At the Edge

by Laura Griffin

  “I’ll probably just crash on the sofa. I’m too wired to sleep anyway.” She twisted the top off the water and glanced around. Kyle didn’t have any furniture in the kitchen, not even a bar stool. She hitched herself up onto the counter and let her legs dangle.

  God help him, she had a toe ring.

  “I heard you on the phone while I was in there,” she said.

  He dragged his gaze up to her face. “Landline.”

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Jake. He’s bringing over a rental car in the morning.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

  “Really.” He nodded at the phone on the counter. “And that reminds me, it’s probably a good idea if you call your dad.”

  She stiffened. “Why?”

  “Because he’s your dad.”

  “So?”

  “So he’s probably worried about you. You should call him with an update. Or I can.”

  “No.”

  He arched his brows at her sharp tone.

  “Look, just . . . drop it. Please? My dad’s a difficult person. Promise me you’ll let me handle him.”

  He nodded, and her shoulders relaxed.

  “Thank you.”

  Ryan took a swig of beer, watching her. She obviously had some hang-up with her father, but she didn’t want to talk about it. At least, not with him.

  She took a long sip of water and looked at him. “Tell me something. Why is Jake going to all this trouble?”

  Ryan sighed. She still didn’t get it. It wasn’t trouble, not from their perspective. Jake was Crew. Kyle was Crew. If anyone asked for something, it was done, no question.

  Not that there wouldn’t be fallout from this. Ryan was going to catch endless shit from Jake for spending the night with Emma.

  “It’s not trouble,” he said.

  She eyed him skeptically as she tipped back the bottle. “You guys are interesting.”

  “How?”

  “The way you work together, even when you aren’t working.”

  She rested the bottle on her knee, and Ryan noticed the swelling there beside her bandage. She was trying to ice her injury with the damn water bottle.

  He set his beer down and opened a few drawers until he found some plastic bags. He filled one with ice and made a pack for her.

  “Thanks.”

  They were at eye level now, and those dark brown eyes drew him closer until he was standing between her knees, which was about the dead last place he should be.

  He put his hand over hers and moved the ice pack to the inside of her knee. Her skin was still warm from the shower.

  “Ryan.”

  He glanced up. Her mouth was lush and full, and he liked the way it looked whenever she said his name. Her whole body was lush and full, and his hands itched to slide over those creamy thighs. Instead, he rested them on the counter on either side of her hips. “This is a bad idea.”

  She tipped her chin up. “Why?”

  He kissed her. He had to. But she must not have really expected it, because she gave a startled gasp as his mouth took hers. She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him close. She tasted so fucking good, and he felt himself sliding down the slippery slope to hell.

  He couldn’t do this.

  He’d brought her here to protect her. Just like in the jungle, she’d been through a trauma, and she was shaken and scared and looking for something to hold on to—he knew that. But still he was kissing her, taking advantage of her, gliding his hands over the smooth skin of her legs, and he groaned with need as they parted for him. Her heels pressed into his back, pulling him closer as her fingernails dug into his scalp.

  Her mouth was hot and sweet, and he knew he’d never get enough. He’d go away hungry like last time and spend the next days and weeks obsessed with her all over again. But he had to do it. He had to kiss her, just like he had to slide his hand under her sweatshirt and touch all that soft skin.

  He glided his hand up to her breast, and the little moan she made sent a shot of lust straight to his groin. Her hands slid down his back to his jeans, and all he could think about was how long it would take to get her naked and under him so he could pound himself into her until he lost his mind. She arched her breast against his palm, and he felt like he was losing it already.

  Jesus, he had to slow down. He couldn’t nail this girl, as much as he wanted to. But he could make her feel good. That he could do.

  ———

  Emma’s heart lurched as he picked her up. Her legs clenched around him, and yet again he was carrying her, only this time their mouths were fused together. She’d thought he’d take her to the bedroom, but he went for the sofa instead, lowering her onto it and then dropping down on top of her. Her breath whooshed out. He pinned her with his hips, and the steely pressure of his erection sent hot tingles through her body as his thumb scraped over her nipple.

  She pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Without missing a beat, he reached around and unclasped her bra, and when it was gone, she felt a sudden chill over her skin. She drew her arms over her breasts, but he took her wrists.

  “No.”

  He pinned her hands beside her head. He dipped his head down and took her nipple in his mouth, and the searing heat went straight to her core. The stubble on his chin rasped against her sensitive skin, sending delicious little shivers through her as he lavished attention on her breasts. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, unable to believe this was happening, that she was taking her clothes off with a man she barely knew.

  But the thing was, she did know him. They’d skipped right over all the phony small talk. She’d told him embarrassing things, silly things, important things. She’d told him what to tell her father if she died—the last words she’d wanted anyone on earth to know she’d entrusted to him—and that was mere seconds before he’d sprinted her through gunfire and saved her life. And he’d saved it again tonight.

  It was truly bizarre how he kept showing up in the right place at the right time. Maybe it was fate.

