| The lump in Gina’s throat took her by surprise, but she didn’t
know if it was her earlier illness or something mental. “I’ve gotten
past all this baggage. Why is it hurting now? Why is it so hard to talk about?”
“Because it feels new. You’re in a tough and scary situation. It
makes you feel as if you’re talking about it for the first time.”
He shrugged. “In a way, you are.”
He was right. “My father abused me.”
Ryan’s fingers tightened over hers. “Son of a bitch.”
“He liked to shove me in a closet and leave me there for hours. My mother
tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t let her release me from the closet. A
few times, she even left the house. She never called the police.”
Ryan’s lips tightened again, disgust on his handsome face. “He
never…he didn’t…”
Pure malice sparked in his eyes, and her adoptive father would have felt Ryan’s
wrath in that moment if he’d been in the room. She knew what he needed to
hear, and it was the truth. “No. No, he never sexually abused me.”
He dropped his head forward, his eyes closed for a second. “Thank God.
How long did you put up with his shit?”
“From the time I was born until I was twelve when he died of liver and
heart problems. After that, my mother was useless. Father was a plumber, and Mother
socked away money he didn’t know about. At least she had the intelligence
to do that. We lived off the money, and she did housekeeping jobs. I found a job
at sixteen babysitting. It wasn’t much, but we made it. I obtained a loan
for college and finished a degree in creative writing. I’ve worked at two
finance companies while writing.”
His expression lightened. “And that’s where we met? University?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t help adding, “It was one of the
best things that happened to me, meeting you.”
He grinned. “I’m glad.”
Her heart softened for the tough Irish warrior, her soul wanting his comforting
as much as she desired to reassure him. “Neither of us had it easy early
on in our lives. But we haven’t let it stop us.”
“I can feel that.”
Feelings. An interesting avenue for a man she’d considered hard, tough
and a bit too reserved with his more tender emotions.
His hands caressed hers in gentle motions that sent her heart into staccato
rhythm. She fixated on the back of his hand, the square and symmetrical beauty.
Long but sturdy, his fingers caressed hers. Her nipples peaked, her pussy clenched
and tightened. Moisture gathered in her feminine folds as an ache built. While
her fantasies included scenarios where he held her, comforted her, clasped her
hands in his, she’d never expected it to happen this way. She’d never
anticipated her emotions vibrating with high-voltage excitement mixed with a growing,
deepening affection so strong she didn’t think she could deny it. Although
he’d kissed her and confirmed he didn’t want a physical relationship
with her, she felt like he’d never touched her before. How could he have
such power over her?
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
She allowed a smile to tease her lips. “That sounds like something I
should say. I think I like the sensitive Ryan.”
“Was I that much of a Neanderthal?”
She shook her head and squeezed his fingers. “No. Not at all. You just
didn’t show these types of emotions to me often.” An urge to reveal
things to him she’d never shown before pushed her to say, “I like
this new Ryan. He’s tough as nails, but he’s different. Softer.”
Boldness built eagerly inside her. “From the first day you rescued me from
that idiot in chemistry class and became my chemistry partner, you’ve always
had my best interests at heart. I can never fault you for that.”
He released her hands and eased away, and she wanted his touch back. “Good.
I can’t imagine feeling about you like this—”
She waited for him to continue and his gaze darted around the room as if he
were afraid to lock gazes.
When he didn’t finish, she prompted him. “Yes?”
“In the few hours we’ve been together, I feel like I’m getting
to know you again. And I like what I know, what I see very much.”
A flush built from her chest through to her face. She’d blushed more
the last few hours than any time in her life. No man stirred her, warmed her,
drew her closer than Ryan.
Gina touched her hot cheeks with both hands. “Thanks. That means a lot
to me.”
He winked, and his slow, cocky look made her heart thump a new beat. God, what
she wouldn’t give to feel his fingers stroking her in forbidden places one
more time. Recalling what his fingers had felt like on her nipples sent a renewed
flush of heat throughout her body.
He rose slowly and wandered with a more languid pace than he had earlier upstairs.
She watched his stride, a walk she knew so well she could pick him out in a crowd.
“I suppose this is where you tell me this conversation is a bit too girly
for you,” she said when silence continued.
He stopped and turned toward her, his head tilted slightly to the side. He
looked open, ready to understand. “Is that what the old Ryan would have
said?”
She put her feet on the ottoman and tried to relax. “Yes.”
He plunged his fingers through his hair. “You’re telling me I’ve
had that extreme a personality change?”
An epiphany came to her. “Maybe not. We all harbor secret sections of
our personality we don’t show others. Maybe a knock on the head opened parts
of you I haven’t seen before. You’ve been well armored for years.”
Once again, his hands went to his hips. She smiled and gestured to him. “See,
that hands on the hips thing.”
He lifted his hands and looked at them. “What?”
“It’s an action I associate with decisive, unsentimental Ryan.
You put your hands on your hips when you’re certain about something or worried
things are getting too personal.”
His smoldering gaze caught hers. “Then I’m not sure I like the
old Ryan much.”
Clearly disconcerted by her assessments, he navigated the room like a wild
creature needing shelter. He glowered, and the change from disarming Ryan to this
covert man shook the foundation they’d started to build. “Damn, is
it hot in here?” He examined the temperature control. “Seventy-five.”
“I’m fine.”
She lied, of course. Since he’d arrived at her doorstep she’d alternated
between glowing heat caused by his virility, and freezing from fear.
“Humph.” He grunted, and then pulled the T-shirt over his head.
She blinked. Oh my God. She’d spied his naked torso twice before. Once
at a picnic where he’d played volleyball in the summer heat. Another time
when she’d stopped by his apartment and found him wearing only jeans.
In both situations she’d almost babbled like an idiot, her conversation
meandering, her thoughts turning instantly to sex.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Uh, no.”
Ryan laid his T-shirt over the back of one of the dinette chairs, walked into
the bathroom and shut the door. She closed her eyes and recall flooded her mind.
Ryan’s broad shoulders, ripped arms and sexy chest would make any woman
with half a hormone natter like an idiot. Dark hair fanned over his strong pectorals
then down over a muscled stomach to disappear into his jeans. She’d seen
good-looking men shirtless many times, but only Ryan made her heart pound.
Why, oh why, did his jeans always fit him to perfection? He wore them low on
his hips and she could see his belly button. Unlike the baggy pants popular with
many young men, his jeans curved with loving attention over his well-muscled ass
and beautifully formed legs. Not beautiful as in womanly. No way. In college,
he’d trained for cross-country running, fencing, wrestling and weightlifting.
An interesting combination, but one that had kept him in disgustingly wonderful
physical condition.
Gina swallowed hard and licked her dry lips. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—object
to this display of sculpted musculature any day of the week.
She heard the water running and imagined him tossing it on his face and allowing
it to trickle down his neck and onto his chest. If she didn’t stop fantasizing
like this, her brain would explode. Nervous and excited in a way that scrambled
her senses, she wished she could hit a reset button and restart the day. But what
difference would it make if she did? Would she depart the cabin if she knew ahead
of time what would happen and leave Ryan to fend for himself? It’s not like
he needed her help. Did he?
She closed her eyes and allowed her imagination to run rampant. All that wonderful
male flesh succumbing to her desires. His hands coasting back to her breasts,
his mouth tasting one nipple…his fingers between her legs—
The bathroom door opened and she started from her fantasy. She stood abruptly
and wandered the room. He didn’t slip back into his shirt. If she didn’t
think of an intelligent word to say soon, she’d start gabbing like a fool.
-top- |
