“Your dad never once took this out of the safe. I caught him looking at it a few times, though.” He opened her hand and dropped it in the center of her palm. “I assume it was from someone he cared about.” Her mother maybe? Grandmother? He couldn’t help but hope that it had belonged to someone she’d cared about, too. He wanted to give that to Sailor—something meaningful she could hold on to.
“It was mine,” she said, the words so quiet he had to lean forward to hear them. Only then did he notice the beads of moisture building in the corners of her eyes. “My dad gave it to me right after my mom died. I was so little, but I remember his exact words when he clasped it around me.” She reached up, her fingers brushing the bare skin in the center of her chest, right where the charm would hang. “‘When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a treasure.’ He said the bird would help me remember her because she was flying in heaven.”
That sounded like something Marty would’ve said. He was poetic like that.
With delicate strokes, she fingered the unfolded wings of the bird. “Such simple words, but for a little kid, it worked. I wore it religiously for years.” Her words trailed off, attention solely focused on the necklace. “When I got to high school and got involved with Jordan—like everything else in my life—the connection I had to my family became less and less important, until…well, you know the rest of that wretched story.” She glanced up, eyes on his. “I can’t believe he kept it.”
“Your dad told me once that holding a grudge after accepting an apology isn’t really accepting the apology. Maybe he felt that way about you, too.”
She pressed her lips tight, shoulders hunching over, and the sight of Sailor in pain like this ripped into his chest.
“I never once apologized to him.”
“I don’t mean specifically.” Ryan took the necklace from her hands and clasped it around her neck, the tiny bird shimmering against her milky smooth skin. “But maybe he’d accepted the fact—without resentment—that you’d chosen to be on your own. Eventually, he was at peace with it.”
With her chest rising and falling in a deep breath, she tipped her head and leaned her forehead onto his shoulder. “That feels kind of crappy, you know.”
Her scent, sweet and smelling like some kind of exotic fruit, struck him full force. It churned with the sense of calm that came with talking to Sailor about her past. About his past. About the one person who’d brought them together. “I’d say it’s better than knowing he left this world holding a grudge against you.”
“No,” she whispered. “That’s what he left you. A grudge against me.” She lifted her head, face just below his, expressionless. “Punishment in its finest form, I suppose.”
True, he’d held resentment toward her. But that’d been before he’d seen how hard she was trying to right her wrongs, how much she wanted forgiveness from her father. Before he’d gotten to know her and seen just how big her heart was. Before he’d started to fall for her.
“Funny,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her mouth. “This doesn’t feel like a punishment to me.” Gently, he grazed his teeth over her lip, lingering a long second to get his point across. “Does it to you?”
She sighed, eyes meeting his. “It will when you decide you don’t want me around anymore.”
That was the thing about guilt—it wasn’t a rational thing. It was a weight that could crush someone, whether they deserved it or not. And Sailor, regardless of the mistakes she’d made when she was young, didn’t deserve it. Not one bit, and Ryan wasn’t going to sit and watch that guilt destroy her.
“If you weren’t around, I’d miss laughing at you,” he teased, combing the tips of his fingers deeper into her hair. “And your attempts to be a superhero by jumping off countertops—”
His fingers caught on a tangle at the ends of her hair.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, that was supposed to be a comforting gesture.” He twisted to disentangle his fingers, but only entwined them into more of a matted mess. Okay, no twisting. Maybe tugging? He jerked his hands back slightly and reclaimed a millimeter of finger. It wasn’t much, but if he did it a few more times, he’d be free. Wiggling his fingers at the same time, he tugged again. No give, and his knuckles caught on another tangle.
“Ow!”
“Shit.” He stilled, stepping closer to relieve some of the tension on her scalp. “I might need a little help. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t want to make it worse.”
With deft fingers, she untangled small clumps of hair at a time until his hand was completely extricated. Then she smiled at him. “You mean with all that hair on your face, you’ve never gotten your hand stuck?”
“Nope. I recall a pretty girl did once, though, when she was trying to get her drunk cousin home from a bar.”
Pink splotches darkened in the hollows of her cheeks, and she puffed out her bottom lip in the most adorable way he’d ever seen. “Not a great first impression I gave you, huh.”
A first impression? Hell yeah. But in no way did he think negatively about it. That first night they’d spent together was one of his favorites. Sailor had been quirky and funny and the very person he could see himself spending more than just a night with. They’d had other good moments since then, but nothing as carefree as that night. Was that because of who they were? Who connected them?
In truth, he didn’t care anymore about the teenage girl who’d left her father. Now, he knew why she’d done it, and while his life was different because of it, he no longer blamed her for it. In fact, he was thankful. Never in his life had he met someone that made him feel the way he did when he was with her. So, to answer her question…
Ryan shrugged, drawing a line down the side of her arm. “First impression, second impression, third… Sailor Carlson, you are the most gorgeous, entertaining person I have ever been around. And you never cease to amaze me.” He entwined his hand with hers and led her out to the front. “I think we’re done here for the night. Let’s lock up, and then I’ll walk you to your car.” Jerking his chin up, he pointed his beard at her. “This thing and I have a date with the clippers tonight.”
