Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (16 page)

CHAPTER

 16 

B
zzz . . . bzzz . . . bzzz . . .
What in the hell was that buzzing? It took Aiden a moment to clear his head and orient himself to date, time, place, and situation: Tuesday, who the hell knew, bumfucknowhere, and in bed—with Ryann. All the while, that incessant vibrating would not quit. Well, it stopped, for a whole fifteen seconds, before Ryann’s phone started right back up again. Who could possibly be that desperate to contact her? Who would be that incessantly annoying? That bold? That rude? Then the answer came to him with teeth-grinding clarity—Madeline.

He was just about to grab her cell off the nightstand, which just happened to be on his side of the bed, and give his mother the ass chewing she deserved, when Ryann began to stir beside him. It’d been a miracle he’d fallen asleep at all. How long had he lain there, knowing full well she was awake, too, aching to reach across those twelve small inches separating them—it might as well have been twelve feet—and pull her into his arms. It gutted him to know she’d been crying, to feel that telltale moisture on her impossibly soft cheek and know most assuredly he had been the cause to put it there. What he didn’t understand was why. She’d gotten what she wanted from him. He’d given her the release he’d promised, what more did she want?

He pondered the question until the early crack of dawn broke the eastern horizon. Then the answer eventually settled solidly in his gut, and it didn’t sit well. Ryann was nothing like the other women he’d bedded—and that had been his first fool’s mistake, treating her like one. Those women had no expectations of him beyond their own pleasure, which had left him wondering: Was it possible Ryann had wanted something else from him?—something more? In his own anger at feeling cheap and used, had he returned the favor by walking away from her while she’d basked in the sated afterglow of her first orgasm, her cheeks still flushed with the warmth of a woman well and thoroughly fucked? Likely—and as the hours endlessly crawled by this morning, the bigger an asshole he felt for it.

She’d fallen asleep before him—for real this time—keeping her slender back to him. So it surprised Aiden to wake now and find Ryann curled up against his side. Curse that phone and its incessant buzzing to hell. Drawing one of those deep sleepy breaths that made Aiden’s own air freeze in his lungs, she stretched beside him, branding him with those soft, incredibly lush curves. He could tell by her easy, languid movements she had yet to fully wake and realize where she—

Yep, there it was. She was awake now. Ryann jerked back and regret slammed into him at the loss of contact like a swift hard kick in the balls. He’d yet to open his eyes, yet to move or acknowledge his awareness of the woman lying beside him. He knew if he saw her in sleep-roughened form, it’d be his final undoing. The buzzing started up again. She startled, bouncing the bed. The mattress dipped beside him as she began to crawl over him, reaching for the phone. Pure fucking torture . . . Bracing her leg on the other side of his hip, her breasts dragged across his chest as her hand stretched for the nightstand. Her silky hair brushed against his shoulder, the fine strands snagging on the stubble of his jaw. His teeth clenched with the effort to bite back his tortured groan. Her scent engulfed him, sending a jolt of white-hot lust burning through his veins.

His hands fisted into the sheets, muscles straining with the force it took to keep from pulling her on top of him and crushing his mouth to hers as he rolled her beneath him and buried himself balls deep inside her tight little glove. No contest, he’d never wanted a woman more than his hot little abductor. Imagery of all the wicked ways he wanted to make her his played through his mind. His body shot so hard, his cock jerked violently, breath stalling in his lungs, unwilling to give up her scent surrounding him.

All too soon she retrieved her vibrating cell and crawled to the side of the bed, taking her scent and tantalizing heat along with her. He watched her scoot off the bed and head to the farthest corner of the room before taking the call.

“Hello?” She whispered the greeting.

Silence.

“Really? Do we have to do this right now? I’m well aware of what day it is.”

Yep, that was Madeline Kruze all right—overbearing and micromanaging.
Welcome to my world, baby girl. Working for that woman must be just about as pleasant as being her son.

“Listen, I told you before these calls have to stop. I’m doing my job and you’re making it extremely difficult.”

Just when he thought Ryann couldn’t offend him anymore, she opened her mouth and it happened all over again. A job? Did she just call him a fucking job? That was what he was to her? How horribly ironic was it that the one woman he wanted more than any other, saw him as a goddamn paycheck? Well, this was a new one. Usually he was Aiden Kruze Attorney at Law, son of Senator Bennett Kruze; or Aiden “Disco Stick” Kruze, MMA fighter and notorious playboy, the guy guaranteed to rock out with his cock out.

He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but a “job” was not one of them, and coming from the woman he had no business giving a shit about, it pained him a hell of a lot more than he cared to admit. Just a job, huh? It didn’t feel like just a job when she was coming against his tongue last night. And it sure as hell didn’t feel like a job when her little hand was fisting his cock, all but begging him to fuck her.

His jaw clenched, making a little muscle twitch in his cheek as he watched Ryann anxiously pace between the bathroom and the front door, her voice lowered to a hushed whisper. Her free hand cupped the side of her face in a failed attempt to funnel her conversation into the phone. As she restlessly trekked back and forth, Aiden tried not to notice the uninhibited freedom in which her breasts moved beneath her thin cotton nightshirt, or the way the hemline was rucked up her side, exposing a swath of low back and shapely narrow waist every time she passed by. Her bottoms sat low on her hips, so low the pant legs covered her feet and dragged on the worn, royal blue carpet as she walked. The occasional glimpse of her pink-painted toenails gave her a decidedly adorable appeal—but the innocence ended there.

