Wild Embrace (Wilder Irish #11) - Mari Carr Page 0,4

you?”

He shook his head, though that was probably not an accurate description. It was more like he flopped it to the left just once before resuming his intense study of the ceiling. “No one…there’s no one…” The rest of his sentence was incoherent as he closed his eyes again, breathing deeply.

She considered nudging him, trying to help him move from the recliner to his bed, but she decided against it.

Instead, she stood up and walked over to him. He was still fully dressed in one of his tailored work suits. He’d loosened the tie a bit, but she was certain he wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping like that, and she was a bit worried about leaving him in his current state.

Darcy glanced toward the front door again and debated going home. If she weren’t here, Ryder would have already passed out, which was pretty much inevitable and probably the best thing for him.

Then she decided against it. Bending toward him, she slowly, carefully untied the knot of his tie, then pulled it from the collar of his shirt.

Ryder grumbled a bit but didn’t stir.

Then she reached for the top button of his shirt. She’d just slipped it free when she realized his eyes were open…and he was looking right at her.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable if I loosened your collar,” she whispered.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

Darcy blinked a couple times, then did as he’d asked—actually, commanded was a better word. She’d never noticed how deep and sexy his voice was. Tonight, it had an almost gruff quality to it that was taking her mind to some pretty naughty places.

She unbuttoned his shirt as far as she could, then tugged the hem free of his pants so she could take care of the bottom two. Her fingers accidentally grazed his bare stomach.

She heard him suck in a deep breath.

“I…miss…fuck. I can’t…” He turned his head away, and Darcy got the sense he’d gone somewhere else, that he was with someone else.

“You miss Denise?” she whispered.

His gaze flew back to hers, his eyes narrowed in a scowl. “No. Yes. I just…can’t…” He rubbed his forehead wearily. “Jesus,” he muttered when his eyes briefly managed to focus on her. “Darcy?”

Darcy cursed herself, afraid she’d overstepped a line. She and Ryder weren’t close. Hell, they were barely more than strangers.

“I’m sorry. I should probably go,” she said softly.

“No. I’m sorry. I…” He squinted hard, as if his head was already starting to hurt. “I don’t usually drink. Too much Scotch.”

“It’s okay. I live above a pub. I’ve seen my uncles and cousins taken down by Jameson more times than I can count.”

The tips of his mouth actually curved upwards, something Darcy took as a win. Ryder wasn’t an unpleasant man at all, but he never smiled, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard him laugh.

The second that thought crossed her mind, she realized she wanted to find a way to bring laughter back to him, to this house.

Clint and Vince had spent the last year talking about how much fun Ryder was, about the games they’d played, the funny voices he used to do when reading stories, how he used to make up silly songs to get them to eat or take a bath. It wasn’t until a few months ago that Darcy realized all those stories were about the time before Denise had died. Since then, in addition to rubbing Clint’s upset stomach, she’d taken to making up her own songs and doing her own crazy voices to entertain the boys during story time, though apparently, she was going to have to work on her British accent.

Her heart ached for all of them, and Darcy longed to meet the guy Ryder used to be.

Ryder shifted on the recliner and his shirt parted, revealing more of his bare chest. She fought hard to keep her eyes on his face, rather than let her gaze drift lower. Though she’d seen enough when she was unbuttoning his shirt to wish she had the courage to sneak another peek. Ryder was ripped, like six-pack-heaven ripped. He’d mentioned once that there was a gym in the building where he worked that was available to everyone at his company.

Obviously, Ryder took advantage of that. Frequently.

Ryder distracted her when he attempted to unfasten his belt. His fingers fumbled over the clasp several times before she finally pushed his hands away and took over. She unhooked it and then—like she did with his tie—pulled it free.

Darcy started to set the belt on