by Joya Ryan
There was a small photo stuffed into the corner. Opening the wallet a little wider, I saw a beautiful woman with dark eyes and hair. Young, early twenties maybe, she looked happy. Judging by the crinkles in the photo and the fact that it was printed and in his wallet instead of on Facebook, I figured this must have been from years ago. I looked a little closer and saw just the hint of yellowish background and a tent.
Sand.
I knew right then that this was taken when he was deployed overseas.
I closed his wallet immediately and set it down. I glanced at the couch and still saw his feet, unmoving.
Now a fresh slew of questions flooded in. Who was that woman? What happened over there? Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure she was involved. Of all the things that were racing through my brain, one question stood out. Did Rhys love her?
I walked over to the couch and glanced over. Rhys looked at me.
“If you’re planning to ever sneak up on someone, you should work on your ninja skills.”
I let out a breath and grinned a little. Even though I’d left in a huff, he was still so calm. Funny, even. “Sorry to wake you.”
“You didn’t. I was waiting up.”
Something beneath my skin warmed, like him waiting for me made me feel better.
“For a guy that runs a security company and is hiding me out, you let me go pretty easily,” I said.
He reached just below the blanket that was covering his navel and lower body. His bare chest was as edible-looking as ever as his abs flexed with his movements.
“I know this town and knew where you were the whole time.” When I frowned, he pulled up his cell phone and showed me the screen. A little GPS point was flashing on a map.
“You bugged the car?”
“Like you said, I run a security company.”
His cute teases made me relax a little. I hadn’t realized how exhausting fighting with Rhys was, how tense it made me. I sat next to him on the couch, deciding to go with simpler talk.
“And what if I was on foot?”
“Well, that’s a different screen.” He winked and switched it over to show a different point on the map. Me.
“You bugged me? How? When?” Shock fueled me. I wasn’t mad, I didn’t think. Just surprised. It was actually kind of sweet how cautious he was while letting me assume a sense of freedom.
“The bug is in your shoe.”
I glanced down at my boots, the only pair I had brought. He didn’t bother explaining further, which I was fine with. I didn’t want to get into the logistics either. Could this be considered weird and a bit much? Sure. But it also made me feel safe, something Rhys was proving to be good at, so I’d focus on that.
“I don’t want to upset you, Emma, ever.” His eyes turned serious and he tossed his phone to the little coffee table nearby. “I want to keep you safe.”
I nodded. “I believe that. But . . .”
I didn’t want to be another photo in his wallet. Hell, I didn’t even know what that was about, but I knew that I was here, and she wasn’t. Maybe he couldn’t save her. Maybe she didn’t need saving. I had no idea where to start or what to think. “I’m tired, Rhys,” I whispered.
He nodded.
I sank down a little, and he lifted the cover and tucked me beneath his arm. His warm skin and hard muscles folded around me and made me feel instantly safe.
I wasn’t the girl in the picture. I wasn’t Sara. I had no answers and no clue what I was doing. All I knew was, when I was with Rhys, I felt the most taken care of in my whole life, and I was terrified that every moment I spent in his arms would only make it harder to walk away.
~
“Rise and shine,” Rhys bellowed and I shot up on the couch with a wicked neck ache.
“Good God, ever hear of a frickin’ rooster?” I could tell by the crisp morning air and faded beams of yellow coming through the window that it was barely sunup.
“I got some supplies to fix this place a bit. Clean up the weeds, plant some flowers and do some basic housework,” Rhys said, like this wasn’t something he could have waited to share with me until, say, after I had my coffee.
He looked around, obviously pumped and ready to take on the day. I wanted to punch him. Instead, I rubbed sleep from my eyes and faced him.
“I also thought a lot about what you said, and you’re right.”
I frowned at him, having no idea what he was saying, my poor brain still half asleep.
“Huh?” I yawned.
“You said being able to defend yourself is more beneficial than relying on someone else to do it for you. So I’m going to teach you how to protect yourself.”
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm,” another yawn took over my mouth, “why couldn’t you have told me this later today . . . after I woke up?”
He grinned. “Get dressed. Striker’s Self-Defense class starts in fifteen minutes.” That got my eyes to fully snap open. “You’re at your most alert in the mornings, now get your ass moving.”
With a groan, I headed toward the bedroom to change.
“You’re going to have full-blown rules, aren’t you?”
“You know it. Rule number one is don’t hold back.”
“Oh, I won’t,” I grumbled.
“Oh, and groping the instructor is optional.” With a wink, he headed outside and I wasn’t sure if I should follow him or hide under the covers.
~
“I’m going to knee you in the junk,” I said happily, responding to Rhys’s question.
“That’s the first thing you’d do to an attacker coming at you from the front?”
“Yeah.” I was pretty confident, seeing as how I’d had to knee a few guys in my time. Granted they were high, spastic, homeless creepers, but whatever.
“Okay, I’m going to come at you and you do what you do to defend yourself,” Rhys said.
His fitted T-shirt clung to his chest and his low-slung shorts made him look like the sexiest pretend predator I’d ever seen. My whole body flushed and the skin that my yoga pants and tank top didn’t cover instantly broke out with goose bumps.
