Lauren twisted to leave—honest to God, her mind was made up—but it was like her boots were nailed to the floor. She couldn’t step, slide, or scoot. Silence stretched. He waited, gave her time to get the hell out of Dodge.
The temperature in the hall flashed hot and his grip on her hips turned to fire. He lowered his head, inch by arrogant inch, until the day’s growth of beard on his strong jaw, his tortured moan, and the smell of leather were all that mattered.
Lauren burrowed past the damn leather jacket and fisted a hand on the side of his t-shirt. Her knuckles brushed the warm skin underneath. She held tight to the thin cotton to keep her hands from straying. The second he lowered his head she was lost. Her heartbeat filled the pause, thundering with need and fear and desire. His breath brushed her lips and her heart whispered a soft welcome home.
God, how could she stop when she wanted him more than air?
Jekyll and Hyde had nothing on her. The sensible Dr. Jekyll wanted her to walk, while the crazy but dominant Mrs. Hyde pushed her closer to Ryder’s firm flesh. Her eyes squeezed closed. The smooth velvet of his skin covered muscles she’d only dreamed about before he’d walked into her life. The strength and the heat tempted her to forgive and forget.
The music stopped, a long pause while the song switched and the scratch of empty air hit like the moment before you fell. The hitch in her heart, the breathlessness, the potential for soaring heights and staggering lows. Lauren had already fallen. Ryder was so much more than toned muscles and washboard abs, more than hot nights and moonlit walks. Moisture hit her lashes, but she squeezed the tears dry. He had been her everything.
The music resumed, moving into a slow song so sad her heart seized. Right or wrong didn’t hold sway when Ryder’s spicy scent reminded her of better days.
“God, you smell good,” she complained. Leather blended with the smoky scent she’d associated with him from day one. He’d come up to her in this very bar. He hadn’t had a lick to drink. He never did. That night, he’d called her ma’am. She sighed against his neck. Somehow, she’d forgotten how he’d seemed so polite, so polished, so very, very persistent. The memory brought a melancholy smile to her lips. He’d asked her to coffee after work. Even then, her head and heart had disagreed, but Hyde had won the first night as well as tonight. She’d thought no way and said yes instead.
Their first coffee had turned to breakfast at an all-night diner. They talked about everything and nothing. He was a military brat too, so they’d had that in common. In his entire life, he’d never lived more than three years in one place. He had no discernable accent, no annoying hometown. The bleakness of his nomadic life rubbed her like a burr. Texas had been home as long as she could remember. She couldn’t imagine living without geographic connection. At the time, he had laughed off her concern. No, he hadn’t wanted her pity. Still didn’t. He’d been sweet and sincere that first night, and before she knew it, she had to rush off to teach class wearing the previous night’s clothes.
Looking back was like putting a puzzle together without all the pieces. Everything about their courtship had been perfect, and they’d jumped past the I-dos and into the honeymoon, but the missing pieces kept the picture from ever being complete. The memories and the magic of what might have been were the reason she’d stopped thinking or saying his name.
While her mind wandered on the scent of his cologne, Ryder shifted them into a slow dance. His warm body swayed to the music with a soft hum in her ear that was the cruelest sort of torment. She resisted memories of their first kiss in the quad on campus. Their last kiss in the kitchen. The first time they’d made love and their last.
Tears won the night—ruined her makeup and her resolve—but she didn’t brush them away. Her arms wouldn’t let go of her husband. “I hate you,” she whispered.
“I know.” Gently, he brushed his lips across hers. The kiss started tentative, like the first time when he hadn’t wanted to spook her. It was a gentle brush to remind her of the feel of him. The taste. The heartbreaking glide into desire so strong she had to bite back a moan.
