by Lea Griffith
He inhaled slowly, his face granite while the look in his eyes made her heart whump-thump, whump-thump. He started to reach for her, must’ve though better of it, and pushed that hand through his silky brown hair. His shirt was wrinkled where she’d grabbed onto him, and his cheeks were ruddy. She didn’t venture down below chest level. She’d probably sob if she saw his hardness outlined against his gray suit pants.
She was done for. A goner. So susceptible to this man she didn’t know how to react to the thought. The fact he was her boss not even on her radar when their lips met. The fact that she had insane responsibilities; again, not an issue when their bodies touched. She wiped a shaky hand across her face and stood. The elevator wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t the elevator moving?
*
Ryan was in so much trouble with Sophie Hanson. The things the woman did to him should be outlawed. She was slowly becoming a need. Like a crack addict who couldn’t put down the pipe, he was having a hard time keeping his hands, his lips, hell, his body off hers. The buzz he got off her was nothing short of addictive.
He’d had no intention of practically molesting her in the elevator, yet he’d done just that. She was a siren with her ivory skin, midnight hair, luscious red lips, and curvy body. She called to him, and he was going insane trying to deny it. He was a man being lured irrevocably by the call of a woman. His stomach clenched. His woman.
A hardened soldier who’d been through too many battles to count, Ryan couldn’t figure out why he had no control over the raging lust she roused in him. It was borderline painful. And there she stood, breasts rising and falling beneath a wet, navy-blue silk shirt, nipples peaked and begging for his tongue.
His hands itched. Hell, they always did around her. His head ached from the way he ground his teeth together. And his dick? His dick was a steel spike needing the softness of her pussy to ease the ache inside it. He adjusted himself and watched as she struggled to right her clothes.
She threw him surreptitious glances every now and then, and he caught her staring at the elevator’s digital readout, trying to decipher why they weren’t moving. The reason was simple; he’d hit the emergency stop. They wouldn’t be going anywhere until he damn well wanted them to.
As crazy as this insane attraction to her was, he couldn’t begrudge it. Sure he was her boss, sure Hayden had his doubts about her, but it was an inescapable fact Ryan was drawn to Sophie Hanson. It was as obvious as the hard dick that refused to stop tenting his pants. None of this would stop until he had her.
“Sophie, I didn’t mean for this to happen again,” he murmured and then winced when disbelief broke over her face.
“You followed me into the elevator. You—you—well, damn it, you—” She waved a hand between them, clearly at a loss for words. “You backed me up against the wall and you kissed me.”
Her voice had risen, and Ryan continued to push her. She got out of sorts pretty easily, and he had a feeling that’s when she was the most truthful about her feelings. Did she feel anything for him? Was that really the question? Shouldn’t he be asking himself did he feel anything besides lust for her? Anything at all to make this venture into crazy worth the risk?
“You liked it.” He threw it out there for two reasons. One, he wanted to see if she’d deny it and, two, he wanted to see her hazel eyes sparkle with indignation.
She drew in a sharp breath. And Ryan got what he wanted. Anger burned off her as her eyes brightened into blue-brown-green diamonds. Would she tell the truth of it, too?
She fought it, great God almighty she fought it. But in the end, what he knew to be her inherent perspicacity won out.
She released the breath she’d drawn in and looked him dead in the eye as a small smile played about her swollen lips. “You’re right, I did.”
His heart did a little happy dance in his chest, but he blanked his face. He’d never let her see how much her words pleased him; she’d have a leg up on him if he did. He almost groaned at the remembrance of her stocking-covered leg moving against his hip moments ago.
“But this is in no way appropriate. You’re my boss. This is probably the worst thing in the history of bad things I’ve done.” She shook her head, her smile tugging down into a frown.
He reached for her and her eyes widened. Something shifted in their depths before she veiled the nameless emotion. It made him wonder just what the hell kind of bad things she’d done. He dropped his hand. No matter her concerns about their employer slash employee relationship, it in no way changed the inevitable outcome between them.
Bone-deep knowledge filtered through him. She was going to be his. In bed and out.
He turned and restarted the elevator. The doors began to open, and he picked up her briefcase to hand to her, grabbing up his own in the process.
“As your boss, I feel it only proper to warn you that this probably is a bad idea. Status quo has been upset, though, so the normal rules no longer apply.” He turned to her as the doors opened completely. “I have a feeling between you and me the rules were made to be broken anyway. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock for supper tonight.” He turned before she could voice any dissent. He heard her gasp and left the elevator, giving Emma a nod as he started toward his office. The day was off to a fabulous start.
Chapter 7
What the hell was she doing? She’d asked herself that question from the moment Ryan had dropped his I’ll-be-at-your-house-at-eight speech in the elevator earlier. Sophie had never, ever played with fire. Watching her mother get burned time after time had eliminated Sophie’s desire to be anything more than lukewarm in relationships. Sure, she had a wonderful friendship with Gigi, but men?
Nuh-uh. She’d not found one that turned her world topsy-turvy enough to risk developing a relationship with. The way Ryan made her feel was out of her realm of experience. Beyond anything she’d felt in her life, he did things to her body and mind that were indescribable for someone of her limited experience.
