Reaper's Legacy
Page 11

He didn’t respond, looking straight ahead. A little muscle in his jaw clenched. If I’d been just a little braver, I’d have leaned over and licked his jawline. He had just enough of a five o’clock shadow that it’d be nice and rough under my tongue.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, closing his eyes. “Despite what happened this morning, I’m not trying to start something with you, Sophie. You realize how f**ked things would get if we started screwing each other? I’m not looking for a relationship and I’m not a one-woman man. We gotta work together for Noah. You know that.”
I sighed. I did know it. Stupid beer.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, turning away from him to look out across the valley. He’d really found a hell of a place. I still couldn’t believe how great our new home was.
Felt great to really relax, too, let it all out.
“Noah has to come first, we can agree on that one. I just want to get laid, though. Do you think any of the guys in your club are available? I don’t want a boyfriend, just a friend with benefits. Someone I can f**k and then ditch, guilt-free, when it gets old.”
Ruger made a choking noise and I glanced over at him, concerned.
“You okay?”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with the club,” he said, his voice strained. “How did you go from that to friends with benefits so fast?”
“Actually, I think I might give the club a chance,” I replied. Maybe the Reapers would be all right—and the more I considered the whole friend-with-benefits thing, the more I liked the idea. I never got to have sex. I was twenty-four years old, for God’s sake. I should get to have sex!
“They did some really nice things for me today. Horse left home in the middle of the night to help someone he didn’t even know. And those girls … They must’ve worked for hours, getting everything ready for us. Just the furniture is amazing, let alone leaving dinner ready to go. I think the stencils are still wet.”
“Jesus f**kin’ Christ.”
I frowned at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “I thought you wanted me to get to know your friends in the club. And seriously—I deserve to get laid. I’ve earned it!”
Ruger straightened and turned to me, every muscle in his body tense and tightly leashed. His nose flared as he took a deep breath, and my eyes caught on the muscle in his jaw. He’d always been scary, but right now he looked downright lethal. I should’ve been terrified, but I had my buzz wrapped around me like a nice warm blanket of protection.
I wasn’t going to let him bully me anymore.
“I think the girls would be good for you,” he said. “At least, some of them. You stick with the old ladies. Don’t want you around the others. But this friends-with-benefits shit? Not happenin’, Soph. Put that outta your mind, got me?”
“Why not?” I demanded, outraged. “You screw everything that moves. Why can’t I?”
“Because you’re a mother,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “You got no business f**kin’ around like that. I’m serious.”
“I’m a mother, but I’m not dead,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t let Noah meet someone unless it’s serious. But I’m ready for a little fun. Horse is hot, and if any of the other guys in your club are like him—even a little—they’d be perfect for me. Don’t give me shit about it, either. I know you guys f**k around. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Those are sweetbutts and club whores,” he said, his voice hard. “They’re trash. No f**kin’ way you’re gonna be one of them. Not happening, Soph.”
“You aren’t my boss.”
“You sound like a goddamned fourteen-year-old,” he replied, eyes narrowing.
“At least I don’t sound like an overprotective father,” I snapped. “You’re not my dad, Ruger.”
He reached out and caught me behind the neck, jerking me into his body. Then he dropped his mouth down to my ear, my face so close to his chest I could’ve licked him.
“Trust me, I’m well aware I’m not your father,” he said. His nose traced the curve of my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through me. “If I was, they’d throw my ass in jail for the shit I think about you.”
I raised my hands, sliding them up along his sides, tracing the line of his muscles before bringing them in to graze his ni**les. I couldn’t help myself—I leaned forward and flicked his piercing with my tongue. Ruger groaned, and his fingers tightened in my hair. His entire body tensed, and then I felt the brush of his c**k against my stomach.
Holy hell.
My ni**les peaked and the flesh between my legs spasmed. I shifted restlessly. One of his hands slid down my back, past my shorts and panties, to cup my bare ass. His fingers tensed as I licked his nipple again, then sucked the ring into my mouth.
“Jesus …” he groaned. “You got two seconds before I lay you over that table and f**k you so hard it breaks. Swear to God, Soph. You wanna tell me how we’re gonna explain that to Noah? ’Cause I got shit. I’m not lookin’ to marry you and I sure as f**k won’t hand you my dick on a leash, so things could get weird fast, babe.”
I froze, shivering, feeling moisture soak my panties. I wanted to hump his leg like a bitch in heat, desperate for anything to fill the emptiness inside me.
Instead I pulled away from him slowly. His hand slid free of my shorts and we stepped apart, eyes boring into each other.
“Fuck,” Ruger muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked away from me. The front of his pants bulged outward, his c**k so hard I saw the thick head clearly outlined. I wondered what he’d do if I knelt down, pulling his pants low so I could run my tongue around the tip before sucking him deep into my mouth. It actually watered at the thought.
Desire speared me like a weapon. I sighed, licking my lips.
“I’m gonna get another beer,” Ruger said harshly. I looked up from his c**k to his face to find his eyes glued to my chest. Shit. I was still wearing the damned Barbie tank, which left nothing to the imagination. My suitcase sat in his car.
“Grab me one, too,” I replied, my voice shaking.
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I looked at him and shook my head. His chest rose and fell too fast, his dark eyes almost fully dilated. He swallowed and I rubbed my hand against the top of my thigh, restless and hungry. The steady motion caught his eye and he swallowed again.
“No, but I want one anyway.”
I walked unsteadily across the deck to a lounger and lay back on it, limp and full of need so intense I thought I might die. The sun had set, and the evening stars had started coming out somewhere along the line. I should go back down to my little apartment. I knew that. Instead I closed my eyes and thought about how much I wanted to reach down between my legs and rub my clit until I blew up right in front of him.
