“I’d love a drink,” he said. “But tell me one thing first. What about a bar draws you to it?”
For the briefest of seconds, Sailor looked like she’d been stunned—eyes quarter sized and gaping, mouth slightly parted. Huh, kind of an odd reaction to the question, but then she led them into the kitchen and responded with, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you were going out with your friends on a Thursday night, what would draw you to a bar? Location? Atmosphere? Drink list?”
Sailor bit her lip, shaking her head. “I…um, don’t really drink that much, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask.” She reached into the cupboard and pulled out two glasses, then moved to another cupboard and retrieved a bottle of Jameson and grenadine. At the fridge, she filled the glasses halfway with ice then with whiskey, splashing in a bit of grenadine at the end.
She extended a glass out to him, and he took it, feeling the edges of his mouth fighting a smile. A girl who admittedly doesn’t drink much serving whiskey on the rocks disguised with a drop of cherry flavoring? This should be interesting.
Sailor raised her glass, gesturing for Ryan to do the same. “Cheers to getting my cousin safely home.” She clinked the rim of the tumbler to his and took a large sip of the drink, her face souring the second the liquid entered her mouth.
It took her a few seconds to swallow it down, her eyes glossing over with the fire that was surely burning down her throat. Then she coughed. “Oh, wow. That is horrible!”
Ryan chuckled and took her glass. “I take it you’ve never tasted whiskey before.”
She shook her head, a crinkle along the bridge of her nose. “Keg beer and cheap vodka were the extent of my drinking. Oh, and the occasional Coors Original I used to steal from my dad’s cooler.”
He went to the fridge and found a can of ginger ale and then sliced a lime from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Coors Original? That’s old school.” The last he’d seen anyone drink one was before Marty had gotten sick.
But it wasn’t the time nor place to think about him. Not with a gorgeous blonde standing in front of him. He finished off the drink with ginger ale and lime and then handed one to her, grinning. “Well, cheers to having soda in the fridge so your friend’s whiskey doesn’t go to waste.” He winked and took a sip, watching as she did the same.
From behind the rim of the glass, her eyes widened. “Whiskey with Canada Dry. I’ll remember that for next time.” Just as she lifted the glass for another sip, her phone let out a ping. Until then, Ryan hadn’t thought about her and the possibility she might have a man in her life.
Another man those lips belonged to. That curve in her waist and the tiny divot just above her collarbone. The image of another body pressed against hers set his insides burning like a wash of acid thrusting through his veins.
He didn’t know her.
But suddenly he wanted to. Starting with that mouth.
As she reached for her phone, he glanced at her left hand. No ring, though these days that didn’t mean shit. She raised the phone, expression brightening.
Ryan’s brow immediately winched up. “Your boyfriend wondering where you are this time of night?”
Their eyes connected. A beat of silence filled the air between them. “No boyfriend,” she said after a moment. Had she meant to sound so confident? Did that mean she wasn’t looking for anything serious, either?
She jiggled her phone, probably in an attempt to explain whatever it was she was looking at when Ryan stepped forward and cradled his hands around the base of her jaw. He slipped his fingers into her hair. “Good,” he said softly. “That means there won’t be anyone to kick my ass when I do this.” Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, pausing for the briefest of seconds to allow her the chance to back away.
Her gaze zeroed in on his.
She lifted her chin toward his a fraction of a fraction of an inch, but it was enough for him, so he dove in.
…
Sailor had never had a kiss that her mind tried to categorize. Kiss then stop—that had been her track record. But when Ryan brushed his lips over her mouth, her mind started going all sorts of wonky, organizing every detail and thought into a stupid, annoying outline.
Kissing Ryan XXX
1. Item: Ryan’s lips
a. If they were a blanket, it would be made of silk and cashmere and any other material that upon contact makes you want to strip off your clothes
b. (Get your mind out of the gutter, brain. It’s a kiss, not sex.)
c. (Let’s try this again.) Soft
2. Item: Ryan’s beard
a. It wasn’t like kissing a furry animal
b. And why did it smell so good? Like vanilla and rosewood (Ha, like you even know what rosewood smells like! Stop trying to sound like some sexy romance novel.)
