Can't Let Go Read online

  "Oh, cowboy. You're going to be screwed, anyway."

  He barked out a laugh, a genuine laugh of amusement that made up for his use of her last name--his desire for distance--but he sobered quickly and patted the corners of his mouth, as if smiling felt weird, the necessary muscles somehow atrophied. His next scowl proved darker, and yet a sense of triumph flooded her. I'm getting to him.

  His gaze darted to the door. Was he thinking about getting the heck out of Dodge?

  Message received. He might be ready for sex, but he wanted nothing to do with humor.

  "I'm far overdressed in these panties, don't you think?" She played with the sides of the material.

  "Agreed." He grated, "Remove them."

  Oh, wow, he was so deliciously forceful! Her nipples swelled, and her belly quivered, but she strove to remain calm. The moment she gave into the fever in her blood, the sooner this encounter would be over.

  "I will...after you remove your underwear."

  In a blink, the briefs were gone, a massive erection stretching from between his legs. The moisture in her mouth dried.

  "Now the panties," he croaked.

  "Not quite yet." The moment she was nude, the conversation would cease. "We have a few medical matters to discuss first."

  He inclined his head in a stiff nod.

  "I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. Haven't missed a single dose." She'd gotten a prescription not too long ago, when she'd decided to end her moratorium on men. "Are you?"

  "I'm clean, but I'm not on the pill."

  Now a laugh barked from her. Maybe he was ready for humor. "I'd still like you to wear a condom, okay?" Just to be extra safe.

  He nodded, an odd look on his face. "I'd planned to, anyway. I recently had a vasectomy, but sperm remains active for a few months afterward. Anyway. Soon I won't be able to have kids."

  What the what! A vasectomy? He really didn't want to have more kids, did he.

  One day Ryanne would love to have a family of her own, but only after her travels.

  He bent down to dig a condom out of the pocket of his jeans. The fact that he'd come prepared...

  Deep down, he'd known his resistance would crumble.

  With a slow smile, she wiggled her hips. "I've decided you're going to have to ask nicely if you want the panties gone, mi hombre hermoso."

  "My handsome man?" The epitome of wicked desire, he stood with stunning grace despite his handicap, reached out and ripped the sides of the panties. "I think we both know you don't want a nice man, Wade. You want me."

  Another use of her last name. When would he learn? Distance sucked. His gaze more than made up for the slip, however, devouring her, desire a palpable, sizzling current in the air.

  No more playing. Ryanne wanted her man.

  Unwilling to wait for an invitation, she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his waist, becoming a crutch to help him walk. He stiffened but offered no rebuke, and together they entered the shower, hot water raining over them both.

  After washing the blood from his hands, Jude eased on to the bench and set the condom aside, out of the spray of water.

  For several long, protracted seconds, she was paralyzed by an immense surge of uncertainty. This was so new to her. Should she climb onto his lap or remain on her feet? What did he like?

  They'd kissed twice, but they hadn't gone on a single date. Actually, all they'd ever done was insult each other. Now they planned to have no-strings sex?

  Was foreplay even necessary, considering two and a half years had passed without satisfaction? Despite the pain of being deflowered--was that even the right term?--Ryanne suspected she would come the second he thrust inside her.

  "Nervous?" he asked, his features softening. "Don't be. I'm just like every other man."

  No. No, he wasn't. He was more. He was better. "I haven't... I mean, I'm not..." Ugh! Get the first time over with. Next time you can--

  News flash: there wouldn't be a next time.

  Right. Despite another surge of disappointment, she waved her hand through the air.

  "You're not what?" he asked.

  "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

  "You want a play-by-play or a few surprises?"

  "Play-by-play." Pretty please.

  "All right. Straddle me, and I'll kiss you. I'll touch every inch of you, every perfect curve and hollow, and when you beg me to fill you, I'll thrust so deep inside you that you'll feel me tomorrow every time you take a step."

  Just like that. Frenzied need overtook her. She straddled him, saying, "Thank you for the play-by-play, but now it's time to follow through, cowboy."

