“Now that’s what I’d call a challenge,” Ryan whispered, his tone seductive.
When I didn’t answer, he rolled onto his back while the banging continued. I hoped this meant Emily had moved on from Jared and was following through with her one-night stand rebound plans.
Ryan blew out a breath and met my amused gaze. “It’s not the soundtrack I wanted, but I can work with it.” He reached for me, intending to pick up where we’d left off as if there wasn’t a pornographic backing track invading our space.
I tried to let his lips block out everything else and quickly failed. After another loud shudder from Emily’s room, I broke the kiss and scrambled off the bed.
“Where are you going, Red?” Ryan groaned.
“Just wait.” I picked up my new MP3 player and plugged it into my speakers. His playlist filtered through the speakers, drowning out Emily’s cries.
I crawled back up the bed, grinning at Ryan. He stared at me with a hooded expression, his hands coasting down my body as I straddled him.
“Hmm, there’s something rather hot about fucking you while this song plays.”
The guitar strains of Fleetwood Mac’s “Rhiannon” filled the room. My dress went flying across the room, my bra quickly following.
“I’m not liking the imbalance here,” I told him, my brow puckering as my hands coasted over his t-shirt-covered chest.
“Patience,” he whispered. Without warning, he flipped us, regaining his position on top and pressing my back against the pillows. His eyes danced with amusement.
Sitting back on his haunches, he pulled his t-shirt over his head in one swoop. “Happy?”
I eyed him. “Lose the jeans.”
Chuckling, he did just that. Then he caught my lips again, the pressure intense and focused. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against my cheek, my neck, my torso, my inner thigh, working his way down my body until he reached his destination.
Without preamble, Ryan dragged his tongue up my centre, and thought faded into the background. Pleasure coursed through me, my spine arching. A coiling heat flared to life. My hips shifted restlessly, desperate to ease the ache.
“Do that again!” I cried. My hips lifted, searching for more.
His grip tightened on my thighs, pushing me back into the mattress. He brushed his lips against my sex and my lower belly rippled. His tongue swirled against my clit, applying just enough pressure to make my head spin. He worked magic with his mouth, taking me to the edge and pulling back before I could fall over. Soon my cries mingled with frustrated growls and my hands dove into his hair, using my grip to urge him on. The thread wound tighter and tighter until electricity shot through me and it snapped.
I forced my eyes open as Ryan crawled up my body, trailing kisses against my fiery skin.
“I could get used to that kind of foreplay.” The words came out slightly slurred, and I didn’t even try to hide the pleasure-drunk smile that overtook my lips.
Keeping a smug glint in his beautiful eyes, he placed soft, sweet kisses on my lips. I sighed against his mouth, content to never leave my bed again. Before I could relax too much, his tongue swept into my mouth, reigniting my hunger for more. He braced himself on his forearm and rested his body against me. My fingers ran down his muscular back, tracing the ink I couldn’t see.
With maddening control, he teased my entrance. I shifted my hips just enough to catch him off guard. His steady rhythm slipped and he sank into me, eliciting groans from us both. The pinch of discomfort faded fast, but Ryan froze, burying his head in my shoulder.
Placing a firm grip on my hip, Ryan pulled out. His eyes roamed over my face while a cocky grin pulled at his lips.
“Patience,” he whispered before scrambling out of my bed.
He picked up his discarded jeans and took a condom from his pocket. With his eyes fixed on me, he tore the wrapper open and rolled it on.
When he crawled back into bed, I sat up and pushed him back against the pillows, taking advantage. He laughed but otherwise lay back and watched, waiting for my next move. I straddled him and positioned the blunt head of his cock against my opening. Slowly, I impaled myself on him, allowing my body to adjust to the fullness. His hands gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my soft skin while he strained against me, his neck taught.
My hips rocked back and forth, finding a rhythm that pickled my brain and sent tiny sparks through my bloodstream.
