Chapter 11 #2
Ryder grunted and sipped his beer. They’d had several good-natured arguments over football in the last hour.
His cell phone rang and he grabbed it. Then he rolled his eyes.
“One of my brothers ratted me out.” He pressed the phone to his ear.
“Hi, Mom.” He paused. “I’m fine. A few bruises, that’s all.
” Another pause. “Mom, I promise. I looked worse when Cam and I fought over that bicycle when I was in the fifth grade.” He grinned.
“You were so lucky to be blessed with three boys.” He caught Siv’s gaze and winked.
“Mom, I’m helping Vander with a case, so I won’t be home for a bit. Can you feed Crank for me?”
“Who’s Crank?” Siv murmured.
“My cat doesn’t hate just you, Mom. He hates everyone. It isn’t personal.”
Siv raised her brows. Ryder had a cat.
“Actually, I’m not alone. I’m working the case with a beautiful Norwegian lady Vander hired. She’s former special forces and I’m trying my best to get her to date me.”
Siv’s eyes widened. She waved a hand at him. What the hell was he doing?
“Her name’s Siv. I know, it’s pretty, right? You’ll love her, and absolutely, when we finish this case, I’ll bring her over for dinner.”
Siv shook her head.
“Will do, Mom. Love you.”
Sagging back on the couch, Siv looked at the ceiling. It was pretty hard to resist a man who clearly adored his mother. “You shouldn’t have told your mother I’d come for dinner.”
“Now you have to come.” He looked smug. Then when he shifted a few times, she realized he was uncomfortable.
“You need more pills?” She rose.
He gingerly touched his side. “Yeah, maybe.”
She knew it wasn’t good if he agreed so readily. She was surprised how much she hated seeing him hurt. She found the pills and the arnica cream that she’d bought from the pharmacy.
She strode back into the living room. The apartment was really great—she eyed the magnificent view—but a little too fancy for her.
“Here.” She handed the pills over.
He took them and washed them down with some beer.
“Now, let’s get that shirt off,” she ordered.
He sent her a thousand-watt smile. “Babe, anytime you want me naked, you just have to ask.”
Siv rolled her eyes and held up the tube of cream. “I’m putting this on your bruises.”
“Arnica? Okay.”
She nodded.
“I used to carry a few tubes when I was on tour. Good for bruises and swelling.”
She sat beside him. “Yes. I use it as well. One time, a rope snapped when I was rappelling from a NH90 helo.”
“Shit. You could’ve been killed.”
“Thankfully, I was only six feet from the ground, but I landed on some rocks. Makes your bruises look puny.” She helped him ease the shirt off.
Her chest locked, then her heart did a funny jerk. The man had a hell of a body. He was cut, and muscular. There was a smattering of light brown hair across his pecs. And those abs…
Focus on the bruising, Siv.
Ryder looked down and groaned. “I look like a toddler fingerpainted me with black paint.”
Siv shifted closer and squeezed cream onto her fingers. “Sit back, and don’t move.”
He slouched on the cushions, and she smoothed cream along his collarbone. Her gaze traced over the ink on his shoulder and arm.
“I like your tattoo.”
“Thanks.”
She took in the overlapping scales, flourishes, and waves that she realized were fire. “It’s a dragon.” It was stylized, but the powerful creature was there, hidden in the art.
“Yes. In Asian tradition, the dragon symbolized wisdom, power, good fortune, and strength. I figured all those things were good for a guy in a war zone to have on his side.” He smiled. “Plus I wanted something badass.”
She wanted to trace the tattoo, but restrained herself. She already had her hands on his body and she didn’t need more temptation. Squeezing out some more cream, she spread it along his rib cage.
“You’re lucky they didn’t break a rib.” She gritted her teeth, really wishing she could spend a few minutes with the assholes who’d attacked him.
Ryder made a sound. “Not for lack of trying.”
Siv kept spreading more cream on, careful not to press too hard. He could’ve been killed. Her throat tightened. This man had been pushing her buttons since she’d met him, but a world without Ryder Morgan in it would be a much darker place.
She realized how much she fought not to smile or laugh around him. She smoothed the cream on the bruises on his abs, her fingers tracing the dips and ridges. His belly tightened under her touch. Her gaze dropped lower, and she saw the large bulge tenting his sweats.
Heat coiled in her belly and she looked up.
There was a faint flush of color along his cheeks. “Sorry, it gets like that anytime you’re around.”
Siv wanted to touch him, desperately.
“In fact,” he continued. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been hard since the first time I saw you in that killer red dress.” His lips curled. “You are so damn beautiful. Stunning.”
Siv swallowed. “No one’s said that before.”
Ryder growled, pressing a hand over hers on his abs. “That fucking ex did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“No. Maybe a little. I was in the military so long, so dressing up…” She shrugged. “I’m better with fatigues and boots.”
Ryder smiled. “I bet you rock those, too.”
“You have an answer for everything.” She shook her head. “My father divorced my mother when I was young. Just after Inger died.”
Ryder muttered a curse.