Gripping her hand in his, she leaned back and scanned his face from ear to ear. “You’re shaving it off?” By the way she bit against a smile, it almost looked like she was okay with that idea.
In no way did he need her approval, but damn, it felt nice to get it.
“Growing it started out as a stupid bet with Micah over a year ago. He didn’t think I could keep something steady in my life—besides the bar—for longer than a few months. Of course, I had to triple the time limit to show him up.” He winked at her. “It’s what best friends do.”
She nodded, eyes narrowing the slightest bit like maybe she was trying to picture him bare-faced. “Well, I was hoping you might want to come over for dinner. I have all the stuff to make stir-fry and no one to eat it with… And it’d be really, really nice to eat with someone. Like, a real person. Not a puppy who gags at the sight of bean sprouts. I have clippers and a razor, too.”
…
Truth #26: American Pie? Pfft, I’d rather have American Eggroll!
Cold from the countertops seeped through Sailor’s pants, and she kangarooed her legs up in response. Hugging her knees, she leaned back against the bathroom mirror. “If I squint,” she said to Ryan, clenching her thigh muscles tight in attempt to stop her lower half from attacking his lower half because holy beard be gone, without all that hair, this man was hotness wrapped in more hotness dipped in hotness. “I’d swear you were Adam Levine,” she continued. “Except I don’t think his eyes are as pretty as yours.”
Ryan stilled the razor in his hand and glanced at her. “Telling a dude who is shaving off his manliness that his eyes are ‘pretty’ can seriously damage his ego.” He flexed his biceps, the muscle rounding into a mound her hand might barely fit over, and he chuckled. “At least say my muscles are big or something.”
Her gaze drift
ed over his bare chest, and the tingling in her lower belly intensified to panty-dropping level. If he kept doing things like that, she’d likely be giving him another strip show right there in her tiny apartment bathroom. She silently thanked whatever god told him to remove his shirt before shaving and let out an awkward-sounding laugh. Fine, she’d humor him.
“You, Mr. Ryan Edwards, are like the beefiest beefcake around. Sitting so close to you, I’m having a very difficult time resisting the urge to taste you.”
A wicked grin spread over his face as he finished shaving the last bit of hair at his jawline. “I’ve never had a woman tell me she wanted to taste my beef.” He rinsed the remaining shaving cream off his cheeks and dried them with a towel. Then he faced her in all his beefy glory. “It’s kind of a turn-on.”
A few direct words from him and the sweet spot between her legs swelled. And then her breath caught as she took him in fully. Underneath all that hair were the most beautiful features she’d ever seen on a man, starting with the definition of his jaw and neck and leading all the way up to the way his cheekbones flared perfectly against his slender cheeks.
“Your face is a turn-on,” she mumbled and then slammed her hand over her mouth. “Jesus. I mean…” I mean… I mean… Yep, there was no recovering from a comment like that. Her cheeks burned. “That was supposed to stay in my head.”
Stepping in front of her, he wrapped his hands around the outsides of her legs, spread them, and tugged her closer to him—so close that the scent of shaving cream swallowed her like a cloud. Didn’t matter that he smelled like Skintimate’s Raspberry Rain. The man could smell like the girliest of girls and would still make her mouth water. Her legs fell to the sides of him, and this time the freezing countertop helped to keep the feverish heat creeping over her tamped down.
“I’m game for swapping compliments,” he said, sliding his hands roughly to her hips. Strong fingers gripped tight, pressing along the sides of her rear and sending all rational thought down the toilet.
Press harder.
Pull me closer.
Take me right here on the counter.
“Your inability to control this,” he said and snuck out his tongue and flicked her lips, “is a turn-on.” He continued up her hips and dipped under the hem of her shirt, the heat of his skin on hers blazing like rabid fire. “And the way you don’t realize how goddamn sexy you are under these clothes is a turn-on.” Hands around her ribcage, he lifted her off the counter and headed for her bedroom. “And the look in your eyes when you are climaxing around me is the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen.”
They entered the bedroom, and he stood her at the edge of her bed.
“I think about it at night.” In one swoop, her shirt was over her head and on the floor, and his hands were palming her breasts. “I think about it when I’m watching you work.” Next came her bra, disappearing from her body like he’d stopped time without her knowing to remove it. He lapped at her nipple, pinching the other with enough pressure to cause her knees to dip. Catching her around the waist, he dove back in, licking his way up her neck. “I’ve thought about it,” he whispered gutturally when his mouth reached her ear, “every single night since I met you.”
A wave of unrestricted pleasure shuddered through her entire body, and his words shocked her into submission. Her heart was telling her to say one thing—I’ve thought about it every night, too—and her body was telling her to say another—Let’s do it again, and again, and again—but she couldn’t hear what either of them were saying because of this feeling between her legs that kept getting more and more impossible to ignore.
She swallowed hard, searching desperately for saliva. It felt like every part of her that ordinarily produced moisture had stopped working because all of the moisture had localized to that one spot in the center of her body.
