Nobody's Lost (Rescue Me Saga #5)

by Masters, Kallypso

  Not wanting to postpone her orgasm any longer, she moved the Hitachi back to her clit and nearly moaned aloud with need as she rode the wave up and over in a mad rush.

  Oh, oh, oh!

  And done. Too fast, but she needed this. Now.

  Coming quietly wasn’t her preference, either, but she’d never be able to face Ryder over the breakfast table if she thought he’d heard her masturbating in her bedroom.

  After slowly returning to earth, she sat up and unplugged the toy. A quick trip to the bathroom to clean it, and she stored it in her nightstand drawer before crawling back to bed. Her hand moved to her erect right nipple and pulled. Man, she still wasn’t satisfied. The thought of Ryder nibbling, biting, pulling on her nipples just made her want to come all over again. Most times a good orgasm with her vibrator would last her for days, even a week.

  Megan would never manage to sleep tonight, despite how little rest she’d had over the past two days. She picked up the book on photography techniques from her nightstand. Normally this would entertain her for hours, but after a few pages, she caught herself about to nod off. Rather than fight it, she shut the book, set it on the far side of the bed, and closed her eyes. She curled onto her side and surrendered.

  “Take cover!”

  Chapter Eight

  Megan’s eyes shot open, and she bolted up in bed. Ryder? Had someone broken in again? Why was this happening? She reached for the nightstand drawer and moved her vibrator aside to retrieve her much more lethal handgun. No way was she going to let either of them be hurt.

  One thing Patrick had made sure of before she was nineteen was that she knew how to fire a weapon. She probably would have learned sooner, but their mother wanted no guns in her home. They understood after learning of the incident that put their mother in a wheelchair and took her first husband’s life.

  She listened for more from Ryder, but heard only silence. The blood rushed in her ears as adrenalin surged through her body. Was he okay? Needing to check on him, she crept to the door and opened it, thankful it didn’t squeak. Taking the pistol in both hands, she swept the hallway, but saw no one.

  “Report!”

  Oh, Ryder. A sick feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Less concerned about being under attack from outside forces, she relaxed her arms. Inching toward the living room, she scanned the room quickly to be sure. Ryder was under attack from within. He was in the throes of a nightmare—or night terror.

  He thrashed on the sofa, bare except for his black boxers. Sweat glistened on his skin from the streetlight shining between the open blinds. Past experience with Patrick had taught her not to approach or touch him.

  “Ryder. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  The muscles in his arms and chest strained as the battle raged on in his mind. His head turned toward her, and his brow furrowed as if in pain. Had he been injured?

  She approached, but as instructed, she didn’t touch him. “Ryder! I said wake up. Now!”

  He jolted awake and bolted up, grabbing for the knife on the coffee table and starting toward her.

  Her heart beat wildly. “No! It’s me. Megan Gallagher. You were having a nightmare.”

  He halted and stared at her. Setting the knife back down, he ran the same hand through his hair. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize. I’m just glad I was here to put an end to this one. No one should go through those alone.”

  He stared at her as if he wanted to disagree, but relaxed his body instead. “Go get some sleep. I’m okay now.”

  “It might help to talk about it.”

  “Hell, no.” He met her gaze. “No offense, but it’s over. I’ll just take a look around to make sure everything’s secure.”

  He started toward her again, but she didn’t move to let him pass. “Is it over, Ryder? How often do you have the nightmares?”

  He gave her another defiant stare. “Not as often as I used to.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t ready to talk about them. “Offer still stands. And it’s three-fifteen, by the way. I told you, anytime you need to talk.”

  Was the plea in his eyes Ryder wanting to open up to her. Or did he just wish she would get lost? Whichever, it disappeared in a flash.

  “I appreciate the offer. But no worries. It’s over.”

  She wondered how many times he would have to say that before he started to believe those words.

  “You just keep telling yourself that, Ryder. I hope your words come true someday.”

  She returned to her bedroom, closing the door and putting her handgun away.

  With no chance of sleeping again anytime soon, she spent the next two hours reading her photography book before deciding it was time to go to her office and edit some more photos.

  When she opened the door, her senses were assaulted by the smell of bacon and coffee. She sure could get used to having a man around who liked to cook, although she was going to gain a ton if they kept eating like this. Maybe they could make a trip to the farmer’s market rather than live off the unhealthy choices in Patrick’s freezer and pantry.

  Actually, after giving it a lot of thought since Ryder’s nightmare, the time had come for her to regain control of her life.

  Ryder needed to go home.

  * * *

  Megan witnessing his nightmare reminded him what bad news he would be for someone like her. Her world was light and fun and normal. His was…well, a freaking nightmare at times.

  He poured another mug of black coffee. The first two hadn’t done anything to clear the cobwebs from his head after the dream. Tired. He hadn’t run on so little sleep in a long time. Out of practice. The dryer buzzed, and he took one more quick swallow before heading to the laundry room to retrieve the sheet he’d washed after soiling it last night fantasizing about Megan.

