Hot Finish (14 page)

Ryder reached for her hand and helped her out of the car. “You just need some air and a glass of water.”

The gesture was thoughtful and appreciated, but Ryder didn’t let her hand go as he paid the cabdriver and directed the bellman to take her bags. Suzanne felt truly stupid standing there holding hands like a couple of high school kids, or worse, honeymooners. She was thirty-three years old and pseudo-divorced. Holding hands was just dumb.

Ryder didn’t seem to think so. He kept a tight grip on her as he led her to the front doors of the hotel. He even leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you came. Thanks.”

Now what exactly was she supposed to say to that? Suzanne hadn’t felt this awkward since her granny had taken her to buy her first bra. “Let’s just try to have fun,” she said with a fair amount of resignation.

Laughing, Ryder swung their hands together as they entered the lobby. “Your enthusiasm is a little out of hand, you should take it down a notch, Suz.”

She could say she was tired from the flight. That her stomach was making her cranky. That she hadn’t slept well. All of which were true. But the greater truth was she didn’t know what the hell they were doing and there was no sense in avoiding that. “Look, I’m sorry, this is weird, Ryder. Don’t tell me it isn’t. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing. A month ago we talked maybe every two weeks and thought we were divorced, now we’re legally still married, we’re doing the nasty, and we’re in Vegas for Champions Week. It’s weird and you know I don’t do weird well.”

Ryder pulled her to a stop in the middle of a very impressive and expansive lobby. Momentarily distracted, Suzanne glanced around her. The hotel was the bomb. Wow. Chic and modern and expensive.

“Suz.” Ryder touched her chin, drawing her attention back to him. “I know it’s weird. I don’t know what we’re doing either. But I’m enjoying spending time with you and I just . . . I just want to make some good memories again, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do.” She wanted good memories again, too—badly. She wanted easy and relaxing and some small measure of security. Ryder was the familiar and maybe she just needed that right now.

But what she didn’t need was the fool to kiss her in the lobby, sexy bedroom eyes or not, which was what he was about to do. “Alright, let’s hit the pool, if there’s an indoor one. There’s a chaise lounge with my name on it.” She managed to even extract her hand from his to clap her hands together in emphasis, a little chop-chop to get him moving. “What’s our room number?”

“Ten sixty-nine.”

Suzanne stopped walking toward the elevator and stared at him. “Are you kidding me? We have room sixty-nine? You’re making that shit up.”

“I’m not,” he protested, hands up in the air. “And I didn’t ask for it either, so don’t go accusing me of being a pervert. It’s a coincidence.”

Somehow she didn’t believe him. “Uh-huh.”

“There’s a ten in it, too. So really, you just need to get your mind out of the gutter.” Ryder winked at her.

“I’ll do that. I’ll keep my mind on flowers and bunnies and the innocence of children, how does that sound? From the room next door to you.”

“Liar. There’s champagne, strawberries, and whipped cream waiting for us upstairs. Because I happen to like your mind in the gutter.”

Suzanne’s still slightly queasy stomach was overruled by her suddenly alert girl bits at the thought of lounging in bed eating whipped cream off Ryder’s . . . finger.

“Well, you know what my granddad used to always say.”

“What?”

“That makes me happier than a dog with two peters.”

Ryder laughed out loud. “I think I would have liked your granddad.”

“I think he would have liked you, too.” He would have. Her granddad and Ryder would have sat around shooting the shit and lamenting the state of the world together. Suzanne was sorry they’d never had a chance to meet.

Reaching down, he cupped her cheeks with both hands and kissed her deeply, boldly, affectionately.

And Suzanne let him.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

RYDER
took Suzanne’s suitcase and set it by the armoire as Suzanne strolled around the room gawking. “Good Lord, look at this room. Swanky, Jefferson. You’ve moved up in the world.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think everyone got a room like this, it’s a nice hotel. Let me take your coat, babe.” He held out his hand and took her coat when she slipped out of it.

