Finding Valor (The Searchers Book 2)

by Ripley Proserpina

  Enthusiastically, Ryan nodded.

  “But,” he continued pointedly. “No one will deny, in a short amount of time, you’ve also done a lot of good. Unless you draw the parallels between what you did and what you continue to do to add some good into this world, no one else will see it. And they should.”

  Dismissing him, Bismarck reached for Ryan’s bag and handed it to him. “Start preparing your defense, Valore. That’s your homework. I want to see your argument on my desk by midweek. We’ll go over it together. I’m going to call the dean at CCSL and make a case for you presenting it at the next meeting of the student committee.”

  This was his chance. Bismarck was willing to pull strings for him if he was willing to stand up for himself. His professor believed in him, believed him worthy of such an action. It left him feeling at loose ends; he hadn’t seen himself in a positive light in a long time.

  But Nora does. She looked at him like he was a hero.

  It took a crotchety old lawyer to finally identify what it was he saw each time she stared at him. The happiness he felt around Nora wasn’t only because he loved her, it was because he puffed up with pride each time he caught her glance. With her, he had no past. She saw right through his walls to his heart, and she liked what she saw.

  No.

  She loved what she saw when she looked at him.

  If he stood up for himself, it wouldn’t be because Bismarck believed in him, it would be because he finally saw himself the way Nora had all long.

  FOURTEEN

  Showing Nora

  RYAN LEFT BISMARCK’S office re-energized. He had another class he was already late for, but he wasn’t going. If CCSL let him defend himself to the student committee, he needed to be ready.

  The wind picked up, and Ryan reached for his scarf, chuckling when he remembered giving it to Nora. He flipped up the collar on his jacket, pulling his head toward his shoulders like a turtle. By the time he’d made it to the green, the wind was howling and blasting him full force in the face. He hurried along, his quick lope turning into a jog and then a sprint as he barreled down his block and through the front door, pushing it open and slamming it behind him.

  “Shh!” Nora hurried down the stairs with a finger to her lips. “Matisse is sleeping!”

  “Sorry!” he apologized, grimacing.

  “I did the same thing actually, but no one was here to scold me.”

  He took his jacket off and hung it up before reaching for her, tugging her down the last few steps so she fell into his arms. “Hi.”

  She pushed his windswept hair off his forehead. “Hi.” She searched his face before smiling. “You look better.” Her face relaxed, and her eyes shone.

  There. There was the look that filled his heart. He couldn’t stop himself; he bent his head and captured her lips, feeling her shiver. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “You’re freezing,” she whispered against his mouth. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back. “Come upstairs so I can warm you up?”

  Her voice trembled nervously, and when she glanced up, she blushed.

  Come upstairs… If she meant what he thought she meant—

  “Ryan?”

  He hadn’t answered, and now she was embarrassed. Rather than answer, he kissed her again, putting all his love into his kiss. He tried to show her what it meant to him to have her look at him the way she did.

  Arching her back, her pelvis tilted into his, and he groaned. Without another word, he took the stairs two at a time, one arm under her and the other grasping the bannister and propelling him up. Much like he’d done when he came into the house, he threw open the door to his room, shutting it behind him with a bang before fumbling for the lock.

  This time Nora didn’t scold him. Her hands held his face still while she nibbled and licked her way into his mouth. She tasted like lemons and honey, and when her tongue gently pushed its way past his lips, he tasted bergamot and cinnamon. She was everything warm and comforting.

  Tripping in his haste to kick off his shoes, he managed to lay her on his bed with a small bounce. Only then, when his hands were free to skim along her sides, did he draw back to gaze at her in wonder.

  Her cheeks flushed and her breasts heaved as she tried to catch her breath. He let the back of his hand drift down her arm and sides, loving the softness of her skin. As he wrapped his hand around her waist, she moaned, her body delighting in each caress.