3. Item: Ryan’s hands
a. Strong-but-gentle fingers
b. (Move lower, move lower, please, move lower…)
4. Item: Ryan’s…um, package (heh-heh, do people still call it that?)
a. Pressing right between her thighs
b. The area starting to take on a life of its own
c. Like an organ starving for nourishment (note to brain: pretty sure the part begging to be touched isn’t an organ. Stop saying stupid things!)
d. See Item 1.b.
Ryan parted his lips and his tongue swept out, cold and hinting of the citrusy taste from the ginger ale. The counter’s edge dug into her hip, and the grip his hands held on the sides of her face tightened. No, there wasn’t any chance she was about to fall or be swept away like some unimaginative first kiss. This kiss was real. Every bit of it was like lobbing baseballs at her body, jarring her senses with each move.
She was caged in against the countertop, Ryan’s front side pressing into hers. On any other day and with any other stranger from a bar, she might’ve felt trapped and had the urge to kick him in the balls. But standing in Marissa’s kitchen, surrounded by the scent of him, the taste of him, and the overwhelming itch to yank his beard so that his muscled body would press even harder into her, had every bit of her fear and nervousness of what she had planned for tomorrow—disappearing as fast as she had out of her father’s life a few years ago.
No. She shook the thought from her head. You won’t think about approaching the current owner of Dad’s bar with the measly balance in your savings account when this is standing in front of you.
From the top of her head clear down to the tips of her toes, her skin zinged like it’d been covered in Icy Hot, a burning cold that felt amazing and uncomfortable at the same time. His mouth left hers and pressed soft kisses along the outside of her neck and then back up the other side, and her lungs responded with an embarrassingly long sigh.
He grinned against her skin and grazed the tip of her earlobe with his teeth, sending an army of ants marching lower into her belly. Her body sagged against the counter, and suddenly the space between them was too much. She wanted his legs pressed into hers. His other parts on…hers. Reaching out, she tucked her fingers into the edge of his jeans, resting her thumbs on the buckle of his belt, and tugged.
His body closed the distance and he let out a growl as he took her mouth again. This time, his tongue grew more insistent, swooping in and out with the grace of a soaring bird, setting her heart into a pressurized beat that echoed behind her ears.
Their kiss deepened, and with his tongue in her mouth and the hardness of his erection teasing her leg, she was suddenly on the brink of stripping off her clothes that very second and letting him have his way with her.
He gripped the side of her waist firmly, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her tank top, and whispered against her ear, “Something tells me you aren’t the type of girl who usually moves this fast.”
The heat of his breath only intensified the feeling that all of the organs in her body were starting to malfunction, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking to her.
He glanced down and s
he followed his gaze to where her hands rested on his belt.
His opened belt.
Oh my God, I opened his belt!
Quickly, her eyes shot away. “Heh-heh, yeah. I didn’t really mean to—”
Her feet left the ground, and all of a sudden, she was sitting on the counter, face-to-face with Ryan. Maybe that kiss had misfired her brain, because in that moment, all she could think was God, his eyes are gorgeous. Especially the way his dark brows framed and contrasted with the lightness of them.
“It’s okay if you did,” Ryan said, his voice deep and reverent. Slowly, he dragged the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. “But it’s also okay if you were only doing it because you thought it’s what I wanted.”
“I wasn’t…” She shook her head. She wasn’t the type of girl who gave in to the pressures around her. If she had been, she never would’ve needed to return to Boston to take back the bar that belonged to her father. She never would’ve had the audacity to emancipate herself at seventeen and become the biggest disappointment to him. No, embarrassingly, this inability to control herself with Ryan was all her. “I mean, I did—” Gah, maybe not something I should be admitting to him. “I mean…” She was sounding like an idiot, and there was only one way to stop it. Palms to his cheeks, she wrapped her fingers around his head, and leaned in. He watched as she pulled him toward her, eyes churning with intensity, and allowed her to lead. “This is what I want tonight,” she said, her lips mere millimeters from his. Only a few seconds of distance and she was already craving the feel of his mouth, the taste of him.
