Crash Into Me (14 page)

He wanted to pull her up on stage with him, to bite her, mark her, take her right
there in front of Jared and everyone so that the whole world knew that she was his.
That she belonged to him and he wasn’t going to let anyone take her away.

The possessive nature of his thoughts confused him, as did the jealousy whipping through
his blood. He never got like this over a woman, never felt this driving need to warn
off every other male in a hundred mile radius. Yet crouching there, looking at Jamison,
the need to do just that was a pounding in his head, a throbbing in his blood.

Leaning forward, over a whole group of screaming, jostling fans, he kept his eyes
locked with hers as he touched his fingers to her cheek. She shuddered, and so did
he as the tension between them coiled ever more tightly. Her hand came up, rested
over his and for a second, two, they were the only people in the place.

But then Wyatt lay down the beat for “Find Me,” while Vince carried Ryder’s favorite
guitar across the stage. At the same time, the girl next to Jamison jostled her out
of position and grabbed for him.

The moment shattered. Jamison jerked her eyes from his, then stepped back out of range.
And he was left onstage, with a hard-on to suffer through and a concert to finish.

But the second their set was done, he all but threw his guitar at Vince and took off
for one of the amphitheater’s back doors. If he knew Jamison, she was already on her
way back to the bus and he was determined to catch her.

To hell with his fans.

To hell with Jared.

To hell with everyone and everything that wasn’t her.

Tonight he was taking Jamison. Consequences be damned.

Chapter Fourteen

He found her in the back parking lot among the equipment trucks. She was halfway to
the bus and moving fast, but he didn’t have the patience to wait for her to cover
the last couple thousand of feet. Instead he caught her from behind, one hand thrusting
into her hair and pulling her head back as the other wrapped around her waist.

“Don’t be afraid,” he growled as he yanked her against him. After all, he wanted to
make her come, not scare her to death. “It’s me.”

The startled scream died in her throat and she turned her head so that her face was
inches from his. “Ryder? What are you doing?”

“What are
you
doing?” he countered, turning her so that her breasts pressed against his chest. He’d
tossed his shirt away during the encore, so that the only thing between them was the
thin fabric of her bra and tank top. “Why were you running back to the bus?”

“I wanted—” She broke off as his lips skimmed over her cheek. “I thought—”

“What?” he whispered, dropping kisses along her jawline.

“Hungry. I thought you’d be hun—”

“I am. Starving.” Just not for food. He didn’t know where this need had come from,
if it had always been there just under the surface or if it had simply roared to life
that night in San Diego. Either way, he was done fighting it. He wanted her and he
would have her.

Now.

He moved forward, moved her backward, until she was pressed up against the side of
one of the trailers. For long seconds he didn’t do anything else, just stood there
savoring the feel of all those lush curves of hers resting so gloriously against him.
He wanted to touch her, to wrap himself up in her softness until his senses were glutted
with her. Overloaded. But he was trembling like a kid, his need making it impossible
to think, to breathe. To plan. He wanted all of her at the same time, needed to kiss
and touch and fuck her until he was nearly insane with it.

Control
, he told himself as he pressed kisses over her throat.
It’s all about control.

But then she gasped, arched, and his very last remnants of control shattered like
glass.

His hands went to the collar of her shirt and he yanked it apart, took a primitive
kind of satisfaction in the way the buttons flew in all directions—baring her to his
desperate gaze. She was beautiful, her full breasts pressed up against violet silk
the same color as her eyes. It was dark, but they weren’t that far from one of the
huge parking lot light poles and he could see her nipples through the lace.

He reached out, ran a finger over one hard peak. Reveled in her gasp and the need
that vibrated so violently between them.

“Ryder,” she gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders, tangling in his hair. “Are
you sure?” She arched into his touch even as she asked the words that should slow
him down.

But he was done with going slow, done with denying himself when everything he wanted
was right here in front of him. The future could take care of itself. Right now she
was hot and trembling, as desperate for him as he was for her, and he wasn’t walking
away. Not this time.

He didn’t answer her, at least not with words. Instead he grabbed her wrists, raised
them above her head. Then he leaned down and captured her mouth with his own, using
lips and tongue and teeth to claim her in a way she wouldn’t soon forget. A way he
couldn’t forget.

