CROSSING THE LINE (RANGER SECURITY Book 5)

by Rhonda Russell

  Him.

  The knowledge almost set him off and he hadn’t even fully had her yet.

  He would.

  He was going to map her body with his tongue, read her like Braille. He was going to fill his mouth with her pouting breasts and feast on her sweet sex until she came.

  Then he was going to make her come again.

  He left her mouth and licked a path down her throat, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. She was sweet and tangy and he wanted to bury himself so far inside her that it would take some sort of nuclear weapon to blast him out.

  Need hammered through his veins, blotting out everything to the exclusion of her. She was all he wanted. She was all that mattered. He found the crown of her breast through her shirt and suckled, and her little gasping purr of pleasure made him harden even more.

  “You have been driving me crazy,” he told her, slipping the straps of her shirt aside. Ah, perfect, Tanner thought. Heavy globes, rosy nipples puckered for his kiss. He laved her first, sampling, then suck­led deep, giving a sharper tug.

  Her breath hissed out of her mouth and she shifted her hips more provocatively against him. She bent forward and nipped at his shoulder, then licked a determined path up his neck and sighed hotly into his ear.

  “Likewise,” she said. “And you thought I was crazy before.”

  He smiled against her. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Liar.” She laughed, slipping a hand over his hip. She shifted and cupped him through his box­ers, making what was left of his breath completely flee.

  Small, capable hand stroking his dick, a sweet, perky breast in his mouth and a woman who was clearly an uninhibited, enthusiastic bed partner beneath him.

  Life could not possibly get any better.

  Unless...

  He dragged her little shorts off and was pleas­antly surprised. “No panties?”

  “You’re gonna talk during sex, too? There are so many better things you could be doing with your mouth,” she said, slipping a finger along the en­gorged head of his penis. A single bead of moisture leaked from the top and she swirled it around him with her thumb in a mind-numbingly distracting little circle.

  “Like w-what?”

  “Later,” she said enigmatically. “When we have more time.” She bucked against him. “Right now I want you to take me.”

  He had never in his life had a woman say that to him before, had always thought it was something that happened only in porn movies. But the fact that this woman had just said it to him made him absolutely want to beat his chest and roar. It was direct and sexy and, dammit, fucking fabulous, and he’d never—never—wanted another woman more.

  Thankful that he’d had the forethought to buy the condoms when he’d gotten the new toothpaste, he snagged one from beneath the phone book, where he’d hidden it earlier, and quickly tore into it with his teeth.

  She saw it and laughed. “Confident, were you?”

  “Hopeful,” he corrected as she dragged his box­ers over his ass.

  Her eyes darkened to a midnight-blue as she feasted her gaze on him. She licked her lips and took the protection from his hand. “Let me,” she said.

  A second later he was fully sheathed in the condom and a mere half a second after that, fully sheathed in her. He took her hard, plunging into her heat, and the gratified smile that slid over her lips as he finally filled her up triggered his inner caveman. His lips peeled away from his teeth as he pushed into her, harder and harder, almost sav­agely, and the more firmly he seated himself, the more she seemed to like it. Little grunts and groans of pleasure slipped past her carnal smile, and she raked her nails lightly over his back and gripped his ass. She drew her legs back, anchoring them around his waist, and met him thrust for thrust.

  The headboard banged repeatedly against the wall and, while he knew the hotel was full and they were surely disturbing someone on the other side, he didn’t give a damn.

  Couldn’t.

  Her greedy muscles tightened around him with every thrust, holding him in, causing an exquisite draw and drag between their joined bodies. It was hot and hard and dirty, with an elemental primal intensity to it that made it hands down the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

  And he hadn’t even come yet.

  But he was about to.

  Could feel it building in his loins, gathering force as his balls tightened and the urgent, insis­tent tingle built in the root of his dick.

  A little laugh tittered out of her throat, her eyes fluttered shut and then she suddenly went wild be­neath him. Everything seemed to tighten around him—her legs, her arms, her sex. She bucked be­neath him, forcing him to up the tempo.

  “You are— Holy hell— I’m— Damn

  She went rigid beneath him as the orgasm took her. Her mouth opened in a long soundless scream that suddenly became a long, low moan of plea­sure. Her toes curled into his ass and for whatever reason, that was what set him off.

  The climax blasted from his loins like a bullet down the barrel of a gun and with every greedy squeeze of her body around him, another wave of sensation shuddered through him, milking his body of all it had left. Wringing him dry. He angled deep and seated himself as firmly into her as possible, felt his back bow beneath the stress of the pleasure and heard his own strangled cry in his ears.

  Breathing hard, he lowered his head and looked down at her. Her wild dark curls were fanned out on the muted gold tones of the bedspread, her cheeks were flushed, her lips plump and swollen and her eyes knocked the breath out of him. She was wantonly beautiful, unrepentantly sexy, and the satisfied smile curling her mouth made him feel as if he’d conquered the world.

  Or at the very least, hers.

  She slid her hands over his back, tracing his spine with the tip of her nails. It felt delicious. “We’re going to have to do that again.”

  He was still inside her, he could still feel her fisting around him and she was already game for more?

