In Bed with Mr. Wrong (8 page)

Chapter Ten

What did this woman do to him?

Ryan sank to the floor and pulled Bri into his lap. He wanted to say something, do
something, to cement this peaceful feeling soaking into him. Maybe, just maybe, they
were finally getting somewhere. “Come on.”

“What?” Bri blinked up at him as he shifted her to the carpet next to him and stood.
He would have liked to think that her expression was caused by the aftereffects of
her orgasm, but he didn’t think so.

“Come to bed with me.” He held out his hand, which she proceeded to look at like it
might jump off his wrist and go for her throat.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He gritted his teeth and strove for patience. “Honey, I just banged you against the
wall. I’m pretty confident that coming to bed with me isn’t going to cross any more
boundaries.”

Instead of being reassured, she only looked more determined. “No. We’re not sleeping
together.”

“We just did.”

She struggled to her feet and hurriedly gathered up her clothes. “No. What we did
was have sex. Sleeping together isn’t the same thing.”

It shouldn’t have felt like a slap to the face. But it did. “So I’m good enough to
fuck, but I’m not good enough to sleep next to on a massive king-size bed.” He shouldn’t
be surprised. He’d been fighting to be considered worth something for his whole damn
life, and she’d just thrown it back in his face. Stupidly, he’d thought that maybe
she’d felt some of the same connection he had while they were all tangled up in each
other.

Guess not.

The pile of clothes she had clutched to her chest dipped, as if she were really considering
it. “I… That’s not what I meant. It’s just—” She closed her eyes and, when she opened
them, the warmth those baby blues had previously held was gone. “Will you please put
on some clothes?”

God forbid. Ryan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “You
weren’t complaining a minute ago.”

Her face flamed as if he’d just said something seriously inappropriate. “That’s not
fair. If you can’t maintain the boundaries I need, maybe we shouldn’t have sex anymore.”

Absolutely not. He wasn’t about to let her avoid this conversation and make him feel
like a dick when it was
her
idea to begin with. Ryan clenched his jaw as he disposed of the condom and yanked
on his jeans. He wasn’t close enough to touch her, but she gave his groin area a wild
look—as if he were really going to pop his cock out uninvited.

Ryan wasn’t always a gentleman and he wasn’t always nice, but he didn’t disrespect
women, and he sure as fuck didn’t push them into a situation where they’d feel uncomfortable.
Considering she’d just had her legs wrapped around his waist while begging him to
fuck her, her acting like he was a Neanderthal now grated. “Stop it. Just fucking
cut it out.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “I don’t understand.”

“Stop looking at me like you think I’m going to haul your ass over to the bed and
fuck you.”

She gasped and her eyes went wide. If she hadn’t licked her lips, he might have actually
believed she was scandalized. She wasn’t, though. She wanted him again—just like he
wanted her.

Too fucking bad.

He wasn’t going to play these games with her and her mixed messages. Ryan might be
fighting everything in him to avoid doing what he’d just described to her, but he
sure as fuck wasn’t going to touch her until she figured out whatever her issue was.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward until his face was bare inches
from hers.

“Let’s get something straight. I’m not a toy you can pick up and then throw away when
you’re done with me. You don’t want to sleep in the bed? Fine. I’m not going to tie
you up and force it on you, but I’m sure as fuck not going to let you keep flipping
around on me. You need to make up your mind about what you want. When you do that,
let me know.”

Then he stalked down the hallway and slammed the door. Under normal circumstances,
there was no way in hell he’d let a woman sleep on the couch while he took the bed,
but…

Shit. He still couldn’t.

Cursing himself up one side and down the other, Ryan threw open the door. She still
stood wide-eyed in the middle of the hallway where he’d left her. “Take the bed.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have five seconds to get into the bedroom and shut the door, or you’re sleeping
on the couch.”

She gave a short nod and slid past him. “Thank you.” Then she was gone, the door shutting
between them.

It felt like yet another wall coming up.

…

Bri curled up in the middle of the massive bed, but no matter how tired she was she
couldn’t shut off her racing thoughts. The fact that Ryan wanted to share the bed
was a big deal. She wasn’t sure what it was a step toward, but as soon as he’d offered,
she’d nearly had a panic attack. Every time she had sex with him, she fell a little
more under his spell. She’d already had to forcibly remind herself that he wasn’t
sticking around—and he never would. He was shipping out in a little over a week. It
was at the top of a list of reasons they shouldn’t be together, a list that only seemed
to get shorter as time went on.

A list she wasn’t sure why she was clinging to so fiercely.