Something cold touched my cheek.
I opened my eyes to find Ruger standing over me, eyes intense. They slid slowly across my body. Impossibly, the bulge in his pants was larger. God, it’d be so easy to just reach out and take him into my hand, feel that hard length for myself. Or I could sit up and lean my head forward, letting my cheek touch him through the soft fabric. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
I rose until my face was only a few inches away from his crotch. Then I looked up at him, wondering if I’d lost my mind.
“Here’s your beer,” he said roughly, holding it out to me. I took it and wrapped my mouth around the neck for a drink, holding his gaze.
I hated him for being sober and in control.
“Jesus, Sophie …” he groaned. “Don’t f**kin’ look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked him, catching a drip on the side with my tongue.
“Don’t play stupid,” he whispered. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna f**k you. We’ll both regret that tomorrow. You’re drunk.”
I tilted my head to the side, thoughtful.
“Are you?” I asked him.
“What?”
“Drunk?”
He shook his head slowly, sinking down to sit next to me. He leaned over, scenting my neck. We weren’t touching at all, but just the warmth of his breath on my skin almost killed me. I took another drink of my beer, slow and deliberate.
His eyes burned a hole right through me.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m not drunk.”
“Then what’s your excuse?” I asked softly. “Mine’s alcohol. Whatever I do tonight, I can blame the beer. What excuse should we use for you?”
Ruger reached over and took the bottle from my hand, setting it on the deck.
“No more tonight,” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re done. We’re done. We’re not doing this. Got me?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to think past the buzz. I knew he was right. Noah needed us both, and we had enough trouble getting along already. I was going to be living in his basement, for God’s sake, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been clear—he wanted to f**k me. No heart, no flowers, no dates, and definitely no commitments. At least I wasn’t just a piece of furniture anymore.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?” he replied. I swallowed.
“Is this a new thing for you?”
“I don’t follow,” he said, glancing at me. His eyes pierced mine, the warm night air hanging heavy between us.
“Wanting me,” I said softly. “Is it a new thing for you? I mean, aside from … back then … I always assumed that was just a moment, you know? You always looked right through me.”
“It’s not a new thing.”
We sat together, neither moving, frogs chirping all around us. After a while he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, like he had in the car.
“You still sore?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I kinked it somehow last night while I was driving. Stupid.”
“Want me to rub it for you?” I asked him.
“No f**kin’ way you’re touching me,” he said. “We covered that already. I’m not drunk, Soph. I won’t f**k things up for Noah.”
“We’re not going to f**k up anything,” I told him. “I’m getting sober now, it’s okay. I took a massage class, though. I’m actually pretty good at it. Let me help you. You’ve done so much to help me, I feel like I owe you something.”
“Not a good idea.”
I rolled my eyes, and bumped his shoulder with mine.
“Chicken?” I asked, smiling at him.
“Jesus, you’re annoying,” he muttered, but he didn’t protest when I crawled behind him. I ignored the screaming need between my legs as I knelt up and put my fingers on his shoulders. They were hard and strong, soft skin stretched over sleek muscles more than capable of supporting him while he pounded into my body.
Unfortunately, it was too dark for me to see much of his tattoos, which was a damned shame. Ruger wasn’t shy about taking off his shirt, but I never got close enough to really scope them out.
I dug my fingers in and he groaned, head dropping forward. He wasn’t kidding about being tight, either. Big knots snarled his neck and shoulders. After a few minutes of going at them with my fingers, I started using my elbows. Slowly I got his neck to relax and started moving down his back.
“Lay down on your stomach,” I told him, sliding off the side of the lounger behind him. I flattened it. He didn’t move.
“You really are chicken,” I murmured. “I’m just going to give you a back rub, Ruger. Enjoy it for what it is, okay?”
He grunted and rolled onto his stomach. I leaned over him and went to work. Some of the knots just wouldn’t give, so I decided to climb on top of him to get good leverage.
Was this stupid?
Of course. Did I care?
Not one drunken bit.
I straddled his butt, enjoying the feel of his hard body between my legs and his skin under my fingers. He smelled fresh and clean, but still utterly male. Drove me crazy. With every stroke of my hands I rode him, not getting quite enough stimulation to satisfy me, but enough that when I felt a light beading of sweat break out, it definitely wasn’t from the effort of giving the massage.
At first he tensed, but slowly he gave in to it, each muscle group relaxing in turn. Finally my hands were tired and we were both limp. I lay down across his back, taking in his scent, the warm summer breeze just enough to keep me from overheating.
“Soph …” he said, his voice a warning.
“Don’t, Ruger,” I whispered. “It doesn’t mean anything. Just let it be, all right?”
He sighed, and silence fell between us.
I was still frustrated, no question. But it was a strange, relaxed kind of sexual desire washing through me now. Night sounds surrounded us and I let myself enjoy the feel of Ruger’s body under mine, wishing I really could have a man like this—strong, steady, and capable of protecting me from anything.
If Ruger were mine, I’d be safe. Always.
“It’ll be okay, Sophie,” he murmured softly, sounding half asleep. “I promise.”
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t believe him. Instead I dozed off. The next thing I remembered was him lifting me and carrying me down to my bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ruger was wrong. It wasn’t okay.
Things got weird.
So weird that he took off on me for nearly five days, leaving Sunday afternoon and not showing up again until Thursday. I had no idea where he went and didn’t ask him about it when he came back. But it had to get less uncomfortable, right? Because you can only be all tense and strange around each other for so long …