  Crazy, unique, weird, odd.. .whatever.

  She was officially perfect.

  * * *

  “So I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to sleep with?” Tanner teased the next morn­ing when Rhiannon, still satisfied and drowsy, opened her eyes. He sat on the edge of his bed. He wore navy blue boxers—no shirt, amen—and an endearingly sexy smile.

  She stretched and let go a long groan. “I thrash around a lot,” she lied, not wanting to hurt his feel­ings. She’d deliberately waited until his breathing was slow and deep and she was certain he was asleep before getting up and sneaking back to her own bed.

  He inspected her bed, which was curiously undisturbed, and merely arched a brow. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said. “Do you need it first?”

  She shook her head. Always polite, she thought as he headed for the bathroom. A conscientious worker, a fabulous lover. Were she in the market for a permanent sort of man, he would definitely be a contender.

  But she wasn’t, Rhiannon reminded herself, and ignored the unwanted sense of melancholy that ac­companied the thought.

  Permanent went hand in hand with love and she’d decided long ago that she didn’t want any part of that weakening, unpredictable emotion. She’d seen the damage it could do.

  No, thank you.

  And she was happy, dammit. Content.

  So why had she wanted to linger long after the sex was over? Something she’d never had any de­sire to do before. Why had she wanted to feel his arm snugly around her middle, his breath in her ear, and why had it been so damned hard to leave his warm, curiously comfortable side and get into her own cold, lonely bed?

  Better still, why did her bed feel lonely, when it never had before?

  Quicksand, Rhiannon thought. If she wasn’t careful, she could so easily sink.

  The minute she’d felt her reluctance to move away from him, she’d made herself do it just to prove that she could. That he really wasn’t differ­ent. She sighed.

  But she knew he was.
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  Off-the-charts, otherworldly attraction aside, something about him made her simply go all gooey on the inside. He was smart and funny, interest­ing and wounded. And he was good, Rhiannon decided. If there was one thing she’d learned with her ability to read emotions over the years, she’d learned to be a good judge of character. So often people’s emotions were tied to their motivations. After a while it was simple to pick up on false con­cern, a greedy heart, a malicious spirit. Tanner had none of those things.

  He was unequivocally...honorable.

  The adjective seemed out of date and old-fashioned, but it fit him all the same.

  And right now he was doing all he could to survive, to put his world back together. She could feel the desperation behind the determination, could sense the ever-heavier cloak of grief, guilt and de­spair tightening around him. And she could just as easily feel him pushing against it, resisting it.

  This was not her problem, Rhiannon knew, yet she longed to help him. To ease a bit of his burden. Unfortunately, she knew her assistance would not be welcomed. Because Tanner still believed he was fine.

  The truth was coming, though, whether he wanted to face it or not.

  The only thing that remained to be seen was whether they would still be together when that reckoning came.

  Probably not, she thought, and her spirits sank like a spent party balloon.

  Ridiculous, she countered, sitting up. She was a believer in El. She would just not permit herself to feel this way. She crossed her legs and concentrated on getting her emotions under control, into chan­neling them into a healthier, prudent direction.

  Tanner chose that moment to stroll out of the bathroom.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were praying.”

  Her lips twitched. “I’m not praying right now,” she said. “I’m...working on something.”

  “It looks unpleasant.”

  She kept her eyes closed, but still grinned.

  “Could you shut up, please? You’re interfering with my focus.” Oh, who was she kidding? He’d blown it all to hell and back.

  She felt him approach, and his soft breath drifted over her face. Oranges and cloves. “I actually like this toothpaste,” he whispered. “You’ve converted me, and I’m brand loyal. You should be proud of yourself.”

  She opened her eyes. “And how much of your conversion is directly related to wanting to kiss me again?”

  His eyes twinkled and dropped to her mouth. “A significant part.”

  “And will you go back to your minty toothpaste when I am no longer around?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Traitor.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose, causing an unexpected rush of emotion coursing through her. “You wound me.”

  She harrumphed under her breath. “You are so full of shit.”

  “That’s what I like about you,” he said. “You’re so careful with your opinions. Such a delicate little flower.”

  An image of her riding him for all she was worth suddenly materialized in her mind’s eye and her stomach involuntarily tightened with longing at the reminder.

  Hot, warm skin. Gleaming muscles. The feel of him buried deep inside her. His knuckle pressing against her clit as his mouth fed at her breasts.

  He didn’t treat her like a delicate little flower, thank God. He treated her as if he couldn’t control himself, as if he couldn’t take her hard enough, fast enough or completely enough. It made her feel wanted and feminine and womanly. She loved the way he suckled deeply from her breasts, not only taking her nipple into his mouth, but as much of the globe as he could, as well. As if he couldn’t taste enough of her. It was raw and uninhibited and surpassed anything she’d ever experienced.

  “I hate to rush you,” he said. “But we should probably get moving. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

  Thankful for the subject change, Rhiannon reluctantly stood and stretched. “Has Tad even checked in?” she asked. She’d heard Tanner on the phone with Payne last night, but hadn’t caught much of the conversation.

