Against The Wall (4 page)

Shea’s next words ripped Ryan out of his personal, private ramblings, hitting him like a punch in the gut. “I don’t know him, but I saw him tonight at Red Mackey’s Bar. He started to bother me there, but this pretty redhead who works there stepped in and told him to leave me alone. I left after that, but I guess he must’ve followed me home,” she added with a small frown, shivering from the memory of when he’d pushed his way in through her door.

In those brief moments, she’d been furious, able to think of nothing else but kicking the bejesus out of the jerk until Ryan could come and really give him hell. Somehow she’d just known he would. Her hero, though she knew it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d ever admit it.

Hannah had been feeding her stories of Ryan’s heroic deeds for weeks now, just like a proud mother. Shea had heard everything from how he’d once found a three-year-old who’d been abducted, to the case involving a terrorist Ryan had taken down in a knife fight. After learning so much about him, her downright carnal lust was swiftly evolving into something much stronger—and so much more frightening.

She not only wanted Ryan, but she respected him as well. More than any other person she’d ever known. Without any means of protecting her heart, she’d made herself unbearably vulnerable and fallen helplessly in love with the magnificent jerk. Hard and fast and head over heels.

Glancing up at his rugged face, Shea realized, with a muffled groan, that he looked even more furious than before. Well, hell. By mentioning Red’s, she’d definitely let the cat outta the bag. She’d wanted him panting with lust tonight, not shaking with rage.

“What in God’s name were you doing at Red Mackey’s Bar?” he exploded, staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Jesus Christ, woman, are you out of your mind? Do you know what could’ve happened to you there?” He shot a disgusted look down at Spalding, then snapped his angry glare back on her. “Forget could have. Look what did happen because you went there!”

Shea stared up at him in silence, not knowing what to say, especially with Derek standing there watching them. She didn’t exactly care for his condescending tone, but she thought it might have more to do with fear than anything else, so she was willing to let it slide for the moment. He looked so scared and angry at the thought of what she might’ve suffered at the hands of Rich Spalding, and she couldn’t help but love him even more for his concern.

And maybe it meant that he cared—even if just a little. She’d have loved to press him for more details, but there wasn’t much she could say with Derek still in the room, not to mention the grotesque drunk on her floor.

As if he read her mind, Ryan’s tall, good-looking friend hefted Spalding over his shoulder. “Look,” he said, trying to hold back a grin, “if you two promise to behave yourselves, I’ll haul this piece of sh—er, crap on down to the station.”

Ryan nodded mechanically, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture Shea presented in her slinky black dress and sexy sandals, driving himself crazy thinking of how she must have stuck out in a place like Red’s. He watched as she told Derek thank you, and felt an unfamiliar burst of jealousy to see the blush on her cheeks when his pain-in-the-ass buddy winked at her on his way out.

And suddenly, for the first time ever, they were alone, in her bedroom no less, and Christ Almighty, he was gonna get hard just staring at her. Ryan supposed he should be used to that particular reaction by now, which was nothing new whenever Shea was anywhere near the vicinity of his dick. In fact, he tended to get a raging hard-on every damn time he saw her.

Judging by the effect she was having on him right now, he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that fighting this thing between them tonight was going to be harder than ever before. Hell, she looked like a woman on the prowl for a wild night, and Ryan knew he wanted to be the man to give it to her. He wanted to give it to her every way there was, from every conceivable angle, and if she were any other woman, they’d already be halfway there. Shit, since setting eyes on her, he’d imagined every woman he’d fucked was Shea Dresden. He’d fantasized it was her sweet little pussy he was pounding into instead of whatever woman he was with at the time.

He wanted her so damn bad it was killing him.

But this was shy, sweet, studious Shea, Hannah’s new best friend and his naïve little neighbor—the only woman who’d ever made him nervous and aching for just a glimpse of her. Jesus. The thought of actually sinking into her, of spreading those smooth, golden legs that he knew would open up to the sweetest pair of cunt lips he’d ever tasted, was enough to make him tremble, damn it.