The instant his lips met hers, he grinned and let out a cross between a chuckle and a growl, and right then, she decided that was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard come from a man. And directed at her? Yeah, that didn’t help the slow burn taking over her bottom half.
“I see we’re on the same page,” Ryan said, using the outer edges of his thighs to spread her legs and then step between. His tongue ran a soft line across her lips, not asking for permission this time, but simply letting her know he was there. His hand started slow and gentle at her waist, his thumbs extending out to graze the center of her belly, once over her naval, then again. His mouth stilled, and he pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, one eyebrow arched. “You have your bellybutton pierced?”
She didn’t want to explain the reason she kept the piercing—that it was an everyday reminder of the shitty daughter she’d once been. That every day she was thankful it hadn’t been a tattoo of a shamrock or some other stupid thing her rebellious teenaged brain could’ve produced.
A seductive smile pursed her lips as she leaned back onto her elbows, the movement flattening out her stomach, and nodded. She lifted the hem of her tank slightly. “You can look if you want.”
Understanding burned in his eyes. Tonight wasn’t just going to be a heated kiss between two strangers. She wanted more, and now she knew he did, too, and that one move had just started her body racing toward Orgasm Town.
Orgasm Town? Really, Sail? At least she hadn’t said that out loud.
Ryan laughed, and his eyes squinted, lit with an inner glow of mischief. “Did you just say Orgasm Town?”
Crap! Or not. Fire flooded her cheeks, and she started to say something about ignoring the ludicrous things that were sometimes ejaculated out of her mouth, but he leaned in and grazed his teeth against her lips, cutting off her ability to speak.
“Sounds like a fun place to visit,” his husky voice whispered under a chuckle. Soft, wet lips fell on her neck and both sides of her jawline, then started lower, igniting the burning inside her again. His warm fingers tucked under the edge of her shirt and worked the fabric up, inch by inch, until it was pushed against the underside of her bra.
He ran his tongue in a slow line from the button of her jeans up to her naval, taking his time to suck and lick and nibble the entire area surrounding her piercing. The muscles in her shoulders and back burned with the weight of her upper half, every cell in her body quivering from the attention his mouth was giving her.
She reclined onto the counter, the cold marble warring against the heat of her body.
Ryan looked up at her, his gaze ticking from her eyes to her lips to her breasts and then back to her eyes. He snaked his hands up her sides, fingers pressured against her spine, and swept his thumbs over the tops of her breasts.
“Just so we’re clear…does the trip to O.G. Town include a stop”—ever so lightly, he rolled her beaded nipples between his fingers—“here?”
She wanted to be mad—him making fun of her like that, but consumed with the trembling and burning his touch ignited, her body couldn’t manage to find any anger. With her silence, he pinched his fingers together harder, and she whimpered. “Yes,” she managed to say shakily, swallowing the urge to let that whimper turn into a full-on groan.
Hot streaks followed in the wake of one hand, on the move again, this time retreating down her stomach. Without any hesitation, it traversed the waistline of her jeans, the line of her zipper, then settled just above her center. He pressed the heel of his palm directly over the part of her that was starting to scream. “And what about here?”
Eyes burned into hers. His hand grew heavier, sending an electric shock pinging clear down to her toes. Was she really going to hook up with someone she’d just met? A total stranger? She wasn’t a careless teen anymore—had promised herself when she’d graduated college that reckless side of her would lie buried, right alongside her father.
But making a conscious decision was far from uncontrolled. Plus, it wasn’t like she was drunk and acting on mojito impulses like her cousin had been. The lack of alcohol had her mind ticking off pros and cons faster than she could say “Orgasm Town.”
Pros—one mental finger up—skin-on-skin contact. Other than quick hugs from Marissa and her own hands when desperate, Sailor’s body had been severely lacking in the touch department. It was embarrassing, really, how deprived she’d let herself become in the past few months.
