by Kris Norris
Screw that.
Devlyn palmed his chest—gave him a shove. “Crow—”
He kissed her. Dipped his head down to hers, brushed his mouth across her lips, then dove inside. Tangled their tongues, finally got a taste of what he’d been craving for months. What he’d been missing, because that one kiss changed him. Bound him to her. Not with ropes or chains or promises. Something stronger. Something unbreakable.
Devlyn didn’t even try to resist. One press of his mouth, and she was fighting for control. Dragging him back to her when he paused to gasp some air. Not that he really needed it. He’d breathe through her, if necessary. But, knowing she felt anything close to the fire raging inside him gave him a brief glimmer of hope. That if he played his hand right, he might not have lost her, yet.
Which meant telling her the truth. Admitting what he felt—out loud. Because anything less…
Her breath mixed with his when they finally parted, chests heaving. Every damn inch touching. He savored the moment, knowing it was about to change. That he might never get this close to her, again.
Her eyelids fluttered, revealing glimpses of blue, before staying wide—staring up at him. She pressed her lips together, dampening them with a slow swipe of her tongue, and damn he wanted to dip back down. Devour her.
Instead, he eased away. Not much, but enough he could get some blood flowing to his brain. Maybe prevent his dick from pushing out against the towel. With it wrapped around his waist, he was dangerously close to exposing himself. Despite his effort not to react. A feat he’d always had control over, except with her. The woman unraveled him in a way he’d never experienced. One even Delta Force hadn’t trained him for.
Dev stared up at him, either too shocked or too pissed to speak. God, he hoped it was the first. She opened her mouth then closed it. Repeating the action a few times before sighing. Apparently, waiting for him.
This was it. Time to man up. Prove that the only easy day was yesterday. And, seeing how it had nearly killed him, he wasn’t expecting this to be any less painful. Go any smoother.
Crow took one last look, putting every feature into memory—just in case. “Okay, sweetheart. My turn. Yeah, you’re right. I have been back for months. And, while I’m not proud of the fact, you’re also right that I chose not to contact you. But…”
He stopped her from interrupting, because, damn it, she was going to. Had that look in her eyes he’d seen a thousand times before. The hint of fire that he was going to confirm her worst fears—that he’d been playing her all along.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
“But, it’s not because I didn’t care. Didn’t want to be with you. It’s…” Shit. How did he explain without coming across as a complete bastard?
Dev arched a brow. “Complicated?”
That tone. Sarcasm and fear rolled into one. And damn if he could blame her. While it had made sense at the time, he couldn’t argue that it sounded pretty lame, now.
Crow groaned then pressed off the wall, turning to pace away, just like she’d done earlier, before spinning back to face her. “I know. It sounds cliché. And, it is, but it’s also true.”
She leaned against the wall, head tilted off to one side. “Not sure how it can be all that complicated, Crow. Because it all boils down to either you cared or you didn’t.” She toed at the floor for a few moments, her gaze following the movement of her foot before focusing on him. “And it seems pretty obvious that you didn’t. Not really. Or, maybe just not in the ways that were important.”
Crow didn’t move this time. Moving implied he’d had some control over it. Had put effort into it. Had signaled his feet to step forward like he had a few minutes ago. This time, he simply came back to his senses with Devlyn, once again, pinned to the wall. That fall of auburn hair clasped in his hand. Her hip clenched in his other. She didn’t gasp like before, just stared up at him. Eyes narrowed. Mouth pinched tight.
Fear. That’s what he saw in those blue orbs. How every muscle pressed against him was tense. And not from arousal. She was primed for a fight. Or, maybe to escape, but either way, she was ready for whatever he threw at her.
He lowered his head, making his even with hers. “Didn’t care? Shitty ending aside, how could you think I didn’t care? Wasn’t two-hundred percent invested in us? All that time together, do you really think I was playing you? Acting? Because, damn, I should win a fucking Oscar if that’s the case.”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Not done, yet. All those months together—nearly a year, if I remember correctly—and you had no idea how I felt? Still feel? What you mean to me? Fine, then, let’s cut through the bullshit and just lay it all on the line.”
