Against The Wall (21 page)

Then the wicked man had taken her pleasure-sated body into his arms, made her heart flutter at the sweet, soft touch of his warm lips against her own, carried her into her bedroom, and promptly handcuffed her to her headboard!

At first she’d been stunned, giggling at his playfulness as he stretched out above her, whispering devilish sentiments in her ear. Then he’d made her come so many times with his clever fingers and tongue that she was crying and cursing, begging for the feel of his cock inside of her. And when he’d finally let her have it—parting the tight muscles of her pussy with his thick root—she’d come so hard she’d passed out, only to awaken to him giving her those soft, sweet kisses again, whispering silly little words about how beautiful she was…how delicious.

How much he always wanted her.

How he only wanted her more every damn time he had her.

But it hadn’t gone beyond that. She hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, because he’d yet to invite her there. Every evening Ryan came to her straight from work, they’d eat dinner together, spend the night screwing each other’s brains out, and in the morning he would run home to change before heading back to work.

And now it was Friday again, damn it, and Shea wanted to know just what in the hell was going on. This was what she wanted—and so much less. She wanted it all, damn it! Wanted everything! But for all she knew, he’d be heading back to Red’s tonight. And if not tonight—then when? And what was she willing to do about it when he did?

He’d said all he wanted was to fuck her, and by God, he had. Oh, had he ever. As she dragged her tired body through her apartment, slipping off her shoes, tossing her backpack into the corner of her bedroom, every carnal act they’d done together flashed through her mind in a torrent of vividly detailed images.

Ryan with his mouth at her breasts, sucking at her nipples as if he meant to devour them.

Ryan with his head buried between her thighs, probing deeply with his tongue while his thumbs held her wide open for him, unable to get enough of her taste.

Ryan propped up on his arms above her while they both watched the hard, savage thrust of his body into hers.

Everything they’d done had been about mind-blowing physical pleasure—and yet, it’d felt like more than just incredible sex, as if he’d been trying to tell her something with his body that he either couldn’t or wouldn’t say with words.

It made her so damn angry and frustrated—his refusal to open up. She’d tried to tell him how she felt that first night, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it, and he wasn’t going to say it himself. She had to find a way to reach him—had to get past that stubborn-ass armor of his or she was going to lose him before she ever even had him.

And she was no quitter.

That was another one of those wonderful things Ryan did for her. When she was with him, she felt more confident—more certain of herself—like she could take on the world, if that’s what she wanted.

It was odd, considering he was such a big, beautiful, dominating man, but he didn’t treat her like a weak doormat to walk on and use. He treated her like a sassy, sexy woman and she felt more powerful for it. She’d been more outrageous and daring and full of life in the past week than in the entire last twenty-seven years, and she knew it was because of him. Not that it was his doing, exactly, but more like—like his influence on her. Being near him, a part of him, was good for her. She was stronger for it, a better person for it.

So then why was she moping around with her tail between her legs, waiting for him to make his move?

How much more pathetic could she get?

Screw this, she thought with a disgusted growl. She was not going to play the pathetic weakling here and let him get away that easily. No, she was going to dig in, show him what she was made of, and rock his world until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. She just had to remember to keep her emotions out of it, at least until the time was right and he was ready to hear what she had to say.

A part of her deep inside knew that he might never be ready, but she was just going to have to be woman enough to stand up and take it.

And, of course, change his mind.

With that thought clutched to her chest like a talisman, Shea strolled into her bathroom for a quick shower, ready to put her final plan into motion.

He’d forgotten his effing umbrella. It figured, after the afternoon he’d had drudging through old case files and wrapping up paperwork, that the sky would decide to unload on him now. And shit, he was in too much of a hurry to get home to Shea to worry about getting soaked in the downpour.

He’d just stepped out into the biting, gray rain when his cell began buzzing against his hip bone. Jogging over to his truck, he climbed up into the humid interior of the cab and cranked the engine to get the windows defrosted, cursing the tiny silver phone for being so damn small. How the hell was he supposed to talk into something no bigger than a freaking business card?