His lips teased hers, seducing her into the kiss the same as he had the slow dance. She wanted more than a tease. Consequences be damned. She sucked his lower lip between hers and pulled. The tug sparked all the way to her core, and Ryder stiffened in response. Desire had always flashed hot and fast between them.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, sending delicious spikes down her spine. Her nipples hardened, and he’d barely touched her. “Lauren.” So much pain in one word. So much hunger. A spark lit his eyes and her body responded like Pavlov’s freaking dog. Passion coursed from him to her in a heartbeat. He swiped his tongue over her lower lip and she opened to his invasion, ready and oh so willing, but he didn’t invade.
She groaned in protest, but he kept on, tasting and sampling like a man who hadn’t eaten in six months. The warmth she remembered. The desperation was new.
Both hands dove into her hair, tilting her head and controlling every move. He held on like life hung in the balance. Maybe it did. The same desperation fed her as she climbed him and wrapped her ankles behind his back. She bit his lower lip, because God help her, she wanted the heated battle. Tonight, Mrs. Hyde won fair and square. Jekyll could pick up the pieces in the morning.
The heat of Ryder’s skin burned through her cutoff shorts as he palmed her backside. Her brain short-circuited. He danced her back against the door, kissed away her tears, swallowed her breath, and possessed her very soul. His big hands rocked her core against his hard length. They both moaned. Heaven and hell. Enough and not nearly enough.
He bit her earlobe. “This is why I couldn’t stay away.”
Hel-lo. The words slapped her numb brain. Making out with Ryder in the dark back hall might feel good now, but there’d be hell to pay in the morning. Dang. Looked like Jekyll was going to win after all. Lauren pulled her head from his grasp. “What?”
Ryder ran his nose along her throat, trailing kisses and long licks. “So soft. So sweet. You haunt me.”
“I’m not a ghost.” Against her better judgment, she titled her head to give him access.
“Definitely not.” He chuckled against her throat and the vibrations traveled along nerves straight to her core. “Finally flesh and blood in my hands.”
She arched into his shaft, nearly cried with hunger. He kneaded her bare skin, sending rivers of heat to her groin. “So good,” she moaned, but not good enough to forgive and forget. He’d been foolish to remind her. He’d left her. Ryder—the man who swore up and down that she was his soul mate—had disappeared without a trace. “Why did you?”
The tips of his fingertips explored under the cuff of her shorts, finding her wet. “Why did I what?”
What was the question? His touch fried her brain. “Why did you leave?”
“To check on the team.”
The words inflicted pain. The team came first. The heat flowing through her veins cooled. The next words fought their way up her tight throat. “Why did you come back?”
The exploring fingers stilled against her heat. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I can’t stay away.”
Hope bloomed. Maybe he’d stay. “And if you could leave?”
“I will leave.” His lips twisted. The anguish in his dark green eyes hinted at an internal struggle. “You’re safer without me.”
The hazy fog of desire could not survive those fatal words. Lauren unlatched her legs from his strong hips.
He had the power to hold her against her will, but he released his grip and she dropped with a thud, the scud of her boots sounding as hollow as her heart. The music picked up to a faster tune, drowning all but one thought. She had to get away from him before he broke her heart for good. The temptation still existed, grown crazier and more all-encompassing with time, but nothing substantial had changed simply because he’d returned to El Paso. Their problems remained. “I have to go. They’ll be thirsty.”
“We’re not done
talking.”
“Yes we are.” She pushed against his chest, determined to dislodge him.
He gave way to let her past. “We need to talk. At home.”
“No, it’s—”
“Yes.” Determination sat in the hard line of his jaw, a look she’d never won against as often as she’d tried. Ryder did things his way, always had. “I’ll meet you there after work.”
Lauren bit her tongue to keep from warning him. Let him go back to their house to see what his desertion had wrought. Shoulders slumped, she returned to her tables and hoped for oblivion. The night stayed busy enough to numb the pain. At last call, Beth asked for her car keys back. Lauren looked at her watch. The tequila shot with the soldiers was hours ago. “Not going to make them walk home?” Lauren asked, reminding Beth of her threat to go home with one of the guys from post. The soldiers had stuck pretty tight to the coeds.
