Make Me Yours (11 page)

He laughed, a crooked grin on his lips as he kept his eyes locked on hers and stuck his tongue out, giving her clit a slow, deliberate lick. “Mmm,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the sensitive bundle of nerves. “I promise not to kill you. So just shut up and let me do my thing.”

And, God, was he good at it. As his eyes slid closed and he tilted his head a bit to the side, he went kind of wild on her, leaving no part of her untouched and untasted, the sounds he made only making her burn hotter. Then he slowed, moving his tongue inch by inch, taking his time, making sure she was feeling every second of it. Cranking the tension to an unbearable level. She could see his right biceps flexing as his arm moved faster and faster, and knew he was touching himself while he went down on her. It was sexy as hell, and she wished she had mirrored doors on the closet so that she could watch him in action.

He brought her off so many times she lost count, the breathtaking orgasms melting into each other until she couldn't tell them apart. He was groaning now, breathing hard, his clever tongue rubbing across her pulsing entrance, and she knew he was getting close. Wanting to be wicked and turn him on, she reached down and touched her finger to his tongue, feeling it move against her drenched flesh, and he gave a shocked, guttural growl that she understood perfectly:
He thought her touching him like that, when he was doing what he was doing, was hot as hell . . . and he was about to shoot his load.

“In my mouth!” she burst out, suddenly pushing against his shoulders.

He lifted his head, blinking, his dark eyes nearly black with passion and lust and achingly emotional things that made her heart skip a beat. “What?”

“I want you in my mouth again,” she said in a rush, already scrambling around so that she could put her mouth on him as he moved to his side, looking dazed, his huge fist still pumping his shaft. She licked her lips, then took that dark, gleaming crown between them, moaning at his hot taste, letting him do the rest. Seconds later, he exploded with a harsh shout, blasting in a series of heavy spurts against the back of her throat, his body shuddering from the violent force of his release.

“Christ,” he groaned, “you really
are
going to be the death of me.”

She smiled as she scooted up beside him, both of them still breathing a little heavy as they lay on their sides facing each other. He stared back at her with an arrested expression on his face, and then slowly, as if he was waiting for her to tell him no, he pushed his hands into her hair and brought her closer as he shifted forward, touching his mouth to hers. She was shocked, wondering if he would actually go through with it—slide his tongue into her mouth after coming in it—when he did. And there was nothing half-assed about the kiss, either. His hands tightened around her head, and he kissed her harder, clearly getting off on tasting himself inside her.

“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.

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.

Not wanting to give herself time to think about what she was doing, she quickly turned and put her hands on Mike's chest, pushing them up and over his broad shoulders, then around the back of his neck as she tried to pull him down to her.

Mike tensed against her. “What the hell are you doing, Lily?”

“Please, don't tell me no,” she said in a rush, going up on her tiptoes. He was even taller than Ryder, which made reaching his mouth anything but easy. “I need this. I can't lose it in front of him. I need this to ground me.”

“Shit, he's going to fucking kill me,” he growled. But he didn't push her away. He was already pulling her closer.

“Help me,” she whispered, knowing he probably couldn't hear the soft plea over the music. But he was staring at her mouth so intently, she was sure he could read the words on her lips.
“Please.”

He groaned deep in his chest, leaning down and giving her exactly what she wanted. And he was good, too. Better than good. If her heart didn't already belong to someone else, Lily knew Mike Hudson could have rocked her world. But she'd met him too damn late.

Needing to push the pain to a place where she couldn't feel it, she kissed Mike harder, thrilled with his response when he grabbed her ass and jerked her up against him, lifting her off the floor. She felt bad for using him—and knew damn well that it was wrong. But she couldn't make herself stop. She wanted Ryder to see this and know that he hadn't broken her. That she could take his childish shit and throw it right back in his face.

Only . . . she was acting like a child, too.

Hating herself for being such an idiot, Lily pulled back, knowing she needed to apologize to Mike. But she didn't get the chance. All of a sudden Ryder's strong, masculine arm was wrapping around her waist, yanking her away from Mike and plastering her against the front of his body. Then he lowered his head, and his voice was a furious hiss in her ear. “What
the fuck
are you doing?”

