Sweet Seduction Shield (33 page)

"But this was
where I always met her, where we had morning tea and talked. This
was her house, even if it was in his name. He bought it for her, so
she was always available when he wanted her to be." A small,
agony-filled sound escaped his lips. "He was about to move a new
lover into it when I first told him I knew."

I didn't know
what to say to that. Five years, he said it took, to gather enough
evidence to convict his mother's murderer. Just when did Ryan let
the man know he knew?

"He sold it
after that," he whispered. "Cut his losses, before it could be used
as evidence against him. It'd had two owners by the time I bought
it and placed it in the trust. Despite the house never legally
being hers, she'd loved it. She'd taken pride in it. Every corner,
every nook, was all her. She loved the garden and the view out to
sea. We spent hours, over the course of our fairly brief
acquaintance, talking while taking in that scene. It was what I
remembered best about her. This fucking house. That fucking view.
When I couldn't find anything of hers to keep as a memento, I
bought the whole damn thing."

"And yet you
never visit," I remarked, wishing I hadn't said it as soon as the
words were out.

He grimaced,
took another long swallow of water, and then placed the glass on
the bedside table.

"I wanted to,"
he said as he turned to face me, lying sideways on the bed, his
head elevated by the pillows.

I turned and
placed my glass on the table on my side and then reached up and
switched the overhead light off. Then snuggled down on my side,
letting my eyes adjust to the moonlight, and pulling Ryan down the
bed until we were lying flat, one pillow beneath our heads, shared,
our faces within inches of each other.

We breathed
each other's air for a while, just staring into each other's
eyes.

"You wanted
to," I encouraged, giving him this chance to get it all out.

I know what
it's like to keep something so monumental, so ingrained on your
soul, deep inside. Even when there are good memories, the bad tend
to grow in size, the longer it's kept locked up and hidden. The bad
takes over, and eventually there is no good left to remember.

I have a
shoebox of memories, and only recently when I retrieved them from
their hiding place at the Salt Water Baths, did I actually remember
there had been some good times with Rick, as well as the bad.

Ryan needed to
remember the good, to let go of the bad.

He nodded, his
hand wrapping around mine as he brought it up between our chests,
holding it there. His thumb traced patterns on the back over my
skin.

"I don't
consider myself a coward, but although I couldn't bear the thought
of letting this place go, I couldn't bring myself to embrace it
either. It's all I have of her. But it's also the last place I saw
her alive."

"The key word
there is
alive
."

"But he owned
it," he argued, his brow furrowing with anger and misery.

"He might have
paid the bills, Ryan. But was this house ever truly his?"

He
blinked.

I went on.
"You said so yourself, every nook was her. Why else would you
consider this place a link to your mother? If she hadn't imprinted
on it, and you hadn't have spent some wonderful memories here with
her, it wouldn't be a link. But it is. And not once did
he
have a part in that. You can possess something,
Ryan, but that does not mean it's yours."

"How do you
know when it is yours?" he asked, and I had the distinct impression
the conversation had shifted somehow.

"When it
reflects a part of you back," I whispered, running my fingers along
the edge of his jaw, enjoying the sensation of his whiskers
scratching the tips.

"What do you
mean?"

"Take this
house. When you look at the view you remember your birth mother.
You remember sitting there with her sharing tea."

He nodded.

"The house
belonged to her, legally or not, it reflects her in your memories.
It does not reflect him."

He held my
gaze patiently, as if expecting there to be more. I sucked in a
shaky breath of air.

"What do you
see when you look at me?" I asked.

"Beauty," he
answered immediately. I smiled. "There, see? Beautiful."

I shook my
head, but the smile remained.

"Do you want
to know what I see when I look at you?"

His eyes
widened fractionally, but his head nodded up and down eagerly.

"I see
everything I want to be. I see all that makes up the good side of
who I am. Morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. Everything I
strive to be, but don't always attain. I see it in you, and it
reflects the part of me I
want
to be. It reflects the part
of me I
know
I can be. If I have you in my life."