  Finally, she returned his touch. Her fingers traced his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, his lips. She held his chin between her thumb and forefinger and pulled him to her until her lips hovered beneath his chin. Tensing in anticipation, he waited for the feel of her lips.

  A wisp of breath breezed over his face, and he closed his eyes. Her tongue dabbed at his skin before her lips followed. Her fingers left his face to grasp the edge of his sweater and pull at it. Jerking back, he ripped the sweater and t-shirt off his body to toss it on the floor.

  He watched her watch him, her eyes following the path of her fingers, like she was learning him by sight and touch. Her hand cupped his shoulder, ran down his tricep and then grasped his elbow.

  “You’re this combination of soft and hard,” she whispered, still following her hand. “Your skin is so soft, but beneath it you feel like steel.” She glanced up at him quickly, the flush moving from her cheeks to her neck. “You’re beautiful.”

  The last word was a breath, and she lifted her head, licking across his collarbone and down, until she reached his small nub of a nipple. She bit down lightly, sucking at the flesh until he cried out, rolling to his back and holding her head to his chest. Her fingers curled into his chest, and she kissed her way to his other nipple. She circled it with her tongue, making him suck in a breath and shudder when she finally gave it a hard tug.

  She overwhelmed him with sensation. Her mouth and lips did one thing, but her hands were always moving. Her fingers stroking, massaging, circling, tugging. She was the ocean, crashing over his head and pushing him beneath the water until she was ready to let him up for air.

  And he let her.

  In their previous encounters, he’d challenged her, fought her for control, but now he gave it over willingly.

  Chilly fingers flicked the buttons on his jeans, then her hands gripped the sides of his pants and attemped to tug them down his legs. He squirmed, trying to help her, and she giggled, tearing her lips from his chest to concentrate on his jeans. She huffed, blowing the hair out of her face until she could pull his jeans over his feet. Climbing back over him, she surveyed him and smiled, pushing her hair behind her ears.

  “Just the way I want you,” she whispered wickedly.

  He raised an eyebrow, watching her crawl toward him.

  “Hi.” The wicked look left her, and while she smiled, she seemed unsure and let her hair fall into her face.

  She left him speechless. She was a goddess, and he was at her mercy. Grasping her face, he coaxed her down to him. His only thought was feeling her skin and then being inside her if she’d let him.

  So single minded had he been, he didn’t even realize he’d pulled her clothes from her body until the first rasp of her bare breasts against his chest. That got his attention.

  Flipping them, he sat. Her dark skin contrasted beautifully with his pale sheets, and she squirmed under his gaze, hips lifting off the bed as if he turned her on merely by looking at her.

  His hand hovered above her skin, and she tried to pull it to her breast, but he snatched it back, smiling.

  Ready to be in control once again, he shook his head. Rushing was not in the cards. There would only be this one first time for them, and as much as he wanted to feel her, he wanted to watch her more. He wanted to see every touch register on her face so he could take her apart piece by piece until they fit together.

  Like she had done, he watched his hand. The lightest of downy hair covered her skin, a golden sheen of down that caught the sunlight as she writhed with impatience. The same c
olor was in her brown hair, and it lit her up like one of those old pictures of saints, all glowing and gilded. She shivered as his hand traced her ribs and hips, covering her soft belly and then down, through the trimmed black curls and into her dark folds. He groaned; she was hot and wet. Curling a finger inside her, he stretched and circled her entrance before withdrawing slowly and pushing back inside.

  She grabbed his arms, pulling him toward her. Her legs enfolded him, touching his sides and then opened like the wings of a butterfly. She was so hot he could feel her heat on his stomach.

  With each kiss, he withdrew and thrust his fingers inside her. Her hips arched off the bed, but her legs snapped shut to keep him anchored to her. Her small fingers wrapped around his length.

  He loved the way she explored him. It made him feel special, which, he realized, was important in a relationship such as theirs.

