Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2)

by Melynda Price

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Ryann felt terrible at discovering she was likely on the wrong side of this family dispute. When she thought of what she’d done to Aiden to get him this far, guilt fisted in her gut. She was hardly better than they were, and the worst part of it was, as much as she didn’t agree with what his family was doing, and as much as she hated the idea of working for them, she didn’t have any choice. If she didn’t get Aiden back to Madeline by Friday, she wouldn’t have the money to pay off Moralli. She was running out of time. There wasn’t any other way to earn that much cash this late in the game.

  “I’m sorry, Aiden. If I’d known . . .” The apology fell from her lips. Remorse became a vise that tightened around her chest—for what she’d done and what she still had to do. “I had no idea.”

  He shrugged. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Was there more to Aiden’s confession than she dared to hope?

  Exhaling a deep sigh, he flopped back on his side of the bed. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling and muttered a nasty curse that belayed nothing of his refined upbringing and everything of the steely, tough-as-nails fighter he’d become. “I don’t fucking know. This is crazy, Ryann. I just didn’t want you to think I would mess around with you if I was actually getting married.”

  Did he truly care that much about what she thought of him? If she wasn’t careful, this MMA fighter was going to pass her guard and lay some serious ground and pound to her resistance.

  Aiden rolled onto his side and propped his head beneath his hand and watched her—a model-gorgeous pose that became a visual seduction of her senses. She tried not to notice he was naked except for a pair of low-riding boxer-briefs. But it was hard not to think about it when only a short while ago that powerful, sexy body had been covering hers, delivering pleasure of the likes she’d never experienced before. She knew, without a doubt, if she’d allowed things to go further, he would have taken her to new heights, surpassing her embarrassingly limited experience.

  Her curiosity and undeniable attraction to him were powerful aphrodisiacs. How easy it would be to give herself over to this man’s wicked charms. Ryann’s only fear was that when it came to Aiden, she wasn’t sure she could separate her head from her heart. The last thing she wanted to do was give it over to a man who would undoubtedly break it.

  Holding his stare, the question tumbled from her lips. “What do you want from me, Aiden?”

  He blew out a ripe curse. “Fuck, Ryann, I don’t know. I don’t know what this is any more than you do. I’ve never met a woman who can stir my anger one moment and my passion the next. All I know is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day you walked into my gym. And when I saw that guy with his hands on you today . . . Something inside me just came undone, which makes zero sense because I know you’re not mine, but—”

  She cut him off by throwing herself against him and crushing her lips to his. His surprised oomph was a throaty grunt as he rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. This was crazy. And no doubt she was going to regret it, but Aiden’s blunt honesty proved she wasn’t the only one feeling this unexplainable connection, and his confession fractured her last bit of self-control. More than anything, she found herself wanting to know what it felt like to be his.

  Despite her position advantage, his hand threaded into her hair, knotting into his fist as he held her exactly where he wanted her, tipping her head at just the right angle so he could take over their kiss. His mouth was demanding, his tongue conquering, proving that just like in the cage, Aiden Kruze was as in control and as dangerous on his back as he was on his feet. His other hand slid over her ass and squeezed a handful of flesh as he jerked her against him.

  Through the thin cotton of her pajamas, his heat seared her. Every muscular peak and plane molded against her body. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her sensitive breasts, proving she wasn’t the only one coming undone. His hold on her was unrelenting, sending a wild thrill skirting through her veins. The fevered pitch in which he kissed her took her breath away. Never had Ryann felt this much emotion, this much passion, in the arms of a man—he verily vibrated with it.

  It was so easy to let go with him and know it was going to be the most amazing sex of her life. Already the knot of tension coiling in the pit of her stomach was driving her to the edge. He broke their kiss, giving her lungs much-needed oxygen. Like a diver bursting from the water, she inhaled sharply as Aiden’s mouth moved down the side of her throat. He nipped the sensitive flesh just above her shoulder, the mixture of pain and pleasure ripping a startled gasp from her parted lips. His answering chuckle was a deep, masculine growl vibrating against her pulse point. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, how deeply he affected her and how thoroughly he devastated her.