Or maybe his hands were just too damn big.

“McCall,” he muttered into the insubstantial mouthpiece, grinding his jaw as images of his “big” hands moving over Shea’s soft skin flooded through his memory, singeing his already sensory jammed system. She’d been burned into his consciousness—her taste, her smell, the feel of her naked flesh against his own—all of it was right there, pounding in his temples, pumping to the rapid beat of his heart.

He’d had a lot to think about today, starting with the crack of the morning phone call from Hannah. When his cell had begun vibrating on the bedside table, he’d carefully disengaged his cock from Shea’s warm pussy, loving the way they had often slept that way throughout week, and walked into her living room to take the call.

He’d known who it would be without even looking at the caller id, wondering if Hannah was gonna make it a habit of keeping tabs on his and Shea’s sex life from now on. Her grandmother had taken a turn for the worse, and so she’d yet to make it back from Tennessee.

“Still there, huh? Just tell me I’m not going to have to come home and go kung-fu on your ass.” Hannah’s voice had been loud and clear, making Ryan wince from the jolt to his sleep-dazed system. Shit, the damn woman had sounded like she’d already had a gallon of caffeine, and he’d been working on a real bitch of a sex hangover.

The thought of it brought a smile to his face now—just as it had that morning. They’d fucked all week long, too many times to count, and his body was feeling deliciously used in all the right places. But last night—Jesus, last night had nearly killed him.

He’d run a hand through his hair, still smiling when he’d said, “Naw, no butchering will be necessary. And since when did you become such a pit bull?”

“Since my oldest best friend started sleeping with my newest best friend and she’s—” Hannah’s voice had trailed uncomfortably off into silence.

“She’s what?” Ryan had asked distractedly, trying to snag a look at Shea’s kitchen clock, anxious to get over to the court house and file his latest report on Spalding so it wouldn’t take up too much of his day. He and Derek had an important meeting this morning with the D.A,’s office about the case, and the sooner Spalding’s ass got convicted and put behind bars for a good long while, the better.

And he’d figured the sooner he got back home, the more time he’d have to spend with Shea tonight. Then tomorrow. Then the day after that—and the rest of his life.

Funny, but that thought no longer made him clench up with fear the way it had a week ago.

Hannah had been silent for a moment, then taken a deep breath and muttered, “Never mind. You’re going to have to figure this one out on your own, Ry.”

That conversation had played through his mind all damn day, and she’d apparently called back to get out whatever it was she’d wanted to say, because the first words out of her mouth this time were, “Okay, have you told her how you feel yet?”

“Ah…no,” he muttered, hating that he was feeling kinda tongue-tied about the subject, and wondering just what in the hell Hannah was getting at.

There was a pause—one in which his heart began beating like a friggin’ bass drum—and then she said in a rush, as if she had to force the words out quickly, “Shea’s probably going to kill me for this, but if I don’t help you out here, you’re going to completely screw this up. So…what I’m trying to say is…well, I think you should know she’s in love with you. It’s not just lust for her, Ry. She’s madly, totally in love with you—the head over heels, happily ever after kind. So don’t even think about breaking her heart or hurting her, because if you do, I promise I’ll make you sorry.”

Ryan blinked in surprise, his heart one shockingly hard, resounding beat in his chest. “Huh?” he muttered stupidly, his blown brainwaves unable to come up with anything more intelligent or insightful to say. Finally, he managed to grunt, “Well, if that’s true, she sure as hell hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

“Gee, I wonder why? She already believes you’re going to break her heart when you’re through with her. And she isn’t an idiot. She’s smart and beautiful and full of life. She’ll protect herself, and that means she’ll keep her feelings to herself, no matter how much of a temptation you might be.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

There was silence, and then, in a low voice, Hannah said, “I know it’s hard for you to remember at times, Ry, but I am a woman. I may not believe in fairy tales anymore, but I know when I see true love. I know when I see something that’s real. And this woman is my best friend, so I’d like to think I’ve got a good understanding of her.”

