Out of Her League

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Out of Her League Page 27

by Kaylea Cross


  He stilled above her, the enormity of what he was about to do registering in his lust-fogged brain. Until now he’d never thought about how vulnerable a woman was at this moment, how much trust she had to place in her partner. Especially this woman. Christa’s guileless blue eyes gazed up at him, body and heart wide open, trusting him to be gentle and cherish her with his much stronger body. Recognizing what a gift that was, he kissed her tenderly in reassurance, fighting back the need raging inside him.

  Holding her gaze, he shifted his weight and eased the crown of his cock into her, just deep enough to tease the glow he’d stoked, careful not to rush her. She wrapped her legs around him, straining against him, seeking more of the pressure she wanted, but he stayed there like that, not letting her move, making her focus on the sensation of him nestled just inside her until the knowledge of what he was doing registered on her face.

  He held her gaze, let everything he felt for her show in his eyes. “Love you, darlin’.”

  She rewarded him with a tremulous smile and reached up to touch his face. “Show me.”

  Hell yes he would.

  Needing to watch her expression, he gathered her tightly against him and sank all the way in, fighting the need to slam deep as her body shuddered beneath him, her strong legs tightening around his hips. Only when he was fully seated and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a blissful sigh did he start to move. Not in a thrusting motion, but a slow, subtle glide that made her cry out and arch helplessly. Smiling at her shocked expression, he angled himself to please her, giving her that specific friction against her inner sweet spot. She cried out and dug her fingernails into his back, fighting to get closer.

  He subdued her sensual struggles, gentling her with butterfly kisses and murmurs of reassurance, waiting for her to relax before rebuilding that throbbing pressure inside her. She whimpered.

  “Mmm.” He pressed a kiss to each tightly closed eyelid. “So close, Chris,” he promised, willing her to believe him. He fucking loved seeing her desperate for more, the way her eyes went hazy with the pleasure he was giving her.

  He moved slowly, steadily, patiently as he taught her all he knew about giving. But God, the sight of her, eyes squeezed closed, head tilted back as she moaned and whispered his name. The urgency in her made his blood pound as he neared the edge of his limit. He groaned, closing his eyes a moment to get control.

  “Let go,” he coaxed, reaching down to stroke the slick, taut bud of her clit. No way was he going to let her pull back now. “Want to watch you come.”

  Her fingers bit into him, her breathing rapid, shallow. Relentless, he held the rhythm, built the pleasure until she let out a quiet sob and came apart beneath him, clutching him to her.

  Still he moved, wringing the last cry from her until she lay limp beneath him. With a hoarse groan he buried himself as deep as he could inside her and allowed himself to let go. He thrust hard and fast, the friction creating a pleasure almost too much to bear. Dropping his head to her shoulder in surrender, he groaned helplessly as his release wrenched through him in endless pulses.

  Christa held him close as he pinned her in place with his weight, stroking her hands over his hair and tracing the ridges of muscle on either side of his spine down to the rise of his hip. He snagged her hand in his when she squeezed his ass.

  “Give me a minute before you start again,” he muttered against her temple, sighing as he snuggled into her. “As soon as I can move again, you’re going to be in big trouble.” Like maybe next Tuesday.

  She squirmed beneath him, unbelievably making his body stir inside her. “Is that right?”

  He rose on one forearm to kiss her smiling mouth, stunned by the hunger roaring to life again already. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  In answer she pulled him down into a hungry kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Waking in his own bed the next morning, Rayne regretted giving into Christa’s pleas and going back to his room. His mom would never have embarrassed them by saying anything, but he’d gone anyhow to put Christa at ease. He would have loved to wake up with her curled against him though, pick up where they left off a few hours ago.

  He stretched his stiff, sore arm over his head, imagining her sleepy sigh as he woke her with a trail of kisses up the length of her spine. Her back would arch, and she’d make that little hum of pleasure that set his pulse racing. The fantasy raced onward until she was on top of him with her head flung back, eyes closed as she moved faster and faster...until his cell phone rudely interrupted.

