In Bed with Mr. Wrong (2 page)

He pulled onto the street, wishing he hadn’t agreed to this favor. Instead of sitting
in his SUV with a prickly little librarian, he’d be drinking beer with his brother
and Avery while they played video games.

On second thought, maybe this was the better of the two options.

He glanced at Bri, taking in the way she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself,
as if she might break apart at any second. Or maybe she was just trying not to rip
him a new one. He didn’t normally have women going for his throat within thirty seconds
of meeting him, and this was a new experience he could have gone without. Ryan turned
out of her neighborhood and replayed their meeting from beginning to end, trying to
determine where it had all gone wrong.

It didn’t take long to figure out the answer.

When she’d opened the door, he’d been blown away, not expecting such an intoxicating
blend of beautiful and what he could only describe as
librarian
. She’d been flushed and sporting an expression that was both terrified and excited,
and all he could focus on was how he wanted to take off those sexy glasses and see
if her lips tasted as kissable as they looked.

By the time he’d gotten hold of himself, all the excitement had melted away, leaving
only a wary resignation. And then it was too late. Not a damn thing he could do or
say would take back those seventeen seconds—she’d already mistaken his silence for
disappointment. “You’re wrong.”

“Concerning which part?” She didn’t even look at him. “The fact that you can’t be
trusted to spend time alone without doing damage to public property? Or for believing
my friends when they said they were setting me up with a nice guy?”

He clenched his jaw. “Moving past the property damage bullshit for a second, what
makes you think I’m not a nice guy?”

“Would you like a list?” She shook her head. “You couldn’t be clearer about your distaste
for Wellingford. That’s hardly nice.”

“My disliking this place has nothing to do with being nice. This town is small and
cloying and everyone here has been stuck in a rut since the lumber mill opened up
a few hundred years ago.” Too late, he realized he had just included Bri in the insult.

She finally turned in her seat to face him. “Is that so? And what’s so wrong with
working a legitimate job and making a living? Or the people who want a life where
they know their neighbors? Or that
some of us
like not having to worry about locking our doors at night?”

He winced. Yep. She’d caught the unintended insult. “I—”

She spoke right over him. “Yes, people like to gossip and keep tabs on each other,
but that’s what family does. At least you have one, even if you ran away from it.”

Setting aside the implication that she
didn’t
have a family for now, he growled. “I didn’t run away.”

“To hear Drew tell of it, you barely waited a week after graduation to up and leave.”

Yeah, because he couldn’t stand one more day of being known as Drunk Billy’s youngest
boy, always causing trouble, never quite doing a damn thing right no matter how hard
he tried. Burning down the high school—accidentally or not—had just been the straw
that broke the camel’s back.

That didn’t mean that this little spitfire could look down her adorable nose at everything
he’d accomplished since. “There’s nothing wrong with joining the military and doing
something useful with my life.”

“You’re right. There isn’t. It’s admirable.” She didn’t give him time to deal with
the shock of her actually agreeing with him. “How many times have you been home in
the last ten years?”

From her tone, she already knew the answer. Twice. Once for his old man’s funeral,
and once for Drew’s graduation from the police academy. Needing to get the topic off
himself—and away from her goddamn judgment—he turned the tables. “You know, from the
way Drew described you, I didn’t expect an interrogation.”

She huffed again as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot. He’d picked the Italian
place on the outskirts of town, hoping to minimize the chance of running into anyone
he knew. If he thought he could have gotten away with driving all the way into Williamsport,
he would. But it was nearly forty minutes away, and he didn’t think he could handle
being closeted in this SUV with Bri that long. He kept catching the faintest strain
of her perfume, something light and floral, and it was distracting as hell. Annoyed
that he’d even noticed, he spoke without thinking. “That said, for a mousy librarian,
you sure have a mouth on you.”

…

Mousy librarian
. He really wasn’t pulling any punches. Bri gripped her purse as she started for the
restaurant, and she nearly gasped when he pressed a hand to the small of her back
and guided her through the door. She glanced at him, half expecting to see… She wasn’t
sure what. But there was just tight anger on his face.