Struggling against his hold, she yelled, “Why should you care?”

His arm tightened. “Damn it, Lily.”

“Let go of me!” she screamed, prompting him to drag her through the growing crowd of customers and out the back door of the club. She had no idea where his date had run off to, but Mike followed after them with a grim look on his handsome face.

“I wouldn't play with him if I were you.” Ryder's voice was like cold steel, completely devoid of emotion. But he was vibrating behind her, his arm wrapped so tightly around her middle she could barely draw a breath, his other arm now banding across her chest to hold her arms in place so she couldn't hit him. “Mike's idea of fun is
way
out of your comfort zone.”

“I don't have a comfort zone anymore, thanks to you,” she snapped, her voice cracking at the end.

“He'll hurt you.”

“Not as badly as you have!” she flung back at him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and she renewed her struggles, finally managing to break away from him. It was galling to know she'd only succeeded because he'd let her. They were standing in the far corner of the club's back parking lot, close to his Jeep, the night illuminated with the flickering orange glow of a tall light post. The pain in her chest was raw and burning, but she forced it down, determined to see this through and salvage what shreds of her pride she still could.

Looking at Mike, who had stopped a few yards away from them, she said, “I want to go home now.”

* * *

RYDER GROWLED WITH
impatience, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before he let her leave with Mike. “You're not going anywhere until we've talked.”

She turned her head and glared at him. “I have nothing to say to you. And I don't want to hear anything that might come out of your lying mouth.”

“I haven't lied to you. Not once,” he argued, forcing the frustrated words through his clenched teeth. “And you
are
going to listen to me.”

She curled her lip at him, trembling with fury. “I don't have to do anything where you're concerned. You didn't even have the balls to talk to me before hooking up with another woman. Do you know how juvenile that is? You are such a jackass!”

“Damn it, Lily. It's not what you think!”

“I don't care what it is. I just want you to leave me alone!”

“That's not gonna happen,” he muttered, wiping his hand over his mouth as he struggled to get ahold of his temper and figure out what the fuck he should do. A cold, slick sweat slipped down his spine as he realized just how screwed up things had gotten. From the moment he'd left Lily at the safe house, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he should have talked to her before heading off, instead of sneaking out while she'd napped. But he'd been reeling, spinning, feeling like he'd been hit upside the head with a two-by-four. That morning, when he'd opened his eyes, the words she'd said to him the night before had come at him like a fucking wrecking ball, flattening his chest, making it impossible to breathe.

On top of that, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the danger she was in. He knew Rado was up to something—he just didn't know what. Not a single one of the asshole's thugs had checked out Ryder's house. The bastard was lying low, like a snake in the grass just waiting to strike. He was frustrated by the lack of progress he and the others had made in their search for him, and so he'd reacted like a fucking idiot and gone ahead with what had obviously been a stupid plan. One that had backfired so badly he wanted to beat the living shit out of something. That “something” being the man who was standing off to the side watching them. The man who'd had his tongue down Lily's throat and her sweet little ass in his hands.

“What the hell are you even doing here?” he demanded, taking a step toward her.

“What's the big deal? You left me at the safe—”

“With protection,” he growled, cutting her off. “What are you doing here with Mike?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Same thing you were from the looks of it.”

“I told him to watch you,” he bit out, suddenly gripping her shoulders. “Not fuck you!”

“Well, thanks to your little stunt, who I sleep with is no longer any of your business,” she shouted up at him. “If I want to go to bed with him, then I'll damn well go to bed with him!”

“The fuck you will!” he bellowed, turning and slamming his fist into the side of his Jeep. He silently cursed himself as pain radiated up his arm. When he turned toward her again she was blinking at him in astonishment. He knew his face was a rigid mask of anger, his lips parted for the hard breaths rushing from his chest. He wasn't just mad, he was furious. But she wasn't afraid of him. She looked more than ready to keep on giving him hell, knowing damn well that he'd never do anything to physically hurt her.