Number two—another mental finger following—she’d never see him again. No room to judge when the night would be over just as fast as it started. Then she could go home, catch a good night’s sleep, and work on turning her life around first thing in the morning.
Third and final point—finger wagging, because this was the best one—she wanted his mouth on her. Now.
As for the cons, they could all take a backseat, because she wanted his mouth on her now. See? She knew all about how these one-night stands worked. She was responsible. In charge. Wholly accountable.
Sailor lifted her head and met Ryan’s gorgeous stare, a mischievous smirk drawing up the corners of her mouth as she laid her hand on top of his and guided his fingers to the button on her jeans. “Why don’t you remove this barrier and find out?”
A beat of silence thumped loudly in her ears, pressing in around her like the air had taken life and decided now would be a great time to make it difficult to breathe.
“I like your style of thinking, Sailor.” He growled and nipped at her neck. His fingers worked the button free, but instead of stripping her right there in the kitchen, he gathered her into his arms and carried her to the living room, setting her back on her feet in front of the long brown couch Marissa had spontaneously purchased for herself for Christmas last year.
Ryan kissed her neck again, slowly sucking the spot he’d nibbled. Something akin to a shiver seeped up and down her spine, yet every cell in her body felt as if it were catching fire. Fantastic, now her system was going haywire.
His delicious kisses continued up her neck, where he paused to lick the skin near her ear before reversing direction and sliding toward her shoulder. Her pulse raced, her breath coming in sputter-like waves, especially when his left hand slid down her back and grabbed her butt, squeezing and then using it to pull her against him. Against his… Dear Jesus, he was as hard as a ceramic pot.
Finally, he pressed his lips to hers, slowly at first, and then with
more urgency. Somehow, they fit together perfectly. When he slanted right to deepen the connection, she tilted her head left, and it worked like an end kiss to a fairy tale.
Little quivers zinged inside her like they were electrified. She melted into him, wanting to be closer. He pulled her against him, his hard muscles pressing into her softer parts. Then he settled his hands at her sides, the pressure sprouting a tiny seedling of thought. Did Ryan really want her for the night? Or was he the type of guy who went out looking for a hookup and didn’t care who he came home with? Images of Marissa plastered against Ryan’s chest in the bar flashed in her mind. And then the sight of Ryan removing his belt flashed before her eyes.
“Wait. What are you doing?” she said in a choked-sounding whisper. It was all she was capable of in that moment.
He nipped at her bottom lip and grinned. “Taking off my belt.”
“Oh.” She nodded. Of course that was what he was doing. Silly Sailor. After he dropped the belt to the floor, he yanked his shirt out of his waistband. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “What about now?”
“Removing my shirt.” He lifted it up over his head and down one arm with practiced ease, letting it fall to the floor to join his belt.
She gasped with admiration at all the muscles. Holy hot man on a stick, that shirt had been covering way more than she thought possible. His body was beyond sculpted, a GI Joe figurine precast to perfection. Molded abs. Molded pecs. Molded triangle-shaped muscle whatsits suspended over the edges of a tattoo that covered his side and disappeared into the front of his pants.
Pants he was now reaching for.
“Wait.” She held out a hand against his chest.
His fingers stalled on his button. “You want me to stop?” His right eyebrow arched up, and half his mouth curved in an opportunist’s grin.
“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Stop right there.”
His hands fell away from his pants and hung at his sides. His smile slowly fell away, too. “Am I moving too fast for you? I thought…” His words trailed off as more popped into her head.
Too fast? She was thinking not fast enough, but that wasn’t why she’d stopped him. She shook her head. “Not exactly. It’s just…you were hooking up with my cousin back at the bar, and now you’re here with me, and I can’t help but feel like you’re only doing this because she’s too drunk to finish whatever it is she started.” Sailor cringed at her own honesty. God, seriously, she sounded like an insecure, whiny little girl.
A Moment of Madness (Boston Alibi) Page 3
