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His lips crashed down on her, taking what he needed. His tongue conquered her mouth as his free hand cupped her perfect ass, yanking her against his body, ensuring she felt the erection straining forrelease.
Once she melted like a candle in his arms, it took every ounce of his will power to pull out of that kiss. There would be plenty of time for that after he got her to real safety. His body screamed with need, recognizing the proximity to his kryptonite. They spent several seconds looking into each other's eyes by the bright moonlight before she pressed him again, this time with a whisper. "Why now,Ryder?"
The urge to tell her the truth couldn't be denied. "You really want toknow?"
"Ineedtoknow."
"Because. No one gets to hurt you butme."
Chapter 11
Khloe letRyder lift her onto the back of his motorcycle, stunned into compliance by his shocking words. She welcomed the loud roar of the engine as he put them into motion, hoping it would drown out her poundingheart.
She'd been living on the edge for weeks. The events of the last few hours threatened to drown her. Her mind raced to make sense of the barrage of details she'd learned about her mystery man, Ryder Helms. In many ways, he was a complete stranger. Other than his use of his pet name for her, nothing about the last hour resembled the three hours they'd spent together at Black Light. Still, she couldn't deny feeling safer with him than she had inweeks.
It made nosense.
She was forced to hug him tighter as he banked around a sharp corner, taking another stone path through the thick woods, yet she barely paid attention, too busy remembering his kiss and the crush of his erection throbbing between their pressedbodies.
Ryder's left hand left the handle bar of the Harley to link with her grasp at his waist. It was so innocent, the twining of fingers, yet the intimacy of it warmed her from the inside out. Memories of the kinky things they'd done together closed in. He'd debased her, yet she'd loved it. She'd never felt more alive–or devastated–than she had when he'd entered and then fled her life in a matter of hours. He'd mastered her, then deserted her so fast she'd had whiplash, yet the uncontrollable urge to beg him for a round two had her rocking uncomfortably against the vibratingseat.
Her brain wrestled for control, determined to disappoint her tempted body. She wasn't going to give in so easily this time. Not when she begrudgingly admitted how much power he wielded over herhappiness.
They rode less than five minutes before entering a clearing in the trees. A large cabin with a wrap around porch came into view courtesy of the moon, landscape lighting and a bright overheadlamp.
They were plunged into silence when he released her hand to cut the engine. They sat in the quiet stillness looking at the house so long, she wondered if something was wrong. Ryder eventually got off the bike, helping her to climb down without ripping her designergown.
She couldn't resist asking, “Whose place is thisanyway?"
He threw the strap of the duffle over his shoulder before grabbing her hand while guiding their walk up the dark path to the house with his light from his smartphone. They were half way to the porch when he answeredher.
"Mine."
His answer shocked her. She'd always assumed Ryder lived in D.C. She didn't know what he did for a living, but she'd always pictured him doing something larger than life. Maybe that was because he'd become the center of her universe in the matter of minutes. Not once since they'd said good-bye had she pictured him as a southern California cabin kindaguy.
He wrestled with the lock and key until the front door finally opened. She followed him into the dark cabin, grateful when he flipped the switch, blanketing the large open interior in warmlighting.
White sheets were dropped over every piece of furniture in the space, their brightness in direct conflict with the rich browns of the wood paneling and floor. From the dust that stirred on the uncovered front table where he threw the keys, she guessed it had been a long time since he'd beenthere.
"I love what you've done with the place," shedeadpanned.
He released her hand, barking orders, sounding more like the Ryder she remembered. "Take off the sheets. Pile them in the corner there," he said, pointing. "Ginny will send someone to collect and wash themtomorrow."
The silence was awkward and she was grateful for something to do. Feeling vulnerable in his presence, she purposefully moved to the far side of the open space to give herself a chance to regain hercomposure.
The first set of sheets she removed uncovered a plush brown leather sofa and loveseat. Near exhaustion made it look like the perfect place to collapse to take a twelve-hour nap, but she pressed on, removing smaller drop cloths from end tables full of books, some even open as if the home's occupant had gotten up one day and simply walked out of theirlife.
The next treasure she uncovered was two tall built-in bookshelves. As the sheets fell away, hundreds of books came into view filling every shelf, some stacked twodeep.
I never would have pegged Ryder as abookworm.
Khloe started reading the spines of books, trying to make sense of what made Ryder Helms tick, but the more titles she read, the less she understood him. Classic stories like George Orwell's1984andThe Count of Monte Cristoby Dumas were piled with Woodward and Bernstein'sAll the President's Men, a biography of Nelson Mandela, and titles likeGood Hunting,The Polish OfficerandThe Circle of Treason. Stephen King and James Clancy shared a shelf with Hemingway and TrumanCapote.
When she got to the next bookshelf, the selection got even more interesting. Titles in multiple languages mingled together. She recognized Polish and Spanish, but there were others she couldn't makeout.
Who the hell is thisguy?
Finally moving on, she felt like she hit the jackpot uncovering a credenza full of picture frames filled with dozens of photos, giving her a glimpse into the man across the room unpacking supplies in the kitchen. She fought down the urge to pick up each frame, wanting to examine each closely in hopes of unearthing clues of what made Ryder Helms tick. Khloe settled with quickly perusing them. Most had motorcycles in them with groups of men looking like they had come from the set ofSons of Anarchy. There were fewer shots of Ryder in a military uniform surrounded by equally fierce lookingmen.