Beth shook out her sassy hair. “I’m not that easy, Professor.”
The girls laughed and teased each other on the way out the door, oblivious to the stab of torment Beth’s words had caused. I’m not that easy. But Lauren had been. She’d nearly given herself to Ryder in the back hall of the bar. No wonder he thought he could disappear and reappear at will.
Nothing about her response to Ryder made any sense. She wasn’t easy, she didn’t take guys home from the bar, and she’d never let a man stand in the way of her dreams. Come hell or high water, she was finishing her degree. Her mom may have killed herself waiting tables in this town, but no way in hell was Lauren making the same mistake, but Ryder’s pursuit had been heady stuff. She was a dorky history student and he was the complete package: smart, sexy, and steamy hot in the sack. He could have anyone, but he’d chased her with single-minded purpose. She’d never stopped to ask why he pursued her. Now she wanted to know why he’d left. Was it the situation with Madigan?
Lauren released the anger with a harsh shake of her head, because under the anger was a tractor full of regret and self-loathing. After watching her mom deal with the grief, Lauren had still married a soldier.
Debi turned the music off, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Most of Lauren’s customers had gone, except the soldiers in the corner booth. “I know y’all aren’t sober enough to drive.”
“We’ll take a cab to the post,” Baby Face said. “Don’t worry, ma’am.”
Lauren waited until the soldiers packed into a cab before locking the door. “My feet are killing me and my smile muscle is broken,” she said to the bartender. “Remind me again why I do this?”
“Because you’re too proud for the soup kitchen.” Debi wiped the bar as Lauren took a seat on the nearest barstool.
“You’re no fun. As my best friend, you’re required to listen to me whine and moan while you nod in support.”
“Honey, my night’s been as long as yours.”
Lauren shrugged. “At least you get to wear jeans.” The skimpy shorts and tight tops were the new owner’s idea of renovation. To be fair, her tips had doubled since the uniform change, so she wouldn’t complain. Too loudly, anyway. “You want me to wait around?”
“Nah, you’re off the clock. I’ll see you at home.” Debi was letting Lauren crash at her house until the end of the semester.
Lauren slipped on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before venturing into the cold night. Her powder blue Ford was the last vehicle in the lot. With a long look around to make sure she was alone, she hurried to the pickup. Twisting the key in the lock, she jumped behind the wheel.
“Want to tell me why you’re selling our home?”
Lauren clutched her chest. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.”
Ryder leaned across the bench seat, his eyes as hard as any gemstone. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart. Start talking.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The FOR SALE sign in front of their townhouse lit a fuse under Ryder’s ass. The past month, he’d been making his way home. He needed to cut her loose before he dragged her into his dark world. And even knowing what he had to do, the idea of her leaving him—hooking up with some cowboy and setting up house—shot a flaming fist into his gut. “It takes two to sell a house, sweetheart.”
“Don’t use that tone with me, you arrogant ass. What did you think was going to happen? Time did not stand still because Staff Sergeant too-cool-for-a-first-name Ryder took a walk to clear his freaking head. The rest of the world moved on.”
The sooner she got over the idea of moving on, the better. The way she’d kissed him back at the bar, the way her tight ass fit his hands, was proof positive she belonged to him. Period. “You can’t sell without me.”
Lauren’s brows shot up, creating wrinkles in her forehead. Her voice lifted an octave, a sure sign of her temper. “You think this was my idea? Honey, the bank didn’t give me a choice.”
The words sucker punched him, stealing his rage. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m a student. I don’t have the money to pay a mortgage. I tried to keep up, but I lost a huge chunk of financial aid when we married. I couldn’t keep the house and finish the program. The man I thought I married knew that.”
Ryder ran a hand over the back of his neck. There were too many landmines in her angry rant, but before he tripped his way through the field, he needed to make one thing crystal clear. “I wasn’t running from you.”
