Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(42)

They drove into the underground parking, and he parked the truck before dragging her across the seat. Her butt hit his hard thighs, and she nearly groaned out loud. “Want me to finish what we started?” he asked, his voice beyond rough.

“What did we start?” she whispered, her body already swaying toward him. She grinned.

He put his face an inch from hers. Raw sexuality and masculine power glowed in his odd-colored eyes. “You know what.”

“I guess.” Her mind wanted to be mad and her heart wanted to be protected, but her body wanted relief. So her tone was teasing.

“Good.” He stepped out of the vehicle, tugging her with him, and tossed her over his shoulder.

Vulnerability attacked her along with humor. She hung over his shoulder, easily controlled by a strength so much more primitive than her own. Yet something about him—a sense that he was searching so hard for something, for a connection—called to her. She slid both hands down his back to grab his very fine ass. If she could trust him even when he was being over the top, what would he give back? Her gut told her he’d give everything and then some. “I’m still mad at you.”

He all but jogged up the stairs, and before she knew it, they were back in his apartment. The world tilted, and she ended up on her feet for the briefest of seconds before he spun her around to face the wall. “Hey—”

Firm hands molded to her breasts, and he pressed his erection against her butt. “Take off your pants,” he rasped in her ear.

She shivered. “Are you playing?” Her voice trembled.

He paused. “I’d never hurt you.”

She knew that, but still, the words mattered. Her heart thumped hard, and feminine power flushed through her. “All right, badass. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He chuckled against her ear and plucked her nipples. Erotic pain shot through her, and her knees weakened. “Pants. Off. Now.”

She unzipped her jeans just as he tugged her shirt over her head, his hands rough.

“Nice.” He caressed from her breasts down to her thighs and back, missing the important parts.

She pushed back against his fully clothed body.

He chuckled and tapped down to her core, easily parting her with his fingers.

Her knees almost buckled from the excruciating pleasure. Her eyes closed, and she pushed against him. More. She needed so much more. “Ryker.”

As she breathed his name, he took her down, flipping her onto her back. His hand cradled her head until she rested on the floor. The cool concrete chilled her back, and with her fully nude and him still dressed, vulnerability swelled inside her.

He kissed her hard on the lips and then moved down, his mouth finding her core. For a few seconds, the entire world disappeared. Her pulse slowed as he held her open and exposed. To him. Red wound beneath his bronze skin when he spread her with his thumbs. “You’re mine, Zara.” Hunger glittered in his eyes.

She couldn’t speak, but in that second, she wanted to be his. Completely.

With a low hum, he leaned down and licked her, sending sensual flames ripping through her abdomen. She clamped a hand on the back of his neck. “Ryker, stop playing,” she moaned.

He chuckled, and the vibrations nearly sent her over. “Man, you’re bossy.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Fair enough.” Then he went at her. Tongue, fingers, even teeth—he worked her until she was a mumbling mass of needy nerves.

Sweat dotted her body. Her thighs trembled. She was ready to beg.

Then he twisted his fingers inside her and sucked her clit into his mouth.

She detonated with a sharp cry. The orgasm cut through her like a blade and was followed by a series of deep waves. Finally, she came down with a small whimper. He was amazing and so dangerous. If she didn’t check herself, she’d be climbing right into his world, where he called all the shots.

Maybe the mind-blowing orgasms would be worth it. Ryker had his own life, and it contained a bunch of secrets from what had to be a shady past. If he couldn’t trust her with his life, how the hell could she trust him? Of course, maybe they were both just starting to trust each other. If she showed him trust, which she had, maybe he’d do the same. “Why won’t you tell me about your past?” It was a question she’d never asked. Sure, she’d asked what his life had been like before they’d met, and he’d stonewalled her. At the time, she’d thought he just didn’t want to be close.

Maybe it was something else.

He pushed himself up, the lazy slumber in his eyes sharpening to an intense determination. “Why?”

“I want to know you,” she whispered, trying to sit up.

He planted a hand on her abdomen, effectively keeping her in place. Yet a warmth entered his eyes, and his cheek creased with what had to be pleasure. “My childhood sucked until I met Denver and Heath, and frankly, it sucked afterward as well. But then we were together, so it wasn’t so bad.”

She’d figured. “And?”

“The rest of it I need to clear with my brothers. I trust you, Zara, but it’s not only my story to tell.”

“All right.” Maybe they could have a shot together. Her body relaxed into him.

He stood, lifting her easily and making her feel beyond feminine. Even cherished. “Round two is in the bed.”