Roughing It With Ryan (8 page)

He nearly inhaled her. God, he could eat her up.

“Come to think of it,” she murmured. “
I've
never taken advantage of anyone either. Funny, because I've always wanted to.” She rocked against him. “Think I could take advantage of you, Ryan?”

He went instantly hard, and he opened his mouth to offer himself as a sacrifice when she covered his mouth with hers.

Just like before, instantaneous combustion, and oh man, the feel of her in his hands, against him, letting out that rough little sound in the back of her throat…

Her fingers tightened in his hair, as if she was
afraid he'd pull away. Not a chance, he would have told her, if her tongue hadn't been dancing with his. He wouldn't have pulled away even if he was suffocating.

Suzanne wasn't suffocating, she was drowning, in pleasure. She had the cold counter at her back and a hard Ryan at her front, and yet she'd never felt so hot in her life. The lack of light only lent to the intimacy somehow, and that brought her back enough to break away to say on a gasping breath, “This is just what we said, no more, no less.”

“Sex.”

“
Just
sex. And when we're done…”

“We're done,” he finished.

Was she imagining things or did he sound sceptical, as though he didn't believe it?

“Right.” She was practically panting now, and so was he. “Itch scratched,” she added.

“Right.”

“Promise?” She held his head, squinted through the dark to see his gaze.

“Suzanne…”

“No, you have to promise. You have to because…” She hesitated, then said on a shaky breath, “because I've never had ‘just sex' before.”

He looked shocked, Suzanne thought, very shocked.

“Never?”

“Never,” she admitted. “I want to have sex without getting engaged, Ryan.”

He hesitated, damn him. “No,” she said fiercely. “Don't hesitate.”

“I feel something for you, Suzanne, something I don't understand yet and I won't make a promise I can't be sure I can keep.”

“You have to,” she said, and heard her own desperation.

“What if more than just sex is better?”

“No. Promise, Ryan. Please.”

For the longest moment, he just looked at her, her dark and beautiful tree man.

“Ryan? Promise me.”

Night had fallen around them, so that without the electricity, there was little but candlelight and the faint glow from the building across the street. The sound of the wind outside the window felt rhythmic, hypnotic, and so did the feel of Ryan engulfing her in his embrace.

When he groaned and pulled her even closer, she melted against him. And some of the odd emptiness she'd been feeling faded. They could do this and be done with it. Get on with their lives. And afterwards, this inexplicable need for each other would just go away.

No entanglements.

No broken hearts.

That made this okay, didn't it? She wouldn't hurt him, because this was all they'd have.

She wanted to believe that, oh, how she wanted to believe, because his mouth was so firm, and so deliciously demanding, she couldn't help but sink back into the mindlessness of it, needing the mindlessness of it.

“Suzanne…” Just beneath her ear, he sucked on a patch of skin, and made her knees weak. “I love the way you hold onto me when I touch you.”

She was. She was clinging to him as if he were her entire life, and instead of jerking away at the knowledge, she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched to him.

“Oh yeah, like that,” he said on a low growl. “Yeah, like that.” He kissed her again—longer, wetter, deeper. He had a wonderful mouth, a make-her-forget-everything mouth, and he knew just what to do with it to make her wild.

“Suzanne?”

No. No talking. Trying to tell him, she arched her body to his. Had Tim said she needed a sexual therapist? Was he insane? She needed a hose to put out the fire!

“Stop me now if you're going to,” Ryan said in a
low growl as he ran openmouthed kisses down her throat.

Not a chance. Instead she leaned in and bit his lower lip, making him groan, making him lift her against him so that her feet dangled as he devoured her mouth with his.

While they gobbled each other up, she took her hands on a tour over his amazing arms, his wide shoulders, feeling her insides rev up because he turned her on so much. Thank God his hesitation had pretty much walked. It might return in the light of day but she didn't want to face that now, she didn't want to face anything but this. And now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could really see him, the way he was looking at her, and for the first time she understood true lust and the power of it.

He sat her on the counter, then held her head for a long, hungry kiss before making his way down her neck, all the while sliding his hands over her thighs to her knees, urging them open so he could step between them, press up against her.

He was hard, so gloriously hard, her breath caught.