“Yeah, but this room is huge. And the view is killer.” Suzanne whipped back the partially opened drapes the rest of the way and stared down at the Strip. “Who’d you have to do to get this room?”

“The only one I’m going to do is you,” he told her, coming up behind her and lifting her hair so he could nuzzle the back of her neck. “But first I’m going to eat you.”

She gave a sigh. “So are there really strawberries and whipped cream or did you make that up to lure me to your room and have your wicked way with me?”

“There are strawberries and whipped cream. Chocolate, too, and champagne. You can eat them while I eat you.”

“You keep mentioning eating me. You must be hungry,” she teased.

“Starving.” Ryder turned her around and kissed her, sliding his hands into her hair. “It’s been too long since I tasted you.”

“It’s only been two weeks,” she murmured between kisses, giving him token attitude even as she felt herself relaxing into the kiss. Ryder knew just how to kiss her. How was it possible that no other man could touch her with the same immediate reaction?

The few men she’d dated since she’d split from Ryder had all had pros and cons—one who was a killer kisser, another who had been particularly skilled at oral sex, a third who had excelled at straight-up stroking sex. Which were all great in different ways at different times, but ultimately never enough. She didn’t want just the entrée, she wanted side dishes and dessert, too, for a balanced sex life. Which was why it was amazing to be standing in the arms of a man who could give her all three, a man who could just run a finger down her arm and turn her on.

She always loved the moment in their lazy, exploratory kisses where with a little hitch of the other one’s breath or a nip or a brushing of their chests together, the intent changed, kicking passion into high gear. That was a feeling she loved, that no-going-back sense of freedom and wildness, the leap off the diving board into sensation.

That happened when Ryder slipped his hand under her sweater and skimmed his fingers over her nipple.

It was a light, simple touch, yet she felt it from her toes to her inner thighs to her breasts to her lips, and she groaned. Her breasts were heavy, aching, begging to be touched further, harder. Stepping back, she yanked her sweater off over her head and tossed it to the floor.

“Oh, yeah?” Ryder said, his eyes darkening. “You’re ready to go there?”

Duh. They were in a room together for thirty seconds and she was ready. “Yes. So suck my nipples, damn it.” Just to make sure he understood she was serious about both of them getting naked ASAP, Suzanne popped the button on his khaki pants.

Ryder hated wearing khakis, but at events like this, he needed to be a little more turned out than in just jeans. She would never admit it out loud, but the suburban staple of the adult male got her hot. It was like the challenge of seeing if she could ruffle the feathers of a man determined to behave. At the moment, there was zero challenge though, because Ryder looked ready to get down and dirty as he bent over her breasts.

“Do you know that you have perfect breasts?” he said, hands cupping them as he pressed kisses on her chest.

“No, I wasn’t aware of that.” Though Suzanne had no issues with them herself. They were decent breasts, a good size and maintaining their perky position quite well, thank you very much. What she really loved about them, though, was that they had always responded to stimulation.

Stimulation that Ryder was providing at the moment with both his tongue, stroking across the top of her breasts, and his fingers, plucking lightly at her nipples. Suzanne let her eyes drift closed, her own fingers idle on his undone pants. She just wanted a moment to enjoy the feelings he brought out in her.

But within a minute or two that enjoyment shifted to restlessness as Ryder teased over her breasts again and again and the flutter low in her belly turned aching and urgent. Suzanne reached behind her and popped her bra loose, but Ryder didn’t take the bait. Letting her bra dangle off her arms, he stepped back and looked at her with shiny lips and dark, lusty eyes.

“Are you going to just look or are you going to do something?” she asked.

Ryder made a soft hiss of exasperation. “What I ought to do is spank you.”

“Promise?”

He laughed softly and reached out and hooked his index finger in her disheveled bra and pulled it forward so it dropped off her arms and to the floor. “On the bed, smart-ass.”

