A Wanting Heart

by Christie Adams

  At the teasing tone of her voice, he looked around.

  “Two things, Ryan. One, I told you the truth when I said there hasn’t been anyone since you. I haven’t been with a man since the last time we were together. And two, I’m still on birth control.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Aware that what she was about to say could open the door to complications neither of them was ready for, Fiona gave a gentle sigh. “I’m saying that, unless you have a reason for me to be concerned, other than the risk of getting pregnant, you don’t need to worry about using a condom. Or not.”

  He relaxed beside her again. “Two things, Fiona,” he said, mirroring her statement. “One, I had a full physical a month ago and I’m healthy—apart from the shoulder still needing a week or two—and two, I wouldn’t have expected the results to be any different, given that the last woman I was with was you. Are you sure, a ghrá?”

  She laid her palm against his cheek. “Very sure.” She reached up and kissed him, more certain than ever in that moment that she’d never stopped wanting him.

  He groaned against her mouth, need making him press her body back into the pillows. “We really need to talk, a rúnsearc.”

  “Later,” she promised. “Your mouth’s got better things to do right now.”

  And just to prove it to him, she kissed him.

  That was all the encouragement Ryan needed. Lying half on top of her, his mouth worked its magic while his hand gently cupped the curve of her breast, allowing his fingers and thumb to toy with her puckering nipple.

  Tears and doubts forgotten, Fiona pressed closer to the heated, masculine body next to her, her body remembering Ryan’s hard, powerful frame, and how easily and perfectly they’d always fit together. She pulled him closer, trapping his thick shaft between them.

  Like this, there was no doubting how much he wanted her. More memories flitted through the periphery of her mind, of the struggle she’d had not to fall into bed with him too soon, and have him think she was easy. If that initial meeting in the pub could be considered their first date, her resolve had barely lasted until the third.

  “Ryan,” she whispered breathlessly, invoking his name as if it were some kind of magical spell to bind them together.

  “I know, a chuisle.” His voice was rough with emotion. “I’ll be gentle.”

  “No.” Fiona shook her head. “I want you, Ryan, and I don’t want you to be gentle—I need you not to be gentle.” She nuzzled into the side of his neck, snagged his ear with her teeth. “I need you to be real, convince me this isn’t a dream.”

  “If it is a dream, we’re both having it.”

  His hand moved from her breast to the wet, aching emptiness between her legs. At the first touch of his knowledgeable fingers, an electrifying bolt of need flashed through her, memory piling upon memory of the times they’d been together just like this.

  But this wasn’t a memory, it was real and happening right now—she was with Ryan again. She hadn’t been with another man, because here was the only man she wanted to be with. Her heart had missed him and wanted him so much.

  Fiona shuddered. He still remembered exactly how to play with her clit—the strokes around it with his fingers, while his thumb kept up a constant pressure, flicking over the sensitive bud in a way that almost had her mewling with need.

  “You still like that, hmm, darlin’?”

  “Ryan.” His name was a plea on her lips, a prayer that he would stop, that he would never stop.

  “I remember all the things you like, a ghrá.” He punished her mouth with a rough caress, and then his lips began to explore her throat, dropping a necklace of light kisses on her skin before moving on, pausing briefly at her collarbone. She felt the tip of his tongue taste her sensitive skin. Knowing what he would do next, she pushed against the hand between her legs, begging him for the pleasure he’d always given her.

  Sweet Jesus, his mouth was on her nipple, suckling on the pebble of dusky-pink flesh. She felt the nip of his teeth, the bolt of pure pleasure that flashed between her nipple and her clit. Filled with need, she arched against him, his name now a silent litany in her mind…what remained of her mind.

  “Oh God, I need you, Ryan.” She clung to him, pressing her belly against the cock that strained between them.

  “I know, darlin’. I know.”

  “Fuck me, Ryan, please.”

