Nobody's Lost (Rescue Me Saga #5) (11 page)

Oh, Ryder.

She closed her eyes and let the feelings engulf her. As a teen, she’d read books and seen movies and imagined finding that perfect man to be her first and only lover, but the older she got, the less she thought that time would ever come. She chose quality in the life she had over what
might
be some day.

But her chosen path was a solitary one. How had this man ignited feelings she’d thought she could so easily suppress. Her battery-operated boyfriends were a pale substitute for the sexy man sleeping in the living room. So not fair. But if she came on to him, he’d probably run as fast as possible to his hideaway in the mountains.

Not wanting to postpone her orgasm any longer, she moved the Hitachi back to her clit and nearly moaned aloud with need as she rode the wave up and over in a mad rush.

Oh, oh, oh!

And done. Too fast, but she needed this. Now.

Coming quietly wasn’t her preference, either, but she’d never be able to face Ryder over the breakfast table if she thought he’d heard her masturbating in her bedroom.

After slowly returning to earth, she sat up and unplugged the toy. A quick trip to the bathroom to clean it, and she stored it in her nightstand drawer before crawling back to bed. Her hand moved to her erect right nipple and pulled. Man, she still wasn’t satisfied. The thought of Ryder nibbling, biting, pulling on her nipples just made her want to come all over again. Most times a good orgasm with her vibrator would last her for days, even a week.

Megan would never manage to sleep tonight, despite how little rest she’d had over the past two days. She picked up the book on photography techniques from her nightstand. Normally this would entertain her for hours, but after a few pages, she caught herself about to nod off. Rather than fight it, she shut the book, set it on the far side of the bed, and closed her eyes. She curled onto her side and surrendered.

“Take cover!”

Chapter Eight

M
egan’s eyes shot open, and she bolted up in bed. Ryder? Had someone broken in again? Why was this happening? She reached for the nightstand drawer and moved her vibrator aside to retrieve her much more lethal handgun. No way was she going to let either of them be hurt.

One thing Patrick had made sure of before she was nineteen was that she knew how to fire a weapon. She probably would have learned sooner, but their mother wanted no guns in her home. They understood after learning of the incident that put their mother in a wheelchair and took her first husband’s life.

She listened for more from Ryder, but heard only silence. The blood rushed in her ears as adrenalin surged through her body. Was he okay? Needing to check on him, she crept to the door and opened it, thankful it didn’t squeak. Taking the pistol in both hands, she swept the hallway, but saw no one.

“Report!”

Oh, Ryder
. A sick feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Less concerned about being under attack from outside forces, she relaxed her arms. Inching toward the living room, she scanned the room quickly to be sure. Ryder was under attack from within. He was in the throes of a nightmare—or night terror.

He thrashed on the sofa, bare except for his black boxers. Sweat glistened on his skin from the streetlight shining between the open blinds. Past experience with Patrick had taught her not to approach or touch him.

“Ryder. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

The muscles in his arms and chest strained as the battle raged on in his mind. His head turned toward her, and his brow furrowed as if in pain. Had he been injured?

She approached, but as instructed, she didn’t touch him. “Ryder! I said wake up.
Now!
”

He jolted awake and bolted up, grabbing for the knife on the coffee table and starting toward her.

Her heart beat wildly. “No! It’s me. Megan Gallagher. You were having a nightmare.”

He halted and stared at her. Setting the knife back down, he ran the same hand through his hair. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I’m just glad I was here to put an end to this one. No one should go through those alone.”

He stared at her as if he wanted to disagree, but relaxed his body instead. “Go get some sleep. I’m okay now.”

“It might help to talk about it.”

“Hell, no.” He met her gaze. “No offense, but it’s over. I’ll just take a look around to make sure everything’s secure.”

He started toward her again, but she didn’t move to let him pass. “
Is
it over, Ryder? How often do you have the nightmares?”

He gave her another defiant stare. “Not as often as I used to.”

Clearly, he wasn’t ready to talk about them. “Offer still stands. And it’s three-fifteen, by the way. I told you, anytime you need to talk.”

Was the plea in his eyes Ryder wanting to open up to her. Or did he just wish she would get lost? Whichever, it disappeared in a flash.

“I appreciate the offer. But no worries. It’s over.”

She wondered how many times he would have to say that before he started to believe those words.

“You just keep telling yourself that, Ryder. I hope your words come true someday.”

She returned to her bedroom, closing the door and putting her handgun away.

With no chance of sleeping again anytime soon, she spent the next two hours reading her photography book before deciding it was time to go to her office and edit some more photos.

When she opened the door, her senses were assaulted by the smell of bacon and coffee. She sure could get used to having a man around who liked to cook, although she was going to gain a ton if they kept eating like this. Maybe they could make a trip to the farmer’s market rather than live off the unhealthy choices in Patrick’s freezer and pantry.

Actually, after giving it a lot of thought since Ryder’s nightmare, the time had come for her to regain control of her life.

