When the little door opened in the big gate, he came out shielding his eyes with his hand. He’d lost a lot of weight, but what was left was more toned and ripped than ever. He moved slowly, cautiously out into the sun and he didn’t see me. He didn’t wait before he turned and began to make his way toward the bus stop.
He moved with the same animal grace he always had, but if anything, he was more pent-up. More controlled. I would hate to say that prison did him good, but damn, it didn’t look half-bad on him.
~~~~
Ryan’s sentence had been short, considering the charge sheet. The District Attorney made a point of it and said it was because he had helped an officer in trouble and had cooperated with the police at the time of his arrest. The judge told Ryan that she was handing down the most lenient sentence the statutes would allow. But if Ryan was ever in front of her again, she would more than make up for it.
Aileen was kind to me in the weeks after Ryan’s arrest and trial. She took me in, cared for me, fed me, basically gave me space and time to recover. Never asked for a thing in return. She paid me what I was due for working for her, and then she persuaded me to continue “helping her.” After that, keeping up with my college work, never mind finding the money for the fees along with everything else, was really hard.
But surprisingly, Aileen kept to her word. She was much more “hands-off” with Tarquin and Waynetta. With the smothering blanket of her attention removed, they soon developed into bright, happy, wonderful children. Not without some special characteristics of their own, but they were a pleasure to care for. Mostly.
Aileen was hands-off with them mainly because she got very hands-on with Tynie. Their relationship was very strange. They communicated mainly with a kind of sign language, comprised of looks and facial movements. Then, every once in a while, Tynie would break out talking so fast I could hardly understand him.
He would get all fired up. Her eyes would start to shine and her cheeks would glow. Then they’d go into another room and there was a lot of noise. Really, a lot. For an incredibly long time. Then quiet would fall on the house.
Tynie kept his own apartment. Aileen confided that whenever she suggested they go there, he thought of a whole new set of reasons why they couldn’t. He was around at Aileen’s house so much of the time he might as well have been living there anyway.
And I’ll say this for her, too: she always made sure the children were well out of the way, so they never heard or saw the slightest hint their mother was being stretched out and wrecked, pummeled for hour after hour. Don’t think I was spying. The shaking of a wardrobe or the sawing creak of a collapsing chair, followed by hefty, rolling, tumbling sounds and savage grunts—those are sounds that can be tough to ignore.
I took a couple of shifts every week at the diner. Cheryl was a good boss and those hours were a break from the constant turmoil at Aileen’s house and the intensity of my studies. The demands were clear and simple, I didn’t have to think and it helped me not get too far behind with my tuition fees. Plus I enjoyed the company.
And a few times a week, I had a sight of that motel.
That made me miss Ryan. Along with everything else that made me miss him. One thing more than all the rest, of course.
~~~~
As he walked toward the bus stop I pulled my little Toyota alongside him. When I opened the passenger door, he leaned to peer inside.
“Haley!” That grin.
He strolled in front of the car, out into the road, into the path of a truck that honked as it swerved around him. He seemed not to notice as he came and stood by my door.
I got out and said,
“Like a ride?” I stayed cool, even though inside I was on fire.
His long eyelashes beat and my breath caught as I looked at the scar across his eyebrow. We stood by the side of the car, looking in each others’ faces. There were things I wanted to say, things I wanted to do, but seeing his face, the light in his eyes, I could have stood there the rest of the day.
From the way he stood there, still and in no hurry, I had the sense that he felt the same. The drivers on that road didn’t. They slewed and swerved and their horns wailed. We didn’t care.
He held me. Pulled me close. His eyes lit up as he stroked my hair and he searched my face. He asked me, “Where are you headed?”
“Wherever you like,” I told him. “Think of me as your car service.”
Another car hooted at us. In no hurry, he pulled back.
“Haley,” he said, “My getaway,” as we both got in the car.
It felt strange to look across from the wheel and see him, taking up more than half of the front of my little Toyota.
For me it seemed roomy. With him inside, I thought, You’re going to need a bigger car. He gave me directions and I figured we were driving to the diner. I didn’t think he’d be taking me back to the motel.
He led me to the far side and up the two sets of stairs. Along to the walkway to the front.
“Open the door.”
I hesitated. When I obeyed, the room was as I remembered it, but the floor, shelf, the TV, the couch and the chairs—every surface was covered in flowers. The bed was strewn with rose petals.
I gasped. “You had this set up when you were in prison?”
“Took some doing.” His tongue pushed at his bottom lip.
