by Lea Griffith
She may have screamed; she didn’t know. Everything was a blur, and she closed her eyes as she became a creature of sensation. He inserted a finger inside and rotated his hand, mimicking what he would have done with his cock. She wanted that fullness, but his mouth built up the tension, pushing her higher. Then he lightly pinched her clit between his lips and it was over.
She bowed upward, back leaving the mattress, lights going off behind her eyelids. Release roared through her, a freight train out of control. Her muscles clamped down and he leaned over, whispering praise and spreading kisses along her abdomen and breasts while his hand stroked her through the aftermath of climax.
“Sophie, I can’t wait,” he said harshly.
Her eyes finally opened and there he was above her, his beautiful face drawn in lines of need. A lock of velvet brown hair had fallen across his brow, and her hands reached for it but got sidetracked by his lips.
She traced them carefully, reverently. What he had done to her with those lips.
“You don’t have to wait,” she said into the quiet of the room.
His face hardened; his muscles bunched and rolled under his skin. Then he pushed forward, penetrating her with one thrust.
“Fuck. You’re like silk. Hot silk.” He stilled, eyes watching her intently. The feel of him so large and deep inside her body, along with his piercing gaze, was a heady aphrodisiac. Her eyes drifted shut and he began to thrust.
He moved over her, in and out in a pounding rhythm that alternated with rotating his hips, his movements designed to push her desire up, up, up. He lifted her legs, elevating her hips as he rose to his knees. Her legs draped over his arms, and he went so deep she felt her cervix kiss the head of his shaft.
Her eyes flew open and locked on him. His thrusts were harder now, the sound of their bodies meeting loud and erotic in the dim room. She reached for him, the pleasure building again until she wondered if she’d burn to cinders.
“You feel so good,” he said between clenched teeth. “So fucking good on my cock.”
She couldn’t respond. He was taking her breath with this deep pounding into her body, and then his pace increased and she exploded. Once again her muscles locked down on him. He groaned, and she would have thought him in pain had he not been coming inside her. His cock jerked, and her internal muscles refused to let him go. Her hands fell to the side, breath sawing in and out of her body as he remained rigid above and inside her.
He released her legs and placed them gently on the bed. Something whispered against her flesh, her breasts, stomach, and cheek. She looked up and watched as he dropped rose petals over her skin, the fragrance of the flowers mixing with their musk. She licked her lips.
“That’s the first one, Sophie. I hope you’re ready.” His voice held a solemn note she wondered at, but her heart skipped a beat at the promise in his eyes. Then he relaxed on top of her, heavy, but she didn’t mind the weight. This was what she’d been waiting for all day.
* * * *
Her alarm clock went off at four thirty. She woke instantly and reached for the offending piece of machinery, slapping it off and groaning. She hoped it hadn’t woken Ryan. His arm tightened around her stomach before his leg lifted off hers. She got off the bed and watched as he turned over and burrowed under a pillow. His back was broad and heavily muscled. There were signs of battle, scars, what looked like burns. She wanted to know every one of them intimately. It was so strange to see a man, this man, in her bedroom. She’d never had one here and for sure had never thought the first one would be her boss.
She shook her head at the thought. There was work to do. She grabbed her robe, belted it, and carefully closed her bedroom door. She padded down the hall to the kitchen, hit the button on the coffeemaker, and waited impatiently for the brew to settle in her cup. She always took the first one directly in a cup, and then she’d move the pot to catch the rest. Pouring an insane amount of sugar and creamer into the hot liquid, she took her first sip and sighed.
It was so much better drinking it than wearing it. She was a beast without her coffee. She closed her eyes as the caffeine wound through her. At her desk she opened her computer. The Defence Ministry deal was up on the screen. She hadn’t been working on that last night. In fact, she thought she’d taken that flash drive back to work. What the hell? She shrugged. Computers, how they operated and the funky things they did sometimes were beyond her. Maybe she’d saved a copy to the hard drive? She looked but couldn’t find it. She gave up and put the flash drive in and waited for Mr. Bent’s PacificCorp report to populate on the screen.