  Tanner grimaced. “No. However, per our employment contract, he has been apprised of what we’re doing.”

  She toyed with a strand of her hair. “Does he know I’m with you?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” she said, gathering her toiletries. She rolled her eyes. “You heard that ignorant message. The moron would assume that I was simply trying to help find Theo to further our reconciliation.”

  “You know you want him,” Tanner teased.

  “The hell you say,” she shot back, feigning offense. “He’s an ass.”

  He slid into a pair of worn denim jeans, but didn’t bother to zip or button the snap while he looked for a shirt. Effortlessly sexy, she thought her gaze tracing the fine line of hair that disap­peared beneath the waist of his shorts. “But there has to be somebody, right?” he asked.

  The question was casual, but she sensed more than curiosity behind it. She purposely kept her voice light. “No, there isn’t. I’m happy with the status quo.”

  Her answer seemed to surprise him. “Really?”

  She nodded once. “Really.” That ought to put to rest any lingering fears that she would become clingy. “What about you?” she asked just as lightly, though his answer was ridiculously important to her. “Any girl waiting for you back home in—” She frowned. “Where did you say you were from originally?”

  He shrugged into his trademark black T-shirt. “Mockingbird, Mississippi,” he told her. “And no.”

  His gaze tangled with hers. “I, too, am happy with the status quo.”

  “No ring, then?” she asked, snapping her fingers with feigned regret.

  He merely laughed.

  “Where is Mockingbird, Mississippi?” She wanted to know. It sounded quaint, much like Begonia.

  “Heart of the Delta,” he said. “Two traffic lights, one grocery store and ten churches.” He flashed a grin. “Much like any small Southern town.”

  He’d certainly nailed that. “And your grand­mother is still there?”

  “She is.” He zipped his suitcase and set it on the floor, then collected his laptop bag.

  “What’s her name?” Names were important. She could always conjure a face to go with a name, even if it was wrong.

  “Molly.”

  Dark hair and eyes, a plump face and a smile that was kind and slightly mischievous, Rhiannon thought, instantly picturing his grandmother.

  “Any other relatives?”

  He sighed. “Just the assorted aunts, uncles and cousins I only see every few years.”

  Sounded like her. And she actually lived close to most of her family.

  “What about you? Surely you’re not in Begonia all alone.”

  “Not exactly,” she said, gathering her outfit for the day. “My parents are in Florida and are regulars at Disney World. They do their part to contribute to the local economy.”

  He chuckled. “That’s admirable. What about the rest of your family?”

  She sighed. “Like you, they’re scattered around town, but I rarely see them. We’re not close.” She frowned. “Theo is really the closest thing to family that I have, and I chose him.”

  “He’s lucky,” Tanner said, surprising her with the sincere comment. Something shifted behind his eyes, but it was gone before she could make an identification.

  “We both are.”

  She jerked her hand toward the bathroom. “Speaking of which, I should probably hurry.” She gathered her things. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “I’ll time you.”

  She laughed. “Two, then.”

  “You’ve got ninety seconds.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “I’m willing to adjust our schedule if you really mean it,” he said silkily.

  His voice sent a shiver of longing through her that settled warmly in her womb.

  She was so, so in over her head, Rhiannon thought. And simply drowning no longer s
eemed like such a bad alternative.

  Chapter 10

  Weaving through the libraries and cemeteries around Roanoke was long, tedious work and at the end of the day, other than being able to cross several smaller towns and half a dozen libraries off their list, they had little to show for it.

  The strain, he could tell, was beginning to get to Rhiannon. There was a new tightness around her eyes and, though she was still the same charmingly strange, smart-assed girl he’d come to know over the past few days, there was a hollowness to her laughter that hadn’t been there before.

  She genuinely loved Theo Watson and, though Tanner didn’t want her to love him—he was rebuild­ing his life right now and didn’t have time for any­thing other than fleeting companionship—he was suddenly more envious of that old man than he’d ever been of anybody.

  It completely defied logic, and he’d been trying all day to convince himself that it wasn’t true, but Tanner grimly suspected he knew better. He envied Theo her unconditional affection. He envied him that place in her life. He envied him the right to enjoy her company.

  Refreshingly, he hadn’t even had to make the disclaimer to Rhiannon, because he knew she was only interested in the same thing.

  So why had he asked her if there was a guy in the picture? Tanner wondered. And why had his guts twisted and hadn’t released until she said no? Honestly, what was it about her, specifically, that had gotten him all snarled up in knots?

  Furthermore, why had he felt a thrill of a challenge flare in his belly when she’d quite plainly let him know that she was happy with her status quo? He was happy, too, and yet he wanted to be her exception to the rule. He inwardly snorted.

  He was acting like a chick, he realized, and the knowledge promptly soured on his tongue.

  She was seriously knocking him off his game, Tanner thought, one he grimly suspected he might end up losing.

  And then there was the other issue, the one he’d been trying not to think about, the galling knowledge that she could feel the pressing weight of regret that shadowed his every move...and it was only getting worse. Tanner had thought that leaving the military would help, that the distance would do him good, and to some degree he’d been right.