  CHAPTER TEN

  SKIN TO SKIN. Heat to heat. Wet to wetter.

  Incredible hardness pressed against the softest part of Ryanne, electrified nerve endings purring with approval. She was careful to brace her weight on her knees rather than Jude's thighs, unwilling to exert undue pressure on him. With only one foot, he might have trouble remaining balanced.

  "What are you waiting for?" She glided the tip of her nose over his. "I've done my part. Kiss me." Kiss me, and never stop.

  "Needed a second to enjoy the view." He tangled his hands in her hair, fisted the strands and drew her down slowly, so slowly, an eternity seeming to pass as the space between them shrank...more...a little more...

  His mouth pressed against hers, the contact exquisite.

  Eager, she opened for him. His taste tantalized her senses, and reminded her of his scent; spiced rum on her tongue, black magic in her veins. He dueled her for control. The moment she ceded, he rewarded her by yanking her ever closer. Her nipples smashed against his chest, her next breath sparking a glorious friction. Her blood like gasoline, the breath after that starting a fire. Inside and out, she burned.

  This is sex, just sex. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure, and a long overdue rite of passage. An experience she yearned to have, her desire for Jude Laurent eclipsing...everything.

  Just sex, just sex, just sex.

  "I swear you're the human equivalent of strawberry shortcake." He sounded accusatory--and drunk with passion.

  "Well, you are the human equivalent of honey, and I want you drizzled all over me."

  The words drew a moan from him, and with the next sweep of his tongue, the tone of the kiss changed. From exploratory to explosive, the fierceness of his desire feeding hers. Pressure built. They ate at each other, ravenous. The more he gave, the more she wanted, until she feared her appetite would never be satisfied.

  With one hand on each side of her spine, he trailed his fingers down, down, then he cupped her bottom and moved her. Her aching core met his erection, and she groaned with delight.

  "Jude." Biting the cord of his neck, she anchored her nails in his shoulders. "Don't stop."

  The sounds he made...like music. An erotic melody. Or a spell meant to enthrall her for all eternity.

  As his fingers continued their journey, sliding to her stomach, she began to pant.

  "You were made for this, weren't you, shortcake." He cupped her breasts, dragged his thumbs over her aching nipples.

  Shortcake. What an adorable nickname! Tears of happiness burned her eyes. Tears Jude might not understand. He might think she was too attached to him, or too heavily invested in their relationship, and leave. At least the water continued raining over her, steam filling the stall, masking the embarrassing development.

  With his chest flush against hers, she felt surrounded, every inch of her body sensitized. She glanced down, luxuriating in the sight of his hands--those big, bruised hands--kneading her breasts.

  Those hands had beaten two trained fighters senseless earlier, had cracked bone, busted cartilage and ripped out enamel with ease, and yet, those same hands now handled her as if she were priceless china.

  Trembling, she grazed her nails over the stubble on his jaw. Jude's inhalations grew as labored as her own, the tattoo on his chest heaving, the inked heart seeming to beat, the swords sliding in and out
of the chambers.

  Their eyes met, and for the first time, she thought she saw scorching possessiveness in those navy blues. Shivers didn't dance, they consumed.

  "Look at you," he said. "Eyes wild, lips red and puffy, even a little pouty. Breasts spilling from my hands. Hips rocking. You are passion incarnate."

  She was?

  She must be. She couldn't stop grinding against his erection. "I want you." Now. "Foreplay isn't necessary."

  "Maybe not for you." He ran his tongue along her collarbone, earning a hiss.

  When her thundering heartbeat slowed, she nipped at his lower lip. "Are you telling me you're having trouble with your equipment?" Reaching between their bodies, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft. "Because I would beg to differ."

  Peering into her eyes, he pinched her nipples. "There's nothing wrong with my equipment. I like the sounds you make when I touch you, the way you move and touch me, and I don't want it to end."

  New shivers, an avalanche of want and need. "Tomorrow we can--" The words do it all over again died inside her mouth. One time. Just sex. No regrets. "Take your time, then, cowboy. I'll just sit here and enjoy the ride. But don't go too slowly, or I'll have to shift your gear." As she spoke, she stroked his length up...down...up.

