No, what he wanted was to do what she’d asked for. Kiss her. And suddenly he wanted that more than his next breath. He tried to step back, away from her, but Cutter was in his way and the stubborn dog refused to move. In fact, he almost seemed to be leaning against his legs, pushing him closer to her.
She was just looking up at him, silently, waiting. Those eyes focused on him, gleaming in the moonlight.
That ship already sailed.
If she cared, then it was already too late, wasn’t it? He could kiss her, and it wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t make any difference. Except to him. If he kissed her and it seared him like it had before, he was going to be the one finding it hard to walk away. But maybe he deserved that. Maybe it would serve him right to...to...
He was having trouble thinking again. She just kept looking at him, like...like that. And then it was too much. He just had to taste her once more. He had to know if that incredible sensation would rocket through him again, making this woman and the feel of her lips the only thing that mattered in a crazy world.
With the sense of a man on a ship—that ship of hers?—sailing toward the edge of the world, he lowered his mouth to hers.
* * *
She was no child, no starry-eyed girl just discovering what could happen between a man and a woman when it was right, yet that’s what she felt like. As if she’d discovered some whole new landscape of untold beauty, something she had never known existed. And at this moment, that landscape was made up solely of the blasting heat of his mouth on hers, and the solid, strong feel of his shoulders beneath her hands.
She hadn’t even been aware of grasping him like that, but she vaguely realized that she’d likely be in a puddle on the ground if she hadn’t. Because he was making not just her knees weak but turning every part of her to some molten, fluid thing she didn’t recognize.
She felt the touch of his tongue over her lips. She never hesitated to part them; she wanted more. Much more. When his tongue brushed hers, she heard a low moan, a split second later realizing with a little shock it had been her. It seemed to inspire him for he drove deeper, probing, tasting as if he were starving. For her.
The thought sent fire licking along every nerve as her body responded. She’d wanted proof, some sign that this was different, was somehow...more. Her heart wanted to believe she’d gotten it, but that part of her mind that was still functioning—barely—would only acknowledge that this was a physical sensation she’d never known before.
And perhaps it was only physical, for him at least. It was women, wasn’t it, who kept insisting on building it into more? As she had with Chad? But Chad had never made her feel like this. Ever, especially with just a kiss.
When at last he pulled back, she nearly staggered. She felt almost dizzy, as if the blaze they’d kindled had eaten up all the air in the room. But she was pressed so tight against him—when had that happened?—his arms so wrapped around her she was in no danger of falling. She may have been rocked to the soles of her feet, but Liam was still standing. Had it not been like that for him? Was that even possible, for such a fierce, swift fire to be one-way?
She stole a glance at his face. The shock in his expression, the surprise in his eyes and the slight, wondering shake of his head told her he was as stunned as she was, and she could breathe again.
“You want that answer now?” Her voice came as barely a whisper, but they were so close it didn’t matter.
He stared at her, as if it were an effort to process her words. He sucked in an audible breath, as if he’d found the oxygen in short supply, as well, before saying rather confusedly, “What?”
“What will make me go away.”
His nostrils flared and she felt his fingers clench on her back. As if he were expecting her to bolt at any second.
And wanted to stop her. Keep her.
“It’s easy, Liam,” she said, her voice just slightly stronger now. “All you have to do is look me in the eyes, straight on, and tell me you don’t feel anything in return. That this is nothing more than a kiss, that you can walk away with no regret and never question what you might have missed.”
“You should let me do just that. For your own good.”
“I don’t believe you’re jinxed or whatever it is you think. Some bad choices, and matching luck, yes. But no more than that.”
“Ria—”
“Look me in the eye and say it, Liam. And I’ll go.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll lie?”
She looked at him steadily. “No,” she said simply.
“You have reason to be,” he pointed out, his breathing sounding steadier now. “Given whatshisname.”
She nearly smiled at the way he said it. But she realized he’d just given her the best argument she could have. “And yet I’m not. Perhaps you might do the same? Not let the past determine the present?”
“You’re the one taking the risk.”
Yes, but not the kind you mean. I don’t believe I’m risking my life. But definitely my heart.
She felt a qualm. Because she knew what this was. More important, she knew what it wasn’t. Or so she told herself. And yet she wanted this as she had wanted few things in her life.
She wanted him. In a way she’d never wanted anyone before. And that alone was not something she wanted to walk away from. She might regret this. She’d known him such a short time. And yet she knew what was important about him, to her at least.
He would probably run himself, if he knew the way she was thinking. Not because she was picturing some kind of glossy, unrealistic future with him, but because of the reasons she wanted him—his kindness, his strength, the work he so believed in and, oddly, the simple fact that, despite trying to hold himself apart, he cared enough about others to still blame himself years later for the deaths of three who had dared care about him.
She wasn’t sure she could explain it anyway.
So she kept her tone light as she said, “More than one risk, unless you have a condom handy.”
