Raw: The Ultimate Mc Collection (11 page)

At least not before I had to.  And if I didn’t have to confirm to her right away that I was a cold-blooded killer, then so be it.  I knew it wouldn’t matter that I was defending her, she would still never look at me the same.  I knew it.  Hell, she was going to leave soon anyway.  I might as well enjoy her before she remembered whoever she was and waltzed right back out of my life again.

So, instead of telling her what I really was - a criminal, a murderer - I kissed her.  And then, I kissed her again.  Once I had a taste of her mouth, I couldn’t stop.  Once we got back to the clubhouse, the party was starting to break up.

“Is it okay if I just go back to your room? I’m not much in the mood for a crowd right now.” Sam’s eyes were full uncertainty, and I knew she was feeling lost.  I wished like hell there was a way I could help bring her memories back.

“Yes, consider it your room for now, okay?  You can go there anytime.”

“Are you sure Cherry won’t murder me in my sleep?”

“I can assure you that Cherry will stay far away from you from now on.  Go on in, turn on some music, relax a little.  I’ll be right there and we can um…talk…a little more,” I said, having every intention of doing more than talking.  If she would let me, that is. “I just have to talk to Zander for a second.”

Amusement sparked in her eye and I knew she was thinking along the same lines.  She certainly didn’t shy away from my kisses earlier.

“Okay, thank you,” she whispered, silently walking through the few stragglers that were in the living room.  I watched her walk away, my gaze lingering on her full, curvy ass.  My cock throbbed in my jeans.  I could still taste her on my lips.

“Never mind,” I said, following right behind her.  “Zander can wait till tomorrow.”

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at me, her long, blonde hair swaying down her back.  The smile she flashed at me was full of light.  Joyful, yet seductive. Knowing. My cock swelled even larger, and I reminded myself of the need to go slow.  For fuck’s sake, she had only been awake for a day.

I closed the door behind us, and turned on the lamp by my bed.  

“Music?” I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.  When the hell was I ever nervous?  This woman had me under a spell.

“Please.”  Her voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her.  She sat down on the bed and watched as I put a record on the record player.

“Waylon?  Willie?”

“Okay, sure…” her eyes narrowed briefly before she smiled at me. 

“Willie Nelson is my favorite singer,” I said. “My dad was a big fan.”

She nodded her head silently, as the well-worn songs of the country legend filled the room.  Old country was all I had, so it was a good thing she liked it.

I sat down on the bed next to her, and pulled off my boots.  When she saw what I was doing, she took hers off, too.

“Thank you for letting me borrow all this stuff,” she said.  

“Sure, you’re welcome.  It’s just some old used gear we had laying around.  Glad it fit.”  

I watched her profile, and was captured by her beauty once again.  I had spent three days looking at that profile, and had memorized every freckle, every curve and swell of her cheeks, the line of her jaw.  She was easy on the eyes for sure, but every time she turned those green eyes on me, it wasn’t easy anymore.  I loved it, sure.  Like I said, those eyes were filled with trust and acceptance, and it was addicting. But for a man who was doing his damnedest not to succumb to the desires of his one-track-mind cock, those eyes were not helping the situation one bit.

Luckily, she called the shot before I could even begin to try.

“I’m exhausted again.  Isn’t that weird?”  Oh. Sleep. Right. She wanted to sleep. I wanted to sink my cock so deep into her that she would beg me to keep doing it all night long.  We were on two different pages, apparently.  I must have read her wrong.  But that was just fine.

“Of course you are.  This whole thing must be taking such an emotional toll on you,” I said, my hand reaching out and rubbing her back.  She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I could smell my shampoo on her hair.

I swallowed hard, my resistance being tested with a vengeance. 

“I’m so thankful for you, Ryder.  You’ve been amazing to me, thank you so much,” she said.  “You’re a good man.”

She almost whispered that last part, but I heard it.  And instead of making me feel good, it just reminded me that I was not a good man.  I was a liar.  Not to mention everything else.

I didn’t answer; I didn’t have any words anyway.  

“Will you stay with me tonight?  I hate the thought of you having to sleep…well, elsewhere…and I’d love it if you just held me.  I don’t want to be alone.”  Sadness filled her voice, and I felt awful for her.  I wanted to make it all go away, and it was the one thing I couldn’t do for her.

“Of course, babe,” I said, putting my arm around her and pulling her in close to my side. “Anything you want…”

We curled up on the bed, still fully dressed, falling asleep to Willie’s songs.  It was a good thing, too, because if there hadn’t been any clothes between us, nothing would have stopped my massive erection from finding exactly what it desired.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Grace

I never expected Ryder to lay down with me and not have sex with me. I wanted it, but my hint about being exhausted was taken literally, instead of my failed attempt at hurrying up the process.  When he laid down behind me, spooning me, completely dressed, except for his boots, I almost laughed.

Disappointment washed over me.  I had wanted the distraction, but I had also been hoping I would get a chance to see what was under that cut.  I still hadn’t seen him without it, not once.  I imagined myself turning around and sliding it from his shoulders, and then stripping off everything else that was in my way.   I didn’t do it, though.

Instead, I settled in, his arms deliciously enveloping my torso, his warmth and strength seeping into that sleeping, needy part of me that I was desperately trying to keep pushed down deep.  We laid there quietly holding each other, our breathing falling in rhythm together, nothing but the sound of a distant guitar and an old, familiar voice in the room as we drifted off to sleep in the stillness of the night.