As if she was just going to do what he ordered her to. He knew that perfectly well, which was why he did it. The game of pressing for control, of taunting each other sexually, turned them both on.

Suzanne raised her arms to dig her fingers into her hair on the pretense of tossing it back off her face. Then she strolled toward the bed, shooting him a look over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Soon enough, babe.” As he walked toward her, Ryder pulled off his button-up shirt.

Pausing by the table where the spread of dessert Ryder had mentioned was laid out, Suzanne waited until he was almost on top of her. Then, digging her fingers into the whipped cream, she whirled and smeared it across his lips.

Ryder’s eyes widened in shock as she laughed, licking the whipped cream off her fingers. “Mmm, good.” Wrapping her arms around his bare back, she flicked her tongue across his lips. “Really good.”

So good, in fact, that she ate at his lips and the cool, creamy taste, totally turned on by the mixture of the sweet taste of the whipped cream and the underlying taste of him, the sensation of kissing through the soft dessert to find his firm lips. She heard her own moan as she wrapped her arms tighter and plunged her tongue into his mouth, her breasts brushing against his firm warm pectoral muscles.

She was so into the kiss that she didn’t realize he had leaned over to the room service tray himself, until he stepped backward away from her.

“What?” she asked then let out a little shriek as a cloud of whipped cream hit her nipple. “Ryder! That’s cold!”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he told her, before leaning over and slowly, methodically, deliciously, and painfully licking the cream off her nipple and breast.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, holding his head as the tug and pull spiraled out into all of her body, making her ache everywhere. “Oh, God,” she said again, because once just wasn’t enough when that much desire was rushing through her.

“Take your jeans off,” he urged her as he stood back up.

Suzanne did, but as she was complying and stepping out of them, she watched him studying the bowl of strawberries and the little fondue pot that she presumed had melted chocolate in it. “Don’t you dare put melted chocolate on me. It’s too hot.”

“I’m going to have to. They didn’t give us enough whipped cream.” Ryder picked up the bottle of champagne and shook it as he reached for the corkscrew. “But I’ll put a cold base layer down first.”

Uh-oh. Suddenly she realized what that meant and she shrieked, trying to run but getting tangled in her jeans.

The cork popped and Ryder sprayed her with the icy cold liquid, catching her breasts, her belly, and her arm as she backed up, simultaneously sucking in air from the chilly impact and laughing, hands up. “You’re a total jerk!”

Ryder just leaned over and licked her shoulder. “Mmm. Good stuff.”

“Give me that bottle!” Suzanne yanked it out of his hands, goose bumps rising on her skin from the cold. She dumped the remaining quarter of a bottle onto his head. It was satisfying when it trailed down through his short hair to his forehead, down his nose, and dribbled onto his lips.

Ryder licked them. “Still good stuff.”

Then he reached for her, and Suzanne backed up laughing, until she hit the bed. Then suddenly they were on the bed, him on top of her, and they were kissing and licking each other, rolling around on the expensive bed cover, and her laughter was replaced by an elemental groan when his tongue slid down her belly.

“You’re sticky and sweet.” His finger slipped into her panties. “Bet you’re sticky and sweet here, too.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Nah.” Ryder reached for the tray. “I’m hungry.”

Suzanne shivered as his warm body moved away from her and the wafting air tickled her wet skin. “Eat me.” Duh. Never one for subtle, she removed her panties and swung them around on her finger before tossing them at his back. They missed and fell to the floor.

After ditching his khakis, Ryder swiped the remaining whipped cream out of the glass dish with his finger then brought it between her legs with a challenging look. He expected her to tell him no and to grab his hand and stop him. Instead she just laid back down onto her back and spread her legs in invitation. Like she was going to turn down a dare.

So Ryder smeared the cool cloud of whipped cream onto her clit, sending a jolt of desire through her as the cold hit the heat of her body. When he bent over and lapped it up, Suzanne closed her eyes and moaned. She could feel her inner thighs getting wet, could feel all her muscles tensing and quivering. One lousy lick, and she was strung out already.