Lauren twisted the key and the truck coughed to life. She quickly shifted the floor-mounted gearshift into neutral. “Whatever, Ryder. Get out of the truck. It’s late, I’m cold, and we’re not solving anything tonight.”
“We are not finished.” He needed her to know. He supported her dreams. Fact was, he was in awe of her drive and intelligence, and had been from day one.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Get. Out.”
Ryder couldn’t leave like this. She was hurt. Her tears back in the bar had wrecked him. He couldn’t let her leave thinking he’d been cold and callous. “Make me.”
She slumped over the steering wheel to rest her forehead on the top rim. With her face hidden behind her arms, her shoulders shook. A knot formed in his gut. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, although he’d probably done that and more by leaving. He reached out, but stopped when hysterical laughter filled the cab. “Make you? God, Ryder, what are you, twelve?”
The hand reaching for her stopped. “No?”
The answer sent her into another spasm of laughter. She lifted her head and light from the dash reflected in her watery eyes. “You’re not sure?”
The swift change in her mood made him pause. “Have you been drinking?”
She rolled her eyes before running a finger under her lashes to wipe away tears. Laughter and tears? “No, of course I haven’t been drinking. Have you?”
“Of course not.” He’d given up anything and everything that altered his mood, his focus, or his control. Although he’d kept Lauren, and she did all three. “Baby, no way would I leave you high and dry. I paid the mortgage every month.”
Her shoulder blades slapped the cold seat as she leaned back. “No you didn’t.”
“Did. Why do you say the bank’s making you sell?”
“Because they are. They did. I signed the paperwork last week.”
A warning shot through him. Something hinky was about to shake down. “Baby, I used bill pay direct from my account. I have the receipts. I paid every month.”
“But, Ry—”
A sharp rap pounded against the window. Lauren jumped and Ryder reached for the gun he had holstered under his leather jacket. Lauren’s best friend Debi waved a light into the cab of the truck. “Everything okay?” Debi continued to flicker the flashlight at them.
Ryder settled the gun back in its holster.
Lauren cranked the window down. “Yeah, just...” She shrugged her shoulders.
Debi shot the light straight in Ryder’s face.
“Do you mind?” he asked, blocking the glare.
“I don’t mind at al
l,” she deadpanned. “Lauren, why don’t you ride home with me? I’ll bring you back before classes in the morning.”
“I’m not going to hurt my wife,” he growled.
“You already did, buddy.”
“Stop it.” Lauren grabbed the flashlight and forced the torch downward. “I’m fine. Debi, go home. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Fine.” She shone the light on Ryder again. “Anything happens to her, and I’m coming for you, soldier boy.”
Lauren cranked her window up while Debi disappeared around the corner of the building. “I’m not joking, Ryder. Time for you to go. I’ve got an early class and if I’m late, Professor Crawford will have me grading papers until I’m ninety.”
“I can talk to him.”
“Not everything gets better with threats and intimidation.” She groaned. They’d had this conversation before. “The academic world doesn’t work like the Army. I can handle Dr. Crawford on my own, thank you very much, same as I’ve always done.” She glanced around the empty parking lot. “Where’s your car?”
“Sold it.”
“How did you get here?”
“My bike’s out front.”
“As in a motorcycle?” She shook her head, and her shoulders slumped in weary defeat. “Jesus, Ry, maybe you are twelve. Are you having a midlife crisis or something?”
“I’m not that old. Or young.” Whatever she was accusing him of had nothing to do with the shit hanging over his head. “We need to talk about the house.”
“Not tonight.” She reached over him, her body brushing his as she pulled the handle to pop the passenger door open. “It’s late.”
The exhaustion clinging to her effectively paused the conversation. He wanted to finish, but she’d obviously had a long day. “I’ll follow you home.”
“We can’t go home, Ryder. They’ve changed the locks.”
Fuck, but he’d messed up and good. He hadn’t expected life to spiral out of control, and as much as he wanted to work it out right now—at least the banking issues—Lauren needed sleep. “Where are you staying?”
Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) Page 3