Her lips curled. “He deserves that. He is a bastard. He never looked back, barely saw or contacted me. When he did, it was to express his displeasure that I wasn’t more…classy and feminine, as a good daughter should be. He really didn’t like me joining the military.”
Ryder’s next curse was even more colorful and she found herself wanting to laugh. He just made everything lighter.
“You should have seen his face when I joined the FSK.” She shook her head. “I don’t dwell on it.”
“You can’t tell me that your asshole dad and your douchebag ex haven’t colored how you look at things.” He gave her a look.
“Maybe.” The men in her life might have scarred her more than she liked to admit. She sighed. “My mother was so angry. For a long time, I blamed myself for him leaving. For not being good enough.”
“Screw that, Siv. Your father is to blame for his actions.”
“I know that now, but some things bury themselves deep.”
“And then asshole boyfriends rub salt in the old wounds.” Ryder cocked his head. “What happened with the asshole?”
“He didn’t mind having a military girlfriend when I was away most of the time. Once I got out, we saw each other more often.” She shrugged. “I realized I didn’t like him as much as I thought. He was obsessed with his work, making money, making appearances with the right crowd.”
“And you don’t give a shit about that.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Then one night, I defended us against a drunk asshole, and Johan couldn’t deal with it.”
“Because he’s an insecure idiot.”
“We broke up. I found out he’d been cheating on me when he got engaged to another woman—a younger, elegant, well-connected woman—only six weeks after we ended things.”
Ryder cupped her jaw. “It’s his loss. Babe, watching you fight is a massive turn-on.”
A laugh burst out of her. “Actually, I believe you when you say that now.”
He waved a hand at his straining cock. “I have evidence that anything you do has an effect on me.”
“So I see.” She slid her hand down and palmed the thick bulge.
Ryder made a strangled sound. “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about when we can have that hot, hard fuck.”
“No. Not until you’re better.”
He groaned.
Siv tightened her hold on his cock. Oh, it felt very, very nice. “You’re hurt. No sex tonight. I want to take care of you.”
“You mean torture me,” he said grumpily.
She slid her hand inside his sweats and wrapped her hand around his heated length. Oh, God . He was all hot, silky skin over rock hardness. She stroked him.
His hips jerked up. “Siv—”
“Just enjoy, Ryder.” She pressed her mouth to his ear. “Don’t move or jostle your injuries. Just feel.”
She felt pre-come at the end of his cock and ran a finger through it. She explored every inch of that delicious hardness. She couldn’t wait until she could do everything she wanted to it.
“Babe…Siv,” his voice was guttural.
She pushed his sweats down and pumped his cock. Oh yes, it was a mighty fine one.
His hand covered hers, urging her to move faster.
Her gaze locked with his green one. They jacked him together, moving faster. It was one of the sexiest things she’d ever done.
Heat filled his cheeks. “Fuck, I’m going to blow.”
“I want to watch.”
With a deep groan, he came. His come spilled over his gut and their joined hands. She watched his face the entire time. Those handsome features were contorted with pleasure, his chest heaving.
Finally, he slumped back on the couch. “That was…”
“Sexy.” She rose and headed into the bathroom.
She washed her hands, then found a washcloth and ran it under the water.
When she returned to the couch, she smiled. He hadn’t moved. His now flaccid cock was still on display. He was fully comfortable with his body.
She cleaned him up, and felt him watching her. He pulled his sweats back into place.
“Siv.” His quiet, and damn near reverent, voice got to her.
She let him tug her closer, and his lips touched hers. It was a deep kiss that she felt to her toes.
She was fighting a losing battle to stay away from this man.
A ringing cell phone made them part.
“It’s mine,” he muttered, reaching for it. “Morgan.” He listened for a second, his face morphing granite-hard. “ What ?”
The barked word cracked through the room. Whatever it was, the news wasn’t good.
“How many?” A pause. “ Fuck . Shit, Santiago. Okay. Can you get the results for me? Yeah, thanks.” He ended the call and exploded off the couch.
Siv felt rage throb off him. She rose slowly. “Ryder?”
“Fuck!” He kicked the coffee table and met her gaze. “Three more homeless people came into the clinic tonight. Two died of total organ failure. One is on life support.”
“Oh, God.” She pressed a closed fist against her chest. Those poor people.
Ryder gripped the back of his neck. “One was Scratch. He’s dead.”
Siv moved, pressing her hand to Ryder’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Ryder.”
“The fucking Fosters. These people had lives. Lives that were shitty enough without the Fosters interfering. They had no right to steal it from them.”
She hugged him. “No, they didn’t deserve to die. And we will stop the Fosters.”
She felt Ryder’s body tremble and knew he was at his limit—physically and emotionally. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom.
The master bedroom had the same white walls as the rest of the apartment, but a circular mirror on the wall, and throws of gray and tan on the bed, softened the space.
He didn’t say anything and she pulled him down on the bed. Once he was settled against the pillows, she climbed in beside him, fitting her body against his carefully so she didn’t jostle his injuries. His arm clamped around her and he buried his face in her hair.
“Just hold on, Ryder,” she murmured.