I smiled. “Bring it, big guy.”
Rhys came at me, the dirt and leaves crunching beneath his steps. I went to knee him just like I said, only he deflected my knee, grabbed my ankle and —
“Umph!” I landed flat on my ass.
“Guys expect you to go for the groin first.” He held out his hand and helped me up. “And an attacker can see a foot or a knee coming. Once they get a hold of your leg and you’re on the ground, it’s over. Rule two: Stay on your feet.”
I nodded, hating that I was just bested, but the way he was instructing me pumped a different kind of adrenaline through me, one I didn’t recognize. I wanted to learn. Wanted to make him proud. Rhys was all calm, focused and everything from the way he spoke to how he moved showed that this man was definitely good at what he did.
I could see how he led a unit. How he led a company. It had been two minutes, one fall, and already I wanted more. Wanted to prove myself. Be worthy. For him.
“Rule number three,” he held up his hand, “don’t punch with your fist.”
I frowned. “Uh, what am I supposed to punch with, then? Kindness?”
He grinned. “No.”
Reaching out, he took my hand and heat instantly spread up my arm. Was this why some people liked rough sex? My heart was pumping and my chest was rising fast with quick breaths. I wanted to own something. Overpower it. Be overpowered by it. And it was Rhys.
He closed his hand over my fist and held it up in my line of sight. “This is such a small surface filled with fragile bones. You’ll hurt yourself more than him if you go to hit him.” His thumb brushed across my knuckles. He placed my arm up in a swing position. “You’re going to throw your arm out like you’re going to punch me with your fist, but instead I want you to hit me with your forearm.” He patted his torso. “Right here.”
I paused and my arm dropped. “I won’t hit yo
u, Rhys.”
He smiled. “While I appreciate that you have a stance against hurting me, I promise you that you won’t.”
I chewed my bottom lip. Still not sure. Before, when I went to knee him, he knew it was coming and I didn’t even try that hard because the idea of hurting Rhys just felt wrong.
“Here.” He put his palms up. “I’ll catch your hit. But I want you to go as hard as you can.”
“You’ll catch it?”
He nodded. “Hard as you can. Use all your strength.”
Okay then. I made a fist and swung, throwing my forearm into Rhys’s waiting hands. He actually stumbled on his feet . . . barely. But still it was enough force to make him adjust his stance.
“Whoa,” I said in shock.
“That was perfect. You have a lot more force and are you hurt?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good. Use your height and your size to your advantage. Crouch low and instead of kneeing him in the nuts, jab with your elbow. You’re too low for him to get a good grip on you before he realizes you’re pounding him in.”
I smiled. Loving the sound of that. Feeling powerful from Rhys’s instruction.
“Now, I want to work on the frontal choke attack. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?” His voice was a deep rasp and the sound was an aphrodisiac all in itself. Keeping his eyes on mine, he walked into my space, forcing me to step back. He did it again and again, until my back hit a tree. “If at any point you want to stop, just say the word.”
I nodded.
He put his hands around my neck so gently that it reminded me of how he held me right before he kissed me. It wasn’t threatening, it was consuming.
The zing from his fingertips shot down from just below my jaw to my spine and wrapped around my breasts, beading my nipples and making me want to practice something else entirely with his lower region.
His eyes were dark, hungry and I hoped to God he felt the same things I did. He glanced down and cleared his throat, effectively breaking the trance.
“Ready to think of me as the enemy?” he asked.
Nope. But it was part of this exercise, so I nodded.
“When an attacker has a grip on your neck and squeezes, you’ll only have a few seconds before passing out. I’m not going to squeeze, but I want you to try to break free of me.”
“Okay.” I gripped his forearms and pulled down, but he didn’t budge. “There’s no way,” I said, a little annoyed that I felt so weak.
“Don’t push against me. Use your size to your advantage. I’m bigger and coming down on you. When something’s coming down, how do you combat it?”
“By going up.”
“Exactly. Put your hands together like you’re praying.”
Okay, did that.
“Now push up between my arms and use your forearms to part mine.”
I did and another dose of shock hit. I smiled because I forced his grip to loosen.
“It’s enough to get the pressure off your neck and give you a few more seconds of air,” Rhys said.
I realized then that he was calm and calculating because he saw the big picture. Bought time to make big moves later. He set things up to win the overall war. I was the kind of person who went in swinging, trying to win all the battles.
“Now, I am still in your space,” he said and my gaze landed on his mouth. He was in my space, and that’s where I wanted him to stay. “My hands on your neck, but you can breathe and your hands are now in a position to fight back. What do you do?”
With those blazing gray eyes swallowing me up and our breaths mingling, I surged to my tiptoes, snagged his bottom lip between my teeth and tugged him to my level so I could kiss him fully.
With a small hiss, he bent enough, giving me more of his mouth and I took it. Plunging my tongue and drinking down all his sweet taste and strength.
His hands slid from my neck to my breasts, stroking them briefly, leaving them heavy and desperate for more. He trailed his palms down my sides and gripped my hips. I moaned when his thumbs snaked just past the waistband of my pants and pressed low on my stomach.