“How’s that?” Ryan asked, his voice strained.
I couldn’t help but match his lazy smile. “So good,” I groaned, grinding my clit against him.
With a helping hand on my hips, I started to draw myself up his hard length before sinking back down again. The movement started out slow and measured, but as the fire grew, the pace turned choppy until I couldn’t do much more than rock against him.
“I can’t keep going,” I gasped. My eyelids grew heavy as pleasure overtook my body.
Ryan sat up, stilling us both with the delicious sensations the change of position yielded. With his grip on my hips, he took over, setting the pace and forcing my body to keep moving while I buried my head in his shoulder and I held on for dear life. With each downward stroke, he grazed a spot that set off fireworks in my brain.
“Look at me, Red.”
When I didn’t move, he brought one hand to my chin and tilted my head back until he could meet my dazed gaze. He studied my face, missing nothing. The hunger in his eyes grew as my moans filled the quiet morning air.
The tension tightened, building until it broke. Lights sparked behind my eyelids and my body drew tight. Ryan’s grip cinched as his hips jerked and he followed me over the edge.
He collapsed back against the pillows, taking me with him. Boneless, I sprawled across his chest, burying my face in his sweaty neck.
Silence reigned as we both focused on calming our runaway hearts. Ryan’s fingers smoothed up my back, his callouses grazing my sensitive skin and making me shiver.
“That was…” I paused, gasping for breath.
“Amazing?”
With effort, I lifted my head and met his bright eyes. His face was relaxed, smiling at me with a softness I’d never seen in another man. Who wouldn’t fall for that face?
“Yes, the best sex I’ve ever had.” I had to give him something.
“Give me half an hour and we’ll see if we can top it.” He grinned.
Top it?
“Careful. Your ego’s showing,” I sniggered.
“It’s not ego. It’s confidence.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, music man.”
A devious twinkle entered Ryan’s eyes and his grin turned mischievous. I tried to scramble off him but was too slow. He rolled, trapping me beneath him. His fingers toyed with the sensitive skin at my side.
“Admit that you love my confidence.”
“Sometimes.”
“Always.”
Biting my lip, I shook my head.
His reaction was instant – his talented fingers danced along my skin until I was squirming and begging him to stop.
“It’s your turn to divulge all your childhood secrets,” I said once we’d both regained our abilities to breathe.
“What do you want to know?” Unease was written all over his face. I almost laughed at his pain. He expected me to open the floodgates but let him keep his secrets. Not likely.
“Oh, it’s an easy one.” My grin was massive and my amusement evident. “Why music?”
“It was the only thing I really enjoyed growing up.” His head rested on the pillow next to me as his eyes roved my face. “Didn’t matter what I was doing or how I was feeling: music put me in a clearer frame of mind whether I was listening to it, playing it or writing it.”
His lips pressed together before he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Something about his serious tone made my heart ache for him.
“My parents didn’t want me to pursue music as a career. They’re both corporate types who didn’t value creati
vity or artistry – probably still don’t.” He sighed, scowling. “I tried to force myself to step away from music when choosing my degree, but doing that felt like I lost my purpose. I got into a bit of a depressive rut.”
Part of me wanted to shelve this conversation and move on to happier, inconsequential topics. But no, experience said glossing over it wouldn’t benefit either of us. I was learning about the real Ryan. “When did you come back to music?”
He turned to me again, refocusing on my determined gaze. Light slowly reanimated his eyes. “I was halfway through my second year before I admitted that I wasn’t happy. ‘Wasn’t happy’ might be an understatement. I was in the union getting drunk again – I think that was all I applied myself to with any kind of effort or regularity back then – when a Fleetwood Mac song came on. It moved me, opened the floodgates and reminded me why I loved music.” His tone changed, softening and releasing the pain. He smiled like a little boy sharing a cheeky secret.
