Protecting Medusa Page 4

  So much for self-control. “Roll over, baby,” he ground out, pinching her nipple until she arched into his hand.

  It took her a moment to obey his order, moving away from him. He rolled with her, pressing both his knees between hers, widening her stance.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, his cock sliding into her sheath, just the tip.

  She sucked in a quick breath.

  “Just like I told you earlier, Mena.” He dragged his open mouth along the bared nape of her neck. “Harder and deeper.” He eased farther into her heat.

  She rocked back to meet him, and his cock went hilt-deep. Her gasp mingled with his groan.

  “Easy.” He stilled her with one hand on her hip.

  Their ragged breathing filled the dark space around them, making him hyper-aware of how alone they were here.

  He slid his hand around from her hip to find her clit, the tiny bit of flesh distended already with her desire. “Oh, isn’t that nice?” He plucked it much as he had her nipple, and her sheath tightened around him.

  Her head dropped, and she quivered.

  “It’s all right, Mena.” He bit her shoulder as he withdrew his cock from her, out, nearly out. “I’ll take good care of you.” Slowly, slowly, he pushed deep again, feeling her body tremble around his.

  Over and over, he repeated the strokes, the thrusts. She came after only a few minutes, her cry muffled in the pillow. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her back, slick with her own perspiration.

  “Not done yet,” he ground out, nipping at her nape this time while he strummed her clit.

  She huffed a laugh, shoulders shaking with her release and the laughter. “I noticed.”

  He grinned into her skin. “Really?” He rolled his hips in a tiny circle, stroking over a spot deep inside her that made her laughter turn to a moan.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to ignore that.” She clenched her inner muscles around him, stealing his breath for a moment.

  “Witch.” He caught her hips and jerked them toward himself, wedging his cock even deeper inside her.

  A shocked cry echoed around the room, and her body tensed beneath his.

  “Not yet.” He held still, though his own body screamed for release.

  “Please.”

  He dragged his open mouth to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, teeth scraping gently and making her shudder. “You have to learn some patience.” And he needed to exercise his own. Or dig a deeper well.

  She whimpered when he pinched her clit again, her hips jerking toward his touch.

  “You like that?” He licked the spot he’d just nibbled, tasting salt and Mena.

  She whimpered a reply, her inner muscles clinging when he eased his hips away.

  “You’ll like this even better,” he promised, releasing her shoulder to catch both her hips in his hands.

  The movement lifted her higher, and she braced her weight on her elbows, her head lowering.

  Ryder stroked slowly back inside her heat, his breath hissing out at the feel of her around him. Over and over, he slid out, then in, out, in, gradually increasing his pace until she screamed when the second orgasm broke, her body bowing beneath his.

  His own release strained for freedom. He’d never be able to stop it now. One more deep stroke, and it exploded, rushing from somewhere deep inside.

  He collapsed onto his elbows, trying not to crush her with his heavier weight, his lungs barely able to get him enough oxygen to remain conscious. In his chest, his heart felt like it might pound itself to pieces.

  Underneath him, Mena’s heart beat crazily, too, and he smiled into the tangle of her hair over her shoulder.

  Eventually, he could think enough to realize he was probably smothering her in the pillow, and he rolled to his side, keeping her tight in his arms.

  Their rough breathing still echoed around the room. He felt too hot for all the blankets, but he left them where they were, too exhausted to push them off.

  “Sleep, Mena,” he whispered, kissing the top of her ear.

  She hummed a breathless reply, one hand sliding along his forearm until she reached his wrist. Then her fingers stopped moving.

  Ryder smiled in the dark.

  He hadn’t imagined winning her would be very easy. Perhaps with such explosive chemistry between them, courting his Medusa would be easier than he’d expected.

  He should have known better.

  When he woke in the morning, he stretched, then put one hand out to find her.

  Gone. Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. Mena was gone. Of course.

  He sat up, and the blankets fell to his lap. Listening hard, he heard faint sounds from the kitchen, and he relaxed.

  He threw back the mound of blankets and grabbed his jeans, stepping into them before he gathered the rest of his clothing and padded down the steps, the wood cold beneath his bare feet.

  In the kitchen, Mena bent at the waist, peering into the refrigerator. She’d obviously showered, her inky hair still wet against her sweater, her wool skirt and boots hiding her long legs. She shot him a wary glance as she straightened and closed the fridge.

  “Good morning.” He dragged one hand over his head, aware he was rumpled from sleep.

  Her gaze slid from his hair to his bare chest to the unbuttoned waist of his jeans, and pink tinted her cheeks before she dragged her gaze back to his face. “I was going to make breakfast. Would you like something?”

  Yeah, you, back in bed, naked. “What were you going to have?” he asked instead. He had plenty of time, and Aggie would be here soon with Jason.

  “Eggs and toast. I think Mom has some bacon or sausage in the freezer, if you’d like.” She bit her lower lip, her green eyes wide and dark. His attention went to the tiny round mole at the right corner of her mouth. He wanted to lick it.

  He set his things down at the bottom of the stairs and took a step toward her.

  She flinched as if she’d retreat, then held her ground, eyes filled with caution and only the barest shadow of desire.