  Sighing, Rayne flopped over and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. Yup. It was Nate, and as usual his timing sucked.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Nate greeted his gruff hello.

  “It’s three in the morning your time. This must be important.”

  “Got some interesting news for you.”

  “Fire away.” Maybe it was best Christa wasn’t there after all, because she always worried when Nate called. With good reason.

  “Our suspect left a laptop in the apartment he’d rented. When we retrieved the stuff from the hard drive we found airline ticket confirmations in your names. He left it there purposely. Wanted us to know he’s found you.”

  He sat up. “Persistent little fucker, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. How’s it going down there?”

  “We’re going down to see my dad for a few days.” Let’s hear what Nate had to say about that.

  “No kidding? It’s about damn time. Say hi to the old fart for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Pulling on some clothes, he started to make his way down the hall to Christa’s room, when he heard her moving around in the kitchen. He came up behind her at the sink where she was slicing strawberries, nuzzled the back of her neck. “Morning,” he murmured, enjoying her indrawn breath as he teased her nape.

  “Morning,” she answered brightly. A little too loudly. “Sleep well?”

  “Darlin’, best sleep I’ve had in years.”

  Her cheeks went pink, eyes darting to the staircase. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You gonna look at me?”

  She turned her head and he caught the flash of heat in her eyes when she saw him standing there shirtless. A flush darkened her cheeks.

  Feeling shy, was she? He grinned. “My mom’s in the shower, sweetheart,” he laughed. “She can’t hear us.”

  “Oh.” Her aquamarine gaze swung up to his. He snagged one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to nip a ripe berry from her fingers. She turned and he hauled her tight against him. Her blush deepened.

  “Missed you this morning.”

  In answer she leaned up on tiptoe and kissed the breath out of him. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling with amusement and arousal. He was rock hard in his boxers, a fact that didn’t escape her attention. She smiled in satisfaction, laughing when he growled and hauled her closer.

  The sound made his heart squeeze. He wished she had more to laugh about so he could hear it more often. Instead, he was about to tell her something that would take all the laughter out of her again. He drew a breath and took the bowl of berries from her. “I’ll get this. Come sit down and eat something.”

  He waited until they had finished their breakfast and were sipping coffee before he broke the news. “Nate called this morning.”

  Her eyes met his, held. “Oh? What did he have to say?”

  Nothing good as usual, he thought grimly, and told her.

  She leaned her head into her hands. “But that couldn’t have been him you thought you saw yesterday, right?”

  “The build and height were right,” he admitted, “but like I said it was a false alarm. You weren’t in any danger.”

  “Rayne, you were shielding me with your body.”

  “Yeah, and I won’t apologize for being protective of you.” He kissed her forehead. “So, what do you think about a trip down to Louisiana?”

  ****

  By the time they hit
the outskirts of Baton Rouge, Christa was exhausted. They’d flown into New Orleans and picked up another rental car. She tossed the magazine she couldn’t focus on down to the floor, staring out at the subdivisions and strip malls.

  Soon the properties they were passing were on larger lots, separated by tracts of forest. Finally they turned down a road bordered by woodland and slowed at a mailbox with a picture of a frog’s skeleton on it.

  A nervous tingle started up in the pit of her stomach. She knew Rayne wasn’t exactly looking forward to this. “So, what should I be expecting here? Booby traps? Pet alligators?”

  Rayne laughed and ruffled her hair. “He got rid of all those years ago.”

  The house that came into view at the end of the driveway was a modest two-story colonial surrounded by a well-manicured lawn. The shrubs were all trimmed immaculately, and the yard set off the symmetrical design of the house. When the door opened and Luke Hutchinson stood there in the late afternoon light, she might have been looking at a slightly shorter version of Rayne twenty years from now. The two men greeted each other with a stiff handshake and to smooth things over she nudged Rayne to prompt an introduction.