  She knew the moment playtime was over—sensed the shift in the purpose of his touch when it went from teasing and exploring to purposeful and deliberate. One minute she was on top of him, and the next, he rolled her, putting Ryann on her back with swift ease, reminding her this wasn’t just any man she was messing with here. She was at the mercy of an MMA fighter trained in all forms of submission.

  As he moved down her body, he slipped the straps of her nightshirt off her shoulders, baring her breasts to his assessing gaze. She’d never focused much on her breasts before. Growing up a tomboy and being in a profession that was mostly dominated by men, she’d found the large swells of flesh more a burden than a blessing and often took care to minimize their appearance.

  But looking at herself now through Aiden’s amber eyes, which seemed to take in every inch of bare flesh and missed nothing, she felt decidedly exposed and knew a moment of self-consciousness trapped beneath his bold stare. Instinctively, she raised an arm to cover herself, but he caught her wrist before she could block his view. “No, don’t. Just . . . give me a minute. Let me look at you.”

  Was that . . . awe in his husky voice? No, that was wishful thinking on her part, and thoughts like that were dangerous ones to have. It wasn’t until his grip on her wrist tightened that she realized he wasn’t as unaffected as she thought. He was shaking, the subtle tremor a testament to his struggle for control.

  “Fuck, you’re gorgeous . . .”

  His strong, callused hands—a fighter’s hands—caged her narrow waist and slowly dragged themselves up her ribs and covered her breasts. Taking his time, he tested their weight in his hands, seeming to appreciate the way they spilled past the tips of his fingers. His grip was firm, yet revering. Little darts of pleasure zinged beneath her skin when his thumbs brushed over her beaded nipples. He trapped them against his index fingers and applied pressure until a gasp of pain and pleasure broke her lips. His eyes greedily consumed her, as if he were studying her reactions, searing them into his mind. Was he testing her?—discovering her threshold?

  Unbidden, she arched into his hands as a tingling current of white-hot need shot into her core. Her muscles contracted, aching to be filled, to be stretched by him. At her emptiness, a small whimper escaped her throat. His top lip tugged into a satisfied, lopsided grin at her body’s shameless response, but she was too far gone to care about her pride.

  “You like that, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question—he knew the answer easily enough. “Hell, Ryann, you’re so hot, so ready, your body’s like a little firecracker just waiting to go off. I wonder how many times I could make you come.”

  That thought spoken out loud was a jolt to her senses. She wasn’t sure if she should be turned on or offended. This wasn’t a game—not to her, anyway—and she didn’t want him seeing her as just another conquest. Yet, that was what she was, right? Just another notch on his jujitsu black belt? But then, that was all this could ever be, wasn’t it?—a fling. Neither of them was in any position to have a relationship.

  Don’t over think it, Ryann, just go with it . . . Her inner conscience seemed to have
no qualms about leading her astray. If she knew the score, he couldn’t hurt her, right? This was a purely physical, no-strings-attached thing. A part of her really wanted to experience what this fighter was offering. If her prior experiences were anything to judge by, this was something she might not ever experience again. “Well, you’d be the first . . .”

  He froze as the confession passed her lips. Oh, shit, did she really just say that out loud? A look of total shock briefly crossed his face before it was quickly replaced by a cocky Disco grin. If she didn’t want him seeing her as a game, that had certainly been the wrong thing to say to a man whose life was built around competition and being the best. But before she could tap out and tell him to get off her, that she’d changed her mind, his arrogant smile was replaced by one of genuine interest. Unguarded, his walls down, it was a glimpse of Aiden she’d briefly seen and one she wasn’t so ready to dismiss.

  “Really?” he asked her, sounding a bit skeptical and disbelieving. “You’ve never had an—”

  She cut him off before she had to hear him say it out loud. It was too embarrassing. For crying out loud, she was twenty-six years old and she’d never had an orgasm with a man. Sure, Aiden had brought her close the first time that they’d gotten hot and heavy, but close was no O. Just like the others, he’d yet to seal the deal. Maybe there was something wrong with her. None of her friends had ever seemed to have any trouble.