  He smiled, more to himself than at her. “Good morning, Mena.” One more step brought him within arm’s reach, but he waited.

  The pink in her cheeks deepened. “Good morning,” she whispered.

  He touched her chin. “Are you all right?”

  She blinked as her entire face reddened. “Yes.” She looked away.

  “Good.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her, hard.

  For a second, she stood there, frozen, and he thought she might pull away, but then her lips parted, and he relaxed, sliding his tongue along her lower lip, dipping into the warmth of her mouth. She’d brushed her teeth, tasted of mint. He changed the angle of the kiss, one of his hands catching her nape to slide his fingers into her damp hair.

  She set her hands on his shoulders, and a soft sigh met his tongue.

  He gentled the kiss, then lifted his head just slightly.

  Her eyes were shut and her mouth swollen. She was gorgeous.

  He kissed her again, lightly. And again.

  When he straightened this time, her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she swayed just a little. He steadied her, watching her eyes flutter open. Desire and wariness mingled there in opposite proportions now.

  “Eggs and toast are fine.”

  She blinked up at him, a tiny frown marring her forehead for a few seconds.

  “I’ll just grab a shower, and then we have work to do.” He didn’t want to, but he released her.

  “What kind of work?” She dropped her hands to her sides.

  “My buddy is on his way to boost the alarm system. I want him to do your place, too. Then you and I need to go away.”

  “What?” Annoyance chased the desire right out of her eyes. “I can’t go away. I have work to do. And I was just gone for three days.”

  “At your place. Not quite the same, and not far enough to get this Harvester away from our family.”

  She clearly wanted to argue with him, spar
ks snapping in her eyes, but she pressed her lips together instead.

  “We can talk about it over breakfast.” He picked up his things and went into the guest room. He shut the door, then grinned when something soft hit the door almost at the height of his head. Good thing she’d waited till the door shut and used something light. Her aim was pretty good.

  The man had some nerve.

  Philomena glared into the skillet and dragged the spatula through the eggs vigorously. Too vigorously, as the spatula scraped the side of the pan. Letting out a shaky breath, she tried to push Ryder out of her head for a few minutes.

  She’d called her mother when she came downstairs, and Aggie assured her they were fine. Jason was watching his favorite Saturday morning cartoon in his pajamas before breakfast. Philomena felt a bit better knowing he was safe and happy.

  Her gaze slid to the window over the sink. She could see the woods that lay between her mother’s house and her own. Only a couple miles of distance. Not far enough.

  She stirred the eggs at a more normal pace now. Sure, she’d known when the curse fell on her eight years ago that the Harvesters were a serious threat. But somehow, she’d hoped after all this time they wouldn’t find her.

  She shivered, thinking how lucky they were Ryder had been waiting for the Harvester yesterday. Otherwise, her mother and Jason might have arrived to find her dead in the kitchen. She touched the top of her dagger handle through her skirt. She knew how to wield it, but who knew how the Harvester was armed.

  She’d have to ask Ryder.

  Her pulse quickened. Back to him.

  He was showering. She knew because she heard the water running, and it didn’t take much effort to imagine him standing beneath the streaming water. After all, she’d gotten a terrific view of his naked body last evening.

  Heat pulsed in her middle at the memory, then more when she thought of later.

  She shook her head. No, that was a mistake. Both times. She turned the burner off and covered the pan, then pushed the bread down into the toaster.

  The water shut off in the next room, and she swallowed, trying not to let her brain go there again. She busied herself with getting plates and silverware out, then took butter and jelly from the fridge. While thinking of website coding, she poured orange juice into two glasses.

  When he emerged from the guest room, his hair was towel-dried, though still damp, making the blond look darker. He wore a soft black t-shirt over faded jeans. She jerked her gaze to his face in time to see that grin disappear.

  She narrowed her eyes, but kept her mouth shut and dished up breakfast.

  He waited until she had eggs in her mouth before he spoke. “What work do you have going right now?”

  She forced down the eggs and chased them with a quick swallow of juice. “I’m nearly done with a big site, then I have a few smaller ones waiting. Regular maintenance on others.”

  “You can work on them away from home, right?”

  She glared at him. “I’m not leaving.”

  He raised one dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking you.”

  She set her fork down. “Just because I made a mistake and slept with you does not give you permission to make my decisions. Also, you are no longer in the military, and not my commanding officer. And, FYI, I will not be sleeping with you again.”

  He laughed. “Not much sleeping going on, the way I remember it.”

  Heat scorched her face, and Philomena growled, curling her fingers into fists on the table. “I am not looking for a relationship, and even if I were, you wouldn’t be at the top of my wish list.” Good Gods, no.

  Ryder took a drink, though she couldn’t understand how, with that miserable grin still spread over his face. “You, Mena, are afraid to be in a relationship with a man stronger than you are.”

  She blinked at him, her heart pounding faster. “What?” How could a man she’d managed to avoid for so long know so much about the way her brain worked?

  “I’ve seen your ‘dates’. Bunch of pansies, without a spine in the whole lot. You pick men who won’t argue when you decide you’re done with them.” He lifted his fork. “It’s a tactic I’m immune to.” He scooped up more eggs.

