He sat on the sofa and she went with him. “When I joined Special Ops, got into the dirty, dark assignments, I realized how much I enjoyed. . killing.”
He slanted a glance her way. “Does that shock you?”
She shook her head. “No. You were killing bad guys, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, but does that really matter? I should have been unemotional about it, I should have found it distasteful. Instead, I felt a thrill every time I blew someone away, every time I slid a knife across their throat and life drained away under my hand. It felt good.”
She laid her palm against the rough stubble of his cheek, feeling his pain, wishing she could take it away. “That doesn’t make you like your father. Because you don’t use it on the people you care about or people who don’t deserve it. And that’s the difference between you and him.”
He sat for a moment, quiet, staring at the bookshelves. She hoped what she said sank in.
“When you killed that demon at the cottage, did you enjoy it?” he asked.
She thought about it, then spoke the truth. “Yes.”
“Do you think you’re evil, Angie? Honestly?”
She shook her head. “No.” Or maybe she just hoped it.
“You’re no different after the revelation of who your father was than you were before. You don’t have that darkness within you.”
He said it with such conviction, as if he really, truly believed it to be so. “Thank you.”
She leaned in, kissed him, breathed into him, felt the muscles in his arms tense, and pulled back.
“Ryder, let it go. Let
He let out a husky laugh. “I don’t know.”
“I believe in you. And I could never love someone who was like him.”
He looked at her. Really stared at her, like he couldn’t believe she’d said the words.
She couldn’t believe she’d said them either, but now that she had, the need to tell him everything bubbled up inside her.
“We’re so much alike,” she continued. “Strong, stubborn, able to survive out there on our own. I knew when we first met that we were similar spirits. We’ve been solitary for so long that I think it’s taken both of us our entire lives to learn to lean on someone else.”
She inhaled, aware she might be the only one who felt this way, but needing to tell him.
“I’ve never loved anyone other than my mother and my sister. I’ve had men in my life, but they never mattered to me. But you and me, we have a connection. We share something together that I find amazing. When I’m with you, I’m at peace, in body and heart. I’ve never had that before. No one with the violence inside them that you think you carry around could make me feel that way.
“I need you, Ryder. And I’ve never needed anyone before. I love you.”
She didn’t wait for him to speak, just crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Angelique’s words played over and over in Ryder’s head. He’d started this to try to make her feel better, to show her the difference between him and her. Instead, she’d blown him away, accepting him for who he was, convincing him that he wasn’t his father and could never be, and then telling him that she loved him.
She loved him. What the hell had he done to deserve such an honor? He wasn’t an honorable man.
Ah, hell. Her soft lips slid like warm, silken butter over his, melting the last of the tension away. He gave up on thinking when the tip of her tongue slid through his teeth, jolting him into full sexual heat. With a sharp groan, he gave up and jerked her fully against him, wrapping his arms around her so he could feel her body-really feel her body.
Within seconds he was hard, his cock pushing against his pants with the rush of heat and desire that seemed to occur so damn fast whenever Angie was near. From the first time he’d become aware of her in the caves in Australia, when she’d thrown that first teasing remark his way and he’d responded by storming over to her and pulling her into his arms for a kiss, he’d known there was something about her that was different from other women.
She was right. There was a bond between them. He sure as hell felt it now. Like sparks of electricity that zinged through his nerve endings, firing him to life, concentrating all his thought processes on just her-on getting her clothes off so he could touch the soft silk of her body, kiss her all over. They were alone now. He didn’t need to hurry. He could take his time and really love her.
He stood, lifting Angie into his arms. She broke the kiss, looked at him, her gaze warm and melting all over him with heat and understanding.
It seemed to take forever to get upstairs and to his room. He could have taken her in the library again, but this time he wanted to be assured of privacy, so he could take his time.
He kicked the door closed and laid her on his bed. Yeah, he liked seeing her there, knowing that’s where she belonged, where she’d stay from now on.
She was his. A rush of possessiveness hit him like a mortar blast. He waited for the inevitable twinge of