“Mmm, love that sound,” he murmured, making her sigh again, against his throat, a sigh that bubbled up into her throat, changing into a moan when he cupped her breasts. Her sundress had buttons down the front to her belly, four of them. She knew this be
cause, catching her gaze in his hot one, he popped them open. One. At. A. Time.

Then he looked down at her, and slowly pushed the material off her shoulders. With one finger he traced the edging of her bra, from one side to the other. Her nipples had long ago beaded to two tight little tips, but she couldn't believe how erotic it was to sit there, spread open for him, and watch him watch her while he touched her.

He opened the front hook on her bra and peeled that material away, too, letting out a deep heartfelt groan at the sight revealed. Cupping her in his hands, he used his thumbs to trace the underside of the heavy curves, lightly, so lightly.

Her nipples went even harder. Her hips involuntarily thrust upward.

Then he danced his fingers over her nipples, making her let out a horribly needy sound from deep in her throat. “Ryan…”

“I know.” Bending his head, he pulled a hard tip into his mouth, using first his tongue, then his teeth on her, until she made the sound again.

By the time he drew her in deep and sucked, she was practically sobbing his name. Barely remembering she'd started this, that
she
was supposedly taking advantage of
him,
she wrapped her legs around his
waist and pressed against that most interesting hard bulge there.

He answered by popping her breast free, then staring down at the wet nipple while tracing it with his thumb. “You're so soft. So perfect.” While he said this, he bunched up her dress to her waist, not difficult since it was lightweight and loose and gauzy.

It gave her a bad moment, wondering if he preferred skinny women, and she tried to suck in her stomach, but he let out such a genuine sigh at the sight of her, she instantly forgot about her imperfections.

His hands slid inside the back of her panties, cupping her bottom, pressing her even closer so that she could feel exactly what this little interlude had done to him.

Just thinking about it, feeling him rock against the neediest part of her body, made her weak and trembly. She was close, so very unbelievably close, and he'd hardly touched her. But her toes were already curling, and she had to,
had
to have more. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she bit his lower lip and said in a shaky voice she hardly recognized as her own. “
Please,
Ryan.”

“Whatever you want,” he promised hoarsely.

And then the lights came on.

O
NCE AGAIN
Ryan stood in his shower, trying to relieve some tension. This time it was sexual tension.

It had been over a week since he'd first set eyes on Suzanne. He had no idea how long a guy could walk around with an erection without having his parts fall off, but he was thinking it couldn't be too much longer.

Damn, his brothers had bad timing, getting the electricity back on just as he'd gotten his hands inside Suzanne's panties, and a glorious breast in his mouth.

Just one more minute, one more, and he'd have been buried deep in her sweet, hot body.

Instead, the lights had blared on, jarring them both. Suzanne had jerked, staring at him wide-and wild-eyed.

Wanting to soothe, wanting to get back to that mindless pleasure they'd shared, Ryan had leaned in, only to have her slap a hand to his chest and shake her head.

Dress bunched around her waist and tugged off her shoulders, she'd dragged in a shuddering breath.
Her nipples had been tight, and wet from his mouth. Her panties, stretched over her mound and bared to him by her opened legs, had been wet, too, and just thinking about it made him hard all over again.

“Ryan?” Angel pounded on his bathroom door.

In typical brotherly fashion, he cranked the hot water back up and ignored her.

“I've got dinner cooking for you, okay?”

Ah, hell. He turned off the water.

“And don't forget, that woman Rafe set you up with? The…‘hot chick' I think he said? Anyway, she called just now to say she'd pick you up. Gotta run now, late for class. Bye!”

“What?
Wait!
” Wrapping a towel around his hips he opened the bathroom door just in time to hear the front door slam. “Angel?”

Of course she didn't come back, it was her mission in life to screw with his.

But…what woman? Vaguely he remembered Rafe telling him he'd met someone who'd be “perfect” for him, but having heard that too many times to count, he'd just nodded and ignored him.

It was his job as big brother to ignore his siblings when they talked too much.

But now he had a bad feeling he'd ignored something important. If he had some hot date, he'd like to know about it.

But good, bad or “perfect,” no woman came to his door that night.

 

L
ATE THE NEXT AFTERNOON
, Suzanne sat on the front steps of Taylor's building, watching life go by, pretending not to stare at Ryan, once again shirtless and hard at work.

He was nearly finished with the trees.

