Relentless (29 page)

The unspoken fear she sensed in his body made her long to ease him, but she knew if she tried to talk to him about it he'd just close down. Nev tried to let her embrace tell him everything he needed, sliding her hand up to his nape and rubbing gently, then squeezing the too-tight muscles there. He groaned and pressed even closer to her, a shudder running through his big body. Nev closed her eyes against the pain inside her.
Oh, Rhys...

He was fighting so hard to keep it together, would never give himself permission to let go and show any weakness. He'd never be able to accept that she wouldn't see it as a weakness because she loved him. Things were uncertain enough between them without adding that to the mix, but maybe she should tell him. The thought made her stomach clench.

Against her neck, Rhys exhaled, the warmth of his breath sending shivers dancing over her skin. His big hands splayed across her naked back, his touch changing from possessive to something even more primitive. “I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you,” he finally said in a hoarse voice.

Nev raised her head and took his face between her hands to look into his eyes. They were haunted with the terrible knowledge of what could have happened, and she understood it wasn't because he was afraid of dying. Men in the Unit routinely carried their own body bags with them during a mission. No, that deep seated fear was for her.

Helpless, she stroked his back. The strength of her love filled her, rising up until the words crowded her throat, demanding to be said aloud. She swallowed them down. “I'm okay, Rhys.”

“That was way too damn close.”

Yes. For both of them. And it frightened her that he had charged headlong into danger to protect her, without a thought for his own well-being.

He set her away from him and took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking the hair at her temples. “You sure you're not hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head. “Just scraped up a bit.” A few stings here and there and a sprained ankle were nothing compared to the bullet wound she might have had if things had gone differently.

Rhys lifted her injured foot in his hand, long fingers testing the joint line between her talus and fibula. She held back a wince as he hit the tender spot. He zeroed right in on it, watching her face. “Bad?”

“No. First degree sprain of the anterior talofibular ligament. Most commonly sprained ligament in the body,” she added, wiggling her foot back and forth, ignoring the stab of pain. “See? It's nothing.” Son of a bitch, that hurt. Maybe it was a second degree sprain.

“You're a really bad liar.”

“No, really. I can walk, so it's minor.” She sat up. “Wanna see?”

“No. I want you to sit here so I can check and make sure you're not hiding anything else from me.”

She sat very still while he slid her onto the cool porcelain lip of the tub and hunkered down at her feet to begin checking her over. Some of the blessed numbness began to fade away as her endocrine system realized she wasn't in immediate peril and stopped with the norepinephrine barrage. The friction burns on her palms and elbows throbbed along with her ankle, and his fingers found a few forming bruises as they explored her.

Watching his hands as they glided over her, she let him strip her bra and panties off while his eyes catalogued every bruise and abrasion on her body before starting the shower. Once she was naked and he was satisfied she wasn't hurt anywhere else, he reached up and unwound her hair from its knot on the top of her head. The silky weight of it spilled across her back like a sensual caress, adding to the tingles his touch left in its wake. She swallowed, a pulse of need hitting her low in her belly.

Rhys stood and peeled off his own clothes in a distracted way, and the sight of him standing there naked sent a flood of welcome heat through her chilled body. Testing the water, he took her by the arm and helped her over the lip of the tub, then climbed in behind her and pulled the curtain closed, shutting them in a cloud of steam.

Every nerve ending in her body was vividly aware of him standing at her back. Then he lightly touched her shoulders, turning her to face him. Water sluiced over his beautifully defined muscles, from his shoulders and chest down his belly to where his sex stood out proud and straight from his body. Her knees weakened. Heat gathered between her thighs.

His hands were gentle as they swept over her wet hair and body, but his eyes were anything but calm. They simmered with some intense emotion she couldn't begin to name, so hot she could feel their touch.

Standing motionless under the pounding spray, Nev let him lather her hair and rinse it clean, then watched as he knelt to wash the scrapes on her knees, trying her best to ignore the shocks of erotic power humming through her with each touch. Down her calves and over her feet, back up again, brushing the tender spots behind her knees, his hands made her bite back a whimper of need. His touch electrified her.

