Chapter 20
The door closed behind them. She stopped, spun around and stared at Ryder. They were a banged-up pair with multiple sets of stitches and bandages between them.
And he’d never looked more beautiful to her.
He studied her with that warm and caring gaze she’d come to depend on these last few days. But there was also just that hint of a question. That hint of fear. Insecurity and uncertainty that she’d been responsible for placing there. She gave him a tremulous smile and said, “We’re alone.”
He nodded. “With a big bed, room service, plenty of clean sheets and lots of hot water.”
She laughed, remembering her words to him twenty-four hours earlier. “What a couple of days it’s been.” She walked to the double glass doors of the London hotel and stared out at the lights. “This is a world away from where we’ve been.”
“And that’s one of the joys about doing what we do. We see the world, both the good and the bad parts.”
She smiled. “You could’ve stayed with your unit.”
He chuckled. “Not one of them would’ve thought I was in my right mind if I had. It’s all good. They have friends around. We have a couple days in London to regroup. Then you and I head back to California. What’s not to like about that?” He wrapped his good arm around her.
She smiled and snuggled close. “Is this really the start of our new life?”
“I think it started a while ago,” he said cheerfully. “This is yet another step on our journey. Hopefully one that will be a little easier moving forward.”
She turned in his arms and stared up at him. She desperately didn’t want to cry, but the moment was so emotional it was hard not to. “It’s my fault the journey was difficult.”
He shook his head. “There’s no fault here, no blame to place. Besides it all worked out in the end. And that’s what matters.” He stroked her along her jaw and cheekbone. “Although your reasoning took a bit to get my mind wrapped around it, I can see how, for you, that’s the way it was.”
She dropped her head against his chest. “I feel like such a fool.”
He tilted her chin higher, dropped a kiss on her forehead, then on the space between her eyes, down on the tip of her nose. Gently he brushed his lips across hers. “I don’t ever want you to feel foolish over something like that. But it would be nice if you talk to me as soon as you get as confused as you were back then.”
She chuckled. “If we had talked immediately afterward, everything would’ve been a lot easier.” She slipped her arms around his neck.
He lowered his head, and, just before he took her lips for his own, he whispered, “And I suggest we revisit that weekend. I’m sure it’s time for you to remember.”
She thought he would kiss her. But instead, his hand dropped lower. Then he scooped down, swung her into his arms, turned and walked a few steps to the bed. He tossed her lightly into the middle of the big cloud of bedding. She shrieked with laughter and tried to bounce back onto her feet, but he was over and above her, his legs pinning her in place, his good arm pulling her arms over her head.
He glanced down at her and whispered, “You remember this?” And he ground his pelvis against hers.
His erection prodded at the heart of her. She could feel her body softening, warming, welcoming—waiting for him. And she moaned.
“Do you remember this?” He clasped both wrists with his injured arm and slid his other hand down to cup her breast, his fingers automatically testing the weight, the plumpness, the firm peak between his fingers. Then he slid his hand lower, then under her shirt to sweep across her soft smooth skin, his fingers dancing along the edge of her pants. “You remember this?”
Her breath came out in harsh gasps as she twisted in his arms. “I remember this all too well,” she groaned, her body arching under him. “I remember threatening you if you didn’t let go of my wrists.”
He chuckled and gently released one of her hands. “And I remember doing exactly as you requested.” He slid his hand down her hip, around the back to her cheeks and gave a gentle squeeze of her jeans-clad butt. Slowly teasing, he slipped his hand farther down her thigh to the back of her knee, skimming the space where she was so tender and ticklish, all the way down to her ankle. He slipped her shoes off and followed them with her socks.
Within seconds his hand was at her jeans, opening the zipper and undoing the button. She’d been amazed back then at his skill in removing her clothes. Now she was damn grateful. Her jeans went flying to the floor almost without her noticing.
Now that she was clad in a narrow thong, his breath caught in the back of his throat as he dipped a finger under the elastic to the tiny swath of curls underneath. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.”
He lowered his head, placed a ribbon of kisses across her ribs, her collarbone, her arms and the inside of her elbow. He pushed her shirt higher and higher, making a path for his kisses, for that sensitive trail that drove her nuts. He’d always been able to do that to her. Their passion had been instant. Once they had given themselves permission to go that route, nothing had ever been the same again. And she knew nothing ever would be again.
This was the man for her. This was the man she’d always loved. She didn’t know why it had taken her so long to figure it out. But now that she had, she didn’t want to waste another moment. With her shirt pulled up against her chin, and her chest exposed, he quickly loosened her bra around the back, letting it slide up over her breasts. He drove her wild as he suckled each in turn.
She tried to release her other hand to get his shirt off, but it was so damn hard. She couldn’t reach more than his shoulders, a little bit of his back, his head. She stroked her fingers through his curls around his ear, trying to pull him up higher, but he wouldn’t let her. He was doing this his way, in his time, and she was helpless to resist. Nor did she want to. She twisted beneath him, moaning as he lit a fire deep inside. Finally he released her, and her shirt flew off her back to the floor. He straddled her and slipped the bra up her arms to join the rest of her clothing.
As she lay there before him, beneath him in just a thong, she watched him as he studied her. Her heart thudded in her chest at his flushed skin and the hot gaze as he grasped her hands, tugging them against his mouth, where he kissed her fingers one by one.
“Dear God, I never thought I’d get here again.”
She stretched out her fingers to stroke his cheek, her body arching, and whispered, “Come to me. Come to me now.”
He released her fingers and pulled his shirt off over his head. Her fingers slid down his chest to his jeans, opening the button, sliding down the zipper over the hard ridge underneath. Her finger slipped inside, searching, stroking and aching to grasp the erection she knew all too well. And yet, not well enough. He groaned, rolled to the side, and within seconds he was nude.
His right hand closed around hers on his shaft, and he squeezed gently for a moment, shuddering. The fingers of his left hand slid in long strokes from her shoulders over her breasts down to her small waist. “Your skin … it’s so delicate … soft.”
His fingers stroked, soothed and teased her skin. Tiny mewling cries escaped her throat. She barely recognized the sounds or her body movements as she twisted under his ministrations. When his fingers teased along the edge of her thong, her lower body both retreated and arched into his caress, wanting so much more but barely able to stand his sensuous touch. He lowered his head and kissed her navel, his tongue sliding along the elastic of her thong, his mouth dropping kisses on the curls below. She reached out and grabbed his head to pull him up, her legs widening and stretching, making room for him.
“I need you now,” she whispered. “I want you inside me. As a part of me. One with me.”
He shuddered at her words, and the triangle scrap of material was suddenly gone. He slid his hands under her hips, lifted her up, opened her even wider and then, sitting back on his knees, he placed himself at the heart of her.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
And he thrust home. She arched, crying out. He stilled, a question in his eyes.
She shook her head. “So good. So damned good.”
Then he started to move. Gone was the control. Gone was the restraint. He pounded into her, driving hard for the release they both needed. And she reached it, crying out, before collapsing down to hold him close. He drove once, twice, three more times, and unbelievably she could feel the tension inside her twisting harder, tighter, stronger yet again. Finally he groaned, and a long cry, guttural and deep, released from his throat as he rode through her.
She splintered apart again. He collapsed beside her and held her close.
When she could, she whispered, “I don’t think two days will be enough.”
“I don’t think our lifetime will be enough.”
Tears burned her eyes as she realized just how much she’d almost missed out on. She tilted her head back and said, “Welcome home.”
He rolled over and kissed her. And she knew neither of them would ever be alone again.