Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2)

by Melynda Price

  “Wearing that?”

  His brows rose, more in amusement than in question she suspected. “What do you propose I wear, Ryann? I don’t suppose you happened to grab my duffel bag when you were abducting me.”

  No. No, she had not.

  “I didn’t think so,” he grumbled, tossing the damp towel on the chair as he walked past her side of the bed. Unable to tear her eyes from his incredibly hard body, she watched as he ambled to his side of the bed and flopped down, hands laced behind his head, long legs crossed at the ankle. The unforgiving mattress bounced like a trampoline, throwing Ryann into him. Her hand shot out to stop her trajectory and landed solidly on his chest. Eyes remaining closed, he chuckled. A low, throaty rumble vibrated beneath her fingers and traveled up her arm like a seductive shock wave.

  Aiden cracked open an eye, pinning her with that heart-stopping amber stare. “Not tonight, honey. I have a headache.”

  She gasped. Shock and outrage made her impulsive and reckless. Without thinking better of it, she grabbed the flat disc of his masculine nipple and pinched him—hard. Aiden flinched, barking out a surprised curse.

  “You’re going to have a lot more than a headache,” she snapped, refusing to let go, and taking sadistic pleasure in wiping that arrogant smirk off his too-handsome face. But her win was a short victory. Perhaps she should have considered the wisdom of taking on an MMA fighter, because in less than two seconds she was on her back, arms pinned above her head as his body pressed her into the hard mattress.

  “Not so funny now, is it?” he growled.

  She couldn’t tell if he was angry or playing—perhaps a little of both. “Let me up,” she bucked her hips, a half-assed attempt to displace 185 pounds of hard, muscled fighter.

  He didn’t budge. She struggled beneath him, trying to work herself free, but his grip only tightened, his body hardening to stone as a low growl tore from his throat. “Fuck, Ryann, quit moving.”

  “Then let me up!”

  “Not until you tap.”

  “What? You’re insane. I’m not tapping for you.”

  “Then get comfortable, sweetheart, because until you do, I’m not moving.”

  For good measure, Aiden ground his hips between her parted thighs, letting her feel the full force of his arousal against the sensitive bead of her sex. A jolt of heat arrowed into her core, releasing a flood of desire she’d been fighting like hell to hold back. The thin cotton of her pajama pants provided little barrier to his Hanes-covered cock, and soon her body’s moisture would betray her aching need for this man.

  Pride and principle warred with self-preservation.

  “Tap,” he mocked, arching his pierced brow, daring her to push him further.

  “Never.”

  Aiden chuckled, a deep, throaty rumble she felt all the way to her toes. With eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head, stopping just before his lips would brush against hers. Seconds ticked by. Her breath stalled in her lungs. He wouldn’t . . . would he?

  “Tap,” he growled. The moist heat of his minty breath kissed her lips but his flesh did not. He was bluffing . . . right? Did she really know him well enough to take that risk? By the unwavering intensity of his amber stare the answer to that would be a no. Apparently sleep deprivation was skewing her good judgment, because the insane impulse to see how far this fighter was prepared to go in order to win was too tempting to resist.

  He thought he had her all figured out, did he?—thought that he could intimidate her with his body, bully her into submission. Well, he had another thing coming. Someone should really teach this guy a lesson, and Ryann was just daring enough to volunteer.

  “You want me to tap?” she whispered, smiling sweetly. “You first.” She closed the scant distance separating them and kissed him. Aiden froze. For a moment, she thought he was going to pull back. When he didn’t, she couldn’t help but smile against his lips—another win. He didn’t move, nor did he kiss her back, holding himself stone-still, as if he wasn’t certain he trusted her motives. Smart man.

  What the hell was she doing? Which seemed to be his mirroring thought when he tensed as her tongue traced his bottom lip, teasing over the loop piercing. His breath passed his parted lips in shortened pants. He seemed to be at war with himself, the energy coiled inside him stringing his muscles ripcord tight.

  If she was honest, she’d admit to using this game to sate her wicked curiosity. Did he really taste as good as she remembered, did he kiss with enough skill and passion to wipe all reason from her mind? What would it take to break this fighter?—to make him tap?

  She found her answer when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on his lip ring, gently tugging the metal loop. A tortured growl tore from his throat that sounded more like a harsh curse, and he crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue unapologetically pushed past her lips, invading and conquering. She tried to meet the demanding thrust, the tangled caress, but she quickly found herself drowning in this man. His free hand dove into her hair, fisting in her curls with enough tension to shatter the illusion that she had any semblance of control here.

  Nothing about Aiden’s kiss was gentle or wooing, nothing about his touch coaxing or courting. He seemed pissed off, almost as if he resented wanting her. Everything about his kiss, his touch, felt punishing and punitive, which only made it more humiliating in the way it excited her, the way her body came alive beneath his. She’d never thought herself the kind of woman that liked to be handled rough, not that she’d had enough experience with bed partners to know what she liked. Every nerve ending tingled with awareness, her core heating until the internal fire raging inside her turned the blood in her veins to molten lava.