No, that wasn’t entirely accurate. She knew all too well why she held it so closely.
This wasn’t a romance novel. Just because she didn’t dislike him as intensely as she
had when they first met didn’t mean a single thing about their overall compatibility.
Love wasn’t the glue that held a relationship together. It was something that came
from hard work and commitment and a thousand other things people in relationships
often took for granted.

She wasn’t interested in love when it came to Ryan.

Love?
Bri took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. No one had said anything about love. What
would a relationship with him even look like? He was a pararescuer, which meant he’d
leave on regular tours overseas. Tours she had no guarantee he’d ever come back from.
It was in his job description to charge into situations most people fled from. Maybe
he’d come home from this one, but it was only a matter of time before he’d have to
go in to save a wounded soldier and wouldn’t make it back. Their motto—which she’d
looked up when Drew first bragged about his little brother—was
That Others May Live
. He’d always be more concerned about the soldiers he rescued than his own well-being.

She might very well be left waiting for him to come home from a mission for the rest
of her life, nursing yet another scar on her soul because she’d taken a risk on someone
she knew would hurt her in the end.

No way could she handle losing another person. Not like that.

She fell asleep still contemplating the potential future, which was probably why she
woke up the next morning with a sense of unease and vague memories of nightmares.
She adjusted her clothing and winced at the realization that she’d been wearing them
for over twenty-four hours.

A shower was definitely in order. And she’d be a whole lot more confident about that
plan if she could work up the courage to leave the bedroom and walk the three steps
down the hallway to the bathroom door.

It’s not like he’s going to jump out of the shadows and drag you back into the bedroom
. Her entire body heated at the thought, which just went to show sometimes people
were really foolish when it came to sex. She’d always known that, but things hit a
little bit closer to home now that she knew what all the fuss was about.

She made it to the bathroom with no appearance of Ryan and breathed a sigh of relief
as she stepped into the shower. Bri stared at the handful of condom packets shoved
into the rack between jumbo-sized containers of shampoo and conditioner. Exactly how
much sex had Avery and Drew thought they’d have?

The only warning she got was a strange cranking sound, and then the water turned from
pleasantly warm to heart-stoppingly cold. She screamed and scrambled for the faucet,
screaming again when Ryan pounded on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?”

“
Fine
.” Just shaking like a leaf with goose bumps covering her entire body. “Just…go about
your business.”

“Not until you come out.”

He was an impossible pain in the ass, and he’d no doubt be content to sit outside
the door until she did just that. Then she realized—entirely too late—that she didn’t
have any clothes to change into.

Chapter Eleven

Ryan still wasn’t ready to face Bri, especially after the way things had gone last
night. But then he’d heard her scream and reacted. It was becoming a nasty habit when
it came to her, but it was a little late to worry about it now. Not when she was slipping
out the door with a bath towel clutched to her chest that didn’t cover nearly as much
as she seemed to think it did.

It was an effort to keep his gaze glued to her face, but he managed. “There are some
clothes in the closet.”

“Thank you.” She started inching down the hall toward the bedroom, and he had the
sudden thought that if he let her go without saying anything else, it was entirely
possible she’d spend the next two days locked behind that door.

“Bri—”

“Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay? We can’t get out of this cabin for the
rest of the weekend, and I’d rather not spend it screaming at each other.”

No, there were definitely better kinds of screaming they could be doing. He shook
his head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter how much he wanted her. He was
serious last night—if she didn’t make up her goddamn mind about this thing between
them, he wasn’t having sex with her again.

He realized he was staring. “Yeah. Of course.” He stepped back so she could walk down
the hallway unimpeded and told himself it was for the best. As soon as the door closed
behind her, he hopped in the shower and endured a five-minute freezing scrub-down.
He made it out in time to hear Bri muttering up a storm. Ryan rounded the corner and
froze at the sight of her scrambling to clean up the remains of three broken eggs
on the floor. How the hell had she dropped so many? She glanced up, caught him standing
there, and shot to her feet, her elbow smacking the spatula and sending it spinning
across the counter to join the eggs on the floor.

“Would you like some help?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” She turned around and went back to wiping the egg mess up.
She should have looked sloppy in her oversize sweats and T-shirt but, fresh-faced
and with her hair pulled back, it was everything he could do not to come around the
island and strip her naked.

Good to know his resolve not to touch her was holding on.

“I’m not exactly a great cook, but I figured I could get breakfast started without
too much trouble.” She motioned to a carton of eggs and a pan she was in the process
of breaking them into.

Ryan choked as she dumped what must have been half the saltshaker into the eggs. “That’s
great. I can take over if you want to use the bathroom to finish getting ready.”

She frowned. “Why would I need to ‘finish getting ready’?”