The problem? She wanted more. And she wanted it with Ryan Locke. Her boss.
Damn. That was the answer to her question.
She stroked a light blush to her cheeks and smoky makeup to her eyes. She checked her handiwork and applied a light gloss. She stepped back and looked in the full-length mirror.
She’d chosen a simple, deep-brown cashmere wraparound dress that hit her right above her knees and paired it with a hot pair of chocolate-brown boots that hugged her legs all the way up to her knees. The boots added another three inches to her height and she’d need every one of those inches to bring her some measure of confidence against the awesome Mr. Locke. Hell, she’d need every advantage, no matter how slight, against his magnetism.
She peeked at the clock, noticed she had about five minutes, and knew instinctively he’d be right on time. She switched out her purse for a smaller, cream-colored one that matched her cream-colored throw coat, and she was almost done.
The doorbell rang, and a nervous smile broke out on her face. Her heart was ready to beat out of her chest.
What the hell was she doing? Same question, same answer as before. She damn near broke an ankle getting to the door. She stopped as she came to the foyer, smoothed any creases in her dress, and raised her chin.
She could do this. She licked her lips, pasted a welcoming smile on her face, and took a deep breath as she opened the door.
It wasn’t Ryan.
She immediately went to slam the door, only to have the man stick his hand through and push it open, forcing her to stumble backward.
“Get out of my house, Gavin,” she said in a menacing voice as she backed away from him.
“Make me, Phie,” he tossed back.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared up at the man who had once been a boy so beautiful she’d envied him. Now he was twisted and ugly. Oh, his face was as handsome as it’d always been, but his demeanor, what made Gavin who he was, was heinous to the core.
He walked into her house, touching her knickknac
ks, running his hand along her antique desk before snickering at the old pictures on her mantel. He turned to her and cocked his head arrogantly.
“Why do you keep those?” He nodded at the pictures.
“Why are you here? I thought I asked you to never come near me again.” Anger vibrated in her tone. She’d sworn never to let the man before her know how much he affected her. She couldn’t stop the rage from leaking through.
He chuckled, the sound cold and empty of humor. “Aw, Phie, whatsa matter? You still mad at me?”
She rubbed her arms under the throw coat and stared at him, willing him to answer her question. When had he changed from the boy she’d loved so much into this mean, coldhearted man? “I’m not anything, Gavin. Now why are you here?”
He looked forlorn for a moment, his face reflecting her disquiet. Emotions flashed so fast it was like watching a movie in fast-forward. “I came to talk to you. Warn you about some folks who may be looking for me.”
“I’m done with this, Gavin. Leave. I told you no more, and you have the audacity to come here? What if they’re following you? After the last time I’d think you wouldn’t be so careless.” She rubbed her forehead this time, her finger running along the raised scar at her hairline. It was a souvenir from the last time people had come to her looking for him.
Sorrow ended the film on his face. Deep, abiding, it carved grooves in his features, made her breath catch. She would forever be connected to him. She loved him still. They’d shared so much.
“I need your help, Phie.” He took a deep breath and turned to stare at the pictures again. “I really need your help. He’ll kill me if I don’t get him what he wants.”
She girded her heart. Shoved her pity and love deep within her, locked it away, and faced the man who’d almost gotten her killed. “No.”
He stiffened and looked at her over his shoulder. For a split second, he was hers again—carefree, uncomplicated, clean Gavin. Then it passed. Like a shadow hiding from the light, it scattered, and he was once again this Gavin.
“You have to, Phie. I need you. He wants information—” His tone was melancholic and designed to draw her back into his web of lies and deceit. She had to consciously stiffen her spine against the plea.
She cut him off before he could complete his sentence. “Leave, Gavin. Leave now,” she ordered.
“No! I won’t leave, you bitch. I need your help.” When she stayed silent, he tried another tactic. “What would Mom say?”
It stung, that reminder, however unstated it may be on his part, that her mother cared about the man before her. She would be disappointed were she to ever recover enough to know that Sophie had denied him help. Dig deeper; this man doesn’t care about you or the bond you used to have.
Her shoulders straightened again. “I said no. Now leave or I’ll call the cops.”
He was in her face in a millisecond. “You fucking bitch. How dare you!” Spittle flew from his mouth, hit her in the face as he raged at her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her fiercely.
She was stunned. A cry rang out. Had it come from her? Before she could gather her wits, the shaking stopped, and a roar sounded from her entryway. She was pushed back as Gavin was literally tossed to the other side of her living room. He slid along her hardwood floor, slammed into her wall, and lay there, unmoving.
She turned and found herself nose to chest with the man she’d originally opened the door expecting to see: Ryan.
“Are you okay?” His voice was guttural.
She shook. The shivering started in her stomach and expanded into her limbs as she pressed against him, instinct telling her body he was a safe harbor in the midst of this crazy storm.
“Sophie! Are you okay?” he asked again and this time, he lifted her face to his.