Two hours and three cups of coffee later her bladder was screaming, but the damn report was finished. It seemed a shame she’d left a very warm body in the middle of the night to finish work. She headed toward her guest bathroom and freshened up a bit before she headed back to the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee for herself and one for Ryan.
She probably needed to wake him up. Or crawl back in bed with him. Yeah, that was the better option. A smile broke over her face as she came to the bedroom door and pushed it open. His head was still buried under the pillow. It didn’t look like he’d moved an inch.
She leaned over to put the coffee on the nightstand, and his hand shot out from under the pillow, grabbing hers. The coffee sloshed, spilling hot liquid on her wrist and arm. She gasped and tried to pull her hand away, but he had her locked in his grip and before she had time to process the pain of the burn, he was behind her, his arm around her throat, squeezing.
Sophie went lax, dropping like dead weight, but he held on, squeezed harder. She dug her nails into his arm, gasped for breath, and kicked backward, hoping to loosen the grip. She made contact with his shin. It didn’t faze him. Her gaze wavered and fear was a dark fog and an even blacker taste in her mouth. He was hurting her.
“Please,” she croaked. She’d been here before, when people looking for Gavin had taken their frustration out on her. Desperation kicked her heart into a new, stuttering beat. Pain blossomed in her chest as she tried to pull in air.
“Fuck!” His voice was harsh as he suddenly pushed her away.
She went to her knees, gagging and gasping at the same time. Her chest burned and her eyes watered. He was behind her still, so she turned. It was always best to have your attacker in your sights. She couldn’t hurt him physically, but at least she’d see him coming.
He shook his head, as if he had no idea what the hell had happened. His eyes were bleak, face hard as he reached for her. She held up a hand, tried to become one with the corner.
“Sophie!” He hunched down in front of her, that hard mask falling off and replaced by agony. “Baby, I’m sorry. I—you can’t—baby, damn, I’m sorry. Come here,” he said, his voice low, tortured, as he reached for her.
She cried out. Fear was white-hot, pressing against her rib cage, refusing to release its grip on her mind. She tried to shrink into herself, but he grabbed her up easily, settled her against his chest as he sat on the side of the bed.
It was irrational, but she turned into him, put her face in his neck, and sobbed convulsively. He crooned to her as he smoothed his hands over her arms and back. What the hell had happened?
“I’m so fucking sorry. You surprised me. I’m not used to—fuck…” He trailed off, torment in every tone as if he had no idea what it was he wasn’t used to.
She quieted, sobs leaving her as suddenly as they’d come, and she leaned away from him. He let her go. His face was still agonized, and she wanted to soothe him. For some damn reason, she wanted to soothe him.
He took a deep breath and winced. He grabbed her hand, gently this time, but when his fingers rubbed over her wrist, she yelped. He flipped her arm over, looked at it, and then met her gaze.
“I burned you. Goddamn it, I burned you. Let’s get something on this.” He sighed as he led her to the bathroom.
She followed him like a lost puppy. Shock ghosted through her as hard shudders racked her body and chills floated over her
skin. She sat on her closed toilet and let him do whatever he was going to do. Her brain silent, her body in survival mode, she didn’t make a sound as he went to work on her arm.
*
She was afraid of him. What the fuck had he done? He’d been asleep one minute and the next he’d had her throat under his arm squeezing the air from her body. He could have killed her. Son of a bitch! This was why he didn’t sleep with women. Why he fucked them and left almost immediately. He was a soldier, not a lover. He was damn sure too hard for her, too rough. He was like his father.
Her body quaked and he flashed back to her gasps for breath. Ryan closed his eyes against the unnatural pallor of her skin as he reached for a towel to dry her arm. He focused on her arm, red and angry from the hot coffee she’d been bringing to him. Tearstains marred her cheeks, and his heart cracked open. There was something he needed to say to her, but he had no idea what. Or how.