It was as clear as she could make her decision without blushing. And now it was up to him.
* * *
Liam felt as if Blue, his dad’s old plow horse, had kicked him in the stomach. Did the woman have no sense?
He knew the answer to that. Ria was whip smart. And yet still kind, and caring. Too caring.
His mind recoiled from the very word. At the same time he had this roiling sensation deep in his gut that it wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t strong enough for what he was feeling.
He told himself he was crazy. He was hot for her, just as Dylan had teased him; he could admit that. Hell, he was way beyond hot for her. And if she was willing, then what was stopping him? It wasn’t the lack of a condom, although he wasn’t sure of the condition of the one he lugged around in his wallet since it had been there a while. Funny, he hadn’t been interested for some time in the occasional no-strings hookups that had been his sex life since Amanda had died.
Then came Ria Connelly, who could send him into overdrive with a look from those bright blue eyes.
This was nuts. And yet there she stood, waiting. He knew her well enough to know that this was not her normal approach. That she wanted this—him—enough to make the choice first. That alone almost put him on his knees.
He swallowed tightly, managed to speak. It came out sounding harsh, almost hoarse. “You’d better be damned sure. I can’t handle morning-after regrets.” Not from you. Anybody else, but not you.
Somewhere in the back of his mind an alarm bell went off at his own thought, but then she answered him and it was blasted away.
“No regrets.”
She said it simply, easily. And he had no doubt that she meant it, that there would be no recriminations, no blame. She would take responsibility for her decision, because that’s who she was.
> He couldn’t fight it. Not any longer. With her standing there looking at him, her lips still looking freshly kissed, he didn’t even want to.
And then he was kissing her again, fiercely, and the heat that blasted through him told him the fire they’d started had only been banked while he tried—halfheartedly—to talk sense into her. Now he didn’t care about sense anymore. He didn’t care about anything except this woman in his arms.
He picked her up easily, since she was already half hanging on him anyway. He treasured every sign that this was what she wanted, kissed her again as he walked back to the door. He never lifted his mouth as he turned sideways to edge through the door. He only looked up when Ria reached out to push the door closed behind them. The certainty he’d seen in her eyes was still there, relieving his fear she would change her mind once they were inside.
The ever-vigilant Cutter headed for his bed without a command. The phrase my work here is done went through Liam’s head, but out just as quickly when Ria raised her head to press a kiss to his throat. For a moment he forgot how to breathe.
He managed to remember which way to go, and then he was kicking open the door to the bedroom with his heel. He couldn’t remember ever having been so...frantic before. He pulled at her clothes, barely taking time to savor every revealed curve and hollow. He muttered something about wanting to go slow, but she merely whispered, “Next time,” and it sent the flames even higher.
He tried to unhook the lacy bra that was the color of her eyes, but his fingers were suddenly thick and uncooperative. She reached back and did it herself, the movement thrusting her breasts toward him, and his breath jammed up in his throat. And then the lace fell away, revealing silken, ripe curves tipped with a luscious, berry pink, and he groaned aloud.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, gently, loving the weight of them and how the soft flesh molded to his hands as if made for them. That the nipples were already tight was a temptation too luscious to ignore, and he ran his thumbs over them reverently. The tiny sound she made then sent an arrow of heat through him, tightening his body to an exquisite ache.
She tugged at the button of his jeans, and it was more than he could take. He shed his clothes hastily, kicking everything aside before taking them both down to the bed in a rush. He barely managed the condom in his haste. He couldn’t touch enough, kiss enough, he wanted to lick every lovely inch of her but he couldn’t wait, he just couldn’t.
“Then don’t wait,” she whispered, and only then did he realize he’d said it aloud.
Her response sent him to a fever pitch he couldn’t fight down. He slipped a hand between them, fingers stroking, probing. The heat of her made him groan again, but when he found her wet and slick and ready, he nearly shattered right then. Never had the proof that a woman really wanted him been so powerful, and in the last part of his mind still functioning he knew it was because it was this woman.
When she reached for him, the feel of her fingers on his painfully erect flesh sent the words at last hammering through his head.
And then, as he began to slide into her, he couldn’t think at all, couldn’t do anything but feel, savor the hot, honeyed embrace of her body around him, the heat, the wetness, the tightness. He began to move because he had no choice, not when he was in her deep and hard, not when she’d welcomed him with an upward thrust of her hips and a cry of his name.
Stroke after stroke the blaze grew, expanded, until he was gasping in disbelief at something he’d never experienced. He slammed into her until he was afraid he might be hurting her and yet she clung to him, urging him on with those little sounds she made, eager, reaching...
And then he felt it begin for her, felt the fierce clenching of those inner muscles around him as she cried out his name one last time in the sweetest voice he’d ever heard. He felt her nails dig into his shoulders, and the tiny spark of urgent pain sent him over the edge and he let go, uttering her name and a heartfelt oath as the explosion of sensation overtook him.