  Now was not the time that he wanted to be thinking about Nora with the other guys, and he pushed the intrusion away. Her fingers traced the vein beneath his mushroomed head, and all thoughts left his mind.

  Gripping her hand with wet fingers, he squeezed his hand around hers. She sucked in a breath, pulling her face from his to glance at their hands.

  “Harder, Nore,” he whispered, releasing her and going back to his own exploration.

  She pumped him, her hand slicked now with her own arousal.

  “I can’t wait,” she whispered, kissing her way to his ear and then down his chin. “Ryan. Don’t make me wait.”

  He kissed her, smiling as he did so. He wanted her desperate, begging him. Shifting his hips, he rocked against her core. His length slipped along her cleft while his thumb pressed and released, a thrum and pulse at her clit. Shaking, the muscles in her thighs jumped and clenched.

  She tore her mouth from his, not making a sound except for a long release of breath, like a sigh but deeper, as if every bit of tension left her body.

  But she was relaxed only as long as it took her to catch her breath, and then she was cupping his ass and lifting her hips. He slid forward, teasing her entrance but holding back.

  “Ryan,” she chuckled, thrusting her hips forward while he jerked away. He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. Her face lost its silliness, and she stared up at him in rapt concentration, watching as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it before placing it above her head. He did the same thing with her other hand until he could hold both her hands in his. Her chest arched forward, leaving her breasts exposed perfectly.

  Leaning down, he caught a nipple in his teeth. It hardened, and he suckled her, pushing the tip toward the roof of his mouth. She moaned, her body arching toward him again. Plumping her other breast with his hand, he moved over so he could taste it as well. He teased it with his tongue tip, wetting it before sucking it into his mouth.

  Fingers threaded through his hair, and she held him close, undulating beneath him. Her hips lifted, like she was searching for him. He smiled against her breast, kissing it once more before lifting his head to stare into her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and glassy with passion. Releasing her hands, he reached quickly for the drawer next to the bed to grab a condom before sheathing himself. He cupped her knee, pushing it to the side while lining himself up and thrusting inside her. She sucked in a breath, suddenly wide awake.

  “Okay?” he asked, massaging her hip.

  She nodded, her hair tangling on his pillow. Dipping down, he kissed her gently, tongue touching hers before retreating. He stayed motionless inside her, feeling her adjust to his size, her muscles clenching and unclenching. As he finally pulled back, her body relaxed and then squeezed him tight when he pushed back inside her.

  He held himself there, trying to slow down. One drag was enough to push him to the edge. Heat throbbed in his spine; a growing ache threatened to have him finishing before he was anywhere close to ready.

  She thrust against him, tightening her inner muscles and then releasing him. One hand remained at her hip as he tried to get himself under control, but then she did it again.

  “Nora,” he warned.

  She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, touching it with her tongue tip before slipping inside his mouth and stroking him. He didn’t even realize he’d started moving again until the heat from his spine began to overwhelm him. When he would have slowed, her fingers dug into his back muscles. “More, Ryan.” She tossed her head against the pillows, her face dewy with a sheen of sweat. “Please,” she said again, and he was lost.

  He withdrew and thrust, again and again. His arms trembled and his body strained toward completion, but he held back, watching her for signs of her own impending release.

  “I am, Ryan, please,” she whispered, and he realized he’d spoken aloud.

  He pulled out, all the way, and slammed into her, his body shaking and shuddering as he came. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder as she trembled beneath him. Her breath released in a rush, her entire body pulsing with her climax.

  “Nora,” he whispered, drawing back to look into her eyes.

  She opened them slowly, her pupils dilated, and her lips bore the imprint of her teeth. He touched his lips to hers gently, feeling her twitch with tiny aftershocks. The cool air chilled his skin, and he slowly pulled out of her body, reaching for the blanket at the end of his bed and pulling it over them both.

  “I love you, Ryan.” She turned, burying her face in his chest and kissing his skin.