A shot of pleasure crawled from where he was touching me to my core. I arched my back and gripped the front of his shirt, tugging him closer. When his hard cock pressed against my belly I groaned and tried to lift his shirt up, so ready for him to be naked and inside me. But he caught my hands and stilled me.
Taking a step back, he took a deep breath, regaining his composure.
“The answer I was looking for could have been grabbing my head and slamming it on the top of yours, breaking my nose, or you jamming your thumbs into my eyes. Not kiss the assailant.”
I smiled. “Technically, I bit your lip at first.”
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he looked like he was silently battling with himself over something.
“Why don’t we call that lesson one and go inside to hydrate.”
Releasing me, Rhys stepped back. My whole body felt instantly cold and rebuffed.
“What just happened here?” I asked. “One second we were kissing, then you stop me and now you look all serious.”
I was breathing hard, but not from lack of oxygen, from adrenaline. Looking at him and his massive frame, I felt strong. Like he had shared some of that power he harbored. And I was grateful for that. Wanted to hold on to the feeling.
“Today we started self-defense training, Emma. I shouldn’t have taken it to a place other than that.”
“What place would that be? My pants?”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “This is meant for you to feel strong on your own.”
“But we’ve been together before.”
“I know and the lines have been blurred. You made a good point last night. I want you to be able to take care of yourself, detached from me.”
Detached. That word delivered a blow worse than anything Rhys and I had just practiced and it didn’t sit right with me. He was doing something, behaving a certain way, because of what I’d said last night. I should appreciate that. I did appreciate that. But the distance that came with it didn’t feel right.
In fact, it felt wrong. Very, very wrong.
I couldn’t have it both ways. So I’d take what Rhys was offering and use it. Just after this one morning, I was feeling stronger. And it was thanks to him.
My shoulders straightened a bit.
“All right,” I conceded. Because honestly, this was another battle in which I didn’t know what side to fight for. “Well, at least I know how to go for your balls now,” I said and walked past him back into the house. “Better be on your toes, Marine.”
I heard him snicker behind me. “With you, Emma, I have yet to have my feet on the damn ground.”
~
It had been eight days. Eight consecutive days of self-defense in the morning, cleaning up the house and planting in the afternoon, followed by mild conversation and dinner in the evening.
And in all eight days there had been zero sex.
Worst math I’d done since long division in second grade.
Ever since our first training session and our little spat, Rhys had seemed to purposefully keep things dialed back to platonic. Problem was, I enjoyed spending time with him. We spent most our time keeping busy with the house and landscaping.
I liked Rhys. A lot. And sex had nothing to do with it.
As for this weird twitch my body was starting to develop, I was pretty certain it was withdrawal from feeling him inside me. Withdrawal from the connection. He’d brush my hair out of my face here, and steal a lingering touch there, but nothing. Not a kiss, not an ass grab. Something had shifted in his brain, and whatever it was, it was starting to hurt mine.
“I hate to tell you, Gwen, but this bad boy is toast.”
She stared over my shoulder at the computer she had had since Clinton was in office and frowned.
“I thought for sure it was just a faulty wire or something,” she said.
“I really think that the laptop Rhys got you is a great one. I can install some programs and show you how to use it.”
“That would be great, honey!”
I got her laptop and sat on the couch, going to work. Showing her the ins and outs. She paid half attention, then started throwing in her own questions.
“So you and Rhys, things going well?”
“Um, yeah. Just hanging out. Heading back to Chicago next week.” The parole hearing was only a few days away and I was getting anxious.
“Is he okay?” Gwen asked.
“From what I can tell. Should he not be?”
“I just worry about him. The anniversary of his father’s death is tomorrow and he always takes it kind of hard.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. He hadn’t told me.” It did explain why he was distant and not so chatty lately. “It can be hard with his death still being so fresh.”
“What are you talking about?” Gwen asked with a perplexed look on her face.
“Rhys said his dad died a few years ago.”
“Rhys and his time references.” Gwen shook her head. “Should have known he didn’t say anything. My son tends to keep things in. Of course, I guess I’m not surprised,” Gwen mumbled to herself. “His father died fifteen years ago in the woods. They were out hiking and he had a heart attack. Rhys was sixteen at the time and did CPR but, you know, these things just happen.”
My mind and body instantly surged with some kind of sick shock and realization. Threads of Rhys were weaving together right in front of my face.
“He still blames himself,” Gwen said. “Thinks it was his fault he couldn’t save him. But there was nothing to be done.”
“I had no idea,” I whispered.
Rhys had done an amazing job keeping me distracted and conversation light and casual over the last two weeks. This whole time I had felt like I was making progress in getting to know him, but in reality, the big parts of his life were still in the dark. Held back.
“He’s a good boy. He just thinks he can take on everything. Then, of course, the incident in Afghanistan didn’t help.”
I scooted a little closer. “Forgive me, Gwen, but Rhys never talks about that.”
I had tried a couple times to gently push the conversation in that direction, but Rhys always shot me down and didn’t give me anything.