For the first time in their entire friendship, Ryan heard a real thread of fury in Hannah’s husky voice. “I’d really been holding out hope that you wouldn’t let her get away, but if all you’re looking for is a good fuck, then stay the hell away from her. She doesn’t deserve to be used and tossed aside. She’s something special. She deserves someone who can give her more.”

“And if that person’s me?” he grunted, suddenly no longer caring if he made a fool out of himself.

More silence, and then a soft, almost inaudible sigh. “Jesus, you’re serious, aren’t you? She’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she? I mean—you actually want her for more than just some raunchy time between the sheets, don’t you?”

Ryan snorted. “Don’t get me wrong, Hannah. I want the raunchy sex, no two ways about it. I want to nail her more than I’ve ever wanted anything—anything in my entire life.” His eyes closed as he laid his head back on the headrest and took a slow, deep breath. “But it’s more than that. I want her,” he muttered, unable to stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth. “I want to live with her and sleep with her and take care of her. I want to own her and I want everyone to know it, and I want her to own me. I want to be responsible for her, Hannah. I want it all. I want everything.”

Even though she couldn’t see him, he felt his face go hot, uncomfortable and unsure, but refused to be embarrassed about revealing so much of himself. God knew she’d unloaded her female troubles on him enough times over the years. Hell, it was only fair that he get a turn.

Hannah laughed—a soft, happy sound—and he knew that it was for him, that she was honestly happy for him, which made him a pretty lucky bastard to have such an incredible friend in his life. Too bad he had to be a miserable, broken-hearted bastard as well—if it turned out that Shea didn’t feel the same way about him. “You’ve actually done it, honey. You’ve finally let that bitch Kelly stop ruining your life and fallen in love.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t go celebrating just yet. She hasn’t admitted jack shit about how she feels to me, remember? Maybe you’re wrong.”

“Stop being such a chicken shit and go tell her how you feel, you big oaf. That woman’s loved you since the moment she first set eyes on you.”

And with that heart-jolting statement, the line disconnected. Ryan didn’t know how long he sat there trembling with the biggest, goofiest grin splitting his face, feeling like an idiot but too happy to give a damn. Shea loved him? No, wait—Hannah had said Shea was madly in love with him!!!

Holy shit!

But what if she was wrong? His heart kept pounding like a son-of-a-bitch while he tried to sort it out. Had she meant the words that had almost tumbled from her mouth that first night, before he’d swallowed them with his kiss, cutting off whatever it was she would’ve said?

If she’d said she was in love with him, would it have been the truth?

And he knew it didn’t have to do with finally letting go of the past. It was Shea. He could’ve spent the last fifteen years searching for love, and it wouldn’t have mattered, because he wouldn’t have had her.

And now he did.

Memories of the week crashed over him: her smiles, her laughter, their combustible physical chemistry—the mind-blowing hours they’d spent grinding against one another, sapping their bodies of strength as orgasm after orgasm had pounded through their systems.

But one of the sweetest of all—his favorite—was waking at odd hours to find her propped up beside him, her little book light set on dim while she read her school texts, obviously trying to get in her studying hours whenever she could, since he had staked such a monopoly on her evenings. He loved the way her sexy curls fell around her pretty face, her expression serious as she read about God only knew what. Her intelligence was so much a part of her, and he felt a strange, foreign pride in his chest at all she’d accomplished—all that she would. She was one hell of a woman, and he would lie there beside her, his body pressed to her side, arm wrapped possessively around her waist, pretending to sleep while watching her beneath his lashes, unable to take his eyes off of her.

Yeah, he was a lovesick ass, all right. The one thing he’d sworn he’d never, ever be.

And God help him, he no longer fucking cared.

All he cared about was going and getting his hands on his woman, and keeping them there forever.

By the time Ryan threw open his front door, he was nervous and shaking and damn near terrified. Finding Shea sitting on his sofa, reading a thick book on Alexander the Great, was nearly enough to do his knees in with relief.