“Something about Stevie Nicks’s voice and the chords stuck with me, rekindled the joy I used to feel with music.” His words came out hoarse. “I dropped out the next day, got a job in a bar and started putting the band together with the guys a couple of months later. The rest is history.”
“And you named yourselves Rhiannon in tribute. It makes so much more sense now!”
He laughed as I’d intended, shaking off the melancholy of memory. “What do your parents think now? Signing with a label must have made them proud.”
Ryan paused – considering or remembering? When he spoke again, his tone was faint. “I haven’t seen or spoken to them since I dropped out. I can’t imagine our success would change anything.” He turned fully towards me, his hands landing on my hips, squeezing. “Anyway, they moved to Australia with my sister the year the band started. Rhiannon is all the family I need.”
His words and body said he meant it, but I struggled to wrap my brain around his matter-of-fact treatment. I couldn’t imagine never seeing my father again.
“Don’t look so sad, Red.” His fingers danced across my cheek. “I’ve lived with it long enough and I’m over it. My music gives me far more than they ever could. Writing is like therapy for me. How I lasted as long as I did without it…” Ryan shook his head, avoiding my eyes. “Who knows? Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten this far if they’d spent the last nine years trying to interfere.”
He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. Our eyes met, my chest tightening at the light and hope that shone back at me. The unspoken fact that we would never have met had he followed his parents’ plans sat between us.
How could his parents do that? It was unfathomable to me that any parent could abandon their kid for following their dreams. Mine had always been supportive. I’d fallen off the map for a year, chased a career in an unstable freelance industry. They hadn’t understood any of it and they’d still supported me. It hurt my heart that Ryan had to go through that.
The thought of him ever feeling lonely crushed me. I didn’t know if I could handle his growing fame, but I wasn’t going to be another person who abandoned him. It was a silent promise, one that unnerved me. Somehow, I’d figure out how to follow through and not let fear rule me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sound of pots clattering woke me again sometime around ten, but it was the unusual smell of eggs that dragged me out of bed. Well in the throes of yet another hangover, I shouldn’t have been capable of so much as lifting my head.
With my eyes almost closed, I stumbled into the kitchen wearing nothing but a purple satin dressing gown that just about grazed mid-thigh. I barely made it past the doorway when the image before me registered.
Jared. In my kitchen.
Wearing Emily’s Alice in Wonderland apron.
Frying eggs.
Skin. Lots. Of. Skin.
I tilted my head, squinting at him in the hope that he was a figment of my pain-riddled imagination. He couldn’t be here. Somebody would have warned me. Right?
“Hey, Alys,” the figment said, far too loud for the time of morning and the amount of alcohol Ryan and I had drunk last night.
And far too real.
“Ryan! Emily!” I shouted, eyes fixed on the nude intruder.
“Coming,” Ryan called back, the pain audible in his voice. I could hear him groaning in the next room as he forced himself out of bed.
“Where’s your trigger-happy friend?” I asked, an edge to my tone I couldn’t control.
Guilt filled his gaze when he glanced at me. “Matt escorted her out of the building after taking her picture for the banned wall.” He winced. “I’m sorry she hurt you.”
I softened, the tension draining slightly from my shoulders. He couldn’t control the actions of a nameless groupie any more than I could control my crew.
Emily wandered into the kitchen without a care in the world, dressed in nothing but her robe. She went straight to Jared and wrapped her arms around his middle, mercifully hiding his naked arse from my eyeline and ending our conversation.
It didn’t solve all my problems, however. What the hell was he doing in our flat and why was she hugging him? I must be dreaming.
I pinched my forearm. Son of a bitch! That’ll leave a bruise.
Rubbing my eyes, I leaned my throbbing head against the doorframe. I was sorely tempted to just turn around, crawl back into bed and hope the world righted itself while I slept. The idea had merits.
Ryan swore, startling me. “Put some fucking clothes on, Jared.” He pulled me away from the door, pressing me into his unyielding and bare chest. Irritation pinched his face, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
I glared at Jared. “You knew Ryan was here?”
