been the last thing on either one of their minds.

  She needed her sleep, needed to recover from their marathon bouts of lovemaking. It was like they couldn't get enough of each other. Like they were desperate to make up for the time they'd been apart during the last eleven years. And he'd been anything but gentle, even though he had tried. He'd been seized by a desperation he didn't understand. A burning need to touch her. Brand her. Make her his. To leave his mark on her so no other man would even think of going near her.

  And Hannah had acted the same way, demanding and coaxing responses from him that no other woman ever had.

  That desperation—his, hers, theirs—scared the hell out of him, even now. It wasn't like him, not even close. And he refused to consider what it meant. Refused to entertain the idea that nothing had changed between them, that he still felt now what he'd felt all those years ago.

  Bullshit. It couldn't mean anything. He wouldn't allow it. He was older now, better able to control himself. His emotions. This—whatever the hell they were doing—was nothing but temporary. They had tonight. If they were lucky, they'd have a few more days when they took the ferry to the other island in the morning. And thank God, too, because they'd gone through his small supply of condoms already.

  But then he'd leave. They both would. Ryder would be going home, preparing for the next mission, whatever the hell that might be.

  And Hannah would be going in a different direction, doing what she could to save the world in her own way.

  After Sunday, there would be no more nights like tonight. Not even if he ran into her on his rare trips home. As tempting as it would be to hook up with her, he wasn't going to relegate her to the status of a part-time fling, available only when he was. She deserved more than that, a hell of a lot more. She deserved someone who could be there for her full-time. Someone who could take care of her and give her everything she wanted, everything she needed. Permanency. Commitment. A house filled with kids and a happily-ever-after.

  All the things that Hannah had always wanted.

  He curled his hand into a fist, ready to strangle the unseen man who'd even think of fucking touching her. And Christ, he needed his fucking head examined. He couldn't have it both ways. Couldn't wish for her to find what she wanted with someone who could give it to her in one second, then want to kill that same someone in the next.

  But that's what Hannah did to him. What she'd always done to him. Make him think crazy thoughts and want crazy things. That was just one of the many reasons he'd walked away the way he had all those years ago. If he hadn't, she would have waited for him.

  And yet, here they were. Eleven years later.

  In his bed.

  Where he swore she'd never be again.

  He looked over at her now, her body nothing more than a shadow in the darkness. It didn't matter—he didn't need light to see the way her thick hair fell over her shoulder. The way she slept with one hand curled under her cheek. The way her lashes formed a dark crescent under her eyes. He'd committed all that to memory, watching her for a long time before he finally leaned over and turned out the light.

  He reached for the hand splayed across his chest, smiled when her fingers automatically closed around his. He held that hand for a few minutes then eased it to the side and slid from beneath the covers. A sleepy murmur fell from her parted lips but she didn't stir, not until he reached down and pulled the thin blanket over her shoulders. She shifted, automatically finding the spot warmed by his body, then settled into stillness once more.

  Ryder found his clean clothes on the floor near the bathroom and quietly dressed. He slipped his feet into his damp boots, grimacing at the chill, then quickly laced them up and tied them.

  Hannah still slept, even when he eased his weight onto Ninja's bed and carefully unzipped his pack. There were a few things he wanted to take with him: the small penlight; the pathetic knife he'd taken the other day; a notepad and stainless-steel pen that doubled as a small screwdriver. He slipped the knife into his boot and placed the other things into the side pockets of his pants. He zipped the pack and sat it to the side, then stared down at Hannah's sleeping form.

  His stomach knotted, the almost-painful sensation surprising him. Temptation seized him and he almost climbed back into bed with her, the need to hold her close, for as long as he could, nearly overwhelming.

  Nothing was stopping him from doing just that. He didn't need to go out in the rain, didn't need to go poking around. Ninja had already pulled what information he could from the weasel's computer, had already moved the funds around with help from Chaos. There was absolutely nothing stopping Ryder from climbing back into the bed with Hannah. He could kiss his way down her sweet body. Watch her come alive as she slowly came awake under the touch of his hands. His mouth. Hear her soft sigh as he entered her. As he buried his cock inside her and lost himself in her tight heat.

  He'd lean forward, swallow her cries with his mouth as she exploded around him. As muscles clamped down on him. Squeezing him. Drawing him in deeper. Pulling him closer, until his own cock exploded and—

  Shit.

  He reached down, pressed a palm against his raging hard-on, and took a deep breath. Christ. Hadn't he used her enough tonight? His damn dick should be fucking sleeping, not rearing up, ready to go again.

  He took another deep breath. Forced himself to think of anything except the woman in his bed. Forced his damn dick to behave.

  As tempting as it was to climb back into bed with Hannah, he couldn't. There was something he needed to check out. Something that had been niggling at the back of his mind all day.

  The hell of it was, he didn't know what that was. All he had was the uneasy
sensation that he was missing something and that whatever it was might be important. He'd been able to ignore the feeling throughout the night because he'd been distracted—fuck yeah, he'd been distracted, and damn glad of it, too—but he couldn't ignore it any longer. Not when it was pulling at him. Tugging him. Demanding he chase it down.

  He finally turned away from Hannah and went outside, quietly closing the door behind him. Rain still fell, adding an eerie quality to the dark compound. Ryder stood there for several minutes, blending into the shadows as he looked around, searching for anything out of place. Anything unusual or suspicious.

  Searching for anyone who shouldn't be there. But he was the only one lurking in the shadows, the only one foolish enough to venture out into the wet night.

  He made his way around the perimeter, pausing at each bungalow to listen. There was nothing but silence coming from each one—including Allison's. A damn good thing, too, because he really didn't want to snap Ninja's neck.

  Then again, just because it was quiet now didn't mean nothing had happened earlier. Ryder narrowed his eyes and stared at the door, actually moved toward to it with the intention of slamming it open just to make sure Ninja wasn't in bed with Allison. He caught himself at the last second. What the hell would he do if he was? Drag Ninja out and beat him to a pulp?

  Yeah, that's exactly what he would do.

  Except he couldn't because Allison would get upset. Because if Ninja was in her bed, it was at her invitation.

  Besides, if he dragged Ninja's sorry ass out here and started wailing on him, everyone else would wake up. That would pretty much defeat the whole purpose of sneaking around now, searching for whatever piece of the puzzle he was convinced he was missing.

  If there even was something missing. For all he knew, that niggling sensation tugging at him was from nothing more than a lack of critical blood supply to his brain from all the time he'd spent with Hannah.

  He stared at the door a few seconds longer then swallowed back a growl and moved on.

  But there was nothing to see. Nothing that stood out. Even the weasel's office was locked up tight, silent as a grave. Had he figured out that the money was gone yet? Ryder doubted it. If he had, the man wouldn't be sleeping. He'd be pacing around, tearing his hair out. Throwing things.