  God help her, he tasted just as good as she remembered. Aiden released his grip on her wrists and grabbed her hip, anchoring her to the mattress as he ground the steely ridge of his erection against the cotton cloth barring him entrance. Were they not still clothed, he would have been balls deep inside her right now. And that was her first warning as to just how far over her head she was—and Aiden didn’t appear to have any intention of stopping.

  “Fuck, Ryann,” he growled, nipping her bottom lip and then sucking away the sting. “You’re so wet . . . I can feel you through your clothes.”

  He rocked against her again, sending little jolts of pleasure shooting into her core. Her muscles contracted, an empty glove aching to be filled. If he kept touching her like this, grinding his arousal against her sensitive clit, she was going to come. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nagging thought that this wasn’t a good idea, though right now, she was hard pressed to remember why.

  “I’ve never tasted lips as sweet as yours.” His hand slid underneath her shirt, capturing her breast, squeezing the sensitive flesh. He groaned—a gravelly, tormented, erotic sound. “So perfect . . . the softest I’ve ever felt.” Though meant as a compliment, being compared to the other women he’d been with was an unwelcome reminder of the one he was promised to. The briefest flare of jealousy fired in her veins at the thought of Aiden kissing another woman like this—touching someone else and showering her with the same praise meant for her alone. Guilt assailed her as flesh warred with conscience. She had no right to feel jealous or possessive over this man. She’d known all along he was engaged, and she should be ashamed of herself for being that woman—the one who lacked the self-respect and integrity not to mess around with a taken man. And what did that say about Aiden that he would so willingly crawl between her legs when in a week he’d be walking down the aisle and marrying someone else?

  Just the thought of it made her heart cramp and her stomach turn. What was she doing? She had no business wanting him like this, not when he was promised to someone else. Just because he didn’t seem to care, that didn’t make it right. No question, this was a mistake. There was no scenario in which this ended well for her. But dammit, it wasn’t fair . . .

 
Never in her life had she wanted a man more than this one. Why couldn’t things have been different? As if the universe were testing the limits to her control, Aiden rucked up her top and took her breast in his mouth. The hard steel ball of his tongue piercing teased her nipple, sending a direct current of energy right into her core. Oh, God, she had to stop this while she still had the sense to speak. But he felt so good . . .

  A broken moan escaped her parted lips as he moved to her other breast, nipping and sucking the sensitive peak until it ached with both pain and pleasure. “Aiden . . .” she panted his name on a breathy plea. “We have to stop this.”

  Either he wasn’t listening or wasn’t convinced she meant it, and in truth, neither was she. He released her nipple, dragging the tip through his straight white teeth. His spicy masculine scent filled her senses as she inhaled a surprised gasp. Her sex clenched, a direct connection from her breasts to her core. His mouth was hot and wet against her neck, sucking against her thundering pulse that gave away the truth of her desire.

  “Damn, Ryann, you taste so good . . .” The rough growl of his voice was strained. “I can’t wait to find out if you’re just as delicious down here.” His hand slipped past her stomach, boldly entering the front of her pajama pants, and deftly parting her silky folds.

  White-hot desire rocketed into her as his finger slipped deep inside her. Ryann’s hips arched on their own accord, greedily seeking fulfillment only he could give her. Never in her life had she been more tempted to tell her conscience to go to hell than she was at this moment.

  “You’re so fucking tight . . .”

  When he slipped in a second, her breath caught at the unexpected stretch. Her muscles clenched, quivering on the edge of something magnificent—something magical. “Aiden . . .” She meant his name as a protest, but it came out more like a broken plea. “Stop . . .” But even to her own ears it sounded like a desperate petition for relief from this delicious torture. A shudder wracked her body.

  “Shhh . . . don’t be scared.”

  Oh, Lord, he thought she was frightened of him. He mistook her hesitancy for fear.

  “I won’t hurt you, baby.”

  Maybe not physically—and by the size of his erection, even that was debatable—but could he make that same promise where her heart were concerned?

  “Aiden, this isn’t right. What about your fi—”

  “Fuck ’em . . .” he growled, claiming her mouth in another soul-searing kiss.

  Seriously? That was his answer? Here she was wrestling with her conscience, and all he had to say was Fuck ’em?

  Now Ryann was pissed. She tore her mouth away from his and shoved against his chest. “Aiden, stop!”

  He reared back as if she’d slapped him. The frustrated look on his handsome face was a mixture between surprise and anger. “What the hell is your problem, Ryann?”

  “My problem? Do I seriously have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yeah, I guess you do, because you’re sending me a lot of mixed signals here.”

  “You’re engaged, Aiden! Obviously that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me, all right? Your mom didn’t hire me to fuck you. She hired me to find you.”

  He laughed, not a ha-ha chuckle but a snarky, humorless bark. “That’s what this is all about? You’re running hot and cold on me because you think I’m engaged?”

  “Are you telling me you’re not?” she challenged, and God forgive her for praying he would deny it.

  Aiden held her stare, seemingly caught in an internal battle before he exhaled a frustrated sigh and roughly dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s not that simple, Ryann.”

  Not that simple? Oh, it was very simple. “You either are or you aren’t, Aiden. It’s not quantum physics we’re talking about here. So which one is it?”

