Whatever It Takes (Second Chances #2) (10 page)

I arched back with a low groan.

“You called out my name when you were close; I heard you do it. I want to hear it again, but this time, when you come.”

His commanding tone took me even closer to the edge and I panted. His fingers dipped into me, striking up a steady rhythm that was driving me crazy, and I rocked my hips to get more friction. My breath caught in my throat as the brightness behind my eyelids turned blinding.

I stopped moving. Stopped breathing. Held myself tense and ready and balancing on that tightrope. Ryan’s hand kept up a steady pace and all it took was a few more strokes inside me and I shattered.

“Ryan,” I whimpered, half out of my mind. My muscles clenched down on his fingers and each stroke brought me even higher. I was breaking apart and tears burned in the back of my eyes.

He took my mouth and swallowed my low moan.

I rocked my hips and sobbed his name over and over again. When the fissures of pleasure finally started to slow down I opened my eyes. Ryan stroked me with his fingers a few more times before he pulled them out and I shuddered at how good it still felt.

He brushed kisses over the corners of my mouth, then across my jaw, then just under my ear. He was breathing hard, and when he pulled back enough so that I could look at him, his eyes blazed with fire.

“You’re a fucking wet dream,” he rasped out. “God, I was almost there just watching you come apart.” Ryan leaned his forehead against mine. “Jesus, Tess, that was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

Still straddling his lap made me very aware of how much he had enjoyed it. If I only had tonight, then I wanted to feel him again. I scooted back enough to flick open the button on his jeans. When I looked up, he took my breath away.

“I want you, Ryan,” I said. “Inside me. Now.”

His eyes grew even stormier, if that was possible, and he shifted his hips so that I could unzip his jeans. He slid them down enough so I could run my fingers along the outline of the bulge that made my mouth dry. God, his muscles weren’t the only thing that had gotten bigger.

Ryan groaned, and his head fell back when I used my nails to run over the fabric.

“You like that?” I asked.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.

I loved the heady feeling of control that flooded my body. I reached under the elastic of his boxers and wrapped my fingers around the hot, hard length of him. I’m not sure who groaned the loudest when I guided him free.

“Fuck, that feels good, baby,” he muttered.

Goose bumps skittered over my skin. He called me that all the time once and I didn’t realize how much I’d missed hearing it. I closed my eyes and ran my thumb along the underside of the head of his cock and his hips jerked up.

“You’re killing me, Tess.”

“Good, because you pretty much broke me into a million pieces a few minutes ago.”

I closed my fingers around the girth of his cock and slowly moved them up and down. Every sound he made shot straight between my legs. God, I wanted him. And I knew that once I had him again, everything would change.

Or it wouldn’t. He made it clear he wasn’t in it for anything more than just a good time. I wasn’t either, if I was being honest, but this felt so right, it was hard to ignore the little voice in my head whispering what if . . .

“If you keep doing that it’s going to be over before it starts,” Ryan gritted out between his teeth.

“Can’t take a little hand job action?” I asked with a devilish grin.

His head lifted and his gaze pierced mine. I could lose myself in the desire I saw radiating from his eyes. “From you? After all this time? After what I just watched you do? No, Tess. You drive me fucking crazy; you always have.”

Something tightened in my chest. My tongue felt thick, and I could feel my throat start to itch.

“Then show me how much,” I whispered.

In the next instant Ryan sat up and flipped me onto my back on the couch. He stood and pushed his jeans and boxers down his hips and reached into his back pocket. He had the condom out and ripped open before I knew what he was doing. I watched, entranced, as he rolled it over his cock.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Tess. I wondered . . .” He shook his head as if he were clearing away memories. “Nothing I dreamed could have come close though.”

I fought back a sob. He thought about me? After I turned my back on him, he wondered about me? Of course I’d thought about him. Too often to admit. If you really could find
the one
in high school, then I had done it. Every man since never came close to making me feel what Ryan did. Still did.

He kneeled on the couch, between my legs, and slid my pajama pants down and off. His sharp intake of breath ignited the heat between my legs again. Then he leaned forward and held himself right at the opening I so desperately wanted him in.

I lifted my hips, urging him on. Now that we were so close I wanted him inside me.