When all the scrapes had been cleaned, he slid those beautiful hands up her slick thighs and buttocks to grip her hips, raising his head to press his face hard into her belly where he let out a ragged breath. Frowning, her fingers sank into his wet hair, one hand traveling over his neck and shoulders, offering the comfort he sought. Love for him overwhelmed her, filling every cell of her being.

“Rhys,” she whispered unsteadily.

He lifted his endlessly blue stare.

The words stuck in her throat. Forcing the fear of rejection and vulnerability out of her mind, she gathered her nerve and said them out loud. “I really love you.”

For a split second he went completely still, but then he surged to his feet and pressed her against the cool tile of the shower with his body and kissed her like he'd die if he stopped.

Caught off guard by his sudden desperation, Nev gasped into his mouth and wrapped her arms and legs around him, trying to bring him as close as she could. In response he growled low in his throat and locked an arm around her hips. He lifted her off her feet and pinned her to the wall, his mouth voracious as it devoured her lips, her throat, her breasts.

Crying out at the explosive need throbbing inside her, she nipped at his shoulder and wound her legs tighter around his waist, urging him inside. With a helpless groan, Rhys gathered her against him and pushed the tip of his swollen erection against her sex. She tensed. He wasn't wearing a condom, but they didn't need one if he hadn't been with anyone since being wounded. She'd seen his blood work and knew he was clean. Still, her body resisted the invasion as he pushed harder, not yet ready for him. He began to pull back.

“No,” she rasped. They both needed this, especially him if this was the only form of release he'd allow himself.

She bowed backward, easing his way so he slid deeper. God, he was so thick and hot... She bit her lip. It almost hurt, but she'd rather die than deny him this. His jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles stood out. The navy eyes staring back at her glittered feverishly. His fingers dug into her hips. As soon as he was lodged inside her he set in with a rough, urgent rhythm that stole the breath from her lungs.
Oh, Jesus...

Seized in his unbreakable grip, she could only hold on as he pounded into her, nothing held back, all pretense of control shattered.

My God, he was strong. The raw power of him shocked and aroused her at the same time. It was too much too soon for her, and there was no way she would be able to reach orgasm, but the way he was powering into her still sent an erotic rush through her veins. No one had ever wanted her like this. Needed her like this. Not in her whole life. But here trapped between her lover and the shower wall, every straining line of Rhys's body was testament of his ravenous hunger for her.

His head fell back as he neared his release, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut like he was in pain. Offering all her tenderness and love, she caressed his cheek. Holding him close when he buried his face in the curve of her neck with a guttural snarl, he jerked out of her body at the last moment. Snatching her hand and wrapping it around his slick, pulsing erection, he came all over her belly in hot spurts.

Gasping in the aftermath, he leaned against her as though suddenly exhausted, his whole body trembling. Smoothing her hands over his glistening skin, she soothed him in silence, letting the warm water rush over them until he loosened his grip and allowed her to slide down until her feet came to rest on the bottom of the tub. He was careful to anchor her so she could take the weight off her sore ankle.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head and looked down at her. His eyes were shadowed with concern and maybe even a little bit of fear. Reaching up, he brushed a lock of wet hair away from her temple. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all.” Balancing on her good foot, she went up on tiptoe to kiss the grim line of his lips. “Stop worrying.”

“Jesus, I didn't mean to be so rough.” The reverent hands he slid over her back were full of mute apology.

She smiled against his mouth. “I'm not complaining. Are you all right?”

He broke eye contact. “Yeah. I'm sorry I... ” His ribs expanded and contracted as he huffed out a hard breath. “Shit, I'm just sorry.”

“No need to be.” The fact that he swore said how unglued he was about what had just happened. He still had his fist clamped over her hand, wrapped around his softening erection.

As though he'd just noticed that, he let go with a curse. “Christ.” His eyes flashed up to hers. “I'm clean, I swear— ”

“It's okay, I know you are. I am, too, by the way.”

He kept staring at her.

She tried not to smile. “Clean,” she explained. “And I've got an IUD, so we're fine.”

