“Ryan, I’m serious. We tried this before, and it didn’t work out.”
With a slow, deliberate move, he brushed her hair off her shoulder and dipped his head down. “Oh, yeah?” He kissed her neck, and a shot of lust went through her.
“Yeah.”
He slid his mouth over the tender spot beneath her ear and then down to her collarbone. He pushed the flannel aside so he had better access. He nuzzled her, and she couldn’t help squirming against him as she inhaled his musky scent. He smelled like male sweat, and she should have been turned off, but she wanted to bury her head against his shoulder and soak up his scent like a sponge. She blamed pheromones. Or hormones. Or some other chemical reaction that she had absolutely no control over, because whenever she got close to this man, she seemed to lose the capacity for logical thought.
Her hands settled on his strong shoulders, and she couldn’t bring herself to push him away as he trailed kisses over her neck.
“I thought it worked out great.” His breath was warm against her skin.
“No, it didn’t. We ended up in a fight.”
His gaze locked on hers. “Honey, I remember the look on your face, and it definitely worked out.” He cupped his hands on either side of her face and gently tipped her head back, then slid kisses down her throat and started unbuttoning her shirt.
“Ryan.”
“What?”
She kissed him then, stroking her hands over the stubble along his jaw. He tasted sharp and familiar but slightly sweet tonight because of the Coke they’d shared. “You taste good,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, expertly distracting her as he pushed her skirt high on her thighs and shifted her so she was straddling his hips. He was rock-hard, and she made a little gasp, but he swallowed up the sound.
Her head was spinning. Heat pooled inside her body, and she felt that ache starting deep in her core. She instinctively arched against him, even though her mind was telling her to back away. But she couldn’t. His kiss was too potent, too demanding, and every cell in her body was screaming for her to get closer, as close as she possibly could, as his warm hand slid under her flannel shirt and closed over her breast.
“Ah, Emma.” He murmured against her mouth, rasping his thumb over her nipple until she pressed against him. “You like that?” He looked at her in the moonlight, but she couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak, could only kiss him to shut him up, because she didn’t want to think.
Yes, she liked it. Loved it. Loved his big palm cradling her breast and the rasp of stubble against her skin as he slid his way down her throat. He fastened his mouth over her nipple and sucked her hard through the lace of her bra, and she nearly jumped from his lap. But he held her in place and gentled his touch, and she squirmed closer, stubbornly ignoring all the warnings racing through her mind.
She shouldn’t get into this with him. It was temporary for him, nothing more. And meanwhile, she was getting more and more emotionally attached.
He held her close, licking and suckling her, and she combed her fingers through his soft hair and pressed herself against him, even as the logical side of her brain told her to pull away and escape while she still could.
The thing was, she didn’t want to. She knew what his mouth and his hands could do to her, and she wanted it with a determination that shocked her. She wanted him to take her to that white-hot, blissful place again, that place that made the rest of the world disappear, until it was just his kiss and his body and the all-consuming heat of what he did to her.
His hands slid over her hips, and she realized her skirt was hiked up around her waist now. She ground against his erection.
“I need—Jesus, Emma—” He kissed her again, pushing the shirt off her shoulders, then flinging it aside. And then she was on his lap in her bra, the white lace practically glowing in the moonlight as her breasts spilled over the cups. He gazed up at her, his eyes simmering. “I need you naked.”
Need. She could see it in his eyes. And there was something different now, something rougher in his tone that sent a tingle through her. He kissed her again, and it was harder, fiercer. He gripped her hips with a possessiveness she’d never felt from anyone. And in that moment, she knew that whatever he wanted from her, anything at all, she’d say yes.
He broke the kiss and pulled back. Heat blazed in his eyes, as though he’d read her mind. He slid her off his lap and pulled her toward the tent. She stumbled against him, and then he lifted the flap and guided her inside.
The little shelter was darker and warmer and strangely quiet. She heard him moving around outside, getting something from the truck, and her heart pounded as she looked around, trying to get a handle on what she was doing. But before she got a handle on anything, he eased in beside her, and she was acutely aware of the enormous maleness of him as he completely filled the tight space. Moonlight filtered through one of the mesh windows, and in the dimness she saw that he’d taken off his shirt and his boots.
Emma’s heart skittered. It was just the two of them. No blanket, no sleeping bag, only a few scraps of clothing between them, and the raw energy emanating from him made her pulse race. Suddenly, she was beset by doubts. She was alone in a tent with this huge, beautiful man, this warrior, and she didn’t have a clue what to do with him.
“Come here.” His voice was low and rumbling, and he pulled her on top of him, making her breath whoosh out. She pushed up onto her palms, and her breasts rested on his chest, completely spilling out of the lace now. He reached behind her and unhooked the clasp, and his low moan of approval gave her a rush of pride.