  “Technically, I am engaged.”

  Oh, my God! She couldn’t believe he just admitted it! Ryann saw red. How dare he touch her like she meant something to him, kiss her like his very breath depended on consuming hers, and then in the next moment admit to being bound to another. “You asshole!”

  She lunged for him, but Aiden caught her wrist before her palm could connect with his face, robbing her even that small satisfaction. She struggled and flailed as he pinned her down to the mattress, saying nothing as she fought to get free. She didn’t want to want him, didn’t want to be attracted to him—didn’t want to care about him.

  Unbidden, the threat of tears burned the back of her eyelids, but she refused to give them quarter. This was ridiculous, she barely knew this man. She would not cry over Aiden Kruze, dammit! But lack of sleep and sheer emotional exhaustion was working against her. This was not her proudest moment. Oh, hell . . . who was she kidding? This was fucking embarrassing.

  Exhausted, she stopped fighting, hating the way her body responded as her quickened breaths rubbed her chest against his. A tingling current of erotic energy made her sensitive skin feel hot and too tight. As she struggled to quell her unwelcome response, Aiden remained silent, seemingly unaffected as he watched her with that impenetrable glower he gave his opponents in the cage.

  After a moment, he bit out a nasty curse. “Are you quite done yet?” When she didn’t respond, he growled, “Holy hell, you try my patience. Right now I can’t decide what I want to do more, throttle you or fuck you.”

  The vulgarity of his profanity should have shocked her more, and it definitely should not have rekindled the ache blooming between her thighs. What in the hell was wrong with her? She thought she knew herself better than this. Playing it safe had always been her MO. The kind of guys she gravitated toward were predictable and well . . . boring, though she preferred to think of them as safe. There was nothing predictable about this MMA fighter/lawyer who seemed to be the epitome of contradictions.

  “Do you honestly think if I had any intention of getting married next week that I would be in bed with you right now?” The offense in his tone told her the question was rhetorical. “What kind of a piece-of-shit prick do you take me for, Ryann?”

  Exhaling a frustrated sigh, he dragged his fingers through his hair again and pinned her with a stare that seemed to be searching for something she didn’t dare hope for. This was crazy—the man went through women like toilet paper. How many before her had hoped to be that special one? How many had imagined a connection with him that wasn’t there when he held them in his arms and kissed them like they were all he ever wanted? Of course he made them feel special. If he didn’t, they wouldn’t be clambering into his bed and he wouldn’t be Aiden “Disco Stick” Kruze.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked her.

  Surprised by his question, she blurted the first answer that came to mind that wouldn’t give away her internal struggle. “Because you’re insanely hot and apparently I’m an idiot.”

  He chuffed, a grunt that equated to Figures, not looking at all surprised or pleased by the backward compliment. “That’s not what I meant. What I want to know is why are you here? Why are you working for my mother?”

  Oh, that . . . She shrugged, going for nonchalance but failing miserably. “I have my reasons.”

  “Which are?”

  “None of your business,” she replied, notching her chin defiantly. “Why are you engaged to someone you have no intention of marrying?”

  He scowled. “It’s none of your business.”

  So they were at an impasse. Neither of them willing to show the cards they held so closely guarded. For one insane moment, Ryann considered telling him everything—about her father, his debt, and Vincent Moralli. But then what would that solve? By the sounds of it, this guy had enough of his own problems without Ryann unloading hers on him, too. Besides, there wasn’t anything he could do to help her, anyway—except return to his family so she could collect the money she needed to pay off her father’s debt.

  Time see
med to stand still as he hovered over her. His mesmerizing amber stare, torn and conflicted. Then, as if decided on something, he scrubbed his hand over the back if his neck and muttered a growl that sounded a lot like defeat.

  “Eighteen months ago, when my father was running for his second term as US senator, he took a hefty campaign contribution from a very rich, influential family in New York. Large funds are often flagged for investigation, and in order to divert suspicion as to why this man would be supporting my father, the two families conspired to arrange a marriage between myself and their daughter. That way, no one could prove ulterior motives. They could claim it was familial support rather than what it truly was—a buyoff to loosen regulations making certain lucrative and illegal activities easier to get away with.”

  Ryann couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re not serious. Aiden, this is the twenty-first century. Arranged marriages are unheard of anymore.”

  “Not so unheard of when you’re worth ten million dollars.”

  Holy. Shit. “Ten million dollars?”

  He nodded. “That’s how much money in illegal campaign contributions my father took over the course of a year. My father drew up the marriage contract and set the wedding date without me even knowing it.”

  “Are you serious? How did you find out?”

  “By accident, I assure you. I was going through some of my father’s files, looking for information on a court case he asked me to take over, when I found the contract and discovered what he’d done.”

  “Oh, my God, Aiden, that’s terrible. What did you do?”

  “I confronted him about it. We had a huge fight. I told him there was no way I was getting married to some woman I’d never even met. I don’t give a shit who she is. He told me I didn’t have a choice, and unless I wanted to be disinherited, I was going to marry her. I told him he could go fuck himself. That night I packed up my shit and walked away from it all—all their money and all their bullshit. I haven’t spoken to either of my parents since.”