God, she had it so bad for this man. She always had.
He’d told her to sit down and wait while he changed, and no more than a minute passed before he was walking back into the kitchen, his running shorts replaced by a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. The hem of the shirt hung just low enough to cover his crotch, no doubt to hide any lingering evidence of the massive erection he’d been grinding against her only minutes before. What she wouldn’t give to go back to that moment and just stay there, stuck in a replay loop that had him putting his hands and his mouth on her again. And again . . .
On the journey there, she’d repeatedly told herself—when she wasn’t reliving those horrific moments on Nancy’s boat—that she was finally over Scott Ryder. Completely. Forever. She’d tried to convince herself that she was running to him to buy as much time as she could—not because she was still the crushed-out girl who’d constantly obsessed about him, that obsession growing into heart-wrenching emotion as she’d grown older, only to be destroyed when he’d walked out of her life without so much as a See ya. But her delusions had been shattered the instant he’d touched her. No matter how badly she wanted to hate him, she . . . couldn’t. Not when there was still so much raw need for this man living inside her. It’d dug itself down into her bones, like a parasite, unwilling to let go, even after he’d taken her heart and ground it into tiny little mutilated pieces three years ago. Which left her in an even more miserable situation than she’d already been in, seeing as how he’d made it more than obvious on his doorstep that he was not happy to see her.
Whatever imagined need or desire she’d thought she’d glimpsed in his eyes all those years ago must have been nothing more than her wishful thinking.
Really? whispered a voice inside her head. And just whose mouth was that turning you inside out five minutes ago?
Huh. That was true. So then what was his freaking problem?
And what are you going to do about it?
At any other point in her life, Lily might have worried about the fact that she was carrying on a silent conversation with herself. But after the hell she’d been through, she wasn’t fazed by that soft voice. What threw her was the man standing across the kitchen from her, his powerful arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against one of the counters, a fierce scowl wedged between his dark brows.
It didn’t seem possible, but she was even more drawn to him now than she’d been when he was one of Heller’s Hellions, the nickname she’d given to her father’s deadly, highly trained black ops unit. Without any conscious decision, Lily found herself thinking back to her eighteenth birthday, when Ryder had been invited up to their house to watch a game with her dad. Before his retirement, the men in her father’s unit had lived in barracks on the grounds of their estate, which had been provided by the military in Northern Virginia. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to steal glances at the gorgeous soldier who her father had told her had a genius IQ that rivaled his combat skills, she’d grabbed a sketch pad and settled into a chair in the corner of the room. But that was as far as her plans had gotten, because it was Ryder who had spent most of the evening watching her instead of the TV. Flustered and overwhelmed with desire, she’d kept her attention focused on the blank page in her book, keenly aware of his dark eyes moving over her features, studying them individually. But why? She’d wondered if he thought she was odd, like the boys she’d gone to school with had. Or had he liked what he saw? Liked her? She’d wished she had the answer, but she’d had no basis for comparison. Not when her nearly nonexistent experience had been with bumbling adolescents, while he’d been . . . God. What he’d been was incredible. The most intensely sexual, potent male she’d ever set eyes on.
And he still was. Maybe even more so. And boy did that suck. Considering she wasn’t getting any.
Why not? If not now, when? Your time is running out.
She didn’t like to think about it, but knew that damn voice was probably right. In that instant, Lily made the decision to go “balls out,” as guys said, and give his seduction her all. Hell, it’s not like she had anything to lose, except maybe her pride. But it was going to hurt just as much if she lost without even trying, so the way she saw it, she might as well give it a shot. Especially when the odds were hardly in her favor of surviving more than a few weeks, at best. Ryder was good, but she had a clear understanding of exactly how evil Radovich could be. Not to mention determined. Now that she’d finally been honest with herself about why she was there, she knew there was no way she could let Ryder get caught up in her problems. She had maybe a week, tops, before Radovich tracked her down. Which meant she’d have to be gone before then, drawing him away from this man who had claimed her damn heart without even trying.
Apparently growing impatient with their silent standoff, he gripped the edge of the counter behind him and very quietly said, “Start talking, Lily.”
Enjoying the chills his rough voice gave her, she leaned back in the chair she’d taken at the small table and held his stare. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want to know what happened on that boat.”
“I told you what happened. My father was killed, I got away, and I have no doubt that Rado is looking for me. I need your help until I can figure out what to do.”
• • •
SHE WANTED TO figure out what to do? Christ, her options were so limited he could count them on two fingers.
One: Kill Radovich before he killed her.
Two: Start a new life somewhere with a new identity and hope like hell the terrorist never tracked her down.
Both options had their dangers, and he wished to God there were a third, easier solution here. Wished Rado had just stayed dead, like he was meant to be, instead of coming back and wreaking hell on this woman’s life.
Now that she was sitting under the bright kitchen lights, Ryder could see the shadow of a healing bruise on her right cheek and another along the side of her jaw. It killed him inside that she’d been hurt. That some prick had hit her . . . marked her.
Was this what had been itching at his senses for the past weeks? He wasn’t a spiritual guy, but he’d spent enough time in Heller’s unit to trust his survival instincts. But this feeling in his veins had been different, sharper and more vital, and he hadn’t recognized it for what it was: A call to protect someone else, instead of his own sorry ass. If he hadn’t been so goddamn determined not to think about her, would he have been able to figure it out? He didn’t know—but it was probably going to be a question that hammered at him for the rest of his days.
He didn’t like failing people. And no matter what he did, he always ended up feeling like that around Lily. Like he was doing it all wrong. Not getting it right. Out of his element and in over his head. Which was only part of the reason he’d known he needed to walk away.
“Obviously,” she said, tucking a wayward curl behind her left ear, “we need to know what’s happened since I ran. I’ve been completely cut off, so I have no idea if Rado has gone after anyone else, or if he’s gunning straight for me. If he’s hoping to stay off the government’s radar and remain dead, then he’ll put everything he’s got into finding me. Do you stay in contact with any of your old intel sources?”
He shook his head. “Not the kind that would know anything about Rado. I left that shit behind, where it belongs.”
Something that looked too much like pain flashed in her eyes. “Including me? Am I just an unwanted piece of your forgotten past?”
His fingers tightened on the counter until he could have sworn he heard the Formica groan in protest. “You weren’t mine, Lily. Don’t make it sound like we had some understanding that I shit on. I never fucked you over.”