  Hell, what was he thinking being with a girl like Megan? She deserved someone—

  “The coffee smells great. How are you doing this morning?”

  Before he could make it through the kitchen with the sheet, he came face to face with her again. Jesus, so beautiful. She wore shorts and a tee, and her legs, though not particularly long, were spectacularly perfect. Muscular calves and thighs that could probably squeeze a man in all the right places.

  “You run?”

  She looked back at him after setting the coffee pot back on the warmer. “From what?” Before he could clarify, she grinned. “Just teasing. No, not a lot. Sometimes it just helps me feel better.”

  “You aren’t going to go running this morning, are you?” He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the potential threats she would encounter. At least she didn’t sound like a habitual runner who had to stick to a schedule. Less predictable for predators.

  “No. I’m dragging today. Dressed for comfort.”

  She sure seemed perky despite him disturbing her sleep last night.

  “Let me go fold this sheet, and then I’ll scramble up some eggs.”

  She set her mug on the counter. “No, let me help. I used to do this with my dad.” She took the sheet from him and found two ends. “Now, you find the other two.” He did so and held it up, but when he realized it was twisted, he switched corners at the same time she did, resulting in yet another twist.

  “Dad sure made this look easy.”

  They worked at straightening out the sheet for a moment. She referred to him in the past a lot. Did he ditch his family, too? “Where is he now?”

  Her sweet smile faded. “He died more than two years ago.”

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. Awfully young for you to lose your dad.”

  “Well, I still have so many wonderful memories, and I’ll admit I talk to him every day and almost feel he answers sometimes. Luckily, my mom’s going to live to be a hundred and ten. Nothing can keep that woman down long.”

  Resilience. Megan must have inherited it from her mom.

  With arms outstretched, she started walking toward him. Their hands met and lingered a moment before they both reache
d for their new ends and repeated, coming together again. Her body’s heat radiated through the sheet to him. She stared into his eyes longer than made him comfortable.

  “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

  Now, his fantasies of her were hitting him while wide awake. At least he was pretty sure he was awake and had just imagined Megan talking about kissing her.

  “Well, have you?”

  So she’d actually asked that question? “No.”

  Liar.

  The twinkle in her eyes faded, and he could kick himself for being the reason.

  “Sorry. I sometimes don’t think before I talk.”

  When she moved to turn away, he threw the folded sheet on the table and reached for her arms.

  “Okay, I lied. I’ve thought about that and more. A lot more. But we can’t go there.”

  Her breathing grew shallow, and when she opened her mouth to let in more air, she only made him want to kiss her more than ever.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?” The breathlessness in her voice made him hard.

  Breathing.

  Bewitching.

  Being.

  God forgive him, but he needed this.

  He moved his hands to the sides of her face and lowered his mouth to hers. The first touch of their lips sent electric shocks through his body. More. He needed more. Faster than he should have, he forced his tongue between her lips. He’d been starving for this kiss since the first night he met her.

  She groaned and tilted her pelvis into his.

  Sweet Jesus, don’t do that to me, girl.

  Her arms wrapped around his waist—either to keep her balance or draw him closer—before her tongue sparred with his. Another groan, this time definitely his. Where was he planning to go with this? There could never be anything between them. Leading her on to think there could be wasn’t his style.

  He broke away, and both of them fought for breath.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “But I wanted you to. It was everything I’d hoped for and so much more.”

  The desire within him nearly broke down his defenses. He’d never wanted anything more, but she deserved someone who could live in her world. He was marking time until he could get as far away from this place as possible. He needed to go back to a time when life was simpler. Live off the land. Take care of himself.

  Home.

  Megan went to the stove and pulled a piece of bacon off the paper towels. Watching her eat turned him on as much as kissing her.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to skip the rest of breakfast. I need to pack.”

  He placed a gentle, but restricting hand on her arm. “Going somewhere?”

  She flashed him a beautiful smile. “Yes. Your place.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Well, you’ve invited me to go there several times now. I said, ‘We’ll see.’ And now I’ve decided it’s a wonderful idea. Can you be ready in two hours?”

  He nodded, unable to speak.

  Home. He was going home.

  With Megan.

  Holy fuck.

  He watched her turn and walk toward the hallway, her ass bouncing with each step. After that kiss, this might be the worst decision he’d ever made. Well, in retrospect, he didn’t actually make the decision at all. She did.

  But he could manage things better once he returned home. Survival variables would be off the table. He wouldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. He was in charge of carrying out this mission to protect her. She couldn’t call the shots—although she’d been doing that since he’d met her.

  Once they arrived at his place, they would play by his rules.

  Why did an image of Megan submitting to him flash in front of his eyes?

  Hands off, grunt. She’s Top’s little sister.

  A shout from down the hall took him away from his thoughts. “Get the lead out! An hour and forty-five minutes left.”

  Damned bossy woman.

  But this time he would obey. The sooner he cleaned up in here and packed what little he’d brought with him, the sooner he would be heading home.