What had she expected? That he was so overcome by her mousiness that he couldn’t help
but touch her? She might enjoy living in the fictional worlds of her books, but she
wasn’t delusional.

Knowing that didn’t help the way the heat from his hand seemed to seep through her
coat and blouse and imprint itself on her skin. His thumb stroked down her spine in
what
must
have been an accident, but it didn’t stop her from catching her breath. Was he playing
with her? Look at the poor, dowdy librarian, and how she responds to the slightest
touch like an overeager puppy. Pathetic.

She swatted his hand off her back, hating that she immediately missed the feel of
him touching her. “Stop that.”

His mild look only made her want to spit nails. “I’m being polite.”

“Your version leaves a few things to be desired.” Mainly the “polite” part.

They followed the perky redheaded hostess back to a corner of the restaurant. Bri
couldn’t help wondering if he’d purposely picked the restaurant on the farthest edge
of town and called ahead and requested a spot where they were guaranteed to melt into
the background and avoid every other customer in the place. He must really not want
anyone to see them together.

Ryan held her chair out for her, and the suspicion that he was having one over on
her only solidified. He’d spent their short time together insulting both her looks
and her profession, and now he was being courteous?

It didn’t help that her body responded to him in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She
wanted to blame it on the candlelight glinting off his strong jaw and those wonderful
shoulders, wanted to believe the lie of intimacy created by the shadows and the way
he rested his perfectly muscled forearms on the small table between them.

Because she wanted to believe it so desperately, she clung to the only ammo she had
against him. “I might be a mousy librarian, but we can’t all be juvenile delinquents
with firebug tendencies.”

His jaw hardened, sending a ripple of something through her lower stomach. “Too much
excitement for you? Playing it safe is just another way of hiding.”

The barb struck too close to home. So what if she liked to play it safe? There was
nothing wrong with wanting her adult life to have the security and roots her childhood
had lacked. Maybe she’d missed a few opportunities for excitement as a result, but
she regretted nothing. For him to sit there and judge her for that… “Better that than
running away the first opportunity you had. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t up and
join the circus and cement the cliché.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’ve heard enough.” As soon as she’d moved to Wellingford, she’d been entertained
with stories of past events, many of which Ryan starred in. Most of those came from
Drew himself, but there always seemed to be someone nearby to chip in with more when
he got going.

“You and every other person in town. You’re all old maids, sitting around and telling
tales of the glory days.”

Bri flinched. She’d grown up dreaming about a town like Wellingford, a place where
family meant more than blood and it was finally safe to let down her guard. To have
him so blatantly dismissing it—and dismissing
her
—stuck in her throat. “Just because you’ve seen a bit more of the world doesn’t mean
you can look down on the people who live here.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m not the only one looking down on someone here.”

“Yes, well, your opinion is pretty clear, don’t you think?”

Ryan glared. “No, I don’t think. You’ve been here about a year, am I right?”

“Fourteen months.” Not very long in the grand scheme of things, but she’d managed
to put down small roots, to instate a successful children’s program in her library,
and to finally start to feel like she’d found somewhere to belong.

“Exactly.” Then he lifted his menu, obviously done with the conversation.

Well, that was too damn bad. She wasn’t. “Explain, please.”

“It means Wellingford is still a novelty for you. It’s new and cute and you’ve got
stars in your eyes. I don’t. I see a place where everyone is in their neighbors’ business,
and you can’t make a stop at Chilly’s without everyone in town knowing about it and
speculating if you have an alcohol problem.”

What?
Bri made a conscious effort to close her mouth before she spoke without thinking.
Why would anyone assume that he’d have an alcohol problem? She knew for a fact Drew
stopped by the local bar most days after work to have a beer, and there had never
been a whisper of anything like that.

The waiter approached, all smiles and cheer, giving her the much-needed break to figure
out how she was supposed to respond. She ordered a red wine while she considered,
while Ryan ordered Drew’s favorite locally made beer. For all his negativity toward
this town and its people, he’d obviously maintained a few roots of his own.

