Once…in Houston. She’d cried because she’d felt empathy for me.
But I’d never seen her cry for herself. Not even the day I’d ended things with her.
She turned away from me and once again bent over the broken glass. My vision blurred as my blood pressure shot through the roof. Unable to think logically, I stooped and grabbed her, yanking her off the floor without a second thought.
“Did you drop it?”
“I threw it.”
She jerked in my arms, clearly shocked. I hauled her into the living room. “You are not touching that glass,” I ground out. The last thing I needed was for her to cut herself again. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Oh, too late for that,” she spat, violently pushing away from me the minute I set her down. “I am stupid! I’m so fucking stupid.”
I took in a deep breath and tore my gaze away. “I’ll clean this up. And then you can find something non-breakable to throw. And you can throw it at me this time.”
She turned from me and hastily wiped her face with the back of her hand, obviously mortified that I’d seen her tears. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and hastily swept up all the broken pieces, dumping them into the garbage.
Coming back into the living room, I approached her slowly. She was staring out the window now, eyes fixed determinedly on the lake. Her eyes were red, but her cheeks were dry.
“You all right?” I asked.
She cleared her throat. “No.”
That wall was up again. I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to think of what to say. How could I make her understand? How could I soothe her pain?
The answer was that I couldn’t. She’d continued to bury it under her calm façade and suffer in silence for months to come.
“I knew there had to be something more,” she said in a low voice that trembled. “I knew it. Otherwise we could have put our relationship on hold. You could have come to me and told me about my dad’s threats. We’d wait for the test flight to come and go. Then I’d confront my dad and tell him he couldn’t do this.”
I frowned. Those thoughts had run through my mind as well. But they hadn’t added up, not in the end. I didn’t want to be the man to come between her and her father, to break up what little family she had left. I didn’t want to be the man who forced her to choose.
And I didn’t deserve her.
“I made the decision to end this thing between us before Karen came back. My being with Karen has nothing to do with you and me.”
“You gave up so easily,” she said in a wistful, quiet voice, as if she wasn’t really speaking to me at all. “Didn’t even give us a chance to work through it.”
I stared at her, my fists clenching and unclenching as I fought for a response. I didn’t have one.
She jerked her head toward me. “Do you think it’s going to be easy with Karen? You’re already planning to keep secrets from her. Isn’t that right? You believe her husband cashed in his life for you so now you’ve gotta do the same for him.”
Her words penetrated like a knife’s blade, and my skin flushed hot. I held out a hand in warning, to tell her to stop. “Enough, Gray. Grab something else to throw. Throw it at me if you want. Let it all out and finally show an emotion for once. It might be good for you.”
“Finally show an emotion?” she turned to me, the color in her face deepening.
I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck, wondering if I should be worried about the way those green eyes sparked when she looked at me. “You have to admit that you’ve been rather—stoic—about it all.”
She blinked. “You’re criticizing me for being too stoic? That’s rich. That very emotional stability is what you’ve relied on in the past—to your benefit.” Her face flushed and she dramatically waved a hand in the air. “Just because I’m not falling on the ground tearing my hair out and wailing at the top of my lungs doesn’t mean I don’t care. Or were you expecting me to beg you like your trainer-with-benefits did?”
Wow. Well, if she’d been holding back before she certainly felt no hesitation in letting it all out any longer.
“I just—” And I cut myself off when she dove for a huge ceramic vase on the coffee table and held it in the air as if she’d throw it at me.
I held my hands out, ready to catch it in defense, but she was shaking from head to toe. Shaking like she was blowing in a storm or being carried away by a rocket. Her hands dropped, and she let out a sob.
I went to her and took hold of the vase and pulled it out of her hands. It was heavy. Had she actually thrown it, that would have hurt. I set it back on the coffee table and turned back to her. She was still shaking so hard I couldn’t resist pulling her into my arms.
With a snarl, she violently pushed away and smacked me across the chest as hard as she could. She seemed to be trying to push me back but had nowhere near the leverage to do it. I remained in place, nevertheless. She was a lot smaller than me, but she was surprisingly strong. In more ways than one…
“You are unbelievable,” she huffed at me. “You are so quick to play the martyr. Lay down your life and sacrifice yourself for Karen and AJ because that’s what Xander did. Isn’t that just perfect?” She practically spat at me. “You’ll be the hero of everyone’s life but your own.”
I grit my teeth.
She didn’t seem to notice my lack of response because she was in full rant mode now, gesturing stiffly with her hands.
“You are an asshole, Ryan Tyler!” she screamed. “And fuck you for taking something delicate, something precious like my feelings for you, and shitting all over them. You suck.”
New tears sprang from her eyes and I stood there and took it—just as I’d learned to do during my years in the military.
But somehow this was worse because it was on an emotional level, one I’d never learned to properly deal with. Watching my sweet, beautiful girl suffer because of me was no easy feat. And to think that she’d hidden that hurt all along. What kind of strength had it required to do that?
It only added to that same feeling of worthlessness I carried. Yet another thing I’d touched had turned to shit.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” My reply was faint, hoarse.