Her sexy-as-hell, sleep-disheveled state was no doubt lost on her as she focused on the conversation with his mother. She sounded upset. No doubt she was getting an ass chewing for taking so long in returning with him. Well, wouldn’t Madeline be surprised when he didn’t show. Picturing the shocked look on the woman’s face brought a sadistic smile of satisfaction to his surly mug.

The tense set of Ryann’s small shoulders confirmed what her face could not. Her head was tipped just enough to hide her features behind a blanket of unruly bed head. The vibrant copper streaks caught the rays of sun as she passed through the beams arrowing across the room through the small split in the heavy dark blue curtains.

Conflicting emotions gripped him in various places of his anatomy. Pity tightened the invisible band around his chest. He knew what it was like to deal with Madeline Kruze, and that shit was no picnic. Despite how thoroughly Ryann had fucked him over, he honestly wouldn’t wish that woman on his worst enemy—which sparked his possessive streak to life. Why in the hell he found himself wanting to protect his little felon was beyond him. Guilt and anger swarmed in his head like a nest of angry bees. He didn’t want to want her. He sure as hell didn’t trust her—she was working for his mother, for crissake. Yet, just the sight of her shot his cock so hard with lust, the urge to claim her was nearly overwhelming. And after her confession last night, her uninhibited response to his touch, he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would have been like if he had taken her. Perhaps if he’d fucked her out of his system, he wouldn’t be in knots over her right now.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda . . . But like everything else about this woman, once again she’d surprised him. Her inexperience put her in a whole other league than the women he was used to bedding. He knew if he took her, he’d likely overwhelm her with his intensity, but he also sensed if he could get her to trust him, to let go, she’d detonate in his arms—and the selfish, carnal bastard inside him wanted to be the one to show her what her body could do.

“Hey, threatening me isn’t going to get me there any faster.”

Wait a minute . . . Threatening her? And damn if that possessive streak didn’t rip through his veins, taking center stage and pushing all that other bullshit into the background. Why would Madeline be threatening her? His mother didn’t threaten people, it wasn’t her style. Not that she didn’t manipulate them, but when that didn’t work, she’d throw enough money at them until eventually she’d get her way. Everyone had their price, even him he supposed. Unfortunately, it’d taken Aiden nearly thirty years to realize he couldn’t put a price tag on freedom.

Wow, this was a new low, even for Madeline—she must be caving to the pressure. Tick-tock . . . tick-tock . . . Aiden sat up. The squeak of the bedsprings drew Ryann’s attention. She froze, and then whipped around to face him. The
oh, shit
on her face was unmistakable. Shooting him an anxious glance, a melee of emotions swirled in those gorgeous eyes. He held out his hand expectantly for the phone. This was going to stop—now. He would not tolerate his mother threatening this woman. Ryann’s eyes shot impossibly rounder, like she couldn’t believe he actually expected her to give him the cell.

“Give me the phone, Ryann.” Just in case there was any question.

Was that fear flashing in her eyes? She slapped her hand over the receiver and violently shook her head, silently mouthing
No
.

Oh, hell no, she did not just shake her head at him. Aiden tossed back the covers and was out of that bed before Ryann could blink. He held out his hand as he marched forward. She countered, stepping back until she connected with the wall. “Now. Give me the phone,” he growled.

Again, with that stunned, deer-in-the-headlights look, head swinging back and forth, red locks going airborne—enough of the games. He reached forward and snatched the phone from Ryann’s hand and growled into the receiver. “You know what, I expected this shit from Bennett, but just when I think you couldn’t sink any lower, you go and surprise me. Get off Ryann’s case or you’re going to have me to deal with.”

The answering growl was decidedly male, which nailed Aiden like a roundhouse kick in the chest.

“Who the fuck is this?” the deep voice barked.

Aiden pinned Ryann with a questioning glower. Jealousy and possessiveness surged anew, both emotions he had no business feeling—especially now. Who in the hell was she talking to?—a boyfriend?—a jealous lover who wasn’t so keen on the idea of her and her “job” road-tripping it halfway across the US together, making pit stops in skeezy motels and fucking around behind his back?

Couldn’t very well blame the dude. Aiden would be livid, too—poor dumb shmuck. Hell, he’d be doing more than threatening her if he was the sorry sucker stuck back in Manhattan while his hot little PI girlfriend ran her own special Mission: Impossible gig on some other guy. For one, it was dangerous what she was doing. Hell, she’d nearly gotten herself killed just last night.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted to give him the phone. Now that look of shock and horror on her lovely face made a whole lot more sense. He knew she was manipulative and underhanded, he just never thought she’d sink so low as to mess around behind another guy’s back to get what she wanted from him. That whole sweet and innocent
I’ve never had an orgasm before
routine had really hooked him. Another fucking lie? he wondered.

He was such an idiot. His heart thundered inside his chest, his face flushed hotly, whether from anger or embarrassment at being screwed over by this woman, yet again, he couldn’t know. What could he say?—
Hey, dude, sorry I rocked your girlfriend’s world last night. She tastes amazing.

Hitting Ryann with a glower he reserved for the cage, she flinched, sinking farther back against the wall as if desperate to put some distance between them. Without breaking her wide-eyed stare, he told the guy, “I am so sorry you have to deal with her, man. Good fucking luck . . .”