by Kris Norris
At least, until he got inside her. Then… She’d need his total loss of control as much as he would.
Another tug of her flesh, then he was moving lower. Kissing a path down her ribs, only to pause. Grunt. She blinked at the loss of his mouth on her skin, staring up into his eyes as he hovered over her.
She frowned. If he’d changed his mind… “Ryker?”
The muscle in his temple jumped, a strangled huff sounding at the mention of his name. The one she’d been trying to avoid since that night in Smithers’ office. That seemed to flow off of her tongue, now. A hint of a smile, then he was looking at her chest. Not in a sexual way. More like fire and gasoline about to explode. The way Smithers’ had described them.
She followed his gaze, wondering what he was staring at. Had she changed since they’d last been together? Did the scars from that night on the platform bother him? “What?”
Another grunt as if he was in pain. He shook his head, then a finger along her ribs. Right where the vest had stopped the bullet. “I can’t believe you stood there and kept shooting. Aged me a dozen years. If the vest hadn’t stopped this…”
He closed his eyes. Swallowed hard, jaw clenching and releasing.
She reached up—brushed her thumb along his cheek, damn near a beard from the growth. “But it did. And you got hit twice. With another through your arm. Through it, Ryker, so… Stop agonizing over what we’ve already weathered, and get to the part where I see those stars.”
He grinned, looking smug and sexy, and, damn, her heart leapt. Actually jumped inside her chest because he was gorgeous. Those brilliant blue eyes all smoky with desire. His wet hair in a tousled mess that accentuated the sheer symmetry of his features. She wanted to memorize this moment. Be able to conjure his image whenever she closed her eyes.
A sweet kiss, then he was nuzzling her breasts. Tasting them then moving lower. Not stopping as he nipped her hip before settling between her thighs. Christ, had he always been this broad, because he barely fit. Especially with the way he seemed to want her positioned—spread wide. Completely exposed. At his mercy, which she wasn’t sure was a wise idea. Not with her trembling on the edge from nothing more than a few scattered kisses. And, knowing Ryker, he’d take great pleasure in keeping her poised right there—strung tight but unable to tumble over.
She thought about pushing onto her elbows—goading him into finishing her hard and fast—when his warm breath caressed her mound. And, damn, she nearly came from just the thought of him putting his mouth on her. From that flutter of air.
Ryker chuckled. “Damn, sweetheart, are you close already? Because I haven’t even touched you, yet.”
She groaned as he drew his thumbs down the side, making her jump without offering the kind of pressure she needed. “Do you know how long it’s been?”
“I’m hoping as long as it’s been for me.” He met her gaze along her body. “Since the last time I had you in this position. Strung just as tight.”
Knowing he hadn’t been with anyone else spun the room. Left her feeling off-kilter, because it meant more than what he’d said. One of those actions he’d mentioned.
He arched a brow. “Well? Was I the only one who couldn’t stomach the thought of being with someone else?”
She grinned back. “Would it change things?”
“No.”
A slight twitch of his left eye. And, if she hadn’t been watching for it—the one tell that occasionally bled through his training—she would have missed it. Which meant he was answering how he thought she’d want him to. It also meant he was praying she hadn’t taken a lover.
As if she’d had time. Between recovering then trying to live down the botched joint mission, she’d been lucky to string together a few days off a month. Not to mention she’d been hung up on the big jerk.
“So…” She laughed at the instant pout. “Fine, no, Ryker, I haven’t been with anyone else. Couldn’t seem to get a certain asshole spook out of my head, so… Are you just gonna lie there and look or…”
His mouth. On her. Kissing. Nipping. Licking a path along her cleft, dipping inside, and, god help her, she was at Defcon One instantly. Hanging there, aware that any subtle move on his part would send her over. That it would end before he’d really even tasted her because, damn, he was killing her. Proving exactly how far gone she was. That she hadn’t just been hung up on him, she’d been pining. Secretly wishing for one more chance.
That she was, and always had been, hopelessly in love with Ryker Ward—ex-Delta Force soldier, and the man she wanted to spend the next fifty years with.