“Ryan,” I begged. I slid my hands under his shirt and dragged my nails down his chest. His hips surged forward and he slid halfway inside me.

We both gasped.

Ryan groaned.

It wasn’t going to take much more to set me off again, I could tell that already. When he slid the rest of the way in, I wrapped my legs around his waist and moved my hips.

“Fuck it, Tess. Stop moving,” he growled.

“No,” I panted. God, I was close. He was hitting all the right spots and the friction was making me insane. Just a little more and . . .

I tensed. My fingers stilled and I lifted my head. Shit. I pushed Ryan back and he sat up on his knees, his eyebrows dipping down. Before he could say anything I put my finger to my lips.

And I heard it again.

Noah was crying out for me.

I pulled my leg free and sat up. My breathing was still too fast and every movement reminded me just how close I’d been to orgasm.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Ryan asked. There was so much concern in his voice that I leaned over and kissed his shoulder softly.

“It’s Noah. He has nightmares sometimes. I need to go to him.”

His eyes widened and he stood and pulled up his boxers and jeans. I wanted to point out that he still had the condom on, but he was buttoning his pants already. “Shit, I forgot . . . I’ll go.”

A sharp stab of disappointment shot through me. Was this it? Was this our one chance and it was gone now?

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Ryan shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re a . . . mom. You should go take care of him. I’ll let myself out.”

“Ryan?” I had pulled on my pajama pants and stood up facing him. He could barely look into my eyes. Hollowness spread inside my chest. I knew that when he walked out the door, that was it.

For a few minutes it had just been us, the old Ryan and Tess, but then reality came crashing down. We couldn’t go back to being the people we used to be. I took his hand and squeezed to let him know I understood.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?” He finally looked up and his eyebrows were drawn down.

“For reminding me what it’s like to feel something. It’s been . . . a long time. I’m glad that it was you, Ryan.” I stepped closer and pressed my lips against his. It was a quick kiss. A goodbye kiss. “I’ll call you.”

But I was pretty sure I wouldn’t, and it must have shown on my face because Ryan’s lips turned down. For a second I thought he might argue with me, but I gave him a tight smile and let his hand go.

Pressure built in my chest as I watched him leave, and I pressed my hand against my mouth. God, this hurt like hell. How had he done it all those years ago? How had he watched me ride away with nothing but a promise?

The urge to call him back and . . . what? Ask him to take a chance on something I wasn’t even sure I had to give? My hand fell and I locked the door behind him.

No, this was my life right now.

I had to get my shit together before I could drag someone else into it with me. And I had the sinking feeling that by the time things fell into place, Ryan would be well out of reach.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ryan

T
wo days later and I was still beating my head against the wall.

What the fuck had I been thinking?

Tess had a son. She wasn’t just another hookup either, no matter what she said. She was different; she had always been different. Having her in my arms, feeling her come apart on my fingers, was like a drug I desperately wanted more of.

I could not stop thinking about it, and fuck me if I didn’t want more, even with the regret burning in my gut.

“You hungry?” Dad asked, coming into the kitchen. “I can make an omelet and bacon if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

I looked up and set my cup down. It was barely eight. He was wearing clean clothes and his hair was combed and his eyes weren’t red and puffy like I was used to. Usually I’d run out and grab something from McDonald’s and bring it back to leave for him when he dragged his ass out of bed around noon.

This . . . was fucking throwing me, which didn’t help the screwed-up way I was already feeling.

“Tell me the truth, Pops. Are you dying?” I had to know if this change was because he didn’t have much time left.

“I told you I’m fine.” He pulled out pans I didn’t even know we had and then took what he needed from the fully stocked fridge; all his requests.

I exhaled and looked out the window to gather my thoughts. After a few seconds, I squinted. “Did you wash the windows?”

“Yep. Figured that way the sun could actually get inside this place. Sabine said a bright home leads to a bright soul.”

“Sabine?”

“The new neighbor with the chi. Blueberry cobbler.” Dad moved around the kitchen like he hadn’t been avoiding it for the past six years. The rein on my anger snapped. Some woman who he barely knew had brought on these changes? When I was the one who’d been taking care of him so far, and he’d never once acknowledged a goddamned thing?

