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“Thanks.” Instead of making himself comfortable, he was still watching her. “After you told us about your visions and the way you reacted to them, I decided to check on you.”
Claire gave a faint smile. “You just saw me at the office.”
“I meant personally check on you.”
Her brows rose slightly. “In bed or out?”
Ryan responded to her attempt at humor by giving her that drop-dead grin that defined the word sex. “Now that you mention it, both. The second would be more chivalrous, but the first would be mind-blowing.”
“Since when are you known for your chivalry?”
“I guess since now.”
That was a huge admission coming from Ryan McKay. Slowly, over the past few months, he’d changed, started to allow a bit of his soul to peek through. And, God help her, that change made him all the hotter.
Claire didn’t want to think anymore. He was here, she was hurting, and he could make it go away—for a little while.
She closed the gap between them, pressing her fists against the hard wall of his chest, as if trying to push away the ghosts. “I don’t want chivalry. I want you. In bed. And I want that now.” She gripped his shirt and fitted her body to his. “Please,” she whispered.
“Shit.” Ryan’s breath hissed out from between his teeth. He dragged Claire even closer, tangling his hands in her hair and tilting her
head back so he could ravage her mouth. “Are you sure?” he managed.
“Very sure.”
All words ceased.
Ryan continued his onslaught, devouring Claire as he backed her into the bedroom, stripping her as he walked. The back of her legs hit the bed, and she tumbled down onto the mattress. While Ryan tore off his shirt and jeans, Claire wriggled out of her thong and tossed it aside. Ryan kicked off his boxer briefs and leaned over, pulling Claire higher up on the bed.
Then he was on her, and in her, and their world became pure physical sensation.
It wasn’t slow and sensual—not this time. It was hard, fast, and frantic.
Claire cried out as Ryan pushed into her, once, twice, and then in a steady rhythm that made her back arch so she could take him deeper each time. Ryan made a raw, rough sound, his hands clenching into fists on either side of the pillow as his motions quickened.
The rest was a wild, sweaty explosion of the senses.
They both came with a vengeance, their bodies in that rare total sync that was theirs.
Neither of them moved. They just lay there, collapsed into the mattress, dragging air into their lungs.
Claire was abruptly jerked back to reality when she felt tears sliding down her cheeks and onto Ryan’s shoulder. She froze, more mortified than stunned. Yes, her feelings for Ryan were complicated. But she didn’t cry—not this way, like a weepy teenager. Not in front of anyone, much less Ryan. She sure as hell wouldn’t be doing an about-face to that rule after sex, no matter how shattering.
No, the emotional tidal wave building up inside her had nothing to do with Ryan. It was the release of raw, pent-up feelings caused by unthinkable revelations… images…internalization…
Fighting back the dam that was about to break, Claire knew the moment Ryan became aware of the moisture on his shoulder. He tensed up, turning his head so his lips were at her ear. “Everything all right?” he asked, sounding bewildered.
Claire nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again. “Fine,” she managed to say in a thoroughly unconvincing tone. “It’s not what you think.” To her dismay, new tears began to slide from beneath her lids, and her whole body began to tremble.
Ryan shoved himself up on his elbows, now clearly alarmed. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. But you’d better go.”
“Go?” He blinked, beads of sweat still dotting his forehead, his own body still shuddering in the wake of his climax. “Claire, what the hell is going on?”
“I’m about to lose it,” she whispered. “And I don’t want you here when I do.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pushed his hips against hers, reminding her that their bodies were still intimately joined. “So let’s go for option two. Talk to me.”