“Well, yeah. Matt’s been pushing for us all to drag him back for days.” He chuckled. “For such a militant manager, he can be so blind sometimes. As if any of us would be able to combat Ryan’s stubbornness. We figured we’d hang out, get in some practice and appease the big man all in one.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Nah. Ryan texted last night – some last-minute gig ideas,” Jared said, distracted with his attention focused on removing eggs from the pan. As it should be when handling hot oil while naked.
Ryan stared at Jared with a question in his eyes. Jared waited, amusement softening his features. Understanding dawned a moment later and Ryan nodded. The tension almost drained from his body. Almost.
“Your open-mic night suggestion struck a chord with me the other night,” Ryan explained, his gaze dipping down to meet mine briefly.
I frowned. What open mic night idea? I couldn’t remember suggesting it.
“Where’s James and Dan?” Ryan asked Jared.
“At their parents’, I imagine. They dropped me here around midnight,” Jared said, his tone nonchalant.
“And you thought you should come here?” Ryan snapped. “I meant to meet me at practice today.”
“I, uh, invited him,” Emily said, drawing my attention away from Ryan. She crossed her arms and stared at me.
She what?
“What happened to just having fun and not sleeping with him?” I asked, a bite to my words.
Emily winced and Jared tensed at her side.
Was it casual, or was she actually interested in him? And if she was interested in him, why did she keep lying to me about it?
“Not now,” she hissed, fire snapping in her eyes as she stepped away from Jared.
Jared studied her with guarded interest, but Emily refused to look at him, her determined gaze fixed on me.
“Fine,” I relented. “Later. I need tea.”
Ryan’s hold tightened and I groaned. Jackhammers went to work in my head, and the painkillers and tea sat on the opposite side of the kitchen. I drove my head into his chest, trying to use the pressure to ease some of the ache. It wasn’t working.
“Put some fucking clothes on!” Ryan hissed at Jared.
Jared didn’t so much as twitch, too busy frown
ing at Emily, I imagined.
“Get your idiot fling out of the kitchen, Em, before I hurt Ryan.” The words were slightly muffled against Ryan’s chest, but Emily’s snicker confirmed she understood my predicament well enough.
“What if I want to see you kick his butt?” Emily smirked.
“I’ll make your Christmas present disappear.”
“You wouldn’t!”
In any other situation, I’d relish her indignation, but she knew first-hand the damage messing with my hangover cures could do. And Emily loved a present too much to risk it.
“C’mon, the kitchen isn’t a safe space for a naked man right now.” Emily dragged a grumbling Jared from the room without further comment.
When the threat of Jared’s naked body was out of the room, Ryan loosened his death grip.
“Am I allowed to have my tea now?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t do it again,” I said, unable to shake off my frown. I turned my back to Ryan and focused on stopping the pain. “Were you going to tell me they were coming?”
“Of course I was.” Indignation dripped from his words. “When I remembered I’d invited them in the first place,” he muttered, mostly to himself. I didn’t need to turn around to know he was frowning.
“When did you invite them?”
I unearthed the paracetamol quickly and came close to shushing Ryan while I swallowed them. I flipped the switch on the kettle and relished the tense silence. I could feel Ryan’s eyes burning holes in the back of my head.
“On Tuesday I think.” He didn’t sound too sure. “We were watching that Fringe show.”
And whenever someone put Fringe on, I practically tuned out. It was starting to make sense.
“New rule. No making decisions while we’re both distracted?” I suggested, smiling to myself when he let out a relieved sigh. Removing cups from the cupboard, I held one up to him in invitation.
He chuckled, the sound strained. “If I made that kind of promise, we’d argue too much. I can’t control myself when a good idea hits!”
I let it go with a shrug. This was not going to be the hill I died on. I could make him promise, and I’m pretty sure he would, but I begrudgingly conceded that he was right.
Chasing Alys Page 21