  “Of course I have,” she snapped. “Just not . . . with anyone.” Oh, cripes, it didn’t sound any better coming from her mouth than his.

  He looked at her as if she were a circus oddity. Okay, sharing time was over. Embarrassment was an excellent mood killer. “You know what, I don’t want to do this anymore. Let me up.” She tried to sit up but Aiden didn’t move, nor did he release his grip on her breasts.

  “Hey, what are you getting so defensive about?”

  “Let me up, Aiden.” That determined furrow of his tawny brows told her she was fighting a losing battle here. Still, she wasn’t a quitter. Ryann attempted again. Fail.

  “Not letting you go, darlin’. Not until you tell me why you’re so upset.”

  He really didn’t get it, did he? Of course not. Exhaling a sigh, she dropped her head back onto the pillow, refusing to meet his penetrating stare. What should she tell him? After a brief moment of deliberation, she opted for the truth. It was her best chance at getting him to let her go. “I’m not mad, Aiden. It’s . . . embarrassing. I don’t even know why I told you in the first place. I certainly didn’t mean to.”

  Now his handsome face contorted into a confused scowl. “I still don’t get it. What’s there to be embarrassed about? If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be the guys that failed to do their job.”

  Well, that was definitely a different way of looking at things. “What if . . .” Oh, hell . . . “What if the problem wasn’t them? What if it’s me?”

  He laughed—the asshole actually had the nerve to laugh at her!

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” she snapped, renewing her efforts to get away.

  But he held her firm, amusement playing on his low husky voice when he said, “Sweetheart, I can guarantee the problem is most definitely not you.” All trace of humor left him when those heart-stopping amber eyes locked on her. Reaching up, he tenderly brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It would be my honor to prove it to you.”

  The sincerity in his husky voice, the unguarded honesty reflecting in his eyes . . . This man right here, right now, was the male she’d sensed behind all those walls, behind all that show. And the culmination of it shattered the last vestiges of her control. In that moment, something inside Ryann shifted, connecting to Aiden on a whole other level that scared the ever-loving hell out of her. She so did not want this man getting under her skin, burrowing inside her heart. And she knew if he did, most assuredly, Aiden Kruze was going to break her heart—some things were just inevitable truths. Yet, despite all her head knowledge and the internal warnings sounding off, her body was past the point of caring. Throwing caution to the wind, she found herself saying, “All right, then. Prove it.”

  CHAPTER

  14

  Holy hell . . . She actually said yes, and the power behind those words, the vulnerability and trust in her eyes, hit him in the solar plexus like one of Del Toro’s sucker punches. If he let himself think on it too long, he’d read more into her response than was there. He’d made that mistake with Ryann before—multiple times, actually—misinterpreting her thoughts, her intentions, and he wouldn’t be played the fool again. This was just sex. She hadn’t given him any indication she wanted or expected this to be something more. Why that sent a pang of disappointment rocketing through him, he didn’t even want to know.

  He did casual sex all the time. Shit, he was the grand master of wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, so why was his head getting so fucked over this fiery ginger? Just because he was about to give Ryann the first male-induced orgasm of her life, he had no doubt he was up to the task. It wasn’t performance anxiety tightening that invisible band around his chest—was it? No, it was something much worse . . .

  God help me, I think I might actually care for her.

  Oh, this was bad. This was really, really, bad . . . Perhaps it wasn’t too late to rescind the offer. He tried to reerect his walls that, fuck him, lay in a heap of crumbled rock at her feet. How had this woman so swiftly and so thoroughly laid siege to the impenetrable fortress around his heart? He didn’t want to like her, and he sure as hell didn’t want to care about her. But there was something about Ryann that got to him. Perhaps it was the vulnerability hidden behind her tough exterior that he knew was nothing more than window dressing. Maybe it was the fresh-faced “girl next door” innocence that stirred his protective instincts to life. Could it be the intelligent and clever, albeit manipulative, mind of hers that intrigued him so? In every way, body, mind and soul, she was so unlike any woman he’d ever met, and she was about to give herself to him. Her first release . . . The thought shot an unwelcome arrow of warmth into his defenseless heart.

