“She’s safe here,” I say, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Shelby and Josh won’t let anything happen to her.”
And just like that, my sexy she-devil is crying. All the distracting thoughts of my defensemen double-teaming our PR manager disappear in a flash.
“Hey, hey, what is this?” I say, pulling her into my arms. “Why are you crying?”
She presses her face into my chest, her arms holding tight to my hips. “God, it’s nothing—it’s—I’m just being ridiculous. I’m—it was a hard day and—it’s nothing.” She shakes her head, trying to pull away from me. “God, I fucking hate crying. Lately it feels like it’s all I do.”
“Whoa, hey. Stay. Tell me.” I place my hand under her chin and tip her face up. “Tess, look at me. What happened?”
She shakes her head again, eyes closed. “I don’t—Ryan, don’t. Let’s not talk about it. I can’t talk about it, okay? Not tonight. Not here. Not now.”
And now I know it has to do with Troy. Man, fuck that asshole. I fucking hate him. I hate the hold he still has on her. I just want her to be free of him.
“I just really missed you,” she admits, and my heart does a somersault. “I needed you today. I’m starting to feel like I need you, Ryan, and I think that’s scaring me a little. I don’t really have anyone else here except Rachel, and you’ve been such a good friend, but I can’t put that on you. I can’t burden you.”
Friend, she calls me. Not lover. Not boyfriend. I’m just her friend. Ryan Puppy Langley, the nice friend she’s casually deep throating. It’s better than nothing.
“Hey,” I say, cupping her face. “Look at me.”
She takes a deep breath before tipping her face up. She’s so beautiful. She’s got thick black eye makeup on tonight, and those bright red lips could stop traffic. Pair that with the horns and this lacy red bra thing, and I’m ready to get on my knees and beg.
But that’s not what she needs right now. She needs comfort and reassurance. She needs her friend. “You’re safe with me,” I tell her. “Cleopatra is safe, and you’re safe too. Nothing will touch you when you’re in my arms, I swear to God.”
Her hands that were clinging to my hips soften. Slowly, she brushes them up my sides and under my leather cut to splay over my chest. She drops her gaze, watching where her hands touch me. My body heats all over, loving the feel of her closeness. I want her. I crave her. But I’m going to respect her boundaries and move at her speed.
“Ryan.” Her hands smooth over the planes of my chest.
“What do you need?” I say, voice low.
Her hands go still as she looks up into my eyes. Parting her lips, she says the word that is music to my ears. “You.”
44
“Ryan, please,” I murmur, my hands going up to his nape, fingers brushing his hair, as I step in closer. “I need you.”
“What do you need?” he says again. His hands are at my waist, smoothing over the leather of my skirt. “Tell me what you need.”
I’m not good at being vulnerable. I’m not good at letting people in. I’d rather walk around the world stark naked than walk around admitting to having faults and feelings and insecurities.
And boy, has this man seen me naked. Maybe that’s why everything has been so topsy-turvy with us. We started with me naked. No walls, no hiding. Just me, exactly as I am, with curves and freckles and sunburned shoulders.
He’s known what I am, all that I am, from day freaking one. Now the question becomes: Will I let him know who I am? Will I let him in?
Taking a deep breath, I look in his eyes. For him, I’m willing to try. “I want this, Ryan,” I say. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me. Here. Now.”
His energy darkens as he smooths a thumb over my cheek. “Tess—”
“Wait.” I lift my hand to cover his on my cheek. “I want to let you in—I—god, I’m gonna try to let you in, okay? But my head can be a crazy place sometimes,” I warn, dropping my hand away.
“I’ve noticed,” he says with a smirk. His hand lowers, too, his thumb brushing along the curve of my shoulder.
I shiver, loving the feel of his gentle touch. Centering myself in that feeling, I give him my vulnerability. “Ryan, the last man who touched me did so in anger. I think it’s making me afraid to take this step with you. I’m afraid of the surrender, of the loss of control.”