God, she was unreasonable! “I’m sorry,” he snapped. Realizing he had a death grip on the can of ginger ale, he took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m sorry. But we both know it was the only way you’d stay. Anything could happen to them out there and that kills me. You’re the only one I knew I could keep safe, and I had to make sure you didn’t go.”
She shook her head. “I’m the only one you could make stay. Staying here doesn’t make me safe. Nothing about this place is safe long term.”
“It’s better than being out there, and we know for sure help is coming. You know as well as I do that Kyle would have kept you here at all costs if he was here instead of me. I’m thinking of him as well as you.”
She crossed her arms, but he saw most of the fight leave her body. She slid onto a stool and propped her chin on her fist. “This sucks.”
“Big time.”
“I mean, I can’t even get trashed and pretend none of this is happening, because being drunk and surrounded by water is probably one of the top three worst ideas ever.”
“Especially in the dark.” Ryan held up a can. “Ginger ale?”
“Yeah. Maybe it will help settle my stomach.”
“Want a glass and some ice before it melts?”
“And a squeeze of lemon. What the hell? Might as well live it up.”
He fixed their drinks and took a stool next to her, giving up the safety of the wooden barrier between them. “Since I don’t feel like a ‘cheers’ is appropriate in a situation like this, how about we drink to their safety?”
“To everyone’s.”
He knew she meant Kyle, and nodded. They clinked glasses, and solemnly sipped. Her hands trembled so slightly he thought he’d imagined it until he realized her pulse was visibly racing through the tender flesh of her wrist. She was scared? Of course she is—she’s been blackmailed into staying in an isolated place that’s surrounded by water, waiting for help to arrive. But if he had to do it over again, he wouldn’t change a thing.
She hid her fear well—he’d never have known she was anything but slightly frustrated with the situation, and annoyed with him. She’d be one hell of a poker player.
He reached out and brushed the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb, fascinated by the pounding of her heart, wishing it was too fast for a better reason than fear. Her skin was like ice.
“Your hands are freezing.” She let him take one between his and rub some heat into it. Her hands were so tiny compared to his, delicate and fine. Her nails were bare but well groomed and fairly short. He hated when women had long nails with garish colors. What was sexy about a neon talon? He hadn’t had time to appreciate that last night, too busy focusing on other parts of her, but she’d known just how to touch him—
She cleared her throat, and he looked up, realizing he’d been fixating on her hands. Goosebumps decorated the skin of her bare arms.
“I’m such a dick. Here.” He released her hand and shrugged out of his sweater.
“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to.”
But she didn’t resist when he wrapped his sweater around her. She shrugged it on and slid her arms through the sleeves. They were comically too long, and he rolled them up a few times so her hands could peek out the bottoms. God, she was cute in his clothes. “Just take it—you’re not even wearing pants. I bet your legs are freezing as well.”
But the skin of her thigh was warmer than he expected when he gently touched it with the back of his hand.
The farther his left hand slid up, the warmer it got. Her knees opened and his right hand got jealous, and investigated the temperature of her other thigh. Leila licked her lips and swallowed. He leaned into her, brushed his lips against her throat, felt the frantic pounding beneath her soft skin with his tongue. His pulse now matched hers. So much for calming her heart.
He caressed the dip of her waist, feeling huge and strong at her delicate size. She brought out protectiveness and care from him, but she wasn’t weak or really all that fragile. Switching to the other side, he nibbled at her jaw, breathed in her ear. She’d been an athlete and still had that strength, though she was small. Even when beneath him last night, the tightness with which she’d held him, the fierceness of her grip—
Her little squeak brought him back to himself. What the fuck am I doing? Hey baby. I know I just blackmailed you into staying in a disaster zone with me, and your bro might show up at any minute with a team of my coworkers, but let’s fuck on the filthy bar floor—or hey, how about the sticky bar top itself! I’m acting like a horny teenager.
With a shuddering breath, he pulled away, and briskly rubbed her upper arms through the sweater before removing his hands from her, and stabbing at the wedge of lime in his drink with the straw. He had to keep some space between them.
“Want to play a game of pool?”
***
Pool? Pool? Was he trying to get stabbed? She felt her eye twitch, and gently rubbed it, trying to make it look casual. He was giving her emotional whiplash. He blackmailed her into staying, then convinced her it was what her brother would want; making it sound all logical. Then he acted as if he was a caring boyfriend, gave her his sweater and warmed her up, oh God, he’d warmed her up, made her eyes practically cross with lust, then pulled away and suggested they play pool?
“Yeah, pool sounds awesome.”
He smiled—completely missing the sarcastic flatness in her voice. She wanted to slam his head into the bar in frustration, knock some sense into him! She hadn’t shivered because she was cold. His touch had brought every cell in her body to attention. The only temperature that had registered was the heat in his hands. I don’t want to play pool; I want you to fuck me like you did last night! Make me forget all about the shitty situation we’re in for just a while because I’m going out of my mind with worry. Please distract me!
He walked ahead of her. “I’ll rack!”