He cleaned her arm, slathered it in antibiotic ointment from her medicine cabinet, and wrapped it. She watched him throughout his ministrations, eyes glazed and dull. Her long black hair lay in silky skeins down her back, beckoning his hands.
He could have killed her. It was a mantra in his head, a ringing endorsement of every reason he could not be with her. Hayden was right. Ryan wasn’t the settling down type. No matter how much he wanted Sophie Hanson, she needed to remain off-limits.
His body protested, muscles flexing against the thought, cock rising in a vain attempt to prod him to take her and cement their bond. She was his, damn it. His.
The redness of her wrist and around her throat, combined with the fear in her eyes, mocked him. She wasn’t his. Couldn’t ever be his. The pain of it was staggering, unbelievable in its intensity. He shut his eyes as the knifing truth sank deep.
She looked up at him then, something moving in those hazel eyes that nearly brought him to his knees. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his back, hugging him. Her face pressed into his abdomen. How she ignored his stiff cock, he had no idea, but the feel of her arms around him was a sort of forgiveness. Something he had no right to.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed, putting her under the covers and lying beside her but on top of them. His body screamed at him, needing the contact with her flesh after what he’d done. And she’d offered him mercy. He should be begging her, but the words refused to leave the constriction of his throat. His eyes burned as she turned into him. Ryan held her, stroking her hair and back, needing to do it for both of them. He was being selfish, but he needed this last contact. After this there would be no more.
He wouldn’t put her through him. It wasn’t fair. She was everything he’d ever wanted; he’d recognized it from the very first time he’d seen her. And she didn’t deserve a man who’d been broken early on in life and then been cast into the shell of a hardened soldier. She deserved someone whole who’d love and cherish her, keep her safe.
She deserved someone who was more than him.
Chapter 11
Sophie watched him leave under the cover of her lashes. He’d held her for an hour and then he’d gotten up and dressed. He’d not looked at her once he left the bed. Lying there, she’d realized what had happened. He was a soldier, and she’d walked up on him in sleep. He’d woken as a soldier would—quickly, deadly.
He’d hurt her, but the reason was so obvious she wanted to pound her forehead against a brick wall. Instead, she’d remained silent as he’d stroked her. He must have thought her asleep, because he’d kissed her on the forehead, whispered “I’m sorry,” and left the bed.
His face in the bathroom earlier flashed through her mind and the anguish on it brought tears to her eyes now. Ryan had done something irredeemable in his eyes, and she’d done nothing to absolve him of it. Of course, she’d been scared shitless, but ultimately, once she’d figured out the why of it, she’d kept silent.
Ryan had gone after her, and she’d been taken back to a place she never wanted to visit again. Several years ago, men searching for a way to force her brother to pay up on outstanding debts had assaulted her. They’d leveraged her pain against his reticence to pay back illegal loans. Those men had beaten her, sending her to the hospital for several days. The scar at her hairline was a constant reminder that she’d been to a bad place and survived.
This wasn’t that place. Not by a long shot. This man wasn’t out to hurt her.
The front door shut and wetness stung her cheeks. She raised her hand to wipe the tears away and encountered the wrapping. A breath shuddered through her as she went over the past few hours. From ecstasy to agony, it was a rough ride, and she’d let him leave as she’d lain there feigning sleep.
Coward, her heart berated her. Part of love—oh damn. Love. Is that what this was? She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, a brand-new panic rushing through her. Yes. She’d gone and done it, the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love with Ryan Locke. And then she’d watched him walk out of her bedroom to leave her house without offering him solace.
She rubbed her chest, the ache there growing as she wondered what the hell she was going to do. She didn’t have time for this love business. Responsibilities weighed her down and he was her boss. Her freaking boss. Oh shit, I’ve fallen in love with my boss.
Sophie glanced at the clock and winced. She was late for work. She fell back on the bed and groaned before she reached for the phone to call and let her supervisor know she was going to be late. The pinched tone of her supervisor’s voice told her she was in for a reprimand. Snark was in full effect as the woman reminded her that Mr. Bent was waiting for her report.