I stood up and my chair tipped and fell to the floor. I could not deal with this. Not with the frustration of trying to figure out what the hell I had to do about Tess eating a hole inside me. All this time I thought I’d been doing a fucking fine job of taking care of him, and it turned out I’d been doing nothing.

The place was a dump because I never did anything about it.

Jesus. What a fucking joke.

I let Seth down by not taking care of Sara when he was in prison. I let my dad down because, all this time, I was barely doing shit for him. I couldn’t even keep the windows clean.

For the past six years I thought I was doing okay.

Dad needed me and I stepped up. But how much? Enough to ease my own guilt for wanting to get away just like my mother did? I’ll never understand why she didn’t take me with her.

Because you were not good enough.

That fucking voice that had been tormenting me since she walked out rose up and echoed in my head as gravel sprayed out from behind my tires. Screw her. Screw everyone. I’d been trying half my damned life to make sure everyone else was taken care of.

So where in the hell did that leave me now?

I
spent the morning at the house I’d been remodeling. It felt good to hammer my frustrations out on framing in the new dining room. I went old-school and instead of using the nail gun, picked up my hammer instead.

When my phone rang, I ignored it.

I didn’t really want to talk to anyone right now.

I drove another row of nails in and wiped my forehead.

The phone rang again.

I blew out a breath and picked up more nails. One more half wall and the dining room would be ready for electrical Monday morning.

My phone buzzed with a new text message. Okay, now I knew it wasn’t Dad, because he didn’t ever text, he only called me when he needed something. I threw down the hammer and strode over to where I left my keys and the phone.

Since you aren’t answering your phone, this is an official booty call text. But not technically sexting. Unless you want me to text dirty to you. ;P ~S

I shook my head and exhaled a frustrated breath. Shari had a way of just putting it right out there. Even after last weekend when I totally blew her off. I sat down on a roll of cable. What did I want? I could have things back to normal in a blink.

I knew what the score was with Shari. I never felt guilty or unsure. I never had to worry about what she was feeling because I knew it was the same as me. With Tess, it was already complicated. I saw it in her eyes when I left the other night; she wasn’t going to call, even though she’d said she would. And yet I waited, hoped that she would so that I could talk to her again.

But I had no idea what the hell I’d even say.

That was all sorts of screwed up.

Dirty texting. Now there’s something we haven’t done yet.

As soon as I hit Send, I regretted it and didn’t even know why. I should be able to text anyone anything, if I wanted to. The problem was that I didn’t want to with Shari. I sighed in resignation and typed out a message.

Gonna have to pass tonight. The electrical guys are dragging me out for boys’ night. Lots of testosterone. You’d hate it. ;)

Since when was I that guy who fucking lied all the time?

I tossed my phone next to my keys and went back to pounding in nails. It buzzed a couple more times but I ignored it. For two hours I took out my frustration on two-by-fours. And Tess still didn’t call. She didn’t even text. Maybe she regretted what we’d done and she didn’t want to talk to me again. Screw that. She said she wasn’t looking for any kind of promises. No expectations.

Why the hell was I sitting around expecting her to call?

Fuck this. Why not? I tossed my hammer again, grabbed my phone, and hit Reply before I could talk myself out of it.

On second thought, a night of fucking is just what I need. How’s that for sexting? ;P See you at ten, your place.

I ignored the queasy feeling in my stomach and started picking up my tools. A small bit of normalcy would be good. Get back to how things were, since it was apparent that Tess wanted it that way. My phone buzzed. Then immediately buzzed again. And again.

What the hell?

Ryan?

If this is your idea of a joke, you suck.

Just realized that this was probably not meant for me. Never mind. I guess we have nothing to say to each other after all.

I scrolled back and saw that the text I’d replied to hadn’t been from Shari after all—Tess had sent me one earlier that I hadn’t seen.
We should probably talk.

The floor dropped out from under my feet.

“Fuck,” I shouted at the ceiling. The queasy feeling turned to a burning heaviness that made me want to throw up. I started to apologize but what the fuck could I say that would not sound like an excuse? I fucking sent a hookup text to the wrong person, the
last
person I’d ever want to treat that way now.

I’m sorry.

And I fucking was. So damned sorry.

Me too, Ryan.

I stared at my phone with my heart pounding in my ears.

Now I would never know what she wanted to talk about.

Or what I might have said in return.