  She knew she’d shocked him when he went still. He’d never heard her use language like that before, but she was tired of trying to be Miss Perfect—she’d tired of it long ago, and she wasn’t playing that game anymore. She was who she was, and right now, she needed this strong, stubborn, sexy ex-officer to fill the empty place inside her that belonged to him alone.

  With an irritated growl, she pushed him away from her, onto his back again, pinching his hard, brown nipples as she resumed her position straddling his hips. She leaned forward, looking like she was going to kiss him, only to snag his lower lip with her teeth before letting her tongue venture between his lips.

  His mouth opened involuntarily at the sharp, delicious pain centred on his nipples.

  Ryan’s ability to think absconded with the blinding flare of sheer, carnal desire for the gorgeous, naked woman on her hands and knees over him, caging his body with hers. When he went to enfold her in his arms, intending to get her beneath him again, she scooted back, grabbed his wrists, and pinned them to the pillow, just above his head. He was mesmerised by the rise and fall of her breasts, just inches away from him.

  Both of them knew he could take the upper hand in this situation any time he wanted, but as he continued to enjoy the moment, without moving, without talking, a curious wave of peace flowed across Ryan. His sweet and gentle Fiona would never have dreamed of taking the upper hand like this, but the woman she’d become, apparently comfortable with the power he’d always sensed she might have…Ryan wanted her to enjoy being in control, because he sure as hell was.

  His attention held in thrall by the glitter of desire in her eyes, he let his arms relax under the imprisonment of her hands. This Fiona was a whirlwind of feminine dominance—and he wanted her. His erection was already fierce, but seeing her like this gave him a hard-on that was pure agony.

  “Does your shoulder hurt like this?”

  He closed his eyes at the feather-light touch of her lips to the site of his wound. He’d had a lot worse in his time, and a little discomfort was nothing when compared with the prospect of seeing where this situation was headed. He shook his head.

  She moved his hands so that his wrists were crossed. “If I let go, can you stay like that? Are you comfortable?”

  “I’m fine, a chuisle.”

  She didn’t take his word for it, though—and he had to admit, the extra cushions made a difference.

  When she settled back, Ryan couldn’t suppress the groan of hunger, of sheer craving for the woman who held him captive. She glowed with power, and as her slick channel slid over his hard cock, he felt that power reverberate through his body. “Fiona…”

  “Lie still, Ryan. Close your eyes. Let me do this for you.”

  He felt her fingertips at the centre of his forehead, felt them move to stroke a gentle path to his temples, over his cheekbones and then down along his jaw. She shifted position slightly and then her lips were over his Adam’s apple, almost as if she were going to take a bite out of it. Reflexively his back arched, tilting his head back to offer his throat to her in complete surrender.

  Her lips and hands continued their tender exploration of his body. She was tracing the carved lines of his muscles, at the same time taking one of his nipples into the wet warmth of her mouth. The sensual pull as she suckled on him lit another line of fire straight to his junk.

  Her teeth grazed the stiffening flesh. Her hands framing his rib cage made Ryan feel as if he were held captive in the sweetest confinement imaginable. And when her nails lightly scratched down his sides, his washboard stomach contracted in autonomous response.
It took every ounce of willpower he could find not to come.

  He shifted slightly, trying to stretch without moving and therefore tamp down his level of arousal, which was clearly getting beyond any hope of control. For some reason that escaped him, he was determined to hold on as long as he could.

  What the hell…?

  Ryan couldn’t prevent the upward thrust of his hips when his woman’s hands wrapped around his cock and began the motion that she knew sent him straight to the edge of orgasm. Her tongue lapping delicately at the weeping slit wasn’t helping either.

  “Fiona—”

  “Hush, Ryan, it’s going to be all right.”

  Jesus, it fucking isn’t!

  Too befuddled to know whether he’d actually uttered the words or not, Ryan was ready to come and there was no way he could stop it. He had to be inside her. As he lifted his hands from their position above his head, two things happened—Fiona pressed them back into place, then rose and guided his cock inside her.