Okay, it was more than one lick. It was a lot of long, slow, torturous movements of his tongue, up and down and around until she was bucking on the bed, nails scratching at the bedding.

“I want a strawberry,” he murmured.

“Later,” she gasped. Was he really that cruel that he’d abandon her for fruit? Even though she dug strawberries herself, she had no need for one right at the moment. Really. No need at all for anything other than his tongue or his finger or his cock . . .

“Ah!” she yelled, totally caught off guard by the sensation of something that was most definitely not his tongue or his finger or his cock pressing inside her. “What the hell are you doing?”

Half sitting up, she watched as he lifted the strawberry he had just dipped into her up to his mouth and bit it, his eyes so dark they were almost black. “Delicious.”

Oh, no he didn’t. “Damn, you’re dirty,” she breathed, as a throb pulsed deep inside her and a rush of moisture between her legs showed her body appreciated the gesture even if she was a little shocked.

He tossed the stem and got another strawberry. This time she knew it was coming and she bit her lips when he played around, pushing it slightly inside her then pulling back, the shape strange and unsatisfying, yet terribly arousing because it was so out of the ordinary. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, oh, oh, oh.” It was the most stupidly repetitive she’d ever been in her life, but damn, he was killing her.

She needed to be filled, and filled
now
.

But Ryder had different ideas. After popping the second strawberry in his mouth, he reached back and dipped his hand in the chocolate. Not even flinching at the heat, he spread it all over his erection.

Suzanne rolled onto her side. “I suppose you’re going to want me to lick that up?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“I am a girl who loves her chocolate.” Suzanne wiggled across the bed on her stomach and flicked her tongue across the head of his penis, taking away a rich taste of chocolate. “Mmm.”

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, which Suzanne loved. Using a methodical strategy of licking from top to bottom in a straight line, then moving over two inches and repeating, Suzanne worked her way around until she’d swallowed most of the chocolate and Ryder was breathing hard and gripping her shoulders.

Then she took him fully into her mouth, the sweet of the chocolate mixing with the salty of his skin and tasting absolutely decadent, arousing, tantalizing. If naughty were a flavor, this would be it. Her tongue, her hand, her lips were all sticky and slick and she rubbed her belly and her inner thighs over the comforter in the same rhythmic motion of her mouth, sliding into that amazing cocoon of pleasure, where time had no meaning and the only thing that mattered was her on him and him on her.

“I need to fuck you,” Ryder said, his voice tight.

Suzanne pulled back, his words a triumph. “That works for me.” She started to lay back but he shook his head.

“I don’t think the chocolate remnants on me going into you are a good idea . . . not sure what it would do, but it just seems like a bad idea.”

And thinking about a bacterial infection in her hoohah was a serious mood killer.

“In the shower,” he said, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into a sitting position. “I want you bent over the faucet, the water running down over your tight ass.”

Mood restored.

Ryder watched as Suzanne gave him that naughty, sexy smile he loved so much before she leaned over and gave his cock one last lick. “I missed a spot.”

Then she stood up and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, their mouths a blend of strawberry, chocolate, whipped cream, and sex, a hot rich kiss that made him want to get even closer to her, to get inside her. Her skin was sticky from the champagne and the whipped cream as her breasts pressed against his chest, and the sweet tangy scent of their indulgences rose between them.

They were good at this. Everything they did here, in bed, felt right. Ryder smacked her backside. “Hit the showers.”

Suzanne was momentarily diverted from their sex play by the luxury of the bathroom, but Ryder directed her attention back to him by sliding his hand down over the front of her curls as he stood behind her. As they both watched in the huge mirror behind the sinks, he stroked inside her, spreading her so they could both see the tight pink bud there.

“So pretty,” he told her.

“And so ready to come,” she told him.

“Really?” Ryder moved his finger and moved to the front of her, going down on his knees before her. “Let’s see if I can make that happen.”