Well, shit. He glanced at the fridge, the stove, and the kitchen island, but none
of them gave him a way out of the hole he’d just dug himself into. There was no safe
answer to that question, but the line between her eyebrows was getting deeper by the
second, so staying silent wasn’t an option either. Since he didn’t particularly want
to fight, he tried to change the subject. “I make a mean breakfast scramble. I think
I saw hash browns in the freezer.”

Bri moved forward, blocking his way. “You think I should go put makeup on or pretty
myself up, don’t you?”

This was exactly the conclusion he hadn’t wanted her to jump to. Truth be told, she
looked more edible than the eggs burning in the pan behind her. “You look fine without
makeup.”

Instead of calming down, her eyes flashed. “
Fine
. You mean fine for a mousy librarian surrounded by books, right? Why would I bother
with makeup since no one expects me to be pretty?”

Christ. He took her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “That’s not what I’m saying
and you goddamn well know it. If you weren’t determined to be so fucking difficult,
I’d have no problem dragging you to the bedroom right here and now.” But he wasn’t
some sex toy, here for her enjoyment. Ryan let her go and stepped back. “Since that’s
not going to happen, why don’t you sit back with your book or something while I toss
those eggs and make a scramble?”

She backed toward the stove, like she thought he was going to jump around her and
grab the pan. “What’s wrong with my eggs?”

“For one, they’re burning. For two, I just watched you dump a day’s sodium intake
onto them.”

“They’re
fine
.” She wielded the spatula, her chin up as if daring him to contradict her.

She wanted to play queen of the castle? Fine. She could choke on the damn eggs. “Knock
yourself out, then.”

Bri grabbed two plates and shoveled a pair of messed up–looking eggs onto each. She
shoved one across the island to him. “
Enjoy
.”

So she expected him to suffer, too? Fine. He’d survived Hell Night during indoctrination.
Nineteen hours of the worst torture training could serve up, and he hadn’t washed
out. Eating two eggs should be nothing compared to that.

He was proven horrifically wrong when he took his first bite and was pretty sure his
tongue would never be the same. Or maybe it was all part of her plan to make sure
his mouth was too dried up to talk for the rest of the weekend. As plans went, it
was brilliant. He got up, doing his damnedest to keep any expression off his face,
and went to the fridge in search of some kind of juice to combat the horrible taste.
Water wasn’t going to cut it today.

Behind him, Bri made a choked noise. He glanced over as he grabbed the orange juice,
schooling his face to show nothing. “Problem?”
How’s that pride tasting now?

She coughed, a pained expression on her face. “Not in the least. How’re the eggs?”

How far was she willing to take this? Because if she thought she could outlast him,
she was crazy. He’d eaten worse things than this—not many, but still. Ryan poured
himself a giant glass of juice and smiled, though it felt more like a baring of teeth.
“They’re great.”

She flinched, then seemed to gather her resolve. “If you’re enjoying them so much,
I should make you seconds.”

The little brat. She would in a heartbeat, too, and smile sweetly while she double-dosed
the salt. He took a long drink and nearly groaned with relief when it hit his parched
tongue. “I’d never be so selfish. You must be starving, though. I don’t see how two
eggs would be enough after the workout I gave you last night.”

Her mouth thinned, blue eyes sparking behind those glasses he still wanted to take
off even though he kind of wanted to throttle her right now, too. “You know, that’s
a fantastic idea. And since I’ll be cooking anyway, it’ll be no trouble for me to
make us
both
more.”

“Awesome.” If he died from high salt toxicity, it was just one more thing to lay at
the feet of Drew and Avery. It would serve them right to show up here and find him
and Bri mummified, all moisture pulled from their bodies.

They ate with jerky movements, staring each other down. He kept waiting for her to
flinch and back off, but she wasn’t showing a bit of weakness. And because of how
things had played out between them up to this point, he
couldn’t
. So he forced down bite after bite of egg while he fantasized about bending her over
this counter and fucking some sense into them both.

She finished her last egg and set down her fork, looking a little green around the
edges. “You know—” Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes going wide.

Though part of him wanted to leave her to her much-deserved suffering, Ryan couldn’t
do it. He slid his half-filled glass over. “Drink.”

“Thanks,” she whispered. Then she drained the entire thing.

He couldn’t let this go on. He wasn’t sure they’d survive a second helping. Even now,
his stomach was making its unhappiness known��which was saying something since he’d
eaten some questionable things over the years. He took a deep breath. “If you’re still
hungry, how about oatmeal instead?” Hopefully it would soak up some of the salt.

For a second, he thought she’d argue or insist on the goddamn eggs, but then Bri offered
up a sheepish smile. “That sounds a lot better than my idea.”

He hopped out of his chair and got to work. If he gave her too long to think about
it, it was entirely possible she’d change her mind.