  Or maybe she was using all of it as a rationalization to cave into temptation, temptation in the form of this huge, beautiful man who could make her do anything in the world if only he’d keep kissing her like that, pulling and suckling and teasing her until need expanded inside her and she thought she’d burst. She combed her fingers into his hair and gazed down at him, and he slid up to take her mouth again, even more fiercely than before, and Emma’s insides started to throb.

  They were doing this. It seemed so unlikely, but the hard pressure of him between her legs was amazingly real. He wanted her, and this was happening now, finally, after all her fantasizing.

  She glided her hands down his back, then tugged up the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head to reveal all those hard muscles she’d been dreaming about.

  “My God,” she breathed, tracing her finger over his chest.

  He smiled slightly and bent back over her breasts. His kisses moved lower, and she felt a flutter of nerves as they neared her waist. She heard the snap of her shorts and felt a jolt of heat as his tongue dipped into her navel.

  “Ryan.” She combed her fingers into his hair and tried to pull him up, and then his warm hand was sliding up her thigh and between her legs, and she instinctively arched into him.

  “Oh my God.” It was good, too good. It shouldn’t be this good yet, but it was, and she bucked and moaned beneath him. She heard the rasp of a zipper, and then he hooked his fingers into her shorts and panties and pulled them down her legs, and she was completely bare to him now. She watched his gaze move slowly over her body as that hungry look came into his eyes and his hands glided over her. He pressed his palm between her legs and took her mouth again, and the raw possessiveness of it sent a shock wave through her.

  She wanted him to possess her, needed him
to. She wanted all of him, not just his hand. But then he was teasing her, exploring her, making her dizzy with need.

  “Ryan.”

  “I’ve got you.” His kiss was deep and relentless as his hands stroked fire into her body.

  “Please.” She tugged at his jeans. God, why was he still wearing them? She needed them off, now, but he was touching her, making her forget everything except the hot friction of his fingers, and she arched against him, clutching his shoulders as he found that perfect spot.

  “Ryan.”

  She exploded. Stars burst behind her eyelids as she pressed against him and her body quaked and burned. He held her through it, murmuring against her ear and soothing her with his touch as her body reeled.

  Finally, the tremors subsided and she went lax.

  She blinked up at him, dazed. His eyes glittered down at her. He slid his arms under her body and hauled her into his lap, and then she was straddling him. She felt limp, boneless. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and stared down at his beautifully sculpted chest. A sheen of sweat covered him, and she buried her face against his neck and kissed him. His skin tasted salty and delicious and she kissed it again.

  ———

  She ground her hips against him, and every cell in his body caught fire. She popped the snap of his jeans, and he took her wrist.

  “Emma, honey—”

  “What?”

  Her hand slid beneath his waistband, and every thought emptied from his mind as she stroked him. She licked his neck under his ear, and he jerked his head back.

  “Emma. Wait.”

  But her sweet hand kept moving, and her tongue was hot against his skin.

  “I love your body,” she whispered, and he clasped her slender wrist. But he didn’t mean it. Not really. If he’d wanted her to stop, he’d have gotten out of here a long time ago, before she started making those breathy little noises that drove him wild. He wanted much more than her hand in his jeans. He wanted her underneath him, begging him.

  He kissed her neck, her jaw, the soft spot just beneath her collarbone. He inhaled her deeply, and she smelled so good he couldn’t get enough of her. She shifted on his lap, rubbing herself against him as her sweet breasts pressed against his chest. He cupped one in his palm and stroked that perfect pink nipple under his thumb.

  He kissed her and rolled her onto her back, and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back in silent invitation. She didn’t have to tell him. He knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. How to please this woman was somehow written into his DNA, and he felt a hot rush of joy because he knew he could make her come for him again.

  She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, and it was fucking heaven.

  Almost.

  “Ryan, please.”

  Her fingers were on his zipper, and she was pulling at his jeans. He gently pushed her hands away and slid down her body, kissing her, and everything about her was so fucking amazing he never wanted to stop. And the little sounds she was making told him she didn’t want him to stop, either.

  “Ryan,” she squeaked. “Oh my God, Ryan!”

  ———

  It was happening again. It couldn’t be. But the world around her grew dim, and the only thing she could feel was the electrifying heat of his mouth against her. She clutched his shoulders, lifting her hips while at the same time she fought against him.

  She wanted all of him. She wanted him deep inside her, where he could pound away this relentless ache and shatter it into a million pieces. But he was moving too fast, kissing her and touching her, and she felt the heat building unbearably until she couldn’t take another second.

  She screamed his name and broke apart again.

  Tremors shook her for seconds, or minutes, until her limbs seemed to melt. She dropped her head back against the cushion as he kissed his way up her body. She blinked up at him, dazed once more. Those green eyes glinted down at her, and she slid her hand to his zipper, but he clasped her wrist.

  “Don’t.”