And again it echoed in his head.
At last.
Chapter 26
“We should probably get up,” Liam said, sounding reluctant.
She was feeling reluctant to move herself, so she asked lazily, “Why?”
“Don’t you have to get to school?”
“Not until nine. It’s barely six thirty.”
He sat up. Ran a hand over his hair. Ria watched, quietly enjoying the way the muscles in his arm and shoulder moved. Remembering the way every part of him had moved last night.
Each time they had come together she learned something new about him and, unexpectedly, about herself. Once the decision was made they had both cast aside doubts and fears and it had been the night she’d hoped for, full of fierce sensation, tender moments and even some laughter as they fumbled their way to that new knowledge of each other’s bodies.
And what a body his was, she thought with an inward sigh. Just as she’d imagined. Leanly muscular, beautifully put together and strong. Oh, yes, very strong.
Somewhere in her mind a warning clanged, that if just that enthralled her, she was well down the road she hadn’t meant to travel.
The road Liam had as much as warned her not to travel.
“Teague’s due back today. I don’t know when he’s liable to show up here.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. True, they were in his workplace, but the other implications stung a little. “So...we’re a secret?”
“I didn’t mean—” He broke off, tried again. “It’s just that...”
He stopped, getting no further this time.
“Or is it just that we’re not a ‘we’?”
“Ria,” he began and stopped yet again.
Well, now I understand about the proverbial awkward morning after.
She shook off the thought. She was a big girl, and despite her lack of experience with one-night stands, she’d known that was probably what she was getting into. Reminding herself of her promise last night, she sat up, as well, belatedly grabbing the sheet and wrapping it around her body. He reached out and curled his fingers around her arm. Even that contact sent heat rocketing through her. As did the way his gaze slid over her.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly, putting a hand on the crisp white cloth over her breasts. “I remember every inch, every curve.”
She stared at him. She felt utterly lost, not knowing how to take his words or the way he’d just sounded. And the way he was looking at her. When he finally spoke again, she realized that what she’d heard—that undertone in his voice—was fear.
Every female who’s ever risked really caring about me is dead. I don’t want you to join them.
It was still there when he spoke again. “I don’t know what we are, Ria. Except not the same as before.”
Those were not the words, nor was that the voice of a man who didn’t care. It wasn’t a romantic declaration, that admission he’d been changed by what had happened between them, but, all things considered, for now it would have to do.
She stood up and quickly pulled on her sweater. It was long enough to cover the essentials while she retreated to the bathroom. But when her head popped through the neckline, she found him watching her with a hunger he either couldn’t or didn’t even try to hide. Either way it soothed her unsettled emotions, and she was able to speak normally.
“You’ll let me know what your detective friend or the juvenile officer does?”
A trace of a furrow creased his brow, but he made the shift to businesslike tones quickly. “Of course.”
“Will they really dig into this?”
“Brett Dunbar said so, and he doesn’t lie or say anything he doesn’t mean.”
She told herself she should trust his faith in the detective. He’d said Foxworth had worked with the man several times. But s
he hated to think of little Kevin or even Dylan—although it seemed his father limited his cruelty to the younger boy—stuck there any longer than necessary.
Liam seemed to sense her doubt. “If it helps any, Quinn says he’d hire Dunbar in a split second, if he ever wanted to leave law enforcement.”
“That says a lot.” She already had a solid respect for Quinn Foxworth.
Liam glanced at his phone screen. “He gets an early start. He’ll probably be rounding up help within the hour. They’ll be there before the morning’s out.”
She had to be content with that, she supposed.
“I was also thinking,” he said, “that maybe we should keep Dylan from going home until we know what Dunbar finds.”
She hadn’t thought of that but saw his point and nodded. “It might be best if he wasn’t around while...whatever happens happens.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him for a moment. “Could you just keep him busy until we know?”
“I could ask him for another session. Maybe say I can’t be there Thursday. Something like that.”
“That would work.” She hesitated and then added, “I could be there, just in case. If it turns out your friend has to take some action, it might be better if both of us were with Dylan.”
“Agreed,” he said. Without hesitation, she noticed. Whatever his feelings, he wasn’t letting them interfere with looking out for Dylan. Which, in an odd way, comforted her.
I wonder,” she asked, thinking she should have before, “why did Dylan’s father have a DNA test done in the first place?”
His grim smile told her he had thought of this already. “Now that’s the real question, isn’t it?”
“No answer?”
He ran a hand over his hair—the hair she’d tousled with her own eager fingers not long ago—as if thinking. Was he still debating what to tell her?
“Only speculation,” he said finally. “Or, as Teague calls it, a wag.”
“A what?”
“Wild-ass guess.”
She grinned at that. “I love English,” she said, earning a fleeting smile back. “A wag based on?”
Operation Alpha Page 17