If she lived through the next few minutes because she wasn’t convinced she’d survive. The glide of his tongue across her skin. The scratch of his beard against her thighs. How this thumbs held her open. And when he hummed in pleasure against her drenched folds…
She lost it. Started lifting her hips in an attempt to grind his face harder against her flesh. Take her over. Less than five minutes, and she was shaking. Already biting her lip to keep his name from echoing through the room.
Ryker chuckled, the tiny sensations nearly making her scream. “Easy, Dev. We’ve got all day…” He groaned when her muscles started to flutter. “Or, maybe we don’t. Okay, sweetheart. No more teasing. But you have to give me what I want.” He dipped down—licked a heated path along her slit. “Scream my name while you drown me with your release.”
God, that voice. His voice. Low. Gravelly. Better than she remembered because it was real. He was real. And he was hers.
Knowing it was his mouth. His hands. His body on hers. That this was just the start. That she’d have more than this moment. This one time. It messed with her head. Heated her insides until that coil strung tight in her core snapped. Broke. Or, maybe it imploded. Took all the empty spaces inside her and shattered them, leaving her gasping. Shaking in Ryker’s arms—chanting his name as a thousand pinpoints of light danced across her vision. Time faded, then he was settling over her, his massive body covering hers.
He didn’t speak, didn’t move, just watched her descend, the remnants of her release glistening on his lips. Then, he was kissing her. Deep. Long. As if his forgiveness hinged on that one kiss. On whether he’d come out the other side redeemed.
She didn’t have the chance to tell him she’d already forgiven him. That she’d been well on her way before they’d talked. Not when he slipped his hands under her shoulders, notched his cock at her entrance then pushed in. One long, firm stroke, and he was fully seated. Groins crushed together. Her heels notched into the small of his back.
He waited until she’d wrapped her arms around his back then started moving. Slow then faster. Harder. Thrusting his hips, shimmying the bed against the wall. Not full-on banging, but there was no mistaking the rhythmic creaking. The occasional clunk of the headboard against the drywall.
Background noises that faded into the heavy rasp of his breath. The wet sound of his every thrust. How he growled whenever she squeezed her muscles, doing her best to trap him inside, because she needed him there. Making her feel whole.
Ryker lowered his mouth—bit at her flesh, again, before humming against her skin. “So tight. So damn wet. You’re killing me, sweetheart.”
Good, because she was already gone. Way past the killing stage. She only hoped he had the power to revive her. Love her back to life.
She tried to pull him closer—wanted him crushing her into the bed. “More. Harder.”
Two words. That’s all she could muster. Form on her tongue.
He shifted enough he could meet her gaze. “Don’t want to hurt you. Be too rough. Your ribs…”
“You won’t…” She inhaled, cresting another climax but unable to tip over. Stuck in the swirling heat driving her mad. “God…Ryker…”
She wasn’t sure if it was the way she begged or the use of his name. But it had him tensing. Pausing for one blindingly hot moment. Then, he let loose. No metering his thrusts. No treating her as if she might break. He was all i
n. Pounding her into the mattress. Pinning her exactly the way she’d hoped he would.
His teeth on the base of her neck—sucking and biting at her pulse point. And she shattered. No other way to describe the pleasure. The heat. And, if it wasn’t for Ryker physically holding her down, she would have sworn she was floating. Rising off the bed and drifting away.
Until he growled out her name. Started emptying inside her. That set her off, again. Only it drew her under. Made her acutely aware of his weight. His body poised above her. How the muscles in his neck corded, eyes rolled. Then, he was collapsing onto her, and all his strength flowed through her. Clicked everything into place.
Devlyn wrapped her arms a bit tighter. Needed more of his skin touching hers. His heart beating against her chest. His breath hot and wild across her neck. Ryker shifted—tried to push off her—but she held firm.