  She gazed up at him, still breathless from everything he’d just done. But now she felt confused, too. “But what about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  She smiled and traced her fingers over the huge bulge in his jeans. “I don’t think so.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and sat up, pulling her legs into his lap.

  A chill swept over her. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. “You’re good,” she repeated. Like she’d offered him a cup of coffee he didn’t want.

  She looked down at herself. She was sprawled across him naked, every inch of her body flushed and tingling. And with the exception of the T-shirt she’d yanked off him, he was still dressed, right down to his damn boots.

  Heat flooded her cheeks as understanding dawned. That was really it. He was finished. She pulled her legs off his lap and grabbed her sweatshirt. “I can’t believe you.”

  He watched her as she wrestled the sweatshirt over her head. She snatched her shorts off the floor and stood up.

  He tipped his head back against the wall, but he didn’t say a word, confirming her fears. A cold, slimy feeling settled in her stomach.

  She’d misread everything. He didn’t want her, not really. That raging hard-on she’d felt was just the natural result of having a moaning, writhing female under him. He didn’t really want her.

  He sat forward, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Emma—”

  “Don’t.”

  She snatched her bra off the back of the sofa and looked around, turning away from him because she didn’t want him to see the mortification on her face. Damn it, where were the rest of her clothes?

  She spotted a scrap of white lace on the floor beside his boot. He sighed, then scooped up her panties and held them out to her.

  She grabbed them and stalked away.

  THIRTEEN

  * * *

  Ryan’s gaze kept darting to the hallway as he listened to the water running. If she thought she could intimidate him with an angry glare and a slammed door, she was wrong.

  He yanked off his boots and propped his feet on the coffee table. He laced his hands behind his head and stared at the TV, doing his best to ignore the frustration simmering inside him. But it wasn’t possible.

  Finally, she emerged from the hallway, fully dressed again and looking perfectly calm. She clattered around in the kitchen for a few minutes before coming to join him on the couch with the remainder of her milkshake. She wedged herself into the corner and tucked her legs up under her.

  Ryan was impressed. She’d seemed pretty embarrassed, and he’d half expected her to hole up in the bedroom for the rest of the night. But maybe Kyle’s little sex den freaked her out.

  “What’s on?” she asked, sliding the spoon into her mouth.

  “I don’t know.” He hadn’t even noticed. “Looks like Dodgers versus Diamondbacks, Chase Field.”

  They watched in silence for a few minutes as the D-backs hit a double.

  “You gonna share that?”

  She slid a look at him. “Get your own.”

  He watched her stir the shake, gauging her mood. He nudged her hip with his foot.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Ryan sighed. He reached over and clamped his hand around her ankle and dragged her across the sofa.

  “Hey!”

  He pinned her under him and took the cup out of her hand, resting it on the table as she bucked beneath him. He kissed her. She tasted cold and chocolatey, and after a few long moments, she stopped resisting.

  When he finally pulled away, she blinked up at him. The tears glistening in her eyes put a sharp pang in his chest.

  Damn it, he’d fucked this up.

  He rolled off her onto his side and rested his palm on her stomach so he could catch her
if she tried to leave.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked.

  He brushed a curl off her forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

  “Why?”

  He stroked his hand through her soft hair, fanning it back on the cushion. It was something he’d been yearning to do, dying to do, since he’d first met her. “Did it feel good?”

  She rolled her eyes and punched his chest, which he took as a yes.

  “Do you feel relaxed?”

  She huffed out a breath. “I did, but now I feel wired. And pissed at you. And I have to get up in the morning and deal with reality, and it would have been a lot easier if you’d just dropped me off at my hotel.”

  “Not for me.”

  She rolled away from him to face the TV, even though he knew she couldn’t care less about the game. He propped himself up on his elbow and pulled her back snugly against his chest.

  They watched another play. And then she reached back and clamped her hand over his rock-hard dick.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t understand you.”

  He kissed her forehead. Then he took her hand and tucked it safely in front of her. “I know.”

  ———

  His mistake was falling asleep.

  Awake, he had control. Discipline. He was trained to endure the most brutal conditions. But asleep, his body knew what it wanted, and it wanted Emma.

  He woke up in the dark of Kyle’s apartment with Emma’s breast in his hand and her nipple hardening under his stroking fingers. With a soft moan, she rolled toward him, nestling her head under his chin. She pressed a warm kiss against his chest, and her hand traced a featherlight path down his body to his jeans. He caught her wrist and kissed the top of her head. But when his hand moved to her breast again, her warm fingers dipped into his jeans and curled around him, and every nerve in his body snapped awake.

  She was watching him, her brown-black eyes luminous in the darkness as her hand stroked over him. She shifted closer and kissed him, and he heard the rasp of his zipper as she freed him from his jeans. She shifted her weight until she was straddling his lap, then lifted the sweatshirt over her head, and she was naked, completely, and he knew she’d planned this while he’d been asleep. He also knew he was a goner. No matter how much self-control he thought he had, no matter how much discipline, he was no match for this woman.