But, God, she tasted good. Spicy and sweet and delicious, like warm honey and cinnamon
drizzled over summer ripe peaches and cream. He sucked at her lower lip, reveled in
the gasp she couldn’t stop and the way her wrists jerked against his hold. His cock
screamed for relief at the movement, but he shoved the need down as far as he could
manage. He’d waited too long for this to rush it.

Besides, he wanted so much more than to just get himself off. This, tonight, was about
Jamison. He wanted to arouse her to fever pitch, to drench her in so much pleasure
she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

And, he admitted as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth and laved it with his tongue
in an effort to stop the ache, he wanted to control her. To drive her beyond reason,
beyond boundaries, beyond sanity until she wanted him like he wanted her. Until she
needed him like she needed her next breath…the way he was finding that he needed her.

He nibbled at her lip again, and she went wild, her lush, strong body bucking against
him. Once again, her wrists jerked against his grip, but he wasn’t ready to let her
go yet. Couldn’t let her go. One touch from her slender, capable fingers and he would
go up in flames.

So he kept her pinned against the trailer, using his hand and chest and hips. Made
sure that every part of her body was covered by a part of his. And then he devoured
her.

“Ryder,” she gasped, her head rolling back and forth against the metal wall of the
trailer. “Hurry up. Please. I’m going crazy—” Her breath broke on a half-sigh, half-sob.

“I like you crazy,” he answered, then took advantage of her parted lips to thrust
his tongue inside. She was like silk. Like velvet. Softer than he imagined. Hotter
than he’d ever dreamed.

She moaned, and he tried to gentle himself, to give her the tenderness she deserved.
But then she sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth, and he was lost. Need exploded
deep inside him, sharp and terrible and all-consuming. It raked its talons down his
spine, thrust its heat deep inside of him until all he could think of was taking her,
fucking her. Branding her.

For a second, just a second, he tried to pull back. To think. Jamison wasn’t a groupie,
wasn’t some throwaway girl whose face he wouldn’t remember in the morning. No matter
how desperate he was for her, she deserved more than a quick fuck in a parking lot.

He looked around, saw the equipment trailer he knew wouldn’t get any use until load-out—which
wouldn’t be for another hour or so. Picking her up, he used the hydraulic lift to
carry them up to the trailer. Then he shoved open the unlocked cargo door and brought
her inside.

It wasn’t the most romantic place, but it was better than the parking lot. Better
than a crowded bus. He started to apologize for the accomodations, but

t she clutched at him, her nails digging into his scalp in little pinpricks that mixed
pain and desire, control and overwhelming need. And then she nipped at him the way
he had at her, her teeth closing on his lower lip in a sharp demand he was helpless
to resist.

Lust exploded through him and he tightened his hold on her wrists, knocked her head
into the inside wall of he trailer in his desperation to get at her. He started to
apologize, to ease off, but she twined herself around him and the last rational thought
he had was buried under an onslaught of want.

Burying his other hand in her crazy, wild curls, he tilted her head back and feasted.
And when she sucked his lip between hers, he opened to her, nearly fell to his knees
when she thrust her tongue into his mouth to explore him as he had her.

He took her wild exploration as long as he could—reveling in the fact that her need
seemed as sharp as his own—but it seemed like mere moments before he was at breaking
point. Tearing his mouth from her own, he ignored her pleading little moan and the
desperate clutching of her fingers at his back.

Instead, he pressed kisses down her jaw to the graceful curve of her neck, before
moving on to the sharp angles of her collarbone. She felt soft and sweet and delicate
in his arms, and for a second—just a second—he was overwhelmed by the need to take
care of her. To protect her from everything, especially the shit that lived inside
of him. The darkness that had him fucking up everything that ever mattered to him.

He almost pulled away. Almost gave up this dangerous, decadent pleasure that felt
as necessary to him as breathing. But then she gasped out a plea, a brazen, broken
demand that grabbed onto him with feral claws and yanked him back under. And he knew—God
help him, he knew—that not even the threat of destroying Jamison as he had Carrie
could make him stop.

Using his free hand, he reached behind her and freed the back clasp of her bra. Then
he let go of her wrists just long enough to rip the thing off. He had to taste her,
had to feel her lush, gorgeous nipples in his mouth, had to devour her before he imploded.

Sinking to his knees in front of her, he relished the feel of her hands digging deep
into his hair, enjoyed the sharp tug on his scalp. The little pinches of pain that
only made the pleasure sweeter.