Ryker waited until she stared up at him, those gorgeous blue eyes bright. Lacking the shadows she realized he’d had since walking back into her life. “While I love being on top of you, your ribs—”
“Are fine. But I need…”
He smiled, another one of those killer, sexy ones. “Not going anywhere, Dev. Just let me know when the pain kicks through those endorphins, and I’ll grab you some meds. And, yeah, it will, eventually. But for now…” He lowered a bit more. “I’ve got nothing but time.”
She laughed, lifting her head so she could nip at his chin. “Until Ice or Cannon knocks on the door.”
He shrugged. “They can wait. You, however…”
“Thought the mission came first?”
His eyes narrowed as he slowly exhaled. “It did. Always. But not anymore. It’s time I reevaluated my priorities. And somehow the CIA doesn’t make the cut. If that’s gonna bother you—”
She kissed him. Long. Deep. Putting all her love into how her lips moved along his. How hard she ate at his mouth. Hoping he’d get the message when she wasn’t sure she could get the words out. Not after his admission—that she meant more to him than completing his mission. That what Ice had claimed was true, and Ryker would willingly burn his career if it jeopardized her wellbeing.
Ryker met her assault head-on, only giving her a moment to gasp before he repositioned his head—dipped down for another go. Made her last kiss seem tame. Borderline platonic.
Then, he was staring down at her. Eyes even darker than before. His erection already thickening inside her. “I’ll take that as a no. Which means… It’s time for round two. So, deep breath, sweetheart. Time to see more stars.”
Chapter Fourteen
Home.
That’s what this felt like to Crow. Lying on the bed. Devlyn in his arms, staring up at him as if she’d finally found peace. Wasn’t trapped in the past, imagining all the ways she could get even with Slader—take the man down. The way her eyes widened as he shifted, tilting her hips so he could inch deeper. Fill her a bit more. How her breathing hitched then sped up, fluttering that pulse beneath her skin. Everything suggested she was completely invested in their coupling. That, like him, the world had narrowed into this room.
This bed.
Her body wrapped around his.
And Crow wouldn’t have had it any other way. Couldn’t have orchestrated a better outcome if he’d made a deal with the devil, himself. Because he’d meant what he’d said. She was his priority. Sure, he’d still give his all to a mission, but he wouldn’t sacrifice what they had just to bring Slader in. To get some list. Not if it meant losing Devlyn. Losing this.
Devlyn wet her lips, and Crow snapped. Felt the hold on whatever control he’d had literally break in two. Had him tugging her closer—crushing his mouth to hers as he started pumping. Claiming her hard and fast.
He’d forgone any protection. Not on purpose, but somewhere between him admitting he loved her to her tackling him onto the bed, the notion had been fried from his brain. Maybe it was knowing they hadn’t taken any lovers. That they were picking up where they’d left off. Or, maybe he just needed to know she believed in him. Trusted him in the most intimate fashion.
Either way, it meant he wouldn’t last. Would be spilling insider her, again, in record time. Maybe, with time, he’d be able to make it last—make all her fantasies come true. But, for now, holding out for more than a couple of strokes seemed like a damn heroic feat. One worthy of some kind of metal because…
She was hot. Hot and wet and meeting each thrust. Chanting his name as she bit at his earlobe. Nails digging into his back. Heels knocking against his tailbone. And it was perfect. Better than perfect.
It was real.
“Ryker. God, more. I need more of you.”
And, damn if that didn’t set him off. Didn’t have him slamming into her. Biting at her neck, her jaw. Any inch of skin he could reach because he wanted to give her more. Give her everything.
Less than a minute, and she was begging. Squeezing so tight he had to lever onto his hands—use all his weight to keep moving. Another few breaths, and she was arching off the bed, eyes rolling back. Mouth gaped open in a soundless scream. He had just enough neurons firing to memorize her face. Put this moment into memory before she was pulsing around him. Shuttering through another orgasm. Pushing him into his own release.
There was white light and blinding heat—every muscle clenched tight. Then, he was falling. Bridging what weight he could on his elbows as his strength gave out. His chest heaved against hers, his lungs fighting to draw in air, as he let his forehead rest on hers. Nothing but their combined breath sounding in the room.