  “Dad, this is—”

  “Christa, I’m Luke.” He held out his hand, somehow seeming to take up all the space on the porch, even though Rayne had him by three or four inches in height and twenty pounds in muscle. The force of his personality blazed out of the melted bittersweet chocolate of his eyes. “I can see why my son wants you all to himself,” he continued in that honeyed drawl.

  “And I can see where he got his looks and charm from,” Christa countered, earning a grin. No wonder Emily was still in love with this guy. How could any woman get over someone with that face and charisma?

  “If you’re finished gawking at my old man,” Rayne remarked dryly, “maybe we could go inside.”

  Christa blushed. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I like her already,” he told Rayne, leading them into the kitchen. The house was clean and tidy, but it lacked a feminine touch. “Guest room’s upstairs so take your stuff up, Rayne.” He regarded her with those hypnotic eyes. “You hungry? I’m making gumbo.”

  “You can cook?”

  “Hey, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” He went to the stove and stirred the fragrant, simmering stew.

  She sat on a stool next to the counter, breathing in the aroma of onion and garlic and chilies. “I’ve never eaten gumbo before.”

  “About time you did then. I tried to keep it on the mild side this time, but you might find it a little spicy.”

  A thump sounded above and she glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Guess he can’t make up the hide-a-bed with one arm, can he?” Luke wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. “I’ll go up and give him a hand—” he gave an ironic grin, “—no pun intended.”

  “Can I help with anything in the meantime?”

  “You can drain the rice in about four minutes, if you like,” he said before leaving.

  She waited four minutes, hopped off the stool and removed the lid from the second pot, switched off the element and lugged the heavy pot over to the double sink to drain it.

  “Here, let me help—”

  She shrieked, whirling around and sloshing rice and hot water all over herself and the kitchen floor. Luke froze. She pressed a scalded hand to her chest, the room going hazy around the edges of her vision.

  He dragged a chair over and placed her in it, gently pushing her head between her knees. “Just breathe, honey,” he instructed, not touching her but staying close while she struggled to control her gasping, her hands and face clammy.

  She inhaled a few choppy wheezes and once she could breathe normally again, she slumped. “Sorry,” she whispered, willing her heart to slow down. “You surprised me.”

  Luke took hold of her hands, checking for burns where the water had splashed. “I’m the one who’s sorry.” He studied her face while dabbing at her with a tea towel. “You feeling sick to your stomach?”

  “Yes,” she moaned, hiding her face between her hands. “Oh, God, I’m so embarrassed.” What a horrible first impression. He probably wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

  “C’mon.” He bent to scoop her up, despite her weak protest. “Let’s get you outside for some air.” He set her down on a deck chair on the back porch. “You okay on your own for a minute? I’m gonna give the floor a quick wipe.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  He went inside and reappeared with a glass of amber liquid. “Ginger ale. It’ll help settle your stomach.”

  She took it gratefully and swallowed a few sips. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about. I know all about startle reflexes.” He perched beside her, putting a fatherly arm around her shoulders. “What a hell of a family we’re gonna make, huh? And to think we all seem so normal.”

  His teasing brought a laugh from her.

  “What happened?”

  They swiveled to see Rayne standing in the doorway, his forehead creased in concern. Under his scrutiny her cheeks grew hot.

  “She’s all right,” Luke assured him. “Just scalded herself draining the rice.” She smiled her gratitude and he winked. “So, who’s hungry?”

  He’d managed to salvage most of the rice and served it into big bowls, ladling the stew on top. Most of the nausea had faded, though she wasn’t sure she was up to spicy food. She swallowed the first bite and tried her damndest not to cough, but her eyes watered.

  Luke grinned. “Want some milk?”

  “Please,” she rasped, the gumbo burning all the way down to her gut.

  “Five alarm gumbo?” Rayne guessed.