She saw his lips move, but the shock of Gavin’s attack hadn’t dissipated. The anger she needed wouldn’t rise. Her eyes burned and she heard a moan from the corner where he’d been tossed.
“Ms. Hanson, answer me, damn it. Are. You. Okay?” His tone sharp now, it had her gaze seeking his out, and what she saw there reassured her. She was safe. Safe enough to answer him surely.
“I’m fine. How did you…?”
He shook his head as he ran his thumb along her cheekbones. “Who is that man?”
“Phie, who the hell is that?” Gavin demanded from the floor.
Ryan turned, said something in a very low voice, and the other man whimpered. He sounded like cornered prey, and it reminded her of another night, similar to this one, only the outcome had been drastically different. Like her in a hospital different.
“I’m whoever the fuck I am. Now shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” Ryan bit out.
She smiled a little at that. Her mood switched gears that easily. All it took was a threat from Ryan to shut Gavin up? She wished Ryan had been there her whole life.
“Sophie, I need to call the police,” Ryan said as his thumbs continued to stroke the skin under her eyes.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The police would only make this worse.
“No. No police,” she whispered, and she grabbed his wrists, the contact soothing, his skin so warm it made her shiver. She pulled his hands down and stepped around him.
He kept his hand on her back, his body turned so that at a second’s notice he could protect her. She felt her heart crack into a thousand pieces. The man picking himself off her floor had caused nothing but harm since she was young, but the man beside her, who she’d known for about six months, would do whatever it took to keep her from it.
“Who is he, Sophie?” Ryan’s voice was demanding but soothing at the same time. Pitched low, it carried no farther than her ears.
She looked at him then. His blue eyes were ocean dark, turbulent. She sighed deeply, unable to prevent the single tear that tracked down her cheek.
“No police, Ryan. He’s my brother.”
Chapter 8
They’d decided against going out for supper, instead ordering in from Mu Lan’s Chinese restaurant. She was queasy but managed to get down some egg drop soup and some Mandarin beef before she’d had to stop for fear of throwing it all back up. Now she sipped hot tea and watched her boss devour Peking ribs. She’d had time to get over that initial fear of her brother’s attack. He was messed up, probably hopped up on something or other, not in his right mind. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that he’d gone after her, but he hadn’t been her Gavin in too many years to count.
She laid her head against the chaise back and breathed in deeply. The television was on some news channel that provided a droning background noise. Her gaze was drawn back to Ryan, and her heart accelerated.
Was it wrong to be turned on by the sight of his lips moving over the succulent rib meat? Was it bad that she wanted to lick his jawline every time it flexed and the muscle there became delineated as he chewed? After the wringer she’d just been through, did she have the energy to care?
Not really. He’d come in like a white knight on a charger and saved her from her brother, of all people. The man had yet to make a wrong move with her. Everything he did, every move he made, forced her to want him more.
He cleared his throat. Her gaze flew to his; heat raced up her neck. Caught staring. Pathetic. He raised an eyebrow as he wiped his fingers on a napkin and took a drink of his soda. She wanted to groan as his tanned throat worked up and down, moving the liquid from mouth to belly. And again, pathetic.
“You finished?” he asked as he cleared away their leftovers.
“Yeah, but I’ll get it, stay here,” she admonished as she uncurled her legs from the plush lounger.
His gaze followed her. She felt the heat from it as she picked up his plasticware and boxes of food. He leaned back against the couch, a predator at ease in the domain of her home. For some reason, it didn’t bother her. In the past, any man who used up that much oxygen and gave off that much alpha had given her the willies. Ryan blew all that to hell. He could own her so easy.
It’d totally be no muss, no fuss.
In the kitchen the phone rang. It was the hospital wanting to give her an update on her mother’s condition. Status unchanged. Her mother remained on a respirator and there were minimal signs of brain activity. Sophie ended the call with a promise to the night nurse to visit tomorrow and a request to be contacted immediately if anything changed.
There was still hope, but not much of it. Too much longer without activity and she’d have no choice but to sign consent to pull the respirator. It was keeping her mother alive, giving her a chance to pull through, but hope was dim at this stage. A massive stroke had ripped through her brain, tearing away the foundations of who Andromeda Hanson had been.
A movement at the kitchen doorway caught her attention. Ryan stood there, shoulder pressed against the arched door frame, a look of concern on his face. Well over six feet, she guessed about six-three or so, his broad shoulders took up almost the entire opening. He crossed his arms over his chest, and she sighed as his pectoral muscles rippled under his white cable-knit sweater. The man was compelling.
“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice rich with concern and something else she couldn’t identify.
She threw the dishrag beside the sink, her gaze skipping away from his intent stare. “I’m good. You want something to drink? Vodka, gin? I’ve got some beer, too.”
“Nah, I’m good. I may have a beer later.” There was that note again.
His words hit her, and she knew there was something she was missing but couldn’t find the brainpower to figure it out. She walked his way, with every intention of moving past him, but he didn’t budge.
Her eyes lifted to his, and she inhaled sharply. His eyes burned, lit by an inner flame. He pulled her to his chest and tucked her head under his chin.