He shifted—pushed away ever so slightly. Enough he might eventually be able to breathe because he wasn’t doing a good job of that, now. Was barely getting any oxygen. Secretly wondered if she’d somehow sucked it all up. Placed him in a vacuum.
“You want to know why I didn’t come back? Because I couldn’t fucking look at myself in the mirror without seeing how I’d failed you. The one time you needed me to be there—to damn well protect you—and I was out. With one bloody shot.” He motioned to the collection of scars on his torso. “Got hit half a dozen times in Somalia, and I still managed to keep moving until Six rescued my ass. Yet, one bullet…”
He sighed, shook his head. “All these skills. All that talk about never leaving a teammate behind. About being the best, and I got fooled by a rogue CIA agent. Lost good men because I didn’t see through it.”
“No one saw through it. That’s not on you.”
“Isn’t it?” He tapped a finger against his chest. “My team. My responsibility. But what was worse, what I couldn’t forgive, was learning what Slader had done to you. How he’d left you there. Bleeding. Wondering where the fuck I was. That…”
He swallowed, nearly choked. “I tried to come back. Got as far as the curb outside the apartment. Had every intention of begging for your forgiveness, then I saw you walk past the window, and I knew. I fucking knew that what I’d done was unforgivable. Beyond redemption. And I’m ashamed to admit that I was scared. Bone-deep that you’d shove the words, I love you, right down my throat. Make me eat them because there was no way you could ever love me, now. Not this version…
“So, I left. Ran away, really. Told myself I was doing what was best for you, but I knew it was a lie. That, in the end, I wasn’t strong enough to live through your rejection. Through hearing you say you didn’t love me. That you never had. Because despite all those years trudging through hell with Delta, all the pain I’ve endured, that was the one thing I knew I’d never survive. Would break me.”
He pushed off the wall. “You want to hate me for being a bastard, go ahead. I deserve it. I was that and worse. But don’t stand there and say I never loved you. That I didn’t care, because I would have sacrificed everything—everyone—if I could have kept you safe. Burnt my whole life to the ground because without you…”
Another sigh and a step back. “Let’s just say the world is two dimensional, at best. And it’s only getting duller. Colder. You were my everything, Dev. Always will be. And I’ll have to spend the rest of my life knowing I had it all and didn’t have the balls to fight for it. Didn’t do the one thing I’d been trained for. Had excelled at. Irony at its best.”
Nothing. Not a word. A breath. Just her looking up at him. Lips slightly parted. Eyes wide. More white than he remembered from when she’d walked in. Had time stopped? Or was this his penance? To spend eternity staring at her, forever wondering what she thought. If anything he’d said had even gotten through.
He should leave. Give her time to process what he’d confessed. Decide if she wanted him around for the mission or something more. If she still wanted to stab him through the heart, and, damn it, he’d let her. Hell, he’d give her his damn Ka-bar, because just contemplating a future without her sounded like his own personal version of Hell.
Two steps, and he was at th
e door, heading out. Thankfully, he’d left some jeans on the bed—had wanted to limit the amount of time he’d left her unprotected, despite them being in a safehouse. He could grab them and yank them up while still walking. Putting as much distance as he could between them before he did something stupid. Though, falling to his knees and groveling didn’t sound all that bad. In fact, it sounded fitting. And he’d gladly sacrifice his pride if he thought it would work. But, knowing Devlyn, it would only piss her off, more. Be construed in some alternate way that made him look like even more of an asshole. Better to let her control their next meeting.
He had one hand fisted around the denim when her footsteps sounded behind him. Had him turning then reacting as she launched at him. Fists jabbing, feet kicking. He managed to block several strikes before she landed one on his chest—had him falling backwards as she swept out his legs. He hit hard, bouncing once on the mattress before she was on top of him. Legs bracketed around his, her hands palming the blankets next to his head. All that copper-colored hair hanging in a curtain around them.