“No, you’re not fucking sorry. You’re going up again when you clearly aren’t ready to. You’re in denial about every single goddamn aspect of your life. Because you’re reckless and you don’t care.” She gulped another deep breath. “Because you want to die.”
I could take her anger, and I would. If she needed a punching bag, I could be that, too. Still, those words hurt. She knew exactly where to throw them, like darts sinking in to all the most vulnerable places. The places where I doubted myself.
“Your life is a shitshow. You think you’ve fooled everyone by rehabilitating your image, because no one knows about the PTSD or the real reasons you’re doing any of this—the flight, the proposal to Karen. You can still be there for them and care for them without giving up your life for them.”
“Gray—” I growled through my teeth in warning, but she rode right over me.
“You’ve only regretted one thing in the past year and that was surviving the accident. You’ve made your mind up that you’ll get exactly what you deserve.” She emphasized the words with air quotes and eyes that flashed with fury. “There’s no need for you to play the martyr because you’re already dead inside. You died the same day Xander Freed did.”
I swallowed, and every muscle tensed in anger. She was pulling no punches now.
She swiped indignantly at the corners of her eyes as if the tears were a hindrance to her rage. Then she stepped toward me so that we were standing very close. Her scent—I could smell those delicious minty strawberries. Memories of her body and mine and being wrapped up in that lovely, lovely scent were awakening other heated sensations inside me besides anger.
“I told you I loved you, and you couldn’t love me back because you’re dead inside. So you pushed me away. My dad was just a convenient excuse.” He
r eyes narrowed at me. “He made it so easy for you.”
A violent breath expelled from my chest like she’d punched me on my sternum. “What the fuck makes you think anything about this was easy, Gray?”
She held my gaze, staring me down like a mad dog about to go toe to toe in a death match. She said I was dead inside. Maybe she was partially right. But a part of my heart certainly didn’t feel dead—the part that simultaneously ached for her and wanted to push her even further away because it hurt so goddamn much.
The night before, when I’d held her in my arms as she slept, I’d whispered it to her. Allowed myself that one moment of weakness, that slip in my control. And just to be safe, I’d told her in Russian. Ya tebya lyublyu. Navsegda. I love you. Forever.
A man who wasn’t broken beyond repair would shout it from the rooftops, share it with all his friends and loved ones, rejoice in what he’d found. This brilliant ray of light, this brazen hope, the perfect period to end to all my sentences, the mirror for my thoughts, a once in a lifetime kind of love. A cause for celebration….
…For a man who wasn’t broken beyond repair. A man who wasn’t me.
She shook her head, her eyes sad and her lips tightening against her teeth. “You gave up, though. You took the easy way out. If you cared—”
“I do care. A lot. More than—” I shook my head and looked away, running a hand through my hair. What purpose did it serve to tell her this now? Wouldn’t it be easier to let her just hate me and get on with her life?
That thought punched through me hardest of all.
No. Because I didn’t want her to get on with her life. The thought of it made me simultaneously want to go on a killing spree and want to puke. I was a selfish bastard.
Our gazes locked and tangled, heat and tension simmering between us. And as pissed as I was, I wanted nothing more than to grab her and pull her against my body and make her understand how much she really did matter to me. How much I craved and needed her, even though I couldn’t have her.
After a long, tense moments, she shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “Well, I can’t say it wasn’t a learning experience,” she said in a husky voice. “I gave my heart away too easily with you, apparently. I won’t do that with whoever else comes along next time.”
Next time. With another man.
I closed my eyes, instantly disgusted by the thought of another man’s hands on her. “Gray,” I groaned.
“Life may have stopped for you because you don’t feel you deserve more. But it doesn’t end here for me.” She gestured to the center of her chest, her chin coming up defiantly. “I want to live, and I want to be happy. So I will move on. Just like you’re moving on. You’ll marry Karen. I’ll date other men, and I’ll sleep with them if I want. Aaron—”
My hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm, squeezing it. “Stop.”
She pulled against my hold and I wouldn’t release her. So she continued to talk while my hand tightened. “Maybe I need a rebound relationship. Aaron’s a nice guy. Not too old for me—”
My other hand swooped up and grabbed her hair and I pulled her against me. I wouldn’t listen to another word of this, and I knew of only one way to shut her up. My mouth landed on hers forcefully, covering it and smothering her diatribe. Thank God. My mouth fused to hers, lips sealing against lips.
She’d refused my words. She would refuse my claim on her. But this…could she refuse this?
She swayed toward me and then away, though not forcefully enough to convince me she was trying to extricate herself from me. My tongue slid into her mouth, and she let out a whimper that ignited my blood to boiling in less than five seconds flat. Oh God, how I’d missed this. This might be a huge mistake, but it felt so good, I didn’t fucking care.
My cock was hard in an instant, and I fought every instinct to pull her down on the couch and have my way with her right then.
When my mouth freed hers, we were breathing fast and I hesitated, waiting for her to voice an objection or tell me to let her go.
“I’m so fucking pissed at you, Ryan,” she panted, her face against mine.
“I know,” I answered.