  “Nah. Two alarm, max.” Luke handed her the glass of milk and Rayne a bottle of beer.

  “So how’s business going?” Rayne asked him. “Any more trips planned to Iraq?”

  “Maybe in another few months. The crew I’ve got over there now is doing a good job, so I can stay here awhile yet.” He gestured to Rayne’s arm. “How are you healing up?”

  “Pretty good. Only bothers me when I’ve overused it.” During the silence that followed, Christa dipped her spoon into her dinner, casting a sidelong glance at Rayne. Both men seemed intent on finishing their food, the clink of silverware scraping their bowls magnified by the tense quiet.

  “You guys want to watch the rest of the ballgame?” Luke offered, ending the awkward breach.

  “Sure,” Christa said, maybe a little over- enthusiastically. She slid her bowl away, half-full.

  “Too hot for you, huh, tenderfoot?”

  “I think I have second-degree burns all the way down my esophagus,” she teased. “Would you mind if I grabbed a shower first?”

  “Help yourself.”

  In the guest bathroom, she froze. “Ah...Rayne? Could you come up here for a minute, please? I think there’s something hiding in the drain of the tub...” A cockroach, she was sure that’s what she’d seen, and there was no way she was getting into the shower with it.

  She was sure she heard both men laughing at her from the kitchen. “You’d better stand on the toilet seat until I get up there, darlin’,” Rayne called up the stairs. “He might be hungry.”

  ****

  Later that night Rayne and Luke went onto the screen porch and stretched out in the Adirondack chairs, crickets singing as the stars punctured the evening sky.

  His dad handed him a beer. “So, how are things with Christa? Your mother said she’s had a rough go of it lately. Called me again probably the second you pulled out of her driveway to tell me you’re planning to move in together, and mentioned Christa had been through a lot of trouble.”

  Rayne huffed out a breath and settled back. “Yeah, it was bad. This guy had been following her around, leaving threatening notes, you know the drill. Nate and I were hoping he might go away, but she wasn’t that lucky. He almost raped her, put her in the hospital.”

  A spark ignite
d in the depths of his father’s eyes. “The guy in jail?”

  “Nope. Nate’s got a team on it, but he’s still out there somewhere.”

  “Nate’s on the case now, then?” That seemed to satisfy him. “How’s she handling it?”

  “She’s a trooper.” Rayne fidgeted with his beer bottle.

  “And you? How are you handling it?”

  His hand clenched into a fist. “Sometimes I think it would be worth the jail time just to get my hands on the son of a bitch.”

  “I get it.”

  Rayne scratched his chin. “They’ll get him eventually, I know that. But it won’t be soon enough for either of us.”

  “Well, she’s something else.”

  He smiled at that. “I know. Good thing I’ve brainwashed her into thinking I’m awesome.”

  His dad cleared his throat. “I hear you asked for Grandma Boo’s ring.”

  Rayne whipped his head around. “Mom told you?” Amusement twinkled in his dad’s eyes.

  Rayne sighed, smothered a chagrined laugh. “Yeah. I told Mom I figured I’d be needing it soon, asked her if it would be all right.”

  “Actually, Christa kinda reminds me of your mother.”

  “Yeah?” He was sure Freud would have something disgusting to say about that and he didn’t want to go there.

  “How is she, anyway?”

  A slight tension filled his gut. “Fine.”

  “She still dating that Andy guy?”

  Rayne shot him a glare. “It’s Alex, Dad, and she’s been dating him for almost eight years.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  Rayne barely refrained from rolling his eyes. As if the guy’s name wasn’t burned into his father’s memory for all time. Wasn’t it a little late to be jealous?

  “He still treating her right?”

  Rayne set his beer on the arm of the chair, tamping down his irritation. The way he saw it, it was none of his dad’s damn business. If he cared about her so much, he wouldn’t have up and left her all those years ago, wouldn’t have stayed away ever since. “Yeah, she seems happy. From what I know of him, he’s a good guy.”

 

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