Before something else entirely took them over. Something raw. Possessive. Intense.
His hips began to snap, jutting forward. He pressed himself deeper into my mouth. Filling me so full I struggled not to gag. So turned on I writhed where I knelt on the floor. The man so powerful I had to surrender.
“God . . . Ryn . . . Ryn . . . feels so good. Fuck . . . so good. That mouth.”
A flood of words poured from his mouth as he fucked mine.
Wildly.
Madly.
Greedily.
And God. I liked it. I liked it that he’d taken control. Liked that he stood over me, taking what I wanted to give. Liked that I held the power to make him moan.
I liked him.
I liked him so much. More than I should. In a way that was getting messy. In a way that was soft and fragile, breakable, as it spun the most complex web inside me. Strands of want and ribbons of need.
“Rynna . . .” He grunted my name, a deep, reverberating utterance that echoed the walls. I swallowed around him, taking him as deep as I possibly could. Every part of me ached. My jaw and my heart and that needy throb that begged at the juncture of my thighs.
His thrusts turned rough. Hard and demanding. “Harder . . . please . . . take it.”
I pumped him savagely, just as ruthlessly as he took my mouth, my hands picking up the same frantic rhythm as his assault.
And I could feel it. His balls tighten and lift. The ripple of his abdomen, those powerful thighs straining.
That electricity licked and lapped.
Striking.
“God damn it, Rynna. God damn it.”
His hips snapped twice more.
Frantic and frenzied.
Before every glorious inch of him went rigid. A tightly keening bow.
He pulsed with his orgasm, and his head kicked back on a guttural roar as he let himself go.
It was exactly what I’d wanted.
To see this man undone.
To get a glimpse of him with his walls toppled.
And the sight of it . . . the sight of it was magnificent.
His cock throbbed and jerked as he spilled into my mouth, and I gulped him down as I stared up at the ecstasy on his face.
Slowly he opened his eyes, but the same frenzy remained in them. Fire. He quickly lifted me from the floor. Before I could make sense of it, my bottom was balanced on the back of the sofa, my dress around my waist, his fingers spreading me.
Filling me.
His eyes were desperate as he stroked me deep. I moaned as he fucked me with his fingers, his thumb bringing me to ecstasy.
So fast.
So fast I was shocked by the bliss that exploded in my body. A flashflood that came out of nowhere.
Laying me to waste.
My fingers dug into his shoulders as I came. Wave after wave.
He slowed, panting, eyes wild. He stepped back as if he couldn’t make sense of what had just happened between us, slowly lowering my feet to the ground.
“God damn it.” His words cracked.
I sagged, holding onto the back of the couch for support. Spent. Drained. Confused.
He was quick to tuck himself back into his jeans. Looking everywhere but at me, he roughed agitated hands through his hair. “God damn it. God damn it. Friends. Friends. What bullshit.”
He started to frantically pace.
“Rex,” I whispered, trying to break through whatever freak out he was having.
“I can’t . . . I can’t believe I just—fuck!” he shouted and threw an aimless punch into the air. “I can’t do this.”
My knees were shaky, and my heart was erratic. I stretched a hand out toward him. “Why can’t you? Why can’t you do this?”
I’d never been a beggar. I’d never chased a man except for the one who’d broken my heart the day I’d turned eighteen. I was a quick learner. If a man didn’t want what I had to offer, then he didn’t deserve me.
Yet, there was something about Rex Gunner that made me want to shout and plead and pound on his chest. Demand he open up. Show me everything he kept shored up inside.
That same something told me he needed what I had to give. That whatever I’d been lacking, he’d found in me, too.
“I have to get out of here,” he said, stalking for the door.
Shocked and confused, I watched, hurt bubbling up and coating my tongue with disbelief.
He was just going to leave? After what we’d just done?
I pressed my lips together, my chin trembling as I fought tears. Tears bred of hope and frustration. “I told you I’m not afraid. Why are you? All I’m asking is that you take a chance on me. Life’s not worth living without taking them.”
He froze at the door, and he laughed this horrible, cutting sound. He shifted to look at me from over his shoulder. “You want to know why I’m afraid, Rynna?”
His head angled to the side, and his eyes brimmed with a kind of hatred I knew wasn’t directed at me. “I’m afraid because I fuck everything up. I’m afraid because everything I touch? Everything I love? Eventually, I taint it. Ruin it. And then there’s nothing left but misery and suffering and fear. And my daughter . . . my Frankie? She’s all I’ve got left. She’s the one good thing that remains unblemished. And the few bits remaining of me? They belong to her, because I’ve already given everything else. I told you, I don’t have anything to offer you. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, but I refuse to do anything selfish or stupid that would put her happiness at risk.”
He opened the door, but he paused, wavering before he peered back at me again. Surrender carved into every line on his gorgeous face. “I don’t have any chances left to take, Rynna Dayne. I’ve already used up all the ones I’ve been given, and if I take anything else? I’d be nothing but a thief.”
Without another word, he strode out, letting the door drop closed behind him.
It was that moment when the man officially twisted me in two.
Because when he walked out that door? He took a part of me I had no chance of ever getting back.
19
Rynna
I was going to be late.
Shit.
I was going to be really, really late.
And I couldn’t be late.
Everything was riding on this meeting.
In one heel and wearing a fitted skirt, I stumbled out of the walk-in closet, which was filled with a bunch of boxes my grandmother had left behind.
I stumbled, my hand darting out to the wall for support, and paused for a beat in an attempt to shimmy on the other heel. Once I was at least the same height on both sides, I tried again.
Two steps away from the small dressing table on the far side of the room, my ankle rolled.
All the way to the side.
Pain splintered up the outside of my leg.
“Shit,” I yelped as I tried to rebound and stop my fall. The only thing I managed to do was to propel myself forward. Falling fast. My hands shot out, and my fingertips just snagged the edge of the stool a split second before my face slammed against the floor.
My knees weren’t so lucky.
They dug into the worn carpet, pantyhose shredded.
Awesome.
My head dropped between my shoulders, and I fought the sting of tears that rushed to my eyes.
Tears of frustration. Tears of worry. Tears of this heartache that had grown every day since Rex Gunner had walked out my door two weeks ago without another word.
I’d told myself I was just being stupid. Foolish. Chasing a man who obviously wanted nothing to do with me. Just because I told myself those things didn’t mean I could so easily convince myself of them. Not when they felt like a lie.
God. Why did life have to be so complicated? I had enough to worry about without the gorgeous man and his adorable daughter who lived across the street. And somehow, they had become the center of every thought.
Laughter jutted from my mouth.
The maniacal kind.
The kind that could have been sobbing. It all depended on how you heard it. Or maybe on the way you looked at it.
If you aren’t laughing, you’re crying. Now, which would you rather be doing?
My grandmother’s soft encouragement prodded at my consciousness, and I could almost feel the pad of her thumb brushing across my cheek.
I drew in a deep breath, hoping it might give me clarity, guidance, the words a chorus of convoluted whispers that tumbled from my tongue. “I don’t know if I know the difference anymore, Gramma. Things are getting complicated. So complicated, and I don’t know how to handle them all. I don’t know if I can do this. It feels like I’m going to fail.”