  Yeah . . . this was definitely a mistake. He needed to get away from her and clear his head, despite the tantrum his body was throwing at the prospect of not having her. His cock was already weeping like a baby. Without a doubt he’d never wanted a woman more than the one beneath him right now, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, shadowed with a hint of nervousness and doubt that he’d be able to deliver all he’d promised. Fuck.

  He must have hesitated too long, let his mask of confidence slip, because her shy smile faltered and with bravado he knew she didn’t feel, she purred, “What’s the matter, Disco? Not up for the job, after all? Does the cocky ‘Disco Stick’ Kruze doubt his ability to make good on his promises?”

  Her sassy comment hit him below the belt on so many levels it wasn’t even funny. She didn’t want him, he suddenly realized with a blow that knocked the air from his lungs. She wanted “Disco Stick,” the MMA fighter and notorious playboy. And she’d taken a cheap shot at his ego by baiting him with doubts about his prowess. As much as this was a bad idea and as harsh a beating as his heart was going to take for it later, he could not, would not, back down from a challenge. If she wanted Disco so fucking bad, then she could have him.

  If Ryann could have turned back time and recanted those words, she would have done it in a heartbeat. She’d only wanted to protect her heart by trying to convince herself this was just sex and nothing more. Her attempt to disguise her fear, which was mounting with each passing second as he hovered over her, staring at her with those entrancing eyes that she would swear could see into her soul, just blew up in her face.

  Something flashed across his handsome face a moment before that famous Disco mask slipped into place. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was pain, but the emotion was gone so fast, surely she’d imagined it. Ryann knew a profound feeling of regret, and then loss as t
heir connection flickered out like a candle in the wind. She almost stopped him to apologize and attempt to rekindle that spark—almost—but in that next moment Aiden was on her and Ryann’s mind went blank to anything other than the feeling of this powerful male whose sole purpose suddenly became her pleasure.

  A low growl rumbled in his chest as his mouth claimed hers—hard and fierce. His tongue, intrusive and dominating, as aggressive as the fighter himself. It stole her breath to be kissed so thoroughly, the only oxygen that gifted her lungs was given by him. The air was marked with his scent, rich and masculine . . . intoxicating.

  Before she knew it, she was stripped bare. There was no pause this time for admiration, no sense that Aiden truly saw her. Not like before. And despite how amazing it felt to be in is arms, how pleasurable his touch was—and it did feel amazing—something was missing. It was Aiden, she realized with a sharp pang of regret. He was with her, but he wasn’t with her. And she didn’t know how to reach him, how to get him back. Her thoughts were a quagmire of Let’s talk about this. Whoa, wait, slow down! And Oh, yes! Right there! Please, don’t stop!

  His mouth sucked greedily at her breast, teeth nipping and tongue teasing away the pain. It had been over a year since she’d been intimate with anyone, and her poor, neglected breasts were overly sensitive. They felt swollen and heavy in Aiden’s grip, and a direct current of energy seemed to radiate from them right into her core. She was like a live wire, and Aiden was her power source. Every place his hands touched sparks of white-hot desire shot beneath her skin, and when his hand slipped between her legs, his deft fingers parting the slick folds of her flesh, a needy whimper escaped her throat. Her hips shamelessly lifted, encouraging his penetrating touch. The tension knotting low in her stomach was nearly too much to bear.

  He played her like a pro, knowing her body better than she did. Stroking, toying, torturing . . . he touched her without seeming hesitation or thought, instinctively knowing how to bring her maximum pleasure, while defiantly denying her ardent, unspoken request to enter her and finally bring relief to this sweet torment. Her core ached so badly, her channel clenched impatiently, begging to be filled. Why wouldn’t he take her? It was almost as if he knew he was torturing her—punishing her.