With perfect clarity, he remembered the first time he’d ever seen her. She’d been walking by his patio with Hannah, the two of them wearing bikinis on their way back from the pool where they’d only just met. Shea’s suit had been a deep, dark blue with a matching skirt thing tied around her narrow waist. It’d been all he could do to pay attention as Hannah had introduced her, explaining how Shea had only just moved in the day before.

Ryan had been dumbstruck by his reaction to the delicate young woman, barely able to peel his tongue off the roof of his mouth to make the appropriate polite conversation. Then she’d smiled at him—her big gray eyes sparkling, her impish nose slightly sunburned, a dimple in her right cheek—and he’d thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And in her sweet little navel had been this glinting little spark of light. He’d tried to get a better view without looking as if he was staring at the shining silver hoop nestled there, but he’d probably done a piss poor job of it. Funny, but he’d never really gone for the whole piercing thing before Shea. But there had been something incredibly erotic about seeing that little hoop of silver pierced through her skin. He’d wanted to press a kiss against it, dip his tongue into the shallow indentation of her navel, and then flick the silver hoop.

Hell, he’d wanted to drag her into his apartment and kiss and lick and suck on her golden little body from head to toe. His mouth had watered for a taste of those tiny nipples that had hardened beneath the wet material of her suit, his tongue itching for a long lick inside her juice-soaked pussy, and his cock had gone rock-hard thinking of all the ways he’d fuck her if given half the chance.

Ryan had felt lust often enough to know what it was. As an aggressively dominant male, he’d always enjoyed a healthy sexual appetite, one that was probably stronger than most. Yeah, he’d felt lust and he’d satisfied it, but he’d never felt anything like his volatile reaction to Shea. It’d unsettled him, and he’d been trying to avoid it, running from it, ever since.

She’d made him feel like a teenage boy trapped in the uncomfortable, yet exciting throes of lust. Hell, he still felt that way.

And now, here he was, alone with her in her bedroom, her champagne lace-covered bed not five feet away, with her staring up at him like she wanted to eat him alive. Every single friggin’ inch of him. His jaw hardened, his stomach cramped with need, and his cock grew harder. Ryan closed his eyes and did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy. He prayed.

He begged whoever was listening for the strength to resist the one thing in his adult life he’d ever really wanted.

The glow from Shea’s bedside lamp was soft and low, casting tall shadows against the book-lined walls and antique furnishings of her room. It was an intimate setting, and one Ryan couldn’t wait to escape.

When he’d regained some modicum of control, he opened his eyes and glared down at her. He was determined to intimidate some sense into the infuriating woman, and equally determined to ignore how she looked standing before him, her sumptuous little body all but half-naked in that damn dress. “What the hell were you doing in a place like Red’s, Shea? Do you even know what kind of people hang out there?”

Even if she didn’t, he sure as hell did, and knowing all too well of the danger she’d been in had his blood boiling.

With her chin stubbornly raised, she glared right back up at him, ignoring his ferocious scowl. “Yeah, I know what kind of people go to Red Mackey’s for entertainment. Unless I’m mistaken, which I’m not, you hang out there all the time, Ry.”

“Damn it,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, wondering why she was pushing him. Where had his shy little scholar gone? The one who turned strawberry pink every time he looked at her, trying to imagine what her naked body would look like spread out across his sheets, arms and legs secured to the posts, while he ate his way to heaven. With the way she smelled, she would have to be the sweetest tongue-fuck he’d ever had. He’d fantasized about it so many damn times he could almost taste it, as if she were already slipping across his tongue, sliding down his throat like honey.

Only…he wasn’t ever really going to have her, was he? And knowing it had him feeling meaner than hell. “Listen, Shea, that’s different and you know it.”

“Is it?” she purred. His gut cramped at the sound. This low, breathless tone was one he’d never heard from her before. It sounded suspiciously seductive, as if she were coming on to him. His fear took on a new dimension, one that embarrassingly resembled blind fucking terror. “Why, Ry? Maybe I went there looking for the same thing you do.”