As soon as the waiter walked away, the charm he’d conjured up fled from Ryan’s face.
Before she could say anything, he charged on, “And that’s not even getting started
on how every single person here is so integrated in the past that they can’t step
into the future.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having an appreciation of the past. It defines us.”

“Some of us don’t want to be defined by a drunk asshole of a father, or things we
did when we were snot-nosed kids.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, it took her half a second to process his words. A
drunk father? She’d known Drew for nearly a year and he’d never once mentioned anything
like that. All she knew was that both his parents were gone, just like hers, but he
never went into the details.

She unfolded her napkin, moving slower than normal as she processed the information
and held it up to what she knew of Drew and Ryan. Maybe his leaving Wellingford had
more to do with leaving his father behind than leaving the town? “I’m sorry.”

He frowned, as if waiting for her to say something else. But what else could she say?
She hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods, either.

The line between his brows deepened when she didn’t jump in. “Whatever you’re thinking,
knock it off.”

She laid her napkin in her lap. “I was just thinking that you and I aren’t that different.”

“Get that thought right out of your head, Bri. You’re wrong. You and I are nothing
alike.”

Funny, but she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Chapter Two

For all her talk of their being alike, she pitied him. Ryan could see it on her face.
This
was why he never came home. It didn’t matter that he’d moved on with his life and
made something of himself, or that he was part of one of the most elite professions
within the Air Force. They’d never see him as anything other than Ryan Flannery, Drunk
Billy’s youngest boy, and the Boy Who Burned Down the High School.

The people here had no desire to know the real Ryan. The woman sitting across from
him was no different. Hell, she fit in here better than he ever had.

As much as it pained him to admit, there was something about her that got under his
skin. He shouldn’t care what this near stranger thought of him. She was no one.

Except he
did
care. It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t flashy or oozing sex appeal like some
of his exes, but she had an understated look that made him sit up and take notice.

She smiled as the waiter brought their food, and even thanked him as if she really
was the sweet woman Ryan had been promised. As the man walked away, she took a bite
of her spaghetti, closed her eyes, and made a sound that he’d remember to his dying
day. It was a cross between a whimper and a moan and it brought to mind all sorts
of thoughts he had no business entertaining.

He shifted, unable to take his gaze off her face, and equally unable to stifle his
body’s reaction to her.
Holy shit
. She looked even softer with her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. His body
went on high alert, his instincts demanding he reach across the table and touch her.
He must have let some of that desire through, because when she opened her eyes, she
blushed.

“Stop staring at me.”

“We’re on a date. Staring goes with the territory.” He let himself look his fill,
coasting over the mass of dark hair, the blue eyes her glasses couldn’t quite hide,
and those lips, rosy and too damn kissable for his frame of mind. He leaned forward,
ignoring his plate. She bit her lip, looking uncomfortable with his attention. This,
at least, fit with how his brother had described her. Shy. Needing to be taken out
and shown a good time. Which left the question of
why
. “So tell me. What are you hiding from?”

Bri went rigid. “I’m not hiding from anything.”

He’d struck a sore spot, one he couldn’t help poking at again with how irritated he
was by his reaction to her. “Sure you are. Look at the way you dress—”

“I am
not
mousy.”

“—and the way you wear your hair.” He reached across the table and twined his finger
through the lock closest to her face, enjoying the way she blushed harder. He would
have enjoyed it a lot more if her hair wasn’t just as soft and thick as it looked.
After giving it a tug, he released her and sat back. “All signs point to you hiding.
From what?”

She set her fork down and took a sip of her wine with shaking fingers. It was nice
knowing he wasn’t the only one with frayed nerves. But by the time she set the glass
down, her calm mask was back in place. “I have nothing to hide from.”

She was lying, which only made him more curious to know what made a woman like Bri
tick. While it was obvious he wasn’t getting answers tonight, he couldn’t resist one
last dig. “In that case, you’re really trying too damn hard to fit the picture of
what a librarian should be. Because, seriously, you’re wearing cat-eye glasses and
frumpy clothes.”

She glanced at him from under her fringe of bangs, those eyes like a kick to the gut
he didn’t want to deal with. “How would you know? I doubt you’ve spent much time around
books, let alone in a library full of them.”