  "Problem." He flexed in her grip. "If I speed, I'll get ticketed."

  "Don't worry. You can pay my tickets with kisses...and give me a thorough body cavity search."

  He chuckled, then nipped the lobe of her ear. After kissing the curve of her jaw, he licked a drop of water from her chin. "You truly enjoy making me squirm, don't you?"

  "I do, honey buns. I really do." Nuzzling his cheek, she added in a breathy voice, "But I think I'll enjoy squirming on you even more."

  With a growl, he bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, his golden hair tickling her collarbone as his masterful tongue flicked one of the swollen buds. His control had snapped.

  A ragged cry left her, pleasure stringing her body as tight as a bow; any second now, her arrow would fly.

  Want him to come with me.

  Her grip tightened on his shaft. To her surprise and delight, she realized her fingers weren't even close to meeting. He was too danged big.

  Angling her wrist, she rubbed the tip of his erection against the drenched, aching center of her body. Her other hand combed through the silken strands of his hair. When he began to suck on her nipple harder, increasing the pressure, she dug her nails into his scalp to hold his head in place.

  "You're right. I think foreplay is overrated. You ready for me?" No other warning as he thrust a finger deep inside her.

  She gasped...moaned. The pleasure!

  Adding a second finger, he stretched her, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Her body was starved for his, and he'd merely given her an appetizer. She needed the entire meal. "More. Now."

  He wedged a third finger inside her, and she cried out, teetering at the brink of agony or ecstasy, she wasn't sure which.

  "You're wet. Tight," he said, a sharp edge to his tone.

  Too tight? Did he suspect the truth?

  Unwilling to risk ruining the moment, she released him to rip open the condom wrapper. Tremors prevented her from successfully rolling the latex down his length. Or maybe it was her inexperience.

  Need this man. Need him now.

  If only she'd practiced rolling one on a vibrator, or a banana, she might have earned a gold star for her first real-life application.

  Finally, exasperation got the better of her. "Help me."

  He claimed the latex and expertly secured the thing in place.

  "Thank goodness. Snug as a bug in a rug," she said. "Let's do this!"

  He snorted and yet tension emanated from him, delighting and emboldening her all over again. She affected him as powerfully as he affected her. And, as much as he hadn't wanted to want her, he couldn't resist her.

  His hands settled on her hips and squeezed firmly enough to bruise, but he wasn't hurting her on purpose, she knew. He was swept up in a maddened storm; they both were.

  Tremors worsening, she rose to her knees, positioned him for entry...and paused.

  "After this," she whispered, "there's no going back."

  "It's already too late," he intoned.

  Their gazes met once again. The water had turned his sandy hair dark. Skin stretched taut over broad cheekbones, and his chiseled jaw remained clenched. His lips were open, swollen from her kisses, yet his scar appeared softer.

  Yes, it was far too late to go back.

  She forced her body to accept him by sliding down...down his length. Despite the potency of her arousal, despite being soaked and desperate to climax, despite the fingers he'd worked inside her, his entry burned, and she had to grit her teeth.

  Though she hadn't yet reached his base, stars winked in her line of vision. Bad news: the pain was almost too much. Good news: pleasure hadn't abandoned her; it waited at the periphery, ready to return front and center at any moment. She just had to hold on.

  "Need a sec," she said between panting breaths. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "It'll get better." Absolutely. No question. No doubt.

  Okay, one question: right?

  "Shouldn't have stopped the foreplay," he said, and cursed, clearly blaming himself for her predicament.

  "Not your fault. I've never--" She pressed her lips together, saying no more.

  His eyes widened...with horror? "Never what, Ryanne?"

  *

  JUDE BATTLED THE most savage need of his life. Here, now, the past had no chance to intrude. He was too primed for release, Ryanne, tighter than a fist, slick and molten, and so hot he would swear she burned through the latex.

  The urge to slam in and out of her bombarded him. Gnashing his molars, agonized by the pressure building inside him, he called on his training. Skills he'd developed when his commanding officer deprived him of food and sleep, or beat the shit out of him in order to better hone his reflexes. Take a licking, keep on ticking.