Time faded. Or, maybe it stood still. Kept him locked in that instant. Just the two of them. Together. Completely entwined. Crow thought about rolling—giving her space. Easing the pressure on her ribs because if he was having this much trouble breathing, she was probably suffocating. Though, with how strongly she was holding him—keeping him tight against her—maybe she didn’t need to breathe. Had figured out how to just absorb air through her skin.
Then, her fingers lightly scratching the base of his neck, combing through his hair just enough he lifted to look at her. Drowned in the heat and lust in her eyes. The love, because that’s what was staring back at him. The same unrelenting, unstoppable love he felt for her.
He dipped down, brushed a kiss across her lips. “Dev…”
That’s all he could get out. Force past the lump in his throat. The one threatening to bubble up and burst open, along with his heart. Laid bare for her to see. To do with how she saw fit. And, if it meant stabbing him in it—bleeding him out—he’d accept it if she’d changed her mind. Decided he wasn’t her everything like he’d claimed.
Devlyn smiled. All rosy lips. White teeth and crinkling eyes. “Love you, too. Always will. So, how about you use those muscles of yours to carry me back to the shower. Bet I could make you spill all over my chest in record time.”
Heat exploded inside his chest. Or, maybe it was his heart. Detonating. Killing the man Crow had become. Distant. Cold. Resurrecting the one who’d sworn to see to her every need. Who had been planning on making their joint living arrangements permanent. A plan he’d finish once this mission was over. After he’d gotten the redemption he needed.
Crow leaned closer. “Say that, again.”
A devilish smile. “I bet I could make you spill in record time.”
“The other part.”
That smile softened. Turned dreamy. “I love you.”
“Hell, yeah, you do. And challenge accepted.”
Crow vaulted off the bed, turned to scoop her into his arms then headed for the bathroom, chuckling at the way she smacked him in the chest. For show, really. But damn, the good-natured teasing eased any lingering doubts. Made it clear that she’d already forgiven him, despite the fact he hadn’t gotten close to making it up to her.
He didn’t deserve her. Deserve her love. He knew it. Knew she could have any man she wanted. A doctor like Brady. Someone who could offer her more than a used-up solider who’d already let her down. But Cro
w would take his good fortunes wherever he found them. Would spend the rest of his life seeing she didn’t regret giving him a second chance.
Which started with handing over control. Allowing her to decide how this next encounter played out. Though, she’d painted a pretty clear picture, already. Her, on her knees, worshipping his dick until he came. And he couldn’t deny how fucking hot it was seeing his release dripping down her chest.
Only took a few strides to reach the washroom—kick open the door. He was through and had her standing in front of the shower before the door bounced back. Effectively closed them inside. Devlyn didn’t even look over at the sound of the door slamming shut. Just kept her gaze focused on him. Following his every move as he grabbed two more towels off the shelf, then readied the taps. Sixty seconds of agonizing delay—the two of them standing there, waiting—while the water heated, then he was stepping inside. Tugging her in behind him.
She moved into his arms, and, damn if she didn’t fit perfectly against him. Her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, his chin resting on top. Her hands palmed on his chest. Their hearts beating in sync.
He didn’t move. Couldn’t. It was another moment out of time. Another memory worth saving.
Dev hummed, the soft sound heating his flesh far more than the water. He didn’t try to stop her from gently easing away. Dropping a kiss on his pec before reaching for the soap. Bubbles lathered between her fingers as she scrubbed his skin, taking a maddening amount of time to wash him. Which, he suspected was her plan. To get him revved, itching to feel her mouth on his shaft. Make him as desperate as she’d been when their positions had been reversed.
No problem. He’d spent over a decade executing tough missions with Delta. Had learned how to compartmentalize. And compared to some of the shit he’d been through, staving off his release was easy.
Until she went to her knees and blew a hot breath over the crown. That unhinged him. Had him straining every muscle, running through old strategies in order to keep from simply emptying in her hand. He should be cruising. He’d just come inside her. Twice. Yet…