Well, hell, that stung. “You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you so angry?” She pushed her plate away. “I’m not really hungry, and
I think we’ve put in enough time for this favor to be considered successful. I’m ready
to go home.”

She was done, just like that? “So eager to run home and read to your fish.”

“Mr. Smith is significantly better company than I’m keeping right now.”

It figured that she’d think that. She’d started this date looking down her nose at
him, and it appeared she was going to end it the same way. Ryan picked up his beer
and drained the last of it. “That’s all well and good, but I’m having another beer.”
Being at the same table with this woman was enough to drive a saint to drink, and
he sure as fuck wasn’t that good of a man.

“Do whatever makes you happy. I’ll get a cab home.”

Like hell she would. That was just what he needed—her telling Drew he was being an
ass, and then having to explain to his brother and Avery why things had gone so horribly
wrong. He would rather get her home and forget this shit ever happened. With a sigh,
he motioned her back down. “Relax. I’ll pay the tab and drive you home. No need to
get your panties in a twist.”

Her knuckles went white where they clutched her purse. “My panties are none of your
concern.”

Their bill arrived and he pulled out his wallet. “Honey, if there wasn’t such a large
stick up your ass, you’d be begging me to rip off those lily-white granny panties—with
my teeth.” She gasped, but he ignored her response and pushed to his feet. “But that
might be too much excitement for a prickly little librarian like you.”

…

By the time Ryan pulled up in front of her house, Bri was ready to throw herself from
the SUV to get away from her own mind. His words had sparked her imagination in the
worst way possible. All she could picture was him kneeling before her, his huge shoulders
parting her legs, and pressing his mouth against her
there
. No one had ever done that to her before, so she’d never felt the loss. Now? Now
she clenched her legs together in an effort to tell herself she didn’t
need
it.

All the while, he sat there in the driver’s seat, sending off waves of… She wasn’t
really sure what. Anger? Annoyance? Lust? Whatever it was, it was too charged to be
labeled
heat
.

And that parting line right before they left the restaurant? How dare he! The insult
hit even closer to home because just imagining him kissing her between her legs made
her entire body shake. Actually doing it in real life might kill her. Heck yes, it
was too much excitement. What was so wrong with that? This was the first date—even
if they’d hit it off, there was no possibility of things going further than a good-night
kiss.

She should have stayed home and finished her book. At least then she’d be guaranteed
to be spending her time with a man who wasn’t pushing every single one of her buttons—only
the button guaranteed to spin her out of her mind with pleasure.

Instead of driving off like she wished he would, Ryan got out of the car and walked
her to the porch door, his hand once again settling on the small of her back. How
could he do that, cut her legs out from beneath her and then touch her with such a
casual possessiveness? She brushed against him with every step, his cologne making
her want to move closer and press her nose against his neck.

What was she thinking? She could barely stand this man. She had no business considering
pressing any part of her against any part of him. Unless it was her front door to
his face.

They reached the steps of her porch. He held the screen door open for her and ushered
her through. It should have been romantic, standing there in the soft light with the
wind rustling the tall bushes surrounding her screened-in front porch. If they were
in her book right now, the entire night would have been working toward this very second.

They were most definitely not in a romance novel.

“I would say it’s been a pleasure,” she said, “but I don’t make a habit of lying.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re practically a goddamn saint, aren’t you?”

She poked a finger into his chest. “It’s not being a saint to expect a little conversational
courtesy on a date. You’ve gone and shot all that to hell. Don’t think for a second
you’re getting a good-night kiss.”

“A kiss from you?” He stepped forward into her finger, forcing her to open her hand
against his chest or take a step back. She refused to budge. He leaned down, crowding
her. “I’d rather kiss a snake.”

“Then it’s too bad it’s winter, because they’re in short supply.” She pushed at his
chest again, nearly snarling when he didn’t move. “You should just burn something
else down. That might draw a few to the heat.”

“Or maybe I’ll just set fire to your goddamn granny panties. That’s sure to create
a big enough blaze.”