Ryan stood, feet planted apart. The whole time he’d been away I’d been thinking about him, about this moment, but I never expected our first encounter to be here in this room. What took me off guard, though, wasn’t that. Nor was it even the room bursting with flowers. For those long months, my lonely nights had been filled with memories of his smoldering eyes, the arrogant lift of his chin. My heart fluttered to the beat of his long eyelashes, but I hadn’t remembered the power of the thudding bursts that went off deep inside me just from standing near him. Near enough to feel his heat. How it set off my own.
Inside, I was breathless and alight. “It must have cost a fortune.” My breath rose, tight in my chest. “How did you do it?”
“Melissa worked really hard,” he said. I scowled, “She thought at first that it was going to be for her, so I had to let her down gently and tell her that it wasn’t. After she got over that, she couldn’t have been more helpful.”
For class, I’d researched and learned what I could about life in prison. Communication with the outside world was hard. He had put so much effort into this, and without a clue that I would even see him. He couldn’t have been clearer in telling me, “Don’t wait for me.” If I had done what he said, this would all have been for nothing.
“How did you know that I would come for you? Or that I would agree to come here?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t even think that you would. I just hoped. And I decided I’d rather risk setting it up for nothing than risk missing this moment.”
Even now, he held back. He was huge and strong. I had forgotten how big he was. Or, at least, I had forgotten the sensation of standing close to him. Feeling the nearness of his strength. Scenting his masculine power. Seeing his glistening skin. His muscles. And the look in his eyes. His smile fell away. Now there was only hunger.
“I told you not to wait,” he said.
“I had to.” I hadn’t meant to say it like that. Not with so much force. Now I felt awkward.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, “You’re beautiful. You could have any guy.”
“I don’t want any guy.”
“I’m no good.”
“Maybe I like that.” I shouldn’t have said that. I was trying to lighten the mood, but the air was too thick.
He seized me. Held me by the shoulders. Held me near. His lips tightened.
“I can only hold back for so long, Haley. Maybe you should run. Now. Get away from me while you still can.”
His pulse beat hard, hard enough that I could feel its heat. My knees weakened and my thighs shook. Trickles of breathless shock ran through me as my fingertips brushed the hard stubble on
his face and traced the cliffs of his cheekbones.
“I don’t want you to hold back, Ryan.”
“Haley...” He looked around the room at all of the flowers. “Don’t you remember where you just came to collect me from? I shouldn’t have done this. Any of it. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” His eyes were dark, liquid pools. “Get out of here. Get away and forget about me. Live the good life you deserve.”
I stepped closer. “You are the good life, Ryan. I look at you,” my thighs tingled unbearably, “and I see a better man. A better man than you see in the mirror.”
His brow tightened.
“Just look how sensitive and caring you’ve been with Tynie. For years. There’s a good man behind that.” I traced his lip with my finger. “How you’ve tried to protect me.”
“Yeah.” His laugh was a hollow grunt. “Look how well that turned out.”
“Give yourself a break. I got through it. We both did. It turned out fine.” His eyebrows raised. “Okay,” I quickly added, “the bit where you went to prison wasn’t so good. But you rolled the dice for that.” My hand was on his chest. He was hot. And hard. His heart banged. My breath caught as I pressed to feel it more.
There was something else I was aching to say, but I held back. His eyes glowed and shone hard with an animal intensity. The scar in his eyebrow made my knees weaken. His lip trembled and curled to reveal the shine of his white teeth. Ryan pulled me to him, and he kissed me. Hard.
Hard enough to squeeze the breath from me as he inhaled me. Hard enough to pull me off my feet and out of my sandals. Hard enough to crush my breasts and my swollen nipples against the heat of his chest.
Our mouths were open as our lips locked again. I wanted to drink him, eat him. Take in every part of him. I wanted his weight, his strength, his scent, and his breath. Inside me.
As soon as I felt the ridge—the long, hard bulge in his jeans—scrape against the front of my dress, then through my drenched panties, it was like my whole being focussed on the connection. Like I had been waiting for us to meet. To connect. Join. His hands were in my hair and I scraped my nails all up and down his buzzing, pulsing body.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” I tingled as he said it. His voice was so low. “All the time I was away, I thought about nothing but you.” He pulled me closer. “About your beautiful body.” And he kissed me again.
I wrapped my legs around him. Scissored and squeezed him, tight. I locked my ankles behind his ass and pulled, dragging him closer. My thoughts swirled, giddy and lost and I held his head in my hands. My fingers locked and twisted in his hair.
“You are so beautiful.” His voice was like the purr of a big engine idling at a light, with a boy racer—a jacker—at the wheel. Revving. Waiting, pent-up. Holding back. But ready to let go.
