Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (9 page)

He pulled her closer, adjusting her position so she reclined against his chest. He drew a cover down from the back of her sofa, covered them with it, and then laid his head against the back of the couch. He’d stay for a while, make sure she was okay, and then he’d head out. If he stayed too long he’d end up waking her, and that probably wasn’t what she needed right now.

Whatever her brother had done had caused her to fear him. Ryan’s blood thickened and he had to struggle to overcome the rage that flooded his system. She stirred restlessly in his arms, maybe subconsciously responding to his anger and he settled her once again.

Yeah, he’d hang around for another couple of hours and make sure her knucklehead brother didn’t return. Then he’d leave.

Maybe.

*

Sophie woke up to heat. No idea how long she’d been asleep, she found herself trapped between the leather back of her couch and a very warm male body. Make that a hard, warm male body. Afraid to move, she took in a deep breath, prepared to fight.

She opened her eyes first, struggled for lucidity. It felt like she’d been asleep for days. Why the hell was she on her couch? She took another breath, and cedar with a touch of butterscotch settled in the pit of her stomach. Woodsy and tinged with a hint of sweet, she’d committed the smell to memory just days ago.

Ryan?

She reached out tentatively, felt a denim-covered hip and snatched her hand away. Had he been wearing jeans last night? She struggled to remember as fear beat at her with slashing wings. Her brother had been here last night. Had someone come looking for him?

The body that surrounded hers flexed, hips moving into hers, the prod of hard flesh behind the denim unmistakable against her bottom. She took stock of her surroundings. It was dark, but the TV was on. She was still wearing, wait, she didn’t have on her boots, but she did have on her dress from last night.

The hips rolled again, and a harsh breath sounded behind her as his scent sank into her. Then he spoke.

“Turn around.” It was rough, magnetic.

It pulled a response from her before she was ready, but she did as he demanded. Ryan helped, grabbing her hips and turning her, and then coming over her and settling between her legs. She inhaled swiftly at the perfect fit of their bodies.

His face was hard, the TV making ghostly waves across his tanned skin. She was cocooned between his arms as he held himself just slightly off her to keep his weight from crushing her into the couch. His eyes, black in the darkness of night, studied her, and her stomach took a free fall.

He leaned down slowly, so freaking slowly she felt her eyes cross in anticipation of his kiss and then he lifted off the couch. Off her. Her hands fell and so did her heart, the question she wanted to ask unvoiced as he grabbed her hands and pulled her up with him. He steadied her once she stood and cradled her face in his hands.

Her eyes closed. This man was so damn potent. His smell, his size, everything about him swamped her, created in her a need to be skin to skin, breath to breath.

“Sophie. I want you, but I don’t want you scared,” he murmured, his breath a warm rush against her face.

“I—” She tried again to give voice to what she was feeling, but nothing would come out. She settled for lifting her face to him, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss her.

His body hardened under her hands. At some point she’d grabbed onto his chest again and her fingers squeezed, dug into the muscles as if reaching for his very soul. He took a breath, and it rippled through him, echoed inside her. He moved closer, pelvis nestled against hers, knee demanding she spread her legs so he could get even closer.

She obeyed, and he took what she offered. He attacked her mouth, nipping, laving, and suckling her lips before finally moving in between them with his tongue and sweeping away any protest she might have made.

He lowered his hands from her face, caressed down her body, and gripped her bottom as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his hands dug into the flesh of her bottom, circled her on the hard ridge of his shaft as their tongues dueled and they breathed for one another.

She moaned and he took it, gave it back to her with a forceful groan, his taste rich and full inside her mouth. Their lust had a flavor—cinnamon and spice, butterscotch and chocolate—she craved it, grabbed his head to hold him still so she could do a little plundering of her own.

He pulled away from her suddenly, breathing heavily, passion bright in his eyes, his face drawn into harsh lines.

“Sophie. I. Want. You.” Each word was punctuated by his hips flexing against her mound. Could she come with just that motion?

