“Never done this”—his voice was low, rough, his lips rubbing against hers—“but I like the way you taste with a part of me inside you, Lil.”
She licked his lower lip, which was still sticky with her juices. “Me, too. We taste good together.”
“Mmm. We’re good together in lots of ways.”
He froze, and Lily knew he immediately regretted the words. He was probably beating himself up inside for even thinking them.
Pulling back a little, she reached up and pushed her fingers through his thick, glossy locks. And then she said to hell with everything else, and finally asked the question that had been burning inside her for three long, heartbreaking years. “Why did you leave?”
Rolling to his back, he draped a powerful arm over his eyes and winced. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lily.”
She absorbed that for a moment, hating it but knowing that she had to accept it. She couldn’t make him trust her and open up. But she needed something, no matter how small. “Then tell me something else. Anything. Tell me what you did after you left. Why you never called or wrote. Why we never heard from you again.”
“It’s nothing you need to know or hear.” He exhaled a ragged breath, then lowered his arm and turned his head to look at her. “There’s a lot you don’t need to know or hear. Just enjoy the moment.”
She blinked, unable to believe that was his response. “Please, don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m not a child.”
His voice was cold. “And I don’t touch you like one.”
“But that’s how you treat me,” she told him, determined not to shout. For once, she didn’t want their conversation to spiral into a pointless argument. She just wanted answers. Just needed to know why things had turned out the way they had. “I don’t need to be coddled, Scott. I just need to be . . .”
“What?”
She gazed at a distant point on the wall over his shoulder, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“No. Say it.”
She forced her gaze back to his. “You want to know why I waited for you?” she asked, sniffing as she swiped at the hot tears that filled her eyes. “Why I couldn’t lose myself with another man? Why I can be the way I am with you? It’s because I love you, Scott. I’m in love with you. I have been . . . for a long time. For what feels like forever.”
He sat up, giving her his back as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. With his elbows braced on his knees, he hung his head forward, his voice little more than a graveled whisper. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
She moved to her knees behind him, pressing her hand to the center of his back. “I know I love you.”
“Christ, Lily. Don’t do this,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
She could feel him pulling away from her, closing himself off, and it made her want to scream. And cry. And pray for a way to reach him. “Is this because of your mother? Because of something that happened when you were growing up? Please, just talk to me. I’m begging you.”
He flinched, and the powerful muscles beneath his warm skin went rigid. “There’s nothing to talk about. Just try to get some sleep.”
Letting her hand fall, she shook her head, her heart splintering. “Would it kill you to just open up and tell me something?”
“It might,” he muttered.
“God. What happened to you?” she whispered brokenly. “I tell you I love you and you can’t even talk to me? I . . . I deserve more than that, Scott.”
She was right. She did. And the knowledge made him want to fucking roar with frustration. He knew he needed to get up and leave, but he found himself turning toward her instead. She’d started to move away from him, crawling to the far side of the bed, and he reached for her, shoving one arm under her hips and then yanking her against him as he knelt behind her. She gasped, bracing herself on her elbows, her sweet little ass pressed against his groin. But she didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell him to fuck off. Already granite hard, Ryder fit his cock to her delicate entrance, a low, guttural sound ripping from his throat as he clutched her hips and rammed himself deep. Her plush, slick sheath fit him like a glove, and he had to suck in a few desperate breaths to keep from shooting off then and there. Then he started to move, the rhythm urgent and raw, and before he knew it he was giving her every part of him. She was too small and he was built too big for this kind of fucking between them, but there didn’t seem to be any other way.
With their breathless moans filling the air and the sweat flying, Ryder gave it to her like he’d never allowed himself to do with any other woman. He gave her everything inside him. Everything. All the gut-churning hunger and want and need. Because it was all hers. Anything he’d ever thought he’d known about lust or pleasure was nothing compared with this one searing moment, her inner muscles convulsing around him as she came in a wild, beautiful rush, her hot little cunt milking him with each tight, breathtaking spasm. He gritted his teeth, never wanting it to end. Wanting it to go on forever. But it was crashing down on him, and his head went back with a guttural shout as he shuddered and pumped inside her, blasting her with hot, heavy shots of cum, then collapsed over her, his forehead pressed between her trembling shoulders, her own climax still shivering through her.
He hoped like hell that he hadn’t hurt her. And wished to God that he knew how to stay away from her.
“Of course you deserve better,” he eventually rasped in her ear, when he could finally find his voice. “That’s what I’ve been trying to make you understand, right from the start.”
Her hands fisted in the sheets as he pulled his cock from her tight clasp. “I want you.”
“Christ, Lily. You sure as fuck deserve better than that.” And with those hoarse words standing between them, Ryder got up, yanked on his jeans, and walked away.
EIGHT
THE FOLLOWING DAY CRAWLED BY IN TENSE, STIFLED INCREMENTS that saw Lily spending most of her time alone. Mike slept the first part of the day, since he’d been on night duty again, then was busy with some computer work Ryder had given him. And Ryder just basically ignored her, holing himself up in the control room the entire day. Whenever she’d gone in to try and ask him a question, he’d been on the phone, acknowledging her with a brief nod and then acting as if she wasn’t even there. She finally went back to her room and laid down for a nap, exhausted from lack of sleep and the constant stressing about . . . well, about everything. Rado. Her life. And the stubborn ex-soldier turned deputy who was slowly driving her out of her mind. She fell into a deep, restless sleep, and when she finally opened her eyes the sun was no longer shining against the room’s curtained window.