  “I love you too, Nore.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her hair, and let his eyes close. Settled and happier than he’d thought possible, he wanted to remember this moment forever. He loved her. God, how he loved her, and he knew somehow it was all going to work out. Even if he didn’t get into law school, if Beau never forgave him, as long as he had Nora, he’d be all right.

  FIFTEEN

  Realization

  DRIFTING HIS HAND lazily down Nora’s arm, Ryan let his mind wander. Her breathing evened into soft puffs, and in that moment, holding the woman he loved, he’d never been so content. Smoothing her curls down, he kissed her head, feeling her snuggle a little closer into him. She gave a quiet sigh that he echoed a moment later, and she squirmed and shifted. He looked down at her and saw her blinking her sleepy brown eyes.

  “Hi,” her voice rasped.

  “Hi,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her.

  “Did I sleep long?”

  “No.” His hand trailed down her cheek. “You just closed your eyes a second ago.”

  “I’d never have believed the worst day of my life would lead to this,” she mused, nuzzling his chest. “Is it crazy I can’t help but feel grateful Detective Vance thought I was guilty since it brought me here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She kissed his chest, her lips lightly slipping across his skin. “I mean, if Vance hadn’t jumped to conclusions, I’d never have been a suspect in the school shooting. If I was never a suspect, I’d never have called Legal Aid. If I’d never called Legal Aid, I’d never have met you, and we’d never be here. Now. Like this.” Her cheeks flushed.

  “Oh.”

  “It’s worth all of it,” she went on, leading him to believe she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “The job stuff. Dr. Murray. I’ve never been so happy in my life, Ryan. Isn’t that crazy? And amazing?”

  “You’re not mad at Detective Vance?”

  She lifted one slim shoulder, and he had to kiss it. “I wouldn’t say that. He really scared me, and things like finding a job feel almost impossible, but it’ll happen.” She put her hand on his chest and propped her chin on it, looking up at him. “I didn’t tell you. At CCSL, I met this guy; he was giving tours, and I don’t know who he was, but everyone else did.”

  “A guy?” he teased, and Nora rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, he was a student there. And something like what happened to me, happened to him.”

  “Like what happened to you?” His entire body tensed.

  “I d
on’t know the story. He said to Google him, but I didn’t. Felt too intrusive, you know? It’s his story, if he wants to tell me, fine, but I’m not going to Nancy Drew it.”

  “Nancy Drew?” He chuckled, loving the way she defended her choices.

  She kissed his chest, her lips turning upward in a grin. “Hardy Boys?”

  “Harriet the Spy?”

  “The point is”—she pinched him—“here’s this guy who, while he’s giving the tour, people are looking at each other like, ‘it’s him!’ But what does he care because he’s in law school and he’s moving on with his life?”

  Something about her story bothered him. She saw the change in his countenance and sat, pulling the sheet to cover her. “What, Ryan?”

  “What was his name, Nora?” He pushed himself to sitting and reached for her, cupping her cheek.

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Beau.”

  Every muscle in his body froze, but his brain whirred, putting pieces of the puzzle together: the waitlist, the committee. “Well, that question’s answered.”

  “What do you mean?” Beneath his hands, she trembled. “Ryan?” Her wide, worried eyes focused on him, taking in every nuance of his expression.

  “Why I got waitlisted. I know why.”

  “I know.” Looking down, she held the sheet to her chest like a shield. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If you hadn’t helped me, they’d have let you right in.”

  Lost in his own thoughts, he nodded as she first began to speak, but as she went on, he shook his head. “Nore, it had nothing to do with you.”

  “The morals clause, Ryan.” She canted her head, her face pale. “You helping me was against the morals clause.”

  “No.” Shit. She’d been going around thinking it was her fault. Pulling her into his arms, he buried his face in her neck, smelling her salty scent and Apollo’s body wash. “Nora. It had nothing to do with you. If anything, helping you helps my case. It has everything to do with my past.”