His hands glided up and over her legs and settled on her bottom as he kissed her. It was deep and warm and thorough, and she started to relax into it, into him, but then her heart skittered again as she heard the rasp of the zipper at the back of her skirt. She went still, and the faint little noise was the only sound in the world. Then he gently rolled her onto her back and in one deft motion slid her skirt and panties off her body.
She heard his low groan in the dark and felt his eyes raking over her body. She brought her arms to her chest, but he took her wrists and pinned them at her sides.
“Don’t hide from me.”
She stared up at him in the dimness and tried to ignore the hot flush of nerves. “You can’t even see me.”
His hand glided over her thigh, her hip, her too-round stomach, and came to rest on her breast. “Yeah, I can.” He bent down, and she felt the hot pull of his mouth on her.
She let her hands sweep over his muscled shoulders and combed her fingers into his hair as he kissed and licked her. His mouth did something to her, flipped a switch deep inside of her, and that delicious warm pulsing started up again. His stubble rasped against her skin, and she shivered with anticipation as he slid down her body.
He was doing it again, getting ahead of her. She reached down and felt the rough denim of his jeans. She dipped her fingers under the waist, but he moved farther out of reach.
She squirmed lower, groping for him in the darkness, encountering his muscled torso, his lean waist, the hard bulge in his jeans. He looked at her, propping himself up on his palms as she reached for his zipper. She watched him as she tugged it down. As she slipped her hand inside his jeans, he made a low groan.
She pushed at the denim, and he rolled to his side, moving out of her grasp as he got free of his clothes. But then he was back again, settling himself heavily between her legs, and a gasp of pleasure escaped her. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, and she felt a giddy rush. This was what she wanted, this intimacy. She shifted under the hard weight of him, and the pulsing started up again, and she felt a sharp craving deep inside her body. She slid her hand over his lean hip and pulled him closer. His kiss became more insistent, and the rhythm of it mesmerized her as she clutched her legs around him and arched her body.
“Ryan . . . please.”
He dipped his head down and took her nipple. “Please what?”
She rolled her hips.
“Say it.”
“Please . . .” She couldn’t get the words out. She wanted him to do things to her that she didn’t even have the nerve to tell him. She just wanted him to know, and she had a feeling he did. She knew he did.
Suddenly, he rolled away. She lay there in silence, gasping for breath. She looked at him in the dark and heard the rustle of a condom wrapper, and then he was back where she most wanted him to be. He slid her legs apart, and she bit her lip and braced herself. She held on to him as he pushed inside her, and she gasped against his neck.
“You okay?” His breath was warm against her temple, and his voice sounded tight.
She rolled her hips to let him know she was fine and felt his shoulders tense under her hands. “Oh, yeah.”
He pulled back slowly and thrust into her again. And again. And with each push, she took him deeper and deeper, until every nerve in her body was focused on the place where their bodies fused together.
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe, so she pulled him closer as they picked up their rhythm again, their sweet, perfect rhythm that made her blind with need for him.
He moved faster, harder. She slid her hands down to grip his hips, desperate to keep up, to reach that elusive place together, but he kept going and going until she thought she’d die from the wait. Her heart pounded crazily, and she panted against his neck as she moved with him.
He was holding back. She could tell. She could feel it.
“Please,” she gasped.
But he wouldn’t let go. His shoulders were taut, his muscles hard, as she clutched him closer and moved against him.
“Ryan, please.”
She bit his shoulder, and he reared back, sending a spear of pleasure through her. And then something snapped in him—she felt the change instantly—and every move, every breath, became fierce and relentless. He drove himself into her over and over as she raked her nails down his back and gripped his body. It was more than she’d ever imagined, the searing heat, the blinding intensity, the frantic race to a peak that seemed just beyond her.
“Oh, yes. Ryan.”
“Tell me when.”
She pulled him close.
“Tell me, Emma.”
At the sound of her name from his mouth, she cried out. He was right there with her, coming into her with a powerful thrust and then collapsing against her.
She clung to him, sweaty and dizzy, not wanting him to move even though he was crushing her. She wanted him right where he was, slick and heavy, with his heart pounding hard against her.
With a deep groan, he rolled onto his back, dragging her with him. She sprawled on top of him, blinking down in the darkness.
He mumbled something that sounded like a curse.
“What?” She pushed up against his biceps, awed by the immense power he kept stored in his body.
He ran a hand down her back and settled it on her bottom. “Nothing.”
“What did you say?” She was breathless, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t used to exercise, and having sex with him was the most intense thing she’d ever managed to do, and she felt proud of herself. She should get a bumper sticker.
He opened an eye and peered up at her in the dimness. “Nothing.”
She really wanted to know his uncensored reaction, but she’d missed it, and he wasn’t going to tell her.
His hands stroked lazily over her butt, and she felt self-conscious about her weight on him. She started to sit up, and his grip tightened. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I like you right here.”