  Her mouth was dry, but she refused to lift her glass and let him know he’d hit the mark with his assessment of her. “How long have you been spying on me?” she asked instead.

  He shook his head, swallowing his eggs. “Just trying to make sure you were safe. Can’t have you bringing danger home to Jason.”

  That was low, and she shot him a fierce glare. “I have never dated anyone who was a danger to Jason,” she ground out.

  “I know.” His grin remained smug, and she wanted to smack it off his face. “You’ve never dated anyone who was a threat to your remaining single either.”

  She shoved away from the table, her chair screeching with the sudden movement. “My dating is none of your business.” She jolted to her feet and spun away.

  “You haven’t dated anyone who would present any sort of challenge to you,” he continued from behind her when she walked the few steps to the sink. “Is it because you’re really that afraid, or because you were just waiting for the right man to come along?”

  She shook her head, anger and fear clogging her throat, and gripped the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. There was no ‘right man’ for her. Not for the Medusa.

  Behind her, his chair scraped over the floor. “I’m not a spineless wonder like any of those guys,” he said, his booted footsteps drawing nearer. “And I’ve been waiting a very long time, so I’m not going away quietly.”

  Philomena shut her eyes.

  His big hands settled on her shoulders. “But I promise I’ll never hurt you, Mena,” he whispered, too close to her ear.

  She jabbed her elbow into his ribs, hard, surprising him into releasing her. She slid away along the counter. “But I might hurt you.” She patted the hilt of her dagger through her skirt as she faced him. “You know I’m armed, right?”

  He rubbed his side where she’d elbowed him, still grinning. “Bring it, baby.”

  Her jaw dropped, and he laughed. Suddenly, his smile vanished.

  “Get down.”

  “What?” She frowned.

  He pushed her to a crouch, then moved through the doorway of the guest room, grabbing his gun from the open bag on the bed.

  Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of it.

  “We have company,” he breathed, peering through the narrow space she’d made when she parted the living room curtains earlier to let some morning light in.

  She fumbled her skirt out of her way and unsheathed her dagger, wrapping her fingers tight around the hilt. It felt good against her palm, but her hand shook. Two days in a row was a little much.

  “Hang onto that.” He stepped to the alarm panel and shut the system off, then eased out the back door, his posture cautious.

  Philomena shut her eyes. Oh Gods, don’t let the Harvester hurt him. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. Jason would be heartbroken. She opened her eyes and took a quick breath. She couldn’t be sitting here in the middle of the floor if Ryder didn’t walk back in. She crawled behind the door, where she could see through the crack between door and frame.

  And waited.

  It seemed an eternity before she heard steady footsteps crunching in the snow leading to the door, and she tensed even more, pain sliding up the back of her neck to squeeze her skull. Her breath escaped in a rush when she saw Ryder step inside, and she lowered her dagger to her side, eyes closing for a second. Thank you, Gods.

  He shut the door and knelt in front of her. “It’s all right.” He touched her cheek with cold fingers, and she shut her eyes again.

  “Gone?” She opened her eyes and found his expression somber, his brown eyes hard.

  “Dead.”

  She gasped, the room tilting sharply to one side.

  “Either him or you, and I’d p
refer him.” He helped her to her feet. “I’ve got to get rid of the body.” He cupped her elbows in his hands while he studied her expression. He guided her back to her seat and pushed her into it, then took the dagger from her nerveless fingers. “Drink some of that orange juice, baby. You look mighty pale.”

  While she wrapped both hands around her glass, he tugged her skirt up far enough to reveal the soft leather sheath strapped to her thigh.

  “Nice,” he murmured, then put her blade into it and snapped it shut. His fingers, hard, a little rough, lingered along her skin, distracting her from her chaotic thoughts for a couple of seconds. He inhaled shakily, then pulled her skirt into place, rising again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do not go anywhere without me, Mena.” He bent to kiss the top of her head, then strode out to his truck after resetting the alarm.

  She rose, still shocked, then stood there at the door, staring out into the snowy back yard as the sound of his truck faded away.

  He’d killed someone to protect her.

  The thought chilled her. Not necessarily the idea he’d killed someone. She imagined he’d killed before, during his time in the military and working for the intelligence agency. But to keep her safe... Someone who would have killed her given the opportunity. That was the chilling part.

  The Harvesters had really found her.

  She shivered, wrapping her arms around her waist, and turned away from the door. Her mother and Jason were in danger with her here. Far more than she’d ever let herself imagine.

  Fear tightened her chest. She needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere the Harvesters wouldn’t kill her family to get to her. Away.

  She scraped her breakfast into the trash, hands shaking so much she dropped her fork in, too. Her breath came too fast, making her dizzy. She retrieved the fork, carrying it and her plate to the sink and turning on the water, too hot, but she put her hands under it anyway, wincing before adjusting the temperature.

  Where would she go?

  Oh, Gods, how would she go? How could she not see Jason again? She bit her lip against the sting of tears in her eyes. She’d had him since Desi gave birth to him six years ago.