  Christ, she was so tight. Ryan felt as if he were in heaven and hell at the same time. He’d never doubted her word that she hadn’t been with anyone else since him, and right now, he could feel it. Being bare inside her was sending even more ripples of unbearable pleasure through his body.

  “Can’t…hold it, Fiona.” He struggled to get the words out. So long since he’d last been in a woman—this woman—and he was losing it completely.

  “Then don’t, Ryan!” she urged breathlessly. “Let it go!”

  She was lying on top of him, framing his face with her hands while she kissed him with the same unspent passion that consumed him. Ryan hugged her fiercely to him, blind to the sudden burst of pain in his shoulder as he rolled them both over and began to thrust into Fiona’s willing, responsive body.

  So long. It had been so long for both of them. Ryan struggled to make it last, but he was too close. Naked inside his love, he came with a violence that turned him inside out, and left him overwhelmed with the shame of not giving Fiona her pleasure first. His head sank against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, a rúnsearc.”

  The arms around him held him in an embrace that wouldn’t quit. A gentle hand stroked his hair, the fingers threading through the strands to massage his scalp in a gesture that was loving and comforting. Forgiving.

  “Ryan, we have all night. Rest now.”

  “No.” He lifted his head, felt his throat constrict at what he saw in Fiona’s eyes. He kissed her, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips, the tip of it coaxing her mouth to permit him to enter. “Not until I please you.”

  Her pussy was soaked with her arousal and his seed. This was how sex should be between two people who wanted each other the way they did—hot, sweaty and messy. He started again with her clit and this time he didn’t allow himself to be distracted.

  He held her as her body shook with the release of a shatteringly violent orgasm. It had been a long time for her, too, and he felt it in the sweet, divine torment of every tear that dampened his skin.

  Although he was fast becoming incapable of coherent thought, Ryan knew that he couldn’t tell Fiona how he felt—she wasn’t ready to hear it yet. Instead, he told her in a way that wouldn’t hurt her. He lapsed into his second language and used that to tell her he loved her, how much he loved her, how much he’d always loved her, murmuring the words softly as he comforted her, until she fell asleep in his arms, and he said it one more time.

  “Tá grá agam duit.”

  Ryan was very quiet—a man with a lot on his mind and Fiona couldn’t say she was surprised. She had a lot to think about too.

  She didn’t know what had possessed her to invite him into her bed—she’d just felt compelled to do it, and been half-afraid he’d try to persuade her that it was a bad idea. Her own boldness in overruling his mild protest had surprised her, even more than his ensuing compliance did. Intimacy had been the last thing on her mind, and she definitely hadn’t expected to find herself considering the very real possibility of rekindling their relationship. All she’d meant to do, when she made the call, was to apologise—his appearance at her door had completely scuppered that plan.

  One thing she couldn’t ignore was the confirmation that she still loved Ryan—something she’d always known, even if it had been hidden for a while. She’d loved him back then, even though she hadn’t been able to find the strength to tell him. She certainly couldn’t tell him now, but what if…what if there were a chance that he might actually like the person she’d become, and even be prepared to give her—them—another chance?

  “Fiona?”

  She looked at his face—the side of his face. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. “What?”

  “I was wondering…Jesus, I could do with a cigarette right now.” He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you had any plans for the next couple of weeks.”

  She shrugged. “My time’s pretty much my own at the moment. Why?”

  “I’m driving up to Scotland tomorrow—I have a place up there. I was thinking…you might like to join me.”

  He was holding his breath. Ryan Quinn—late of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, a man who had seen the worst modern warfare could throw at a member of the armed forces—was holding his breath, waiting for her answer as if it were the most important thing in the world to him.

  This was it—her golden opportunity not only to make things right, but to explore the possibility of…picking up where they left off? Starting again? Neither seemed appropriate, but she wasn't going to let a little thing like terminology put a spanner in the works.

  Fiona leaned over, her goal to plant a teasing little kiss on his cheek, in the hope that she was about to throw him completely off balance. “Why not?” she said with a smile. “Sounds good to me. I’ll text Nat and let her know our plans.”