She stared down at him. His eyes were open now, and he was watching her closely. She felt an unexpected swell of emotion. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the strong thud of his heart. He combed his fingers through her hair, and tears stung her eyes.
She would not do this.
She would not have the most mind-blowing sex of her life and then get weepy all over him.
She didn’t know what was wrong. Maybe the trauma of the day finally catching up to her. Or maybe lack of sleep. Or maybe the simple fact that she hadn’t ever had sex like this—this raw and powerful—with anyone else, and now some crazy hormone cocktail was coursing through her veins. But whatever it was, she had to ignore it and get control of herself. A hot lump clogged her throat, and she swallowed it down.
His body beneath her was solid and warm, and the feel of his fingers in her hair made her heart sore.
“Hey,” he murmured.
She looked up.
“You good?”
She smiled at the concern in his voice. “Very.” She nuzzled against his chest. “That was nice.”
———
Nice.
What the fuck did nice mean?
He shifted in the dark and frowned down at the top of her head. He could have sworn he’d made her come. At least once, if not twice.
She slid off him and onto her side, ignoring his attempt to hold her in place, because she was too self-conscious about her body to lie on him for any length of time.
He sat up on his elbows. “Nice as in . . . hell, yeah, let’s do it again?”
She sighed softly, like maybe she was drifting off to sleep.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?”
“Just checking in here.”
She smiled. “Don’t be such a guy.”
“Sorry. Can’t help it.” He rolled over and got rid of the condom. He glanced through the mesh window of the tent and then looked to make sure his Sig was still in place by his boots. He stretched out beside her, and she rested her hand on his chest.
She sighed heavily. “Nice as in . . . a really big drink of water on a hot day.”
She scooted closer. He liked the really big part, but the nice didn’t sit well.
Her breathing slowed, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulder. She was falling asleep, and Ryan knew what he needed to do. He needed to let her. She’d been battling insomnia since the plane crash, and she needed sleep.
But she was warm and soft, and those full, beautiful breasts were pressed up against his side, and the part of his body that knew she needed sleep wasn’t communicating with the rest of him.
He wanted her again. He’d just had her, thoroughly, and still he wanted her again with an urgency that caught him off guard.
So many things were wrong about this. She was in a vulnerable situation. Again. And he knew damn well that he was taking advantage of her here, but he couldn’t keep his hands off her. He’d tried, and he couldn’t. She seemed to need him, and he got off on that. It made him feel full, purposeful, in a way he never had before. He wanted her to need him even after this was over.
He wasn’t sure what this was, or how this woman had somehow taken over his life. He only knew that his most important objective right now was to protect her, around the clock, until the threat against her was eliminated. As for the nature of that threat and how to eliminate it, that was tomorrow’s mission.
She sighed softly, and Ryan felt a pinch in his chest. He’d let her rest. For now. He slipped his hand around her hip and pulled her close.
SEVEN
* * *
Emma bolted upright. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she blinked into the darkness. Something clamped around her wrist.
“What’s wrong?”
The deep male voice pulled her out of the dream and into reality.
She was in a tent. With Ryan.
She’d been kidnapped and put in a dark room. But she was free now.
“Hey.” He sat up and pulled her against him. “Bad dream?”
“No, I just—” She glanced around. “I
have to go to the bathroom.”
She crawled for the door and found her flip-flops in the corner.
“Wait.” Ryan was pulling on his boots. He was in jeans already, and she had a vague memory of him getting up earlier to tromp around the campsite, probably making sure they were secure.
Emma pulled on her flannel shirt and buttoned it up. It went to her knees, so she decided to skip the rest of her clothes. Ryan unzipped the tent and slipped out, then held the flap as she followed. A bright half-moon illuminated the campsite, and she watched in amazement as he tucked something big and black into the back of his jeans. “What the hell is that?” she demanded.
“My Sig.”
“Since when do you have a gun?”
“Since always. Come on.”
He led her down a dark path through the trees, and again she marveled at his sense of direction. It seemed like they were wandering into the wilderness, but sure enough, they arrived at a bathroom. There was some sort of windup lighting system that involved turning a dial to generate about a minute of light. Emma hurried through her pit stop and rejoined Ryan out front.
He stood shirtless in the moonlight, surveying the surrounding woods.
Emma’s breath caught. He turned to look at her, and all she could think was How did I get here with him?
They walked in silence back toward the tent, and she folded her arms over her chest to fend off the chill.
“Sorry I woke you up,” she said.
“I’m not.” He pulled her against his side and wrapped his arm around her. “You fell asleep too quick, threw a wrench in my plan.”
“What plan is that?”
“I’ve got a whole list of things we haven’t gotten to do yet.”
“Ha-ha.”
“You think I’m kidding?”
“When did you have time to make this list?”
His arm tightened. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now.”
Edge of Surrender Page 5