A few hours later, I woke up haunted by a dream I had had, but as soon as I opened my eyes it was gone.  It was something I needed.  Something important.  A spark of a memory, but it quickly retreated to the dark, inaccessibly dusty corners of my mind, and I couldn’t reach it.  

Moaning in frustration, I arched my back.  And then I felt it.  Ryder.  Ryder’s massive erection.  I could hear him sleeping still, his breath steadily falling in the dark.  In the few hours I had been asleep, he had only wrapped himself even tighter around me.  His arms clung to me tightly, and his muscular blue-jean clad thigh was now slung over mine. He slept - deeply, peacefully.  And yet, he was hard as a rock.

I couldn’t take it anymore.  His gentleness.  His huge fucking heart.  The way he looked at me when he knew I was in pain.  My heart burst with emotion, and I knew I couldn't wait any longer.  I needed him.  I needed that human connection, to feel like, if only for a moment, I belonged with someone.  But not just anyone - him.

He was all I had.

And I wanted all of him.

I reached behind me, grabbing his hardness, gasping at the size of him.  He was hot, throbbing, and now that my hand was squeezing him, he was beginning to moan in his sleep.  I grinned in the dark.  Gripped harder.  Gentle, but firm.  With intention.

His fingers tightened around my chest, finding the flesh, squeezing, his brain waking up with the rest of his body.  He pressed his entire frame against me, and I rolled over, facing him, and found his lips waiting, open, ready for mine.

We melted together in a frenzy of caresses, our mouths working together to bring us closer.  But it was still not close enough.  I let go of his cock, my hands reaching up and fingering the edge of his cut, memorizing the feel of the leather under my fingertips, before I slid it over his chiseled shoulders, just as I had imagined so many times.

Fingers found buttons, shirts and jeans slid over our skin and pushed away, all in a fury of purposeful gestures.  Skin bare, we began the dance all over again.  His skin was smooth, tightly stretched over his rippling muscles, and my hands slid over every inch of him, committing every curve and crevice to memory.  The need to remember every detail of this night, every detail of him, was undeniably present, a constant undercurrent of yearning that sang low and steady in my gut.

He rolled on top of me, his kisses urgent, searching, demanding.  His lips pressed into mine firmly, his tongue slipping deep into me, tangling with mine sensuously.  My hands flew over his velvety skin, pulling him closer to me, wrapping my legs around him tightly.

He sank into me easily, smoothly, firmly.  I moaned, as he wrapped his arms around me, his mouth glued to mine, and he began to move inside me.  Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, he pressed forward, his kisses turning deeply tender as we moved together, our bodies dancing together in a perfect partnership, our only shared goal of connection deliciously met in the darkness.

Excitement flowed from my body, soaking him as he pushed into me, over and over.  Faster, he fucked into me, his moans turning to groans as he began to thrust harder and harder, his need quickening with his breath as he tore his mouth from mine.  His lips first found my neck, then he quickly clasped his lips around my hardened nipple.

I sunk my fingers in his hair, pulling his head into my chest, my hips flying up to meet his every thrust, as I cried out in ecstasy.  I clenched around his cock, the pleasure turning to a delicious, flashing pain and then turning to great waves of bliss as I dug my fingers into his back.  His mouth found mine again, as he hammered into me harder and harder, his cock swelling inside me, searing me with his hot wetness. 

He kissed me even deeper as he came, his moans filling my mouth as his thrusts slowed, our bodies slick, spent, satiated.  He fell next to me, and we continued to hold onto each other tightly, neither of us willing to part as we regained our breath.  

I laid my head on his shoulder, as he caressed my hair, his lips brushing against my forehead as we drifted back to sleep together.

***

The house I stood in front of was tiny. Dirty, white, a broken window by the front door.  A loud air-conditioner was sticking out of the bottom half of the window, dripping a wet river of condensation onto the broken concrete porch and snaking across and over the edge of it. I opened the torn screen door in front of me and stepped over the threshold.  The paint-chipped wooden front door was thrown open.  Dark and cavelike, the edges of the tiny space were cramped with old furniture and books and clutter.

I followed the sound of a man singing.  Twangy, country, familiar.  A guitar, a stomping foot.  I rounded the corner of a tiny, dark hall and entered a bedroom.

A man sat on a bed. He smiled at me, a guitar in his lap as he gestured for me to sit down next to him while he continued singing.

“Remember me, when the candlelights are gleaming…

Remember me, at the close of a long, long day…

and it would be so sweet, when all alone, I’m dreaming…

just to know that you still remember me…”

I clapped my tiny hands, bouncing up and down on the bed, a huge smile spread across my face.

“More, Daddy, more!” I pleaded with him.  He reached over, tucking a strand of stringy blonde hair behind my ear.  

“You like that one, don’t you, baby?”  he asked, his gentle eyes full of love.  

“Yes!” I replied. “It’s my favorite Willie Nelson song!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll sing it one more time, just for you,” he said, his strong voice rising again as he sang to me.

***

When I woke up, the sun was streaming in through Ryder’s window.  I knew I had remembered something in my dream.  It was a strong memory, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  It was foggy.  So vague and almost impossible to fully recall.  

I lay in bed, my eyes closed, trying to touch it again, to just grasp at a small thread to find a way to pull it back, but it was too far away.  If there was anything I had learned in the last few days, it was that trying hard to remember something didn’t work.  It either came back on its own or it didn’t.  I let it go, hoping it would do just that.