Once he disposed of the eggs and got a pot of water situated on the stove—and was
facing away from her—he rubbed his stomach and grimaced. Pride might have been the
name of the game, but it was pretty damn stupid to muscle down terrible food just
to prove a point. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a thread of satisfaction that he
wasn’t the first one to blink.

It was high time he got the ball back in his court.

…

Bri sat perfectly still, trying to convince herself she wasn’t going to throw up.
There was a reason her oven sat mostly unused at home. She didn’t bake or roast or
cook as a general rule. The only reason she’d tried this morning was because she needed
something to do while Ryan showered, to distract herself from thoughts of water running
over his naked body. She’d reasoned that he made dinner last night, so she might as
well pull her own weight this morning.

She should have stuck with cold cereal.

But then he’d come in with his comments about her going to the bathroom to finish
getting ready, and she’d forgotten all about trying not to fight. How was she supposed
to keep her temper when his words felt tattooed on her brain?
Mousy librarian
. No matter what had happened since they met, he still thought of her like that.

Would he like her better if she wore makeup?

She gave herself a mental kick. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be with someone
who thought she needed to wear makeup every second of every day in order to be beautiful.
Not that he’d ever called her beautiful. God, she was giving herself a headache with
all this mental circling.

Or maybe that was the sodium overload.

If she hadn’t been so angry, she would have taken him up on his offer to make a scramble
and just tossed the eggs, but she’d wanted to prove to him that there was something
she could do right, even if it was something so small as fried eggs. She was horribly
wrong on that count. From the moment she’d started cooking, things had gone sideways.
And he hadn’t reacted at that first bite, or the second, or any of them. She already
felt so out-of-control around him, admitting she couldn’t eat something that had been
her idea in the first place was harder to swallow than the eggs. So she’d forced down
the entire thing.

Looking back, it was the highest degree of stupidity, but he seemed to bring out that
side of her like no one else she’d met. She’d never had a problem with controlling
herself before, let alone to the point where she was having sex on her porch swing—or
getting into car accidents. But with Ryan, it seemed the most natural thing in the
world to climb into his lap and let him do wicked things to her. At least it did when
they weren’t at each other’s throats.

Why, oh why, had she eaten those stupid eggs?

She sat on the chair she’d started to think of as hers and watched him dump a few
cups of oats into the boiling water. Good Lord. Couldn’t he at least resort to the
little microwavable packets? She knew she shouldn’t feel so damn irritated that he
could cook, but it didn’t stop her from doing exactly that. “Are you
trying
to make me feel inadequate, or does it just come naturally to you?”

To her surprise, he gave her a small smile. “I don’t get a chance to cook all that
often, and I’m kind of enjoying it. My team will eat damn near anything, so it’s nice
to feed someone who might actually appreciate it.”

She blinked. When was the last time someone made something for her with the hope she’d
appreciate it? Avery cooked from time to time, but she couldn’t care less if Bri and
Drew ate or not. “You’re doing a whole lot better than I am at this point—except for
the corn bread.”

“That would have been really great.” He grinned. “But I’m okay with how things turned
out, jokes about burning this place to the ground aside.”

Her face flamed at the memory. “Can we please not talk about that?”

“You were more than willing to talk about it last night.”

Things had changed since then and he knew it. He was testing her. She straightened,
but refused to take the bait. “Where did you learn to cook?”

For a long moment, she thought he might not let the previous subject go, but he shrugged.
“I kind of learned as I went. Dad wasn’t much of a cook, even when he was around,
and I got really tired of Drew’s burned grilled cheese sandwiches after the fifth
straight day of eating them.”

She could sympathize. A few of her foster parents had stuck to meals that could be
made in bulk and rotated on a weekly basis, while others hadn’t always worried about
whether things were edible. But she’d never once considered taking things into her
own hands the way Ryan apparently had. Which brought up the question… “What happened
to your mom?”

“She died when I was two. From what people say, my dad wasn’t a bad guy before then,
but he let missing her take over his life.” A shadow passed over his face, lingering
in his eyes as he looked at her.

To get them off the shaky ground, she asked, “Why did you join the Air Force?”

He stirred the oatmeal. “I never really fit in here, even as a kid. Everywhere I turned,
I had to deal with being Drunk Billy’s kid. Most people didn’t judge me for it, but
there was no escaping the fact that everyone knew my dad spent more nights passed
out in strange places than he did at home.”

He made a face as he set the pan on the oven and adjusted the heat. “But beyond that,
I love history, and I’ve probably spent more time in that library of yours than you
have, reading up on different places. All I wanted for as long as I can remember was
to travel and see where history went down. I wanted to get away from a town where
no one seems to get past something I did in high school.”