Shadow Game (GhostWalkers, #1)(82)

He caught her hips, dragged her off the counter, and spun her around so that he could tip her back over the low shelf. She had a beautiful butt. He loved watching her walk, the sway of her hips was always such a temptation. One hand caught the nape of her neck, holding her in position while his rough palm caressed her buttocks. "Is this comfortable with your head down like this? I don't want you to hurt."

She laughed softly, pushing back against his hand. "I'm not thinking about my head right now, Ryland."

He felt her one last time, wanting to insure she was ready for him, his hand spreading her legs as he pressed insistently into her hot channel.

He was already on the edge of control and so was she. She pushed back again eagerly as he thrust hard. She was velvet soft, hot enough to burn him with flames, so tight it was as if a fiery fist gripped him and squeezed and suckled. She couldn't move, helpless in the position he had forced her into, and it gave him a heady sense of power. He drove into her again and again, filling her to the hilt, forcing her soft, yielding body to take every inch of him. She matched his rhythm, crying out softly as her body shuddered with pleasure. He kept pumping into her, hard strokes, moving in and out of her, thrusting deeply, a brutal passion seizing him, taking him ferociously.

Lily let go, the orgasm taking her like a freight train, ripping through her with immense strength. Her body shuddered, the sensation overwhelming so that she struggled not to cry from sheer pleasure. She hung there limply, exhausted, unable to move, Ryland buried deep inside her.

"Lily, tell me you're feeling what I'm feeling," he said, his mouth moving over the nape of her neck. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Did I act like you hurt me, silly? But when you get your strength back, I expect you to carry me to bed. I'll never walk again."

His hands traced the line of her back, massaging, exploring, loving. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve this, Lily, but thank you."

She turned her head to smile at him, still too limp to move. Totally satiated, completely relaxed. The bump on her head was throbbing, but it didn't matter. He never stopped touching her, never stopped looking at her. He took what he wanted, but gave her so much more in return. "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are, Ryland?"

He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples, savoring the way her muscles clenched around him with every stroke. "No, but I don't mind at all if you'd like to tell me. Right now, you're looking pretty magnificent to me." And he meant it.

It was a long while before he managed to lift her into his arms and take her back to her room. They feasted on cinnamon rolls and jam before taking a long, very erotic shower together.

Long after Lily lay asleep in his arms, Ryland stared up at the ceiling. That part of him that was dark and dangerous had been aroused. Someone had dared to put hands on Lily. It was the wrong thing to do.





Fourteen

LILY stared at her face in the mirror. The bruising around her cheek was too pronounced to ignore.

"I don't think you're going to be able to hide those bruises from Arly," Ryland said. "You look very… colorful."

"Oh, don't even say his name. I'm going to hide all day. Maybe you can lie for me and tell him I went to the laboratory." She frowned and touched the blue-black smudges. Her cheek was puffy and there was a distinct bump on her temple.

Arly and Rosa were going to go totally ballistic on her. And John, sweet John would probably get teary-eyed. But it was a good excuse not to go in to work.

"You try going near that place," Ryland challenged, "and I'll rat you out so fast to Arly, your little head will swim."

She made a face at him. "Your true colors are beginning to show. You have a mean streak in you." She peered at her face again. No amount of makeup was going to hide the purple and blue smudges. "I'm going to have to send Arly to Alaska on a mission of great importance."

"As long as you don't go back to Donovans today." Ryland handed her the phone, then stood watching her as she dialed and left a message for Thornton saying she would be working out of her home until the swelling in her face went down.

Lily handed Ryland back the phone. "Try not to look so smug," she told him, "I had every intention of calling in today, it had absolutely nothing to do with your bossy ways. I think giving orders to your men has gone to your head."

"Is this some kind of women's lib thing?" Ryland's eyebrow shot up. "Because if it is, look in the mirror again, lady."

Lily ignored him and twisted her hair into a tight chignon. Her gaze jumped to his when he made a sound in his throat. "Was that you growling? Do you have a kind of affliction you need to tell me about?"

"I wasn't growling. It was an involuntary protest."

"It was a growl, and what could you be protesting now? You're a high-maintenance person, aren't you?" Lily asked with a straight face and an aristocratic lift of her perfectly arched brow.

"High maintenance?" he echoed. "Lily, you're out of your mind. I don't think you have a clue what I do. Men obey orders because they trust me to know what I'm doing in high-risk situations." Nobody disobeyed or questioned his orders. Until Lily.

"Really?" She looked down her nose at him, princess to peasant. "Men obey your orders because of your rank. Women think things out and decide all by their little lonesome what to do." She patted his head, her fingers lingering for just a moment on a spiral curl. "Don't worry, now that I know about your little ego problem, I'll do my best to look all gushy when you pound your chest."