I paused,
gathering my thoughts.

"I used to use
confidence and an icy distance as a shield to keep me away from
anything that could harm. When I look at you I see a new shield,
one that embraces life with passion and honesty. I see a warmth
that I desperately want to possess, an alternative to the ice and
confidence. Something alive and vibrant and real."

I licked my
lips and searched his face for a reaction. He was immobile,
possibly with shock.

A deep breath
in, and then, "When I'm with you, I am all of those things. I am
morally upright. Strong. Good. Capable. I use passion, honesty and
warmth to shield me from those things that could harm." My voice
lowered, became a husky whisper. "Without you, I am ice. With you,
I am the power of fire."

"Bloody hell,"
he murmured. "I so want to make love to you right now."

"Well, that's
one reaction to have," I said with a huff of a laugh.

His lips
pressed into mine before the laughter finished. It was in no way
innocent or sweet. It was hungry, desperate, and
alive
. Real in the same way I felt when I
was with him. It was Ryan showing me what I made him feel. What he
saw when he looked at me.

"You are the
most beautiful woman I have ever met, Marie Cox," he murmured
against my lips, each word interspersed with a nip or a lick or a
nibble. "Inside and out."

His hand swept down my side, and then deftly came back up
under the loose t-shirt I'd put on after our shower. He stopped
just shy of my breast, stroking the underside of the curve,
teasing. The kiss deepened, our breaths intermingling, his
fingers
just
touching, our moans
escalating in the dim quiet of the room. The world outside the
windows disappeared. The memories all fled and were momentarily
forgotten. We got lost in each other, lost in that kiss. Our hands
never ceasing their exploration, our lips and tongues dancing a
duet that could have lasted all night.

Ryan's kisses stole all reason, and yet I had never felt more
connected to another, more
aware
than when he kissed me. Heat and passion and fire and
exquisite bliss, all wrapped up in his lips. I could kiss Ryan
forever and never need anything else. If all we did tonight was
kiss, I would still be in heaven.

But he pulled
back, breaking the dream-like moment, allowing us to catch our
breaths, and leaning his forehead against mine.

"When I look
at you," he said, breathlessly, "I see my future. I see the woman I
want to share the rest of my life with. Someone who challenges me,
someone who lights up the part of me that's dark. Someone who
understands that dark, but doesn't let it taint her. I see a
strength of character that thrills me. An unending depth of
conviction that awes me. An immeasurable amount of desire to live
that captivates me. And an unfathomable mountain of love for her
daughter that speaks to me, right here." He tapped his chest above
his heart, twice. Hard. "I want that, Marie. I want you to teach
me. I want to be a part of everything you are and will be."

Wow.

I more than
wanted that too.

He rolled onto
his back, pulling me on top of him, making my legs spread over his
hips, my shins either side of his thighs. And pressing his erection
right into my moist centre.

"You're wet," he rasped, rocking his hips up to meet the roll
of mine. "And I think you might be mine," he added, as the tip of
his arousal slipped through the gap in his trunks and brushed me
just inside. Just a teaser, just a hint of what was to
come.

He pulled
back, then rubbed through my folds, returning to place his broad
head inside my entrance. I could feel the material of his
underwear, I knew it was getting soaked by my juices. I wanted it
gone. Just naked skin on naked skin. But there was also something
decidedly erotic and elicit about doing this while almost fully
dressed. I wasn't wearing panties, but Ryan hadn't removed my
t-shirt. He was wearing underwear, no top, but his trunks had
remained.

And still the
tip of his cock was teasing me.

"Are you,
Marie?" he breathed out. "Are you mine?"

Oh, dear God.
What did he think? Of course I was. I'd just laid my heart on my
sleeve, and he'd returned the favour and laid down his.

"Yes," I
gasped, as he teased with an upward thrust, his head pressing
inside, but no more. "Remove your underwear," I demanded. I wanted
all of him inside and his underwear was preventing full
penetration.

"Not yet," he
argued. "Can I make you come like this? Just inside."