Ryder needed to go home.

*     *     *

Megan witnessing his nightmare reminded him what bad news he would be for someone like her. Her world was light and fun and normal. His was…well, a freaking nightmare at times.

He poured another mug of black coffee. The first two hadn’t done anything to clear the cobwebs from his head after the dream. Tired. He hadn’t run on so little sleep in a long time. Out of practice. The dryer buzzed, and he took one more quick swallow before heading to the laundry room to retrieve the sheet he’d washed after soiling it last night fantasizing about Megan.

Hell, what was he thinking being with a girl like Megan? She deserved someone—

“The coffee smells great. How are you doing this morning?”

Before he could make it through the kitchen with the sheet, he came face to face with her again. Jesus, so beautiful. She wore shorts and a tee, and her legs, though not particularly long, were spectacularly perfect. Muscular calves and thighs that could probably squeeze a man in all the right places.

“You run?”

She looked back at him after setting the coffee pot back on the warmer. “From what?” Before he could clarify, she grinned. “Just teasing. No, not a lot. Sometimes it just helps me feel better.”

“You aren’t going to go running this morning, are you?” He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the potential threats she would encounter. At least she didn’t sound like a habitual runner who had to stick to a schedule. Less predictable for predators.

“No. I’m dragging today. Dressed for comfort.”

She sure seemed perky despite him disturbing her sleep last night.

“Let me go fold this sheet, and then I’ll scramble up some eggs.”

She set her mug on the counter. “No, let me help. I used to do this with my dad.” She took the sheet from him and found two ends. “Now, you find the other two.” He did so and held it up, but when he realized it was twisted, he switched corners at the same time she did, resulting in yet another twist.

“Dad sure made this look easy.”

They worked at straightening out the sheet for a moment. She referred to him in the past a lot. Did he ditch his family, too? “Where is he now?”

Her sweet smile faded. “He died more than two years ago.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. Awfully young for you to lose your dad.”

“Well, I still have so many wonderful memories, and I’ll admit I talk to him every day and almost feel he answers sometimes. Luckily, my mom’s going to live to be a hundred and ten. Nothing can keep that woman down long.”

Resilience. Megan must have inherited it from her mom.

With arms outstretched, she started walking toward him. Their hands met and lingered a moment before they both reached for their new ends and repeated, coming together again. Her body’s heat radiated through the sheet to him. She stared into his eyes longer than made him comfortable.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

Now, his fantasies of her were hitting him while wide awake. At least he was pretty sure he was awake and had just imagined Megan talking about kissing her.

“Well, have you?”

So she’d actually asked that question? “No.”

Liar.

The twinkle in her eyes faded, and he could kick himself for being the reason.

“Sorry. I sometimes don’t think before I talk.”

When she moved to turn away, he threw the folded sheet on the table and reached for her arms.

“Okay, I lied. I’ve thought about that and more. A lot more. But we can’t go there.”

Her breathing grew shallow, and when she opened her mouth to let in more air, she only made him want to kiss her more than ever.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” The breathlessness in her voice made him hard.

Breathing.

Bewitching.

Being.

God forgive him, but he needed this.

He moved his hands to the sides of her face and lowered his mouth to hers. The first touch of their lips sent electric shocks through his body. More. He needed more. Faster than he should have, he forced his tongue between her lips. He’d been starving for this kiss since the first night he met her.

She groaned and tilted her pelvis into his.

Sweet Jesus, don’t do that to me, girl.

Her arms wrapped around his waist—either to keep her balance or draw him closer—before her tongue sparred with his. Another groan, this time definitely his. Where was he planning to go with this? There could never be anything between them. Leading her on to think there could be wasn’t his style.

He broke away, and both of them fought for breath.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“But I wanted you to. It was everything I’d hoped for and so much more.”

The desire within him nearly broke down his defenses. He’d never wanted anything more, but she deserved someone who could live in her world. He was marking time until he could get as far away from this place as possible. He needed to go back to a time when life was simpler. Live off the land. Take care of himself.

Home.

Megan went to the stove and pulled a piece of bacon off the paper towels. Watching her eat turned him on as much as kissing her.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to skip the rest of breakfast. I need to pack.”

He placed a gentle, but restricting hand on her arm. “Going somewhere?”

She flashed him a beautiful smile. “Yes. Your place.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Well, you’ve invited me to go there several times now. I said, ‘We’ll see.’ And now I’ve decided it’s a wonderful idea. Can you be ready in two hours?”

He nodded, unable to speak.

Home. He was going home.

With Megan.

Holy fuck.

He watched her turn and walk toward the hallway, her ass bouncing with each step. After that kiss, this might be the worst decision he’d ever made. Well, in retrospect, he didn’t actually make the decision at all. She did.

But he could manage things better once he returned home. Survival variables would be off the table. He wouldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. He was in charge of carrying out this mission to protect her. She couldn’t call the shots—although she’d been doing that since he’d met her.

Once they arrived at his place, they would play by
his
rules.