Soon he'd go off to the next job, wherever that might be, and she was fine with that. More than fine.

So why, then, did her heart squeeze just watching him work?

Simple, pure, unadulterated physical reaction to a gorgeous man, she decided, a man intense and sweaty and hard at work. There was nothing sexier than that.

But she was becoming deathly afraid that much of it had nothing to do with sex, or even lust.

With a sigh, she straightened the newspaper in her hands with a little shake and buried her nose in the want ads. A catering job here and there wasn't good enough. She needed her regimentation.

Just ask her mother.

With another sigh, she circled a chef position at a restaurant only a few blocks over, then looked up as a shadow fell over her.

“Hey,” said the voice that never failed to make her
stomach flip-flop. Ryan's long, hard body stood right in front of her, so that her head was perfectly level with the juncture at the top of his thighs, and the most fascinating spot between them—

“Whatcha doing?”

She jerked her gaze back to the paper. “Reading.”

“The want ads?”

“Funny thing, how attracted I am to having a positive balance in my bank account.”

A finger hooked into the paper, pulled it down, exposing a curious, interested, gorgeously rumpled Ryan. What was it about a sweaty man?

“What about the catering gig?” he asked.

She was careful to keep her gaze averted. “It's just a hobby.”

“It's more than that.”

“No, really it's just a hobby. Sure I've had more contacts and jobs lately, but I'm not into my own business.” A tad too much regimentation there. “It's a good hobby.” She circled another chef ad. The only other one in the paper.

“Just don't give up,” he said with a fierceness that surprised her into looking up past his long, long legs and what lay between, all the way up to his deeply passionate expression.

“I won't,” she said with some surprise. Funny how
the thought of
not
doing her catering didn't sit well. “I wouldn't.”

“Good.” He pulled on his shirt. Uncapping a water bottle, he sat at her side, leaned back on one elbow and tipped back his head to drink.

His Adam's apple, such an utterly male thing, bobbed with each swallow. His light blue T-shirt clung to his damp, overworked body. His powerful denim-clad legs were stretched out in front of him, his booted feet crossed in utter relaxation.

A long sigh escaped him as he finished off the water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That's good.”

What was good was how he looked. She wanted to lick the last drop off his bottom lip.
Down, girl.
“You're done for the day?”

“Yes, ma'am. Nearly done period. Just a couple of hours tomorrow and that's it.”

Yeah, that's about what she figured. “What about the trees in the back?”

“Why?” He turned his head to face her. “You going to miss me?”

Only every living second. “Of course not.”

“Right.” He turned forward again, his face unreadable. “And we trimmed those already.”

“Oh. You're…um, good at what you do.”

He looked at her from beneath half-closed, sleepy,
sexy eyes, and she realized how her words had sounded. “I meant, the trees,” she said quickly. “You're good at the trees.”

His expression was silent and searching, his big body so close the yearning nearly overtook her.

“I've been doing it for a long time,” he finally said. “That's all.”

There was a weariness in his voice now that made her hesitate.

Don't ask.

Don't dig.

It doesn't concern you.
He
doesn't concern you. “Is something the matter?”

He looked surprised at the question, and that tugged at her, too. He was surrounded by people, she knew that now. People who depended on him. His brothers. His sister. His laborers.

But who did
he
depend on?

“I'm just tired of trees,” he admitted, letting out that melting crooked smile while he stretched his long body and groaned. “My body is tired of trees. I'll be glad when…”

Though she waited, he didn't finish. He just closed his mouth, put his sunglasses back over his eyes and tilted up his face to the sinking sun.

“Ryan? You'll be glad when…what?”

A honk from the street startled them both. At the
curb sat a bright red Miata. A woman got out, a brunette with legs from here to New York.

Ryan knew this because she wore a leather mini-skirt that showed them off, topped by heels that screamed do me! Her top was leather too, but didn't quite meet the skirt, exhibiting a sparkling stud in her quite exposed belly button.

But what confused Ryan was the way she beelined right toward
him,
her very red lips in a welcoming smile that he didn't understand.

Him? She was smiling at him?

He craned his neck and checked behind him to make sure, but the only people on the steps were himself and Suzanne.