“I—” she started to say but was cut off when he leaned in and placed his lips over hers, moving his tongue against hers slowly, tasting it first, feeling the warm wetness of it as it began to tangle with hers. He grabbed each side of her face and pressed her forcefully against him, locking his lips around hers ravenously. She moaned into his mouth, and he kissed her harder, wrapping one arm around her back and pulling the rest of her body closer.
And then the kiss broke. Their lips lingered for a long moment until he lifted away and looked down at her with an enigmatic expression she’d never seen before. One that did something to her heart that she’d never ever felt.
One last time, he snaked his tongue out to touch hers, but instead of another soul-crushing kiss, he gently pushed her back onto the bed, slipped both hands on the fabric around her waist, and wriggled her pants and panties over her hips and down her legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor.
She thought he was going to pounce, or at the very least make some comment about doing her properly, but instead, he took his time pressing tender kisses over every inch of her body, starting at her neck, then over her chest and belly, down her left leg, up her right. She let her eyelids fall with the anticipation of where the next kiss would land, sinking farther and farther into the comforter of her bed.
When the parade of kisses tapered off, she sighed and mumbled, “Foreplay to the foreplay. That’s mighty proper of you. It must mean something.” She leaned up on her elbows and smiled at him.
Hooded blue-green eyes stared up at her. “Oh yeah?” he teased. “Enlighten me, Carlson.”
“Well…” With the top of her bare foot, she caressed the side of his ribcage, watching as his skin reacted in gooseflesh. She bit her lip against the pleasure that brought her. “You’re doing something nice for me, which either means I was right about you liking me, or you want something.”
He chuckled. “We’ve already established that I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. And I think it’s pretty clear what I want, but if you want me to be explicit, I will.” In a split second, he was up on his knees, face hovering within kissing distance of hers. “First, I want to taste you again, because your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted. And then I want to spend the rest of the night devouring your body like I haven’t eaten for days.”
Eaten. That reminded her. “We haven’t made the stir-fry yet. I even have eggrolls.”
Creases spread out like wings from his eyes, but he was so close she couldn’t tell if he was smiling. “Fuck the eggrolls. I only want you. Now spread your legs.”
If his words hadn’t cut a path of pleasure from her ear all the way down into the throbbing wetness between her legs, she would’ve made a joke about the eggroll comment. But he slid his hand between her legs and parted her folds with two fingers, and she was gone.
He grinned wickedly and grazed his teeth along the skin at her panty line.
“Unless,” he said tauntingly and licked her clit. Just once. He stopped and looked at her across the landscape of her body. “You want to make stir-fry and do this at the same time?” He narrowed his gaze on her, his eyes darkening and taking on a wolfish quality that sent a shiver over her bare skin.
“No, I…I…” Was becoming a blubbering idiot with this man’s beautiful face so close to her who-ha like that. Pull it together, Sail. She steeled a breath and shook her head. “I’m saving you from the pain of hot peanut oil on your manly parts. You can thank me later.”
“Hmm…” He leaned in, his skin brushing along the inside of her thighs. “I’ll thank you right now.” He sucked hard on her clit and worked his fingers in and out of her at the same time. Thoroughly. Meticulously. Painstakingly breathtaking. Blood flooded and drained and then flooded again through every part of her body, pushing her so high the threat of fainting lingered on the edges of her sanity. He alternated between fast and slow, lapping her and rubbing the pad of his thumb over her swollen clit. She bucked her hips toward him, and just when she felt like she couldn’t take any more, he backed away.
Gasping at the sudden change, she cried out, “Don’t stop.”
His tongue, starting at one corner of his mouth, slid to the other. Then he crawled his way on top of her, kissing and licking and biting her skin from her thighs all the way up to her throat. “Like I told you,” he said, clamping his grip around her wrists and taking her arms above her head so she couldn’t touch him. “I won’t deny myself the pleasure of watching you come with me inside you.”
That earned him a kiss. Or earned her one. Heck, they were both winners in her book.
She scoffed and playfully squirmed against his hold. “Well, now I’m going to be all self-conscious about it and probably look like some deformed troll or something.” She twisted her face in imitation, and he chuckled, his lips and teeth forming a perfect smile.
“Guess I’ll have to work a little harder to get you to forget about it then.”
He stood, and in one blink, he had his belt and the fly of his jeans opened, shoes off. Her body tingled. That sight, Ryan shirtless and beardless and shoeless, was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. Nobody on the planet could ever compare to the striking man standing over her.
The dips and ripples of his chest and stomach…
The mouthwatering V plunging beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs…
Biceps that bulged like they were flexed even when they weren’t…
Eyes so bottomless, churning with intensity…
But it was more than just his body. It was the feeling that her heart was melting into a messy puddle of I like him too much to walk away. A dangerous position to be in, because the resentment he held toward her was likely to resurface at some point, which would lead to him (a.) kicking her to the curb, (b.) never talking to her again, or (c.) both a and b.
Nonetheless, it was a chance she was willing to take. She’d soak in as much of him as she could, until he Option C’ed her.
The next blink, and he was completely naked, condom on, and caging in her body with his arms and legs.
Oh, curse her stupid, annoying brain. Because of you, I missed the best strip show of my life.
A Moment of Madness (Boston Alibi) Page 14