Then he forgot everything but the ecstasy of her body as he buried his face in her
breasts in what was very close to a frenzy. He reached for control, but it eluded
him, slipping through his fingers like so much magic. Reached for patience, for delicacy,
but he had none. Not now, not this time.

Instead, he latched on to her nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth.

Jamison whimpered, her fingers flexing convulsively in his hair. For a moment he feared
he’d been too rough, that he’d crossed the thin line between pleasure and pain that
he so liked to flirt with. But her hips were moving, shifting, pumping restlessly
against him and he knew she was with him all the way. He bit down softly on her nipple,
prepared to take her deeper into the maelstrom of desire that had them in its grip.
But when she moaned and clutched at him, he was the one who went under.

…

Jamison gasped, trembled, tried to press herself even closer to Ryder. He was killing
her with his patience, killing her with his ability to hold off his own need so that
he could stoke hers. She wanted him, needed him, was on the brink of ripping his clothes
off and forcing him to fuck her and he was acting like he had all the time in the
world.

But, God, he felt good against her, so good that she was going to lose it completely
if he didn’t do something soon. He’d barely touched her and already she was trembling
on the brink of orgasm, ready to fly over the edge at the slightest provocation.

She tried to fight it, tried to hang on. She’d waited so long for this moment, had
dreamed for so many years about what it would be like to hold Ryder, to kiss him,
to fuck him, that she wanted to make it last forever. Especially since there was no
guarantee this would ever happen again.

Though she didn’t tell him—would never tell him of her desperate, shadowy thoughts—Ryder
seemed to understand her need to draw this out. Or maybe this was just the kind of
lover he was, slow and thorough and determined to draw every last ounce of response
out of her. Whatever it was driving him, she was grateful. And determined to enjoy
the ride.

But then Ryder bent to her breast, nipped at her areola, and her body wigged out,
a scream of frustrated need welling up inside of her. The only thing that kept her
quiet was the knowledge that he would finish things—finish her—if he realized just
how torturous his attentions were becoming for her.

But when he bit her again, then carefully laved the sting until only the memory of
it remained, she lost the fight. No man should be so tender and so controlling, so
selfless and so domineering all at the same time. How could she resist him? How could
she keep herself from falling even more deeply under his spell?

She couldn’t. The thought tore at her even as she clutched his head to her breast,
relishing the soft, sweet brushes of his tongue and lips. “Ryder,” she whimpered as
he nibbled his way across the vulnerable underside of her breast. “Please. I need
you.”

“Oh, baby,” he murmured as he moved to her other breast. “I’m just getting started.”

“Please,” she gasped again, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as she sobbed out
his name. Her body wasn’t hers to command anymore, her voice and thoughts and movements
taken over entirely by his mouth, his touch. By him and his indomitable will.

Ryder shifted, once again catching her wrists in his big, talented hands. Then he
pulled them forward, clasping them in front of her body with one hand.

“What are you—” Her voice was husky with desire.

“Look.” His voice was deep and gravelly, nearly unfamiliar in his desire for her.
She felt a sharp rush at the thought that she had done this to him, that she had driven
this beautiful, talented, amazing man so crazy with lust that he could barely speak.

Then she followed his gaze, was transfixed—much as he was—by what she saw in the dim
lights that ran along the trailer roof.. He’d captured her wrists in such a way that
her arms framed her breasts, plumping the already full mounds up and out for his pleasure.

For her pleasure too, because already she could feel the increase of blood flow to
the constricted area. But he wasn’t done, the hand on her wrists tightening so that
her arms squeezed her breasts even more tightly. They actually stung, the air chafing
her sensitive skin and too-tight nipples.

“You’re beautiful, Jamison,” he told her, eyes wide in lascivious appreciation. “So
goddamn beautiful.”

She felt beautiful when he looked at her like that, when he touched her and held her
and stroked her like she was the only woman in the world. She knew it was a lie, knew
he’d probably be with another woman before the week ended, but she couldn’t bring
herself to care. Not when he was looking at her like she was his whole world.

Ryder leaned forward, pressing himself against her until the strength of his chest
and shoulders was the only thing keeping her upright. Then he bent his head and took
her nipple into his mouth.

He sucked her deep and she gasped, begged for mercy. But he had none as he bit and
licked, sucked and nuzzled her straight into ecstasy.

Wrapped up in the incredible heat burning through her, the climax caught Jamison by
surprise. Though she’d known she was close—so close—she hadn’t expected to hurtle
over with nothing but the touch of his mouth on her breast.