  Ryanne needed tenderness, not brutality.

  "Never what, Ryanne?" he insisted, afraid to move as suspicions danced through his head.

  She was in obvious pain. His possession hurt her physically, as if she were...or had been...

  There was just no way. No way in hell this was her first time. She was in her midtwenties. Sensual. Confident. She wouldn't gift her virginity to a piece of shit like him. A man who would walk away as soon as he'd come.

  A broken man.

  He remembered his first time with Constance. She'd had a boyfriend before him, and the guy had taken her virginity. At the time, the knowledge had disappointed Jude, even though he'd had no right to complain. He'd slept around so much he'd put present-day Brock to shame. The poorest boy in town, unwanted by his parents and siblings, had sought attention and affection from the girls at school. But in the end, Constance's past hadn't mattered. Nor had his. Together, they'd learned the difference between sex and making love.

  Still, the irony wasn't lost on him. He'd wanted Constance to be a virgin. She hadn't been. He'd wanted, needed, Ryanne to be experienced. She might not be.

  For a heartbeat of time, he wasn't sure he'd change anything, his possessive instincts roaring with satisfaction.

  Not just broken but twisted, too.

  "You know I haven't been on a date in two and a half years," she said. The strain began to fade from her features, and she arched her back, sending him inside her another inch, wrenching an agonized groan from him.

  Right. Two and a half years. The same as him. Almost as if they were fated to--

  Nothing.

  He reached between their bodies and circled his thumb where she must throb. Her hips jerked and she cried out, her inner walls clenching around his shaft. He gnashed his molars harder.

  He hurt physically, but he didn't stop. As he continued to rub her little bundle of nerves, he fit his lips around her nipple and sucked. Sucked and nipped and licked and flicked with his ton
gue and then sucked again. Little mewls left her as she writhed against him.

  Can't get enough of her.

  Falling...

  No! Hell, no.

  "That's so...so good," she praised.

  Only wanton excitement in her tone now. No, she hadn't been a virgin. And he was relieved about that. Of course he was relieved. This hookup wasn't special or meaningful just because Ryanne was the first woman he'd slept with since the death of his wife.

  We're scratching an itch, that's all. People do this every day.

  But shit. Shit! Guilt flared. For nine years, he'd been true to Constance. Today, his devotion had crumbled, a single wrong deed negating every right one. No longer could he say his wife was the last woman he'd slept with.

  His heart stuttered against his ribs, and he stilled, only able to concentrate on his breathing. What the hell had he done?

  Ryanne stilled, as well. Her gaze searched his face before she lifted her delicate hands to frame his face. Tracing the rise of his cheekbones with her thumbs, she pulled him closer, kissed the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth.

  "I bet you've never been so clean while being so dirty," she said.

  A soft chuckle.

  "You are so beautiful," she continued. "So wonderfully rough and tough. I've wanted you for so long. I tried so hard to resist you, but you, Jude Laurent, are irresistible."

  The sweetness of her words yanked him out of his head and back into the moment.

  "Irresistible, huh? Woman, you just described yourself." She's more than an itch, and you know it. Why continue to deny the obvious?

  Didn't matter. Deny it again he did. No one had a stronger will than Jude, and in matters of the heart, he would not break or even bend, no matter how great the temptation, or how incredibly perfect. He'd faced and overcome worse obstacles, and he would not falter now. He could have this--have her--accepting a brief moment of happiness, then moving on.

  "You ready for me to thrust?" Jude gave her nipple a little nip, then licked away the sting.

  "I am. Are you?" Her nails scoured his back, stinging deliciously. "Pelea contigo mismo manana. Dame lo qui quire hoy."

  Spanish, spoken in her pleasure-roughened voice...hell, yeah. But the words themselves were what pushed him over the edge. He'd spent time in Mexico and easily translated: Fight yourself tomorrow. Give me what I want today.

  She knew him well enough to decipher his mood. Must have watched him as intently as he'd watched her.