He was asking her something, but for what? She was pure lust at that moment; it was impossible to fathom the depth of his words. She did what her body wanted and damn the consequences.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips.

His eyes closed, and when they opened she knew she’d answered properly. He turned with her still attached and made it to the bedroom quickly. She didn’t question how he knew the way just as she didn’t question the impossibility of what was happening between them.

She’d never felt heat of this magnitude before, this primal lust and wanting that threatened to choke her. This desire had her in the grips of a need so intense it was almost dreamlike. A shudder worked through her as he placed her on her feet beside her bed.

She looked up and lost herself.

*

Ryan was lost. Moonlight spilled in from the windows in the bedroom, illuminating her ivory skin and giving it an ethereal glow. Her eyes were bright, her lips kiss-swollen. Her chest heaved and her nipples hardened under his gaze.

He didn’t question this moment or her assent. His body recognized hers and knew what to do to find succor within its depths. He reached for the tie of her dress, undid it with a single twist, and watched in awe as it fell open, revealing her to him. She was slender, but her body curved in all the right places. Beautiful breasts held taut by a lacy, God help him,
red
bra, looked like they’d been made to fit his large hands. His already hard dick swelled even more. Her stomach was flat and flared into hips made to be taken into his hands as he held her body still for his possession.

His dick jumped behind his jeans, begging to be let loose from the constriction. He was so fucking hot, burning up with the need to take this woman under his body and lose himself in her. Every sense he had was so attuned to her the only thing he could compare it to was battle. Only in warfare did he become so focused on one object. Unfortunately for her, she was his one object.

Like a deer senses a wolf, her nostrils flared and she shivered. It was unacceptable that she was so far away from him, that his skin wasn’t on top of hers, their sweat mingling as their bodies writhed together. The mental image of him thrusting in and out of her almost undid him.

Sophie shrugged the dress off and was left in nothing but her bra and panties. She stepped to him then, reaching for his sweater, pushing it up. He took over, ripped it off, and pulled at the snap of his jeans. He stepped out of them and the boxer briefs all at once. He watched as her gaze slid over him. His cock jumped, and she licked her lips.

Fuck, he was going to come just looking at her. She stepped up to him again, so close that a breath would have brought their bodies in touch.

“I don’t know if I can keep control, Sophie.” It was the only warning he’d give her. She’d call it off now, or he’d be balls deep inside her with no way to slow and no ability to stop.

She peered up at him, eyes dark in the moonlight. Her mouth quirked, and she licked her lips again. He groaned, the sound ripped from him as he lifted a hand and stopped.

Her gaze shifted to his hand and then back to his face. Tension stretched between them, pushing him, accelerating the need for her until he thought he’d explode with it.

“Sophie.”

“I don’t know what you’re waiting on,” she responded and then squealed as he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.

He came down over her, cursed, and got back up, moving toward his jeans.

“I’m safe and I’m on the pill,” she said breathlessly.

He went rigid and turned to her. She nodded, and he dropped his jeans, started to move toward her, but her next words stopped him.

“I know I’m safe, because you’re my first.”

He swallowed. Sweat beaded at his lower back as panic started to set in. She was a virgin?
Fuck
him
. He’d never had a virgin. And with the way his body was clamoring, he had to wonder if he could do gentle at all?

He shook his head, tried to clear it, but the thought of being her first ramped up every protective, possessive instinct he’d ever had.

“I can’t—
shit
. Do you know what that does to me?” he growled.

She shook her head this time as she came up on her knees. She reached behind her back and removed her bra. His mouth watered. Temptation had taken flesh form, and its name was Sophie Hanson.

“I don’t know what it does to you, but I know what I want you to do to me.” She smiled after tossing that out there, and it was over for him.

There was no more fighting. He was on her in less than a second, his hands on her shoulders, bodies close but not touching. Not yet.

He leaned down and ran his nose along the curve of her neck, inhaling her lavender scent, letting it soothe the beast inside him. Goose bumps rose on her flesh, and her breathing stuttered. He flicked out his tongue and touched the spot beneath her ear.