  * * *

  Megan grinned as she packed her smallest suitcase. She figured she might be out there for a few days. Then she would insist that Adam call off this silly mission and let Ryder return to his own life again.

  Her lips still tingled from where he had kissed her. She’d been kissed before, but never as thoroughly as by Ryder. She touched her fingertips to her lips and smiled.

  But her smile faded as quickly. Could she allow something to blossom between them? She hadn’t been honest with him, never dreaming until last night that she would feel such a strong attraction to the man. Her secret wasn’t something she blurted out to everyone she met. Heck, no one but Mom knew. She hadn’t even told Patrick. He’d been deployed when she made her irrevocable decision.

  She’d been twenty-four. Headstrong. Having suffered with the debilitating pain of endometriosis since she was thirteen—including several days each month where she could barely get out of bed—she chose quality of life over some nebulous dream of possibly getting married and having babies. Not that she hadn’t tried less permanent solutions. The third laparoscopic ablation hadn’t given her more than minimal relief for her last eighteen months of undergraduate school at Loyola. After nearly flunking out of her first year at USC working on her master’s, she’d insisted that her gynecologist do a total laparoscopic hysterectomy, including cervix and ovaries. She’d been on birth control pills since she was fourteen to try to control the pain and also wanted to avoid the side-effects associated with those if she stayed on them too much longer.

  Megan just wanted a chance at a normal life and a productive career, even if that meant no possibility of giving birth to babies of her own. She had other options if she ever wanted to have children. She’d just never felt a strong pull to be a mother. Of course she hadn’t been attracted to a man long enough for any serious relationship to occur—until Ryder.

  Oh, Megan. He kissed you. He didn’t propose or ask you to be the mother of his children.

  Hoping to lighten up the mood again, she went to her bedside stand and pulled out some of her smaller, quieter toys. At least losing her womb hadn’t kept her from enjoying orgasms. She wasn’t sure she would have the privacy to use them at Ryder’s, but being that close to the man for several more days, she decided it was better to be prepared than frustrated.

  Seeing her handgun, she removed it and tucked it in her purse. She had her carry permit. Ryder was handy with a knife, but she didn’t feel safe without having her own weapon. Not that she expected any trouble, except maybe for a stray rattler while out hiking or something. God, she hated snakes.

  Zipping up the bags, she slung her camera case onto her shoulder and released the handle of her suitcase to wheel it into the hallway. She stopped at her office and made sure the photos she wanted to work with weren’t in the cloud. The chance of having an internet connection out there was slim, given the way Ryder referred to that cloud.

  Megan then packed up her laptop before heading toward the garage. She was about an hour early. Plenty of time to clean up the kitchen. Maybe Ryder would be ready early, too.

  When she reached the kitchen, she found it spotless. She left her bags and went in search of Ryder in the living room. His folded blanket lay neatly on the arm of the sofa. The man hadn’t left his military ways behind him. Patrick tended to be a neat freak since his days in the Marines, too, especially after a post-traumatic stress episode. She assumed having everything in its place helped them restore order from the chaos in their minds after a nightmare or flashback.

  “Ready?”

  She turned to find him standing in the hallway. “Yes. I want to stop at the store before we leave the city, though. I’d like to get some groceries.”

  “There’s a good one near my place. Everything we’ll need and fewer people.”

  Sh
e walked toward him, and he stepped aside for her to precede him down the hallway. In the garage, Ryder soon had her bags tucked into the back of her SUV. She set the alarm, for whatever good it might do, and pulled out after him. Soon they took the ramp heading for the Jemez. As she followed, she noticed he took care not to weave in and out of traffic so she wouldn’t lose him.

  The scenery already looked familiar from their ride up here yesterday. After stocking up at the convenience store that served as the local grocery, he turned from the main highway onto one that wasn’t as well maintained as the logging road had been. Red dust kicked up from his back tire. She drove slower to keep some distance between their vehicles in case he hit a rut and rolled his bike.

  The rock formations and soil surrounding them still had red tinges.

  Simple beauty.

  She couldn’t wait to go exploring with her camera when she wasn’t trying to keep her eyes on the road. She’d have to watch for rattlesnakes—probably scorpions, too. So different from her time spent in the wilds of the Black Hills. Of course, there were venomous snakes there, too. None had ever bothered her.

  Megan shuddered. She really didn’t like snakes.

  Ryder turned onto an even less maintained road. She maneuvered to avoid some of the ruts. This must be a fun road to drive after a rainstorm. Not. After avoiding what had to be a bone-jarring hole, his bike made a sharp turn, and there stood a one-story adobe house. The reddish tint of the mud made it clear it had been made from local soil.

  The unpainted wooden front door welcomed anyone who might happen upon the porch. A ristra of dried red chiles hung from the porch roof rafters. Two small windows on either side of the door completed the façade. Cozy.

  A newer addition extended off to the right of the main part of the house with larger, more modern windows. She could imagine his friend’s grandmother living in the old section, but until she saw the new addition, she wouldn’t have pictured this as his home. Of course, he merely lived here and took care of the place for a friend.