He waited to see if she’d continue to lash out, knowing he deserved it. That after leaving her wondering for so long, the least he owed her was some kind of physical release. While he’d have preferred to have her squirming in his arms, flooding his tongue, he’d give her whatever she needed. Blood. Bruises. Verbally ripping a strip off his ass. Anything and everything as long as she stayed exactly where she was.
Straddled across him, those gorgeous blue eyes searching his.
She leaned down, hovering an inch above him. “That was for being a complete and utter prick.”
He opened his mouth to agree. That she was free to kick his ass as much as she needed when she closed the distance—slanted her lips over his, and, damn… That taste. The one he’d sampled in the bathroom. That he’d been craving. It filled his senses, had him gathering her hair. Wrapping all those silky strands around his fingers. Holding her close as she ate at his mouth. Made his earlier kiss look tame. Controlled.
She barely paused to breathe before claiming his mouth, again. Moaning when he lifted his free hand to her waist then slid it along the curve of her ass. He left it there, loving the feel of her muscles moving against his palm. How she pressed back into his touch, grinding her cleft on the base of his dick. And he almost came. Nearly creamed the towel from that firm pressure, alone.
Too long.
Not just without having sex. Without having her. In his arms. Her body moving in sync with his. The way she cried out his name when she shattered around him, her release spurring his own.
He wasn’t sure if that’s where this was heading, but he’d do his best to steer it that way. Make the earth move beneath her if she’d let him.
Devlyn blinked when she finally eased back, still poised above him. Her lips kiss-swollen. Damp. He forced his hand to leave her ass. Took three tries and lifting each finger individually, but he managed to bring his palm to her face—thumb the corner of her mouth.
She smiled, and his heart gave a hard thud. Felt as if it had been kick-started inside his chest after being dead for months, because, god, she was beautiful when she smiled. The fine lines around her eyes crinkling. A hint of white between her pink lips.
He couldn’t help but smile back, drinking in the blue of her eyes—darker than before. Like the ocean during a storm. “And what was that for?”
Somehow her smile widened. Brightened until he thought he’d have to look away or shade his eyes. “You work in intelligence. I’m betting you can figure that out.” She glanced at his chest, and the smile faded. Pursed into a frown as she moved one hand to his ribs—traced the bruising from where he’d been hit in the vest at the warehouse. “Does this hurt as bad as it looks?”
He chuckled. “Sweetheart, my entire body could be broken, and I wouldn’t feel anything but pleasure with you in my arms. So, no, Dev. You’re not hurting me by touching me, and you won’t hurt me if you want more. You, on the other hand… I saw your chest, and I’m not sure—”
Another kiss. Effectively shutting him up as she relaxed against him. Every available inch touching. He gathered her close, waiting until she paused to breathe before rolling them over—reversing their positions.
Devlyn’s hand palmed his jaw, another stunning smile curving her mouth. “You are far too handsome for my well-being.”
“Have you looked in the mirror?” He pressed his jaw against her hand. “Does this mean you’re considering forgiving me?”
“Guess that depends.”
“On how much I grovel? Because I’m not above begging.”
She laughed, running her other hand down his side then across the edge of the towel. “I thought you could put your mouth to better use, and we’d move on from there. See if you can make me see stars. Who knows, I might decide I don’t want to kill you, after all.”
Chapter Thirteen
Devlyn stared up at Crow, enjoying the low chuckle that shook through him as he continued to drink her in. Visibly caress her as his gaze swept the length of her, pausing in all the spots she wanted him to touch. Put that wicked mouth of his to good use.
Crow lowered onto his elbows, dangerously close because she realized there was no escape. No going back. Not that she’d ever really had a choice. Could stop loving him, despite her best efforts. And, if he walked away, again, she knew she’d never be the same. Would spend the rest of her life as a shadow of herself.
He shook his head. “Based on your expression, you’re still doubting what I just said. Which I deserve. Words are easy. Actions speak louder. So, maybe don’t make any crazy decisions not to kill me until I’ve found redemption.”