When I imagined this moment, it was always controlled. Hot and tense. But slow. And I had imagined it a lot. In the mornings when I was in the shower. In a coffee shop, waiting for the barista with the tight pants and the sexy beard to finish making my latte. Again at night, when I slipped down between the sheets.
A slow burn. Our eyes would smolder and we would come together. Gently at first. Slowly. Not hesitating. But taking our time. Then we would tenderly undress each other, scent and savor each other’s skin. Our bodies would ride up on the rising pulse as it grew from our closeness, our deepening intimacy.
With each breath we would peel away the layers of clothes from each other, carefully strip away all that kept us apart. Both of us taking our time. Relishing the unfolding. The opening. The revelation. And the holding back.
Me, freeing his chest, his huge, glistening muscles. Unsheathing his powerful thighs from their hard denim casing. I would pop the riveted buttons one at a time and my breath would catch as the fabric of his briefs sprang forward under the weight of his cock.
As Ryan slid each flimsy piece of cotton, lace, and sheer nylon over my trembling skin and away, I would thrill and stretch, fixing on the fire in his eyes, the roll of his massive shoulders as he bent over my body to expose me to him. We would taste and appreciate each other. Stroke and caress each other, ever more intimate, ever closer, feeling every connection spread as we learned each other’s bodies.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
He turned and slammed my back against the door, tearing at the front of my dress. I clawed at his shirt. My hands plunged down for his jeans, but I couldn’t reach his belt. The buttons popped off the front of my dress as he yanked it apart. They flew spinning past my eyes. He buried his face in my neck, noisily kissed and sucked his way to my breasts.
He shoved the cup of my bra away so he could suck my breast, pull with his lips on my nipple and flick the stinging tip with his tongue.
Grabbing his shirt, I dragged it out of his jeans. The shake in my fingers and thumbs was too much and I couldn’t open the buttons. Then I tried to rip it open, like he had with my dress, but his shirt was tougher and my hands were too weak. I couldn’t do it.
Impatience made me groan and I grabbed at the hard muscles of his chest, raked my hands over his ribs, his back, the hard ridges of his shoulders. All the while, my hips ground my aching, wet pussy against his stomach as hard as I could. Dragged it as far down as I could reach. My pelvis rocked, desperate to rub my pussy against his stiff cock.
Pushing against the rolling contours of his abs, I couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t press hard enough. He slid his hand up the bottom of my thigh. The rough heat of his grip made me jump and shudder. Sparks crackled and flashed inside me as I bit the hardness of his shoulder muscle.
When I reached down again, he spun me around and I gasped. He had meant to lay me on the bed. To spread me, carefully. But I was struggling and we toppled. He fell on top of me. Rose petals shook and flurried around us.
His shirt was up so his hot flesh was on mine. I squeezed his bare, flexing abs and the tops of his hips as they pressed between my thighs, winding and weaving, pushing him nearer.
At last I got a hold of his belt. I was still too shaky to open the buckle, but I had finally got him to do it. Kneeling over me, he popped the buttons on his shirt and rolled it off, over the tensing bulges of his muscles. He panted and his eyes burned right into mine as he hauled his buckle open and snapped apart the metal buttons that held his jeans closed.
My eyes watered as I watched, transfixed, my stomach buzzing with anticipation. My hips squirmed as my petals prickled in the heat inside my panties. He was even more beautiful than I remembered him. The ripples of his moving landscape of muscle made my pelvis twist and roll. With his jeans open and his thrusting cock straining, he moved back, off the bed. His lip twitched as he looked hard into my eyes.
Breathless and up on my elbows, I watched. The sight of the tightening cords in the triangle of his back as he leaned down to undo his boots made me bite my lip. His skin was dappled with rose petals. Mine, too. Down the backs of my thighs, hot currents ran.
In a trance, I drew my soaking wet panties down. As I slid them onto my thighs and felt the cool air on my aching, swollen lips, he stopped. Stared at me. Like a wolf that’s just seen a baby deer. All on its own by the river. With nowhere to go. No escape.
“Haley.” His voice stoked a fire inside me.
I wanted to slide out of my bra and the dress. But not as much as I wanted to watch his jeans come down. I stared as he let the jeans down to the floor. My mouth dried as his thighs flexed. His eyes stayed on mine as he leaned forward and peeled his shorts over his ass.
All the time he’d been away I remembered him, thought about him, dreamed about him. But I thought in my memory, some things about him must have gotten exaggerated. I was wrong.
Jack - Perfect Burn: Hot Crime Romance Page 22