She entered the bathroom, pulling off her robe and unwrapping her arm. Her arm was still red but the ointment had done its job. The pain wasn’t bad at all. She pinned her hair up and got in the shower. The initial contact of the hot water on her arm stung but eventually faded.
She deserved a damn reprimand, for so many reasons this morning. But first she had to get dressed and get to work. She’d catch Ryan in his office, talk to him about what happened. She needed to tell him she understood. He hadn’t really hurt her. Okay, well he kind of had—her neck was red and her throat hurt. She’d have to remember in the future not to surprise him. They could get over this.
* * * *
Two hours later and Sophie had a headache from hell that promised to only grow worse.
“Ms. Hanson, I asked for that report to be ready at eight o’clock this morning. You’re aware it’s now eleven thirty?” Mr. Bent’s voice was low and so cold Sophie rubbed her arms against the chill in it.
She placed the report on his desk and stepped back. “I’m aware of that, Mr. Bent, and I apologize for being late. It wasn’t my intent—”
He held up a hand, cutting off her words. She stammered, but a single look from him shut her mouth. He walked over to his door and closed it, the sound ominous in the suddenly silent room.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Ms. Hanson. Do you think just because Mr. Locke is paying attention to you that you can be late for work and that the work I ask you to complete can wait?” Mr. Bent cocked an eyebrow at her.
She straightened. What—the—hell?
“I don’t think anything, Mr. Bent. What exactly are you implying?” Her voice was clipped and she didn’t give a good damn.
“I’m not implying anything, Ms. Hanson.” He dropped the challenge and she took a mental step back to evaluate.
He obviously knew she’d been seeing Ryan. What was the motivation here? Sure, she’d been late this morning, but that wasn’t her fault. After all, it’d been his partner who’d attacked her in her own damn home. Sure, she’d startled a former spec ops soldier, but could a girl not get any leeway here? Of course, there was no way for Mr. Bent to know what had happened. Unless Ryan had told him?
She curbed her acidic retort and let the silence ride. He nodded, and his eyes wrinkled at the corner as if he’d smile, but his face remained impassive.
“Good girl. You
keep that up, and you just might survive this,” he said as he turned to look out the window.
“Sir?” She was in an alternate reality again. The cryptic nature of this conversation was proof positive.
“Let’s not play games, Ms. Hanson. My best friend is obviously interested in you. When he’s not molesting you in the elevator, he’s hawking your every move here in the office. Now I know you’re a more than capable employee. Your reports and translation work are excellent. What I’m interested in at the moment is what you plan to do about Ryan’s interest in you?” He sat, cocked his head, and steepled his hands on the desk.
Anger shot through Sophie. Fierce and hot, its magnitude startled her. He had no right. What was between Sophie and Ryan was between them alone. He may be partners and best friends with Ryan, but he was nothing to Sophie.
“I can see by the emotions crossing your face I’ve pissed you off. And that’s okay. You have to be made of stern stuff to keep Ryan on his toes. And you’ll need that anger I see in you right now to deal with him on occasion. Stubborn man that he is, you’ll also need a boatload of whoop ass to keep him in line. So tell me: what are your intentions toward my partner?” A small smile creased his lips, and Sophie wanted to punch him in that too-pretty face of his.
How freaking dare he ask her these things? She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before her mouth took off and she couldn’t recover. Tact, Sophie, use it.
“First of all, Mr. Bent, this is inappropriate. Secondly, I’m your employee and what, if anything, is going on between Mr. Locke and myself is no concern of yours. Third, if I had intentions toward Mr. Locke, I damn sure would not discuss them with you. And did I mention this is inappropriate?” She finished with a raised eyebrow of her own and a small huff.
He laughed. Threw back his head and laughed at her. Her hands clenched at her sides. She’d never wanted to hurt another human being the way she wanted to hurt him right now.