He dropped a soft kiss on her nose. “Now, you mentioned something about putting my mouth to better use.”
He shifted more of his weight onto his elbow, using his other hand to trace a slow line down her body—stop at the hem of her shirt. He didn’t lift it. Didn’t seem in a hurry, just drew lazy circles on her skin above her pants. Seemed content merely touching her. As if they hadn’t spent any time apart.
She was dying. Burning up. Inside out or, maybe everything all at once. The sexual equivalent to spontaneous combustion. Was there smoke coming off her skin? Little wisps that followed the path of his fingers? Was he even aware of how desperate she felt? What he was doing to her?
Because he looked calm. As if they were only planning to spend the next hour talking instead of him grinding her into the bed.
She blinked, and his expression had changed. As if she’d flicked a switch, and the new Crow was gone, leaving another man in his place.
Ryker. That’s what sprang to mind. The man she’d fallen in love with. Who she’d thought had vanished. But he was back, staring down at her. Pupils eclipsing the neon blue. Breath a harsh rasp against her cheek. The pulse at his neck fluttering wildly. The kind of physical signs that rarely broke through his armor. Only showed when he’d reached his limits. Was at the edge of his control.
She smiled. Knowing he was fighting to appear relaxed, that he wanted her as desperately as she wanted him, eased the tight feeling in her chest. Silenced the demons, the doubts. And, for the first time since that night on the platform, it didn’t matter if Slader lived or died. If she ever got even, because she’d won. Being here with Ryker was her reward for surviving. And she planned on capitalizing on it.
She must have smiled. Or, maybe the ever-present tension that had clenched her muscles for the past several months finally dissipated because Ryker inhaled, paused, then grunted, dipping down and claiming her mouth. It wasn’t soft or gentle. It was an assault, with her surrender the only option.
Another grunt preceded the second kiss. His hand tugging her shirt. There was a blur of white in front of her face, a twist of his fingers at her back, and she was bare from the waist up. His strong, hard muscles gliding over hers. Then, he moved lower. Bit the hollow at her collarbone while shimmying her pants over her hips. A few brushes of his hands, a shift and a lift, and s
he was naked. Nothing but a swath of terrycloth between them. Though, how he hadn’t punched right through that towel was a miracle, because he was harder than she’d ever felt him. Like a steel pipe against her abdomen.
The thought had her inhaling—holding her breath. Visualizing all the ways she could bring him to his knees. How fast she could have him pumping his seed down her throat. Or, maybe just covering her chest. He’d always loved that. Seeing his release painted across her skin like a sexual tattoo.
Ryker chuckled, again, lowering his mouth to her ear—biting the lope, then sucking on it. “I recognize that look, sweetheart. And you can have your way, next time. First, I have some groveling to do, and I’d hate to fail my first test.”
She opened her mouth to protest. After all, if it turned her on, too, wasn’t that part of his redemption? To let her indulge in her desires? His lips covering hers stole her reply. Had her moaning into his mouth as his fingers danced along her flesh, pausing to brush the underside of one breast.
And, just like that, she was primed. Was already fighting the swirling heat inside her core. And not just because she hadn’t had sex for the past several months. Hadn’t felt she could trust anyone long enough to find a release. But because she’d been numb. Running on autopilot. That limbo she’d been thinking about earlier.
She wasn’t in limbo, anymore. She wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell, maybe a mix of the two, and she didn’t care. As long as Ryker didn’t stop. Didn’t leave her hanging like this or she really would kill him.
Warm wet flesh surrounded her nipple, and any thoughts of killing him vanished. Winked out as he laved her, licking and kissing as if she might break. Was spun from glass. A direct contrast to how he approached every other facet of his life. His take-charge, take-no-shit attitude. Never afraid to bust through whatever blocked him.
Except here. With her.
Where every touch, every soft caress, was a testament to how much he cherished her. How much he was willing to temper his needs in order to see to hers. Push aside his natural tendencies, his training.