Ah hell, he thought with a sharp rise of panic. Did she even know how close to disaster she was flirting? How close he was to forgetting all the reasons why he couldn’t give her exactly what they both apparently wanted? How close he was to finally burying his cock up her cunt, right where it’d been dying to get since he’d first set eyes on her?

Shit—he wanted her in ways he’d never before experienced—wanted all of her. Everything.

She wasn’t classically beautiful, but then he’d never been the kind of man attracted to Barbie doll perfection. At least not since he was old enough to know better. One Barbie doll had cured him for life, and it wasn’t a lesson he’d ever forget.

No, Shea’s was a face of exotic angles and planes, from her small nose to her wide, lush mouth, thick lashes and arched brows. She looked like a sylvan creature stolen from a primeval forest—a pixie siren—with those wild black curls streaming around her face and her sharp little chin.

Ryan scrubbed his hands down his whisker-rough face, feeling as if he were dangerously close to losing control of the situation. Then again, maybe he’d never had it in the first place. This entire night was turning into one hell-inspired carnival ride. Shit, he’d get a better dose of reality from a friggin’ funhouse mirror. All of this was just as surreal, distorting his point-of-view. If he had to stare at her in that little fuck-me outfit for much longer, he was going to forget all the reasons why she was off-limits. He’d be all over her, crammed deep inside before he knew what hit him, and the consequences of that were too damn dangerous for his peace of mind.

“Look, Shea, when I go there—I mean when guys like me go to Red’s—we’re not looking to hook up with some nice girl, not with someone like you,” he struggled to explain, knowing he was making a muck of it, but unable to stop the idiotic ramble spilling out of his mouth. “The women go there looking for the same thing, and I know that’s not the speed you run at, honey. You’ve got sweet and innocent stamped all over you.”

“Yeah?” she asked with wide-eyed speculation, as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing to him. “Hmm…you know, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think, Ry. You’ve heard the old saying, ‘you can’t always judge a book by its cover,’ haven’t you?”

He didn’t bother with an answer, grinding his jaw instead, struggling to keep from gripping her slim shoulders and shaking some sense into her.

But his expression told her everything she needed to know. With a small, frustrated smile, she turned and walked away from him.

He hated this. Hated being this close to her because it took so much effort to control himself. Too much effort to act as if he didn’t want to toss her over his shoulder and spend the next fifty years of his life showing her sweet, innocent little ass all the things he’d been dying to do to her since the moment they’d met.

Most of all, though, Ryan hated the uncomfortable feeling of longing she stirred within him, the kind that damn near made his heart stutter whenever she was near. Honest to God, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out against it. Each and every time he laid eyes on her, his legendary control slipped a little further. And after tonight, it was tenuous as hell, riddled with cracks.

Shea stared out the window, trying not to let it hurt that he was struggling so damn hard. She could try to be as tough as she liked, but there was no denying the fact that if she didn’t get Ryan McCall buried deep inside of her at the soonest possible moment, it was going to damn near kill her. That, or drive her out of her ever-loving mind. Inside she was a jumble of rioting emotion—her fierce determination and desire battling against the infuriating realization that he was going to fight her to the bitter end.

She had to figure out how to get through to him, because she wasn’t willing to go through life never knowing how incredible it felt to be wrapped up in his muscled arms, to have him wrapped up in her body, to feel him inside of her, so vital and honest and real.

She could have had a score of other lovers by now, but that wasn’t what she’d wanted. She wanted to be taken by a real man, and Ryan McCall was the most real man she’d ever known, in every way. After falling so hard for him, no other guy was going to do.

But what were her options here? Why did he keep putting up such a struggle?

Screwing up her courage to confess everything, Shea felt him come up behind her, not close enough to touch—he never touched her—but near enough that she could sense him there. She looked up at the darkened window and could see his rugged reflection rising above her own, so tall and rough and gorgeous. Not perfect—but still the most amazing person she’d ever known.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, deep, sending goose bumps across her flesh from the sound alone. “Why’d you go there, Shea? What did you really think you were going to find in a place like that?”