She shivered against me, and I bent and kissed her neck, sucking the soft skin there. She shuddered again, her body falling against mine. Her hands clamped onto my shoulders, and her head fell forward. Her mouth was on my neck, and hot pleasure zinged through my body. The feel of her hands and her mouth were making me drunk with need for her.
Pain flared at my neck where her mouth worked against it. Her kiss had quickly transformed into a bite, her teeth sinking into my skin. This was no light nip. No, she meant business, maybe even to draw blood. I let out a gasp, and she clamped down harder.
“Ah, fuck,” I rasped. My cock swelled. So she was pissed, and she was trying to inflict a little pain. It was only serving to turn me on even more. Her hand slid from my shoulder to smooth across my chest, my belly, all while keeping my skin clamped between her teeth. Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of my jeans and into my underwear, grasping my erection without hesitation.
“If you start using your fingernails, we are going to have words,” I warned with a light laugh in my husky voice. The pain from her teeth eased up. I used my hold on her hair to yank her head back and look into her face. Her eyes were filled with tears again, her skin was flushed an angry red, and her jaw was clamped shut.
“I want to fuck you, Gray. Right now.”
Her eyes roamed my face. “Do it, then.” Her hand tightened around my cock, stroking it boldly, and I could barely keep my eyes focused. It felt so good, I wondered for a ridiculous moment if I was going to come in my pants.
‘I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m on birth control.”
I blinked, stiffening. Every part of my skin was burning with sudden fury. She hadn’t been on birth control when we had been fucking constantly, but now suddenly she was? Had she been serious about wanting to go out and start sleeping with other men? The thought enraged me, and my fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it tight. She let loose a gasp and another tear leaked out of her eye.
“I don’t want you to sleep with other men,” I suddenly ground out, surprising even myself.
She stiffened. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You just told me that you want to marry another woman, and in almost the same breath, you say you don’t want me to sleep with anyone else? So I should take holy orders and live in a convent? It’s none of your business who I fuck.”
Oh, she knew how to push my buttons all right. She wanted to play rough? I could play rough. She thought she was taking control, but she was only making me want to ride her harder.
“It’s my business who fucks you today.” I grabbed her t-shirt by the hem and dragged it up over her head, tangling her arms in it. When I pushed her against the wall beside the floor to ceiling windows, I raised her arms over her head, using the tangled t-shirt to hold them together with one hand.
In seconds her nipple was in my mouth, beading and puckering obediently for me. Yes, I knew…I knew how much she liked that. Sometimes I loved to just spend an hour doing nothing but touch her and suck on her sweet tits while she moaned and begged for my cock. I loved making her wait for it.
But that wouldn’t happen now. I couldn’t wait that long to get inside her. My mouth moved to the other one and nipped it before sucking it completely into my mouth. She yelped and swayed against me. I rolled my tongue over her nipple continuously while she rewarded me with her moans. My free hand slid into her underwear, between her legs, stroking her sex.
She was very wet. I summoned my last shred of control from God only knew where to keep from tearing those panties off of her and burying myself in her heat. Quickly, I found her clit and slowly rubbed her there, eliciting sound from her like a harpist plucking strings on his instrument.
I knew her body—better than I knew any other woman’s body. She didn’t know it, but I’d neve
r made love to any other woman as many times as I’d made love to her. A man might think he’d get bored from the same woman over and over again. But not her, not this. It was hot every time, and I could never get enough of her.
From the quickies that had us going from zero to climax in less than ten minutes while parked in my car in a secluded spot at the beach, to the long, slow sessions that had me spending hours concentrating on the most sensitive parts of her body and making her come as often as I could.
I knew this beautiful body of hers, like the star maps I had to memorize in astronaut training. I knew which spots elicited which sounds from deep in her throat. Like music. And like an instrument, her body obeyed my hands, my mouth.
Now, her spine pressed against the wall, she was wet and begging me to bring her to climax.
“Ryan, please,” she gasped when my hand had slowed, prolonging her ecstasy. “I want to come.”
“Shoulda thought about that before you slapped and bit me, little tigress.”
She thrust her hips forward to press against my hand where I stroked her clit and I pulled it away. “Nope. No baby girl. Not yet.”
I unbuttoned my jeans and stepped out of them and my boxers, then discarded her yoga pants and underwear. She lowered her arms and freed them from the t-shirt. When she stepped toward me, I stopped her, winding my hand in her short hair again, pulling it hard.
Her head shot back, and I devoured her neck. “I haven’t forgotten how naughty you’ve been.” Then I pulled harder, until her knees buckled obediently, and she slowly sank to the ground in front of me.
“I think it’s time to start asking me for forgiveness…on your knees.”
“Or I could use my teeth again.”
I drew back, and we locked gazes. She raised her brows. She didn’t look any less angry than she had before. In fact, she looked even more pissed since I’d denied her an orgasm. She reached out and grabbed my cock, holding it at the base, and I froze. Then she pressed her mouth to it and began to lick and suck me. Raw pleasure seared through me, and she began to move her head pulling it back and then forward again quickly. Too quickly.
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