Oh, yeah, he
could. But I was greedy.

I squirmed on top of him and his hands clamped down on my
hips, stilling my motion. His eyes locked on mine, a heated look in
amongst the brown. He held me motionless above him, the challenge
obvious in his eyes,
Don't move
. I
bit my bottom lip and made a throaty moan, his lips parted on a
sexy sigh, and then he rocked his hips. Small presses upward,
minute pulls back, over and over again. The broad tip of his
erection rubbing over my sensitive clit as it slipped just inside
and then retreated back out.

Again. And
again. And a-fucking-gain.

He had me panting and breathless and sweaty and
needy
all within a matter of minutes, and
his eyes never left mine once. It was so intimate. So playful, yet
full of an intensity that rocked me to my core.

"I think I'm
gonna come just like this," he announced in a roughened whisper
that sped my heart up. "Come all over your pussy, while you come
all over my trunks."

I whimpered,
threw my head back, arched my shoulders, making my breasts stick
out above his face.

"Ah, fuck
this," he groaned, moving his hands from my hips to the hem of my
shirt and lifting it up and off my body in one frantic and slightly
rough move. "There they are," he declared, once the offending
garment was on the floor and his hands were back on my hips
controlling my movements. His eyes locked on my breasts and watched
them bounce, an appreciative smile gracing his lips.

"My turn," I
breathed. "Now your trunks."

"No," Ryan
argued. "Come for me like this. Spread your thighs wider, grind
against the tip of my cock. Then I'll let you ride me."

I moaned, it
was halfway frustrated, halfway turned on, but in the next second
he changed his angle, making his cock slide lengthwise over my
clit, the tip dipping up and inside with a swirl of his hips on the
end of each thrust forward. He reversed the motion and then
repeated each slide, swirl and dip inside again.

Three more
times and I shattered. A noise building from the base of my throat
and erupting out of my mouth, which Ryan caught in one smooth move,
rising off the bed to wrap his lips around mine and sucking the
sound back down. I shuddered above him, my body trembling with the
release, bright lights blinding me for a brief moment and all
breath long ago lost.

He'd made me
come and he hadn't even sunk himself inside.

"Fucking
brilliant," he rasped against my neck. "That was fucking amazing to
watch."

My body
offered one more shudder against his and he chuckled, enjoying the
obvious total lack of control on my part. His erection jerked
between us; the material of his underwear feeling decidedly wet and
slightly sticky when I lifted myself up to catch a glimpse of that
fantastic appendage. I admit, I might have been a little in awe of
his cock, right then.

"Take them
off," he husked, leaning back down on the bed and placing his hands
behind his head in that typically masculine stance.

I offered a
smirk of my own and pulled his now completely ruined trunks down
his legs, letting his erection finally spring free. I threw the
underwear over by my t-shirt on the floor and returned my eyes to
his arousal. It bobbed a little under my gaze.

"Ride me,
babe," Ryan purred. "Take everything I've got."

My eyes
flicked back up to his face to see his expression. It was hungry,
filled with lust, but there was an honesty there. The words meaning
much more than just sex.

I crawled up
his body, keeping my eyes locked to his, and reached for his cock.
One stroke up and down. His lips parted, his hips rising off the
bed. I tilted my head, watching him. Another stroke up and down, a
squeeze of my hand at the base. A breath of air expelled on a sexy
grunt.

I shuffled
forward, positioned myself directly above him, and while I held his
beautiful brown intense eyes with my own, I sank down, taking him
all the way inside.

"
Fuuuuck
!" he exclaimed in a
long harsh whisper. His hands coming down and clasping my hips,
fingers digging in.

He rocked up
meeting me off the bed, then retreated with a low moan. In the next
instant he slammed back into me again, making my breath leave me in
a rush of air. Another and another and then finally with shaking
hands he lowered himself back to the bed, sucking in air, and
closed his eyelids slowly. We sat like that silently for a few
seconds, and then as though he had to make a conscious effort to do
it, he removed his hands from my hips and returned them to beneath
his head.