Her jaw dropped open and she swallowed hard. “As if you could.”

“Watch me.”

He grabbed her hips and yanked her against him. Bri gasped. There was so much heat
in his blue eyes, it was a wonder every single article of clothing she wore didn’t
go up in smoke. “You—”

But then she saw it. The challenge hidden behind the heat. He didn’t think she could
handle this. Handle
him
.

His mouth curled into a smirk, and his hands tightened on her hips. The feel of his
fingers digging into her flesh through the thin fabric of her skirt made her want
to throw all caution to the wind. He thought he’d won, did he?

“Screw it.” She grabbed the lapels of his shirt and went up on her tiptoes to smash
her lips against his. He froze, then stumbled backward and slammed into the wall of
her screened porch, taking her with him. A wave of victory went through her. For all
his talk, he hadn’t expected her to make a move. She moved one hand to the back of
his neck and tipped his head down so she could set her teeth into his bottom lip.

Just like that, he came alive in her arms and pulled her tighter against him. His
tongue delved into her mouth, stroking hers with no hesitation, igniting her passion
until she couldn’t fight back a moan. How could one giant brute taste so decadent?
She slid her tongue along his, not sure if she was searching for an answer or simply
enjoying the way her very nerves seemed to spark and dance at every place they touched.

Would her whole body do that if they were naked?

Whoa. Where had that thought come from? She was proving him wrong, not jumping into
bed with the man. She tried to pull away. “I think—”

“Stop talking.” Ryan cupped her backside and devoured her mouth, grinding her against…
holy hell
. Her entire body went soft, knees weakening until it was only his firm grip that
kept her from melting to a puddle at his feet. She’d been kissed before, but nothing
like this.
Never
like this. She looped her arms around his neck, suddenly sure that getting closer
was the only cure for the warmth pulsing through her body. It wasn’t enough, not with
his tongue doing wicked things to her mouth and his body a hard counterpoint to her
own.

She made a desperate noise in the back of her throat, and he responded by taking two
large steps back and sinking onto the porch swing. The new position left her straddling
him, and her flowy skirt immediately got in the way, bunching between their bodies
and creating yet another barrier. They groaned together when she shifted, yanking
the fabric up so she had access to his hard length. When she rocked against him, he
groaned again and grabbed the arm of the swing.

“Hey. Keep your pyro hands off my house.”

His big hands moved under her shirt and up her sides to cup her breasts. Bri only
had a moment to thank God it was dark enough that he wouldn’t notice the plain cotton
bra before he pulled the cups down so he could stroke her nipples. “The only place
my hands are going to be is here.” He squeezed her breasts and then reached down to
press his palm against the vee between her legs. “And here.”

“
Oh
.” She rocked against him again as he kissed down her neck, his fingers stoking the
need inside her until it was almost a pain. His whiskers rasped over her skin, and
she whimpered. “Please, Ryan.
Please
.” She wasn’t even sure what she was begging him for, only that she needed it and
needed it now.

“I’ll give you what you need. I promise.” He pulled her shirt over her head, his mouth
leaving her skin barely long enough for the fabric to slide past. Then Ryan unhooked
her bra and dropped it somewhere behind her.

Oh dear God, I’m nearly naked on my front porch.
His lips closed around her nipple and her entire ability to reason shorted out, along
with any worries she had about giving her neighbors a show. As his tongue slid over
her, she shivered. This was… There were no words.

How could there be no words?

“Not enough,” he muttered against her skin.

“What?”

His only answer was to stand up, pull her legs around his waist, and set her back
on the swing, going to his knees in front of her. Bri met his gaze, very aware that
she was topless with her skirt shoved up around her waist. She should have felt exposed
and embarrassed, but all she could see was her own need reflected in his eyes. Ryan
reached up to cup her face. “Are you sure—?”

She was already nodding. They couldn’t stop now, not when she was poised on this precipice.
To ensure he didn’t get any crazy ideas, she leaned forward and kissed him again.
It felt so terrifyingly good, better than the best kind of chocolate, the kind of
thing she may never get enough of. “Please don’t stop touching me, Ryan.
Please
.”