  She got to her hands and knees and crawled slowly down the bed, her intention to give Ryan plenty of warning as to what she was about to do. Kneeling between his splayed legs, she took his cock in her hand, relishing the feel of steel sheathed in velvet—he was already getting hard again. Savouring the moment, she leaned down and captured the crown in her mouth. With her other hand, she tenderly cupped the weight of his balls. A little scratch just behind them and—

  “Jesus, Fiona!”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, while Fiona was in the shower, Ryan sneaked a look at the message she’d sent to her sister.

  Going to Scotland with R for a few days. Don’t worry, know what I’m doing. Still love him, sis. Never stopped. Fxx

  A part of his mind, functioning at some abstract level on another plane of existence, was remembering her dislike of text speak and the way she’d verbally rapped his knuckles when he’d transgressed—the rest was staggering under the impact of the words he’d just read.

  She’d loved him then and she still loved him now. And she could admit it to her sister, but not to him.

  The phone beeped for an incoming text—Natalie’s response. Ryan grinned. Joel was failing badly in his husbandly duties if his new bride had the time and mental capacity to text her sister the morning after she’d got married to the loser. Now if it had been him and Fiona…

  He opened the message.

  Abt bldy time! U knw R lvs u, alwys has. Wld die b4 wld hurt u. Fck his brns out! ;-) Nxx

  Ryan was glad he wasn’t nursing a hangover. As it was, he was pretty sure his brain was about to implode. Now he understood at least one reason for Fiona’s preference for texting in proper English. He got the gist of the message, with which he concurred wholeheartedly, and then quickly flagged it as Unread.

  Suddenly sober, he thought of Natalie’s assertion—that he’d die before he hurt Fiona. The statement implied that he had never hurt her, but the truth was very different. He’d done precisely that three years ago, when he’d tried to get her to share whatever the burden was that was weighing her down so much. Her reaction then had been to terminate their relationship, and what had died was Ryan�
�s hope for a future at her side.

  Yet, even as he sat there, hope was struggling back to life, and he was fighting it every inch of the way, because he wasn’t sure he was prepared to see it perish again. Just because she loved him, it didn’t automatically guarantee that a happily ever after was in their future.

  She was massaging shampoo into her hair when he went into the bathroom. He slipped into the enclosure behind her, tangled his fingers with hers as he took over the task. Knowing she loved him filled him with the urge to wrap his arms around her and bury his face against her neck, to curve his body around hers and keep her safe, so that nothing would hurt her ever again.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he responded, feeling nowhere near as laid-back as his attitude might imply. “What’s taking you so long? Breakfast’ll be here any time now.”

  “Yes, I meant to talk to you about that. It should have been here way before now—I ordered it for six.”

  “And I changed it to eight. I thought it would be nice to have a leisurely breakfast together before we head out for Scotland,” he added by way of explanation.

  “You changed the time before I said I’d go with you.”

  “Just as well—we needed the extra time, if you remember. It could have been a little embarrassing if breakfast had arrived at six.”

  Judging by the glowing blush that suffused her cheeks, she did remember. So did he—and the embarrassment would probably have been more his than hers.

  In all his previous relationships, Ryan had been the one to take the lead when it came to sex; a short while ago, however, he’d discovered what it was like to be woken by an insatiable woman hungering for his body, taking her pleasure from it and giving back more than he’d ever known before. He had willingly submitted to her desires.

  He’d been ready to come almost immediately, but something about her manner had filled him with a strange compulsion to obey, when Fiona had told him to wait. Denial had been sheer torture.

  She still knew his body so well. After riding him to her own peak, she’d kept him on his back, forbidden him to mount her, and then made him come until his cock had nothing left to give. At the end, he’d almost begged her to stop, when the pleasure was on the verge of being unendurable. She’d been an unrelenting mistress until the end, when she’d cradled him close until his senses returned. He’d experienced nothing like it before, but as he lay with her arms around him, Ryan felt as if his entire world had shifted on its axis.