“Ryan,” she moaned.

“Leave your hands at your side. If you touch me, it’s over,” he whispered against the column of her neck. “I’ll be buried in your pussy so fast it’ll make your head spin, virgin or no.”

“Yes,” she hissed as he nipped at her collarbone.

He shifted lower, took the tip of one luscious breast in his mouth and suckled, looking up the whole time to make sure she was with him. Her head was thrown back as her body shuddered under his ministrations. She kept her hands by her side.
Good girl
.

To reward her, he diverted his attention to the other breast, tongue licking, lips tugging at the tip as he continued to stroke and knead the first. One hand adjusted to her back, caressing her from head to ass. Tension coiled her spine as he kissed the underside of both breasts and pressed flush against her. He took her face in his hands and her eyes opened.

“You’re going to be mine,” he said over her lips as he laid her back and came over her.

She gave a throaty laugh. “Maybe you’ll be mine. Maybe I’ll take you.”

He closed his eyes, unable to handle the perfection of the woman underneath him. His cock rested against her opening. Heat bathed the tip and it flexed, demanding to be sheathed inside her.

She reached for him and sighed as her hands came into contact with his back. She kneaded and stroked his flesh as he had hers. His breath skipped as she traced the contours of his arms and back. He trembled.

He tried to go slow, to ignore the gnawing ache in his belly that demanded he be inside her now. Then his flesh took over reflexively, seeking the pleasure of her body’s grip. He knew, as surely as he knew the moon followed the sun, that once he got within her heated depths everything would change for him. He gave up trying to fight it and guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her wetness coated him and she squirmed restlessly. Her touch was all over him, seeking, demanding.

“I told you to keep your hands at your side,” he whispered as he moved an inch deeper.

She gasped and stilled, gazing up at him with wide, wonder-filled eyes. “Why?”

He brought his lips to hers. “Because of this,” he said as he took her mouth and her pussy in one stroke.

He went through the delicate barrier and came to rest deep inside her. Never letting her mouth go, he held her head in his hands as he plundered her body and took what she freely gave him. Ryan returned it with everything in him.

He loved her slowly, allowing her body time to adjust to his size. She writhed beneath him, hesitantly at first, like a butterfly seeking a honeyed flower. He built the tension, sweat dotting his back and shoulders before falling to her skin like a benediction. Her head tossed back and forth on the bed and his strokes became deeper, faster. They moaned together, exchanged breath in a kiss, and his body coiled tighter.

Her pussy was warm, tight. His muscles strained against the desire to pound into her, cement this fragile new bond with his body until she knew nothing but him. And then he made the mistake of looking at her and became ensnared in her gaze. She smiled, soft and knowing, everything in those eyes of her, everything he felt but could not say.

The thought that he’d lost something vital to this woman was acknowledged in his heart and then gone as quickly as it’d come. There was nothing to do now but feel and make sure she felt it all too.

*

From the moment he’d shed his clothing, she known there’d be no turning back. He’d been so gentle with her, small kisses on her neck, tender touches on her breasts. She’d felt the tension in him as surely as she’d breathed. Then he’d taken that breath on a single stroke of his cock and lips and she was gone.

Nothing felt as good as his body surrounded by hers. Nothing could be this perfect, this right. The storm built until she felt they were one body moving in accord toward something so brilliant it was unattainable. It hovered there, on the edge of her sanity, bright, a promise of ecstasy beyond anything she’d ever known. There was no pain, only pleasure. She wanted to bottle every scent, sigh, moan, and touch so she could revisit this experience time and time again.

He moved above her like a god. His broad shoulders blocked out her view of the moonlit ceiling, his face the only thing she could focus on besides the pleasure coursing through her. His strokes came faster and her body accepted him, greedily pulled him in deeper; her legs hooked around his waist, her hands seeking purchase in the midst of it all.

Their gazes locked and she knew in that moment she’d lost her heart to him. He owned her now. The completeness she felt with him rocked her, almost forced her retreat until the pounding of his hips against hers demanded she come back into this moment.