“Ryan?” Long Legs held out her slim hand, which he automatically took. “I'm Allene.” She smiled expectantly, as if waiting for him to slap his forehead and say, “Of course.
Allene.
”

Allene. Allene. Who the hell was Allene and why was she looking at him like that, as if she'd like to gobble him up in one bite? He looked at Suzanne, who was still looking at Allene.

He came to his feet as the woman said, “I know we arranged for me to pick you up at home, but I heard you were working down here, and I drive right by every day, so I thought…” She trailed off and smiled again.

Suddenly Angel's message the other night made sense. Everything clicked into place.

His brother.

This was the “hot chick” Rafe had set him up with, without permission, and while she was definitely hot and definitely a chick, he didn't want… Ah, hell.

Suzanne was staring at him.

Allene was staring at him.

And Ryan was going to kill his meddling younger brother. Russ wouldn't mind being without his twin—Rafe was a pain in all their asses. He'd be doing the family a favor. “I'm sorry, there's been a mistake. My brother…”

“Oh, for Pete's sake, just go with her.” This from Suzanne, who stood up and dusted off her hands. “Have fun.”

“Suz—”

“'Night!” And she was gone, the door to the building shut in his face. Shut very politely, mind you, but shut good and tight.

“Do you mind that I came here?” Finally sensing his confusion, Allene matched it with a little pout of her full, red lips. “I just thought that since I had tickets to that play, we could save time, and—”

“No.” Ryan managed a smile. “It's fine, it's just that…” He looked into her melting brown eyes. “I'm really tired, I'm sorry.”

“Oh.” She looked down at a set of tickets in her hand, and Ryan felt like a jerk. “I…understand.”

Ah, hell. “But…”

Allene brightened. “But?” she said with such hope Ryan knew he had to do this.

“But I'll be fine,” he said.

“Great! We'll stop by your house so you can shower and change first.” She took his hand and tugged him toward her car.

Ryan watched Taylor's building fade away and wondered what Suzanne was thinking. Probably not fond thoughts.

Then he wondered exactly how he should kill his brother. Slowly, he thought. Slowly and painfully.

 

S
EVERAL HOURS LATER
Allene dropped Ryan back off at Taylor's building for his truck. Turning off her car, she turned and sent him yet another dazzling smile.

After an evening of those mega-wattage smiles—which Ryan now knew covered up an innate inability to have a conversation that didn't apply to her makeup, her hair or her clothes—Ryan felt a little mega-wattaged out.

He hadn't been able to ditch her. When he'd tried, she blinked wet eyes at him, saying Rafe had promised he'd take her for dessert after, and he'd folded like a cheap suitcase.

Damn it. Now all he wanted was a couple of aspirin and a glimpse of another woman.

Suzanne.

He didn't consider it a good sign that he hadn't been able to get her out of his head the entire evening. It wasn't as if
she'd
wanted to go out with him. Hell, she hardly wanted to talk to him.

But somehow he knew that to be a ruse. That what was happening between them simply terrified her.

He understood that. He felt it himself. But it had to be faced.

Tonight. With that in mind, he turned to Allene with an apologetic smile. “It's late,” he said, leaning back a bit when she unhooked her seatbelt and moved in on him. “Allene, wait—”

Nope, she didn't wait, she straddled him, right there in the Miata, which had to be a nearly impossible feat given the gear shift. “Allene—”

“I've wanted to do this since I first saw you there on those steps, all stretched out, hot and sweaty and sexy as hell.” Fisting her hands in his hair, she kissed him.

He had a beautiful woman sitting on his lap, trying to shove her tongue down his throat, and he was actually going to fight her off.

What was wrong with this picture?

As gently as he could, he pushed Allene back to the
driver's side of the Miata. She fell there, mouth wet, eyes hot, her body sprawled out and hopeful.

She sighed. “It's another woman, right?”

“I'm so sorry.”

She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “It's okay. I knew it.”

If she'd known it, he was worse off than he'd thought. Figuring she'd let him off easy, and also feeling a little guilty about it, Ryan practically scrambled out of the Miata. Ran up the steps.

And came face-to-face with Suzanne, who stood there, leaning against the door, arms crossed, face utterly unreadable.

“Hey,” he said, skidding to a stop, a little breathless.

Reaching out, she swiped a finger over the corner of his mouth. She lifted it to show him the bright red lipstick Allene had left there.

Then she turned and went into the building.

And this time, the door slammed. Hard.