Rhys let out a relieved breath and picked up the soap to wash the traces of himself off her belly and thighs. He didn't say a word about her breathless declaration of love, and she wasn't about to bring it up. Maybe he didn't love her yet, but he cared about her enough to tackle her to the ground and shield her with his body, fully prepared to take a bullet for her. Add in the way he'd just taken her against the shower wall, and those things told her everything she needed to know for now.

Despite the tense silence that expanded between them, flames licked everywhere his fingers brushed her sensitized skin. Afraid to move or speak lest it break the spell, she leaned back against the cool tiles and basked in the tender consideration he took in caring for her. When he skimmed over her inner thigh to wash between her legs she gasped involuntarily, her body weeping for him. Craving him. He looked up into her face, read her unfulfilled need and killed the shower. Stepping out of the tub and turning back to her, his deep blue eyes glowed with the promise of ecstasy.

He held out a hand, palm up, and his words were as good as a vow. “Come here.”

Guilt rode Rhys hard as he wrapped Nev in a towel and carried her to the bed where he settled her against the pillows. The demons in his soul had torn free and she'd suffered for them. Jesus Christ, he'd pinned her against the shower wall and slammed into her like a goddamn freight train.

He'd never lost control like that. Never in his life, and definitely never with a woman, let alone one he cared about so deeply. He knew his own strength, and unless he was dealing with a bad guy, was always careful to temper it around people.

What the hell had happened to him back there? He knew damn well Nev was afraid of violence and maybe even a little afraid of him. After what had happened at her hotel... Shit, he never should have touched her while he was keyed up like that. He had to have left bruises on her hips from keeping her clamped against him like that. He touched her carefully, disgusted with himself. She probably thought he only did it standing up.

Her skin was like velvet beneath his searching fingertips. So soft, so fragile. How the hell could he have taken her like that, and before she was ready for him? He wouldn't blame her if she kicked him out on his sorry ass and never spoke to him again. At the same time he prayed she wouldn't, because it would rip his heart out. He moved the terrycloth towel over her neck and shoulders, half afraid to meet her eyes. She was watching him. He could feel the weight of her stare.

Face half-hidden in shadows, she lay still while he dried her off, lingering over every dip and curve. When he dragged the towel lower, he couldn't help but notice the way her nipples beaded and flushed. Damned if he didn't feel a glow of arousal building up again. Her small, perfectly rounded breasts rose and fell with her even breaths. A wash of goose bumps covered her skin. He glanced up. “Cold?”

The thought of her suffering even that small discomfort bothered him.

Neveah shook her head, her vivid blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness. His hand stopped moving. The towel did nothing to insulate his palm from the sensual curve of her hip.

“Rhys,” she whispered, then stopped, closing her eyes as if gathering herself.

Ah, hell, she was hurting. He'd shoved into her and pounded away until he came, without giving her a prayer of catching up. Worse, he'd gotten her revved up and then left her hanging.

Though he'd behaved like a Neanderthal a few minutes back, she still wanted him. Well he could definitely take away the hurt he'd caused. He'd give her as much of him as she wanted; all night, for as long as he could hold out. That was the least he could do. He needed to show her he could be gentle, that he really did have control over himself.

Eyes on hers, he tossed the damp towel aside, then pulled back the covers and lay down so he pressed up against all her naked curves.

She pulled in a sharp breath and rolled into him, wrapping around him like a living blanket. His heart lurched.

He brought one hand up to cradle the back of her head and used the other to trail up and down her spine. Everything about her was a miracle to him. The way she felt in his arms, her gentle heart and her formidable brain. The thought of what she'd suffered in Afghanistan, and that someone had been waiting to kill her tonight made him want to arm up and hunt the bastards down right now.

Her fingers dug into his back as he caressed one round buttock. Hungry. He smiled against her hair. She might be built lean, but she had all the womanly curves a man could ever want. And she fit against him perfectly, her head resting against his shoulder. He was going to take care of her and be the kind of lover she deserved. Patient, attentive and gentle. Until she screamed his name because she needed something more.