She got up and changed into one of the new outfits Mike had bought for her, needing something to cheer her mood a bit. The skirt was short and denim, with a gauzy short-sleeved blouse that made her feel flirty and feminine. She hoped Ryder choked on his own tongue when he saw it because she wasn’t going to let him just bulldoze his way into her bed again. Not without something seriously changing. She didn’t think it would be possible for a person to want someone more than she wanted him, but she couldn’t stand to keep ramming headfirst into those walls he kept throwing up between them.
She’d known, going in, that he wasn’t thinking in terms of forever. But, damn it, he could at least trust her enough to talk to her and let her in a little. For crying out loud, she’d told him she loved him! It’s not like there was anything a person could say that was more trusting and emotionally vulnerable than that. She’d laid her heart on the line and let him know it was his for the taking, if he wanted it.
Unfortunately, he’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t.
“Hey, Mike. Is Scott in the control room?” she asked, when she found the DEA agent sitting alone on the sofa in the living room, watching a ball game on the television.
Mike looked her way, shoved a hand back through his hair, and then his gaze quickly skittered away. “No, he’s, uh . . . out.”
She didn’t know why, but something that felt a little like pain started to coil through her belly. She had a bad feeling. Such a bad freaking feeling, and she started breathing a little faster. Had he gone after Rado? Was he off doing something dangerous that could get him hurt or killed? “Out? Out where?”
“I don’t really know,” he murmured, before he changed the subject. “I thought I’d make us some dinner. You like pesto?”
“Mike, where’s Scott?” She knew he wouldn’t just leave her with Mike and not come back. No matter how frustrated he might be with her, or angry, he wouldn’t bail on her when Rado was still out there. She believed that with every fiber of her being. “What’s he doing?”
Scrubbing his hand over the sexy five-o’clock shadow on his jaw, Mike said, “I’m not sure, Lil. All I know is that he said he’d be at the Palm for a few hours.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach, her nerves jumping. “The Palm? What is that? A bar? A club?”
Mike looked uncomfortable as hell. “It’s just a hangout in town.”
Her voice was starting to get a little brittle. “He left us to go and hang out at a bar? Or a nightclub? Which is it, Mike?”
“Lily, let it go. Please.”
“Like hell.” She didn’t want to think about what this meant—but that didn’t mean she hadn’t already figured it out. Some things were easy to see without a lot of thinking, and this was unfortunately one of them. She just didn’t understand why she hadn’t realized before. Why she hadn’t anticipated it. But then, there’d been a part of her still foolishly hoping that if she ever worked up the nerve to tell Ryder how she felt, he’d fall in line with her dreams and love her back.
God, she really was a naïve little fool. She should have known that he’d run. And from the sound of it, he was determined to—
No, she didn’t want to think about it. Not unless she had to. Unless she saw it with her own two eyes and knew, without any doubt, what choice he’d made.
Looking at Mike, she said, “I need you to drive me over there.”
His eyes went wide. “What? Why?”
“I need to go there. To talk to him. Can you please take me?”
“Fuck, no!” Mike grunted, moving to his feet.
“Then I’m calling a taxi,” she muttered, starting to turn away, but Mike reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back around.
“You’re not calling a damn taxi! There’s a fucking terrorist gunning for you, Lily, and Ryder and Ben haven’t been able to find where he’s hiding. Ryder spent hours on the computer today searching for any cyber links to the guy, and Ben’s had every damn deputy in the department scouring the town. Until we know what the hell this bastard is doing, you’re not leaving this house.”
They wasted another ten minutes arguing, but in the end Mike drove her to the nightclub in his truck, the silence in the cab charged with tension. He seemed pissed at himself for giving in and doing what she wanted, though she hadn’t left him much choice. He’d even tried to call Ryder, but Ryder wasn’t answering his cell phone, which only made her more anxious. Was he okay? Or was he purposefully avoiding Mike because he wanted to avoid her?
A quarter of an hour later, Lily was standing in the already crowded club, her ears ringing from the blaring music, while her eyes burned with tears, and she had her answer. It’d taken her only a handful of seconds to spot Ryder, and now she knew that she’d been right about the bad feeling she’d had. But Ryder wasn’t out doing something dangerous. He was too busy feeling up the woman sitting on his lap to worry about catching a terrorist. Lily couldn’t see his face behind the woman’s waves of strawberry blond hair, but she knew it was him. She recognized his long, jean-clad legs and black boots, the strong forearms and hands that were wrapped around the woman’s waist, and the shaggy locks of hair that were visible as he nuzzled his way up the side of her throat. With a small choked sound, Lily pressed a hand against the searing pain in her chest. It was unlike anything she’d ever known, as if a white-hot poker had been stabbed right through the center of her heart.
“Who is she?” she croaked when Mike placed his hand on her shoulder, her voice thick with the tears that were already running down her face.
“I don’t know.” He sounded as surprised as she was to find Ryder sitting at one of the tables on the edge of the dance floor with some unknown woman in his lap. From the edge of her vision, she watched Mike pull a hand down his face, then slowly shake his head. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“No. This is good. I needed to see this.” The last time Ryder had walked out on her, she’d cried for nearly two weeks, then spent three years missing him and hating him and trying to convince herself that she didn’t love him, without ever letting another man touch her. Tonight, there was no way in hell she was going to be so pathetic.