And I’ll break. Why was she letting him tie her up in knots again? Like she didn’t have enough to deal with today, she let him dive back under her skin and crawl around. Screw that. She’d scratched that itch last night, and shouldn’t have let him get close again. Not like she’d intended to get stranded anywhere with him. Besides, he obviously wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. No reason she should either.
The pool table was open—another small town thing she never saw in bars at the city. The ones she’d been to all charged. Ryan bent over to grab the triangle to rack, showcasing his tight ass and muscular thighs through his jeans.
No reason at all for a repeat of last night’s sex.
She lit a couple of the candles she’d brought over, setting them up on a nearby table. Maybe he wasn’t screwing with her, trying to turn her on just to prove he could. But maybe he was. Tease me once, shame on you … And two could play at that game.
She slowly dragged the elastic from her ponytail. Unintentionally—the fucking thing was too tight and moved super slowly, pulling so hard it tore a few hairs out, but damned if she was going to show the pain. She closed her eyes and pretended it felt awesome, and when the elastic finally wrenched free, and snapped her in the thumb, her sigh of pleasure wasn’t faked. Hopefully, some of the curls have held, and it looks sexily tousled, rather than weirdly half curled.
She felt his eyes on her as she finger-combed her hair and gave it a shake.
He hadn’t even racked yet. Score one for the visiting team.
Under the sweater he’d given her, he wore a thin, long sleeved blue t-shirt the exact shade of his eyes. He pushed the sleeves up and began loading the pool balls inside the plastic triangle—what the hell were those called? She tore her eyes from the tanned muscles of his forearms, and grabbed a cue, running her hands up and down it, as though searching for bends or flaws, knowing what it looked like, stopping just short of blatantly jacking it off.
Cue selected, she took the block of blue chalk and set it on the end. Slowly, she circled the chalk around and around, rotating it on the tip un
til it was covered in the blue powder. She bit her lip and inspected it, swiftly but gently rubbed the chalk back and forth on a couple spots that “needed” more coverage. Then she brought it close to her mouth and gently blew the excess away.
Ryan dropped the triangle thing.
She managed to keep a victorious smile from her face. “What’s the triangle thing called you use to rack with?”
He smiled. “A rack. It’s also called a triangle.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.” He carefully lifted it and spun it in his hands before hooking it back on the end of the table.
“Because if you’re messing with me—”
“I’d never mess with you.” He gestured at the cue ball, and she took her place, lined up and broke, sinking a solid and two stripes. “Nice break.”
“Thanks. You’d never mess with me?”
“Nope.”
“You have before. How do I know you haven’t been letting history repeat?”
“When have I messed with you?” He frowned.
She lined up and sank a solid. “That time you joined the debate team just because I had, and you wanted to out argue me.” Another solid down, but she sank one of his stripes as well.
“Hang on, you joined after I said I was planning on it!” He sank two stripes. “Your turn.”
“No, you got them in.”
“I don’t play fluke.”
Like hell he didn’t. But she lined up her next shot. “And when I got on at the school paper, you came prancing into school with a story you got published in a magazine.” And missed.
“First of all, I have never pranced a step in my life. Second, you remember my story after all this time?” He didn’t take his turn.
He wasn’t supposed to sound pleased about his competitiveness. “You’re seriously focusing on how I still remember your story? You’re so proud about outdoing me. I’m surprised you didn’t list that under your most memorable moments in the yearbook, rather than April Fool’s day junior year.”
A strange look clouded his features. “You really remember all of that?”
Shit. Now she sounded like a stalker. “Um.”
He walked closer. “I can’t believe you remember all of that. You ignored me all the time, barely looked at me.”
“Yeah.” No. Bangs were the hairstyle choice of secret admirers. They hid your spying eyes.
“But you remember everything. Why?”
She toyed with a tiny tear in the felt of the table. “You were in our group.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t explain why you can remember all my yearbook info.”
“I remember everything about everyone. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He smiled. “Really? What was Sean’s Most Memorable Moment?”
“Sean was a douchebag.”
He turned the corner of the pool table, coming to her side. “He was in ‘our group’ too, Leila, and the first person at our school to talk to you in the cafeteria.”
His first words were asking if she was Chinese. “He was also a raging asshole.”
“And I’m not? Pretty sweet compliment, Heavenly Lei.” He remembered that? And how was he spelling ‘lei?’ Was that a slam against last night? He moved close enough to touch her, but didn’t. What was his game?
“No, you are an asshole.” God, why was he torturing her like this? “I’m sick of this dancing around bullshit.”
“What dancing around?” The genuine confusion in his eyes frustrated her more than his hands and mouth at the bar a few moments ago.
“I wanted you from the moment I saw you at school. But I could never have you, not that you cared, or noticed.” The truth came out with the force of the wave—she was powerless to stop talking despite the consequences this would have on her emotions. “I wanted you for years, and then seeing you last night, being with you last night was amazing. I can’t think of the word for it, but it was supposed to be a one-night thing to get you out of my system, then here you were today. You’ve been driving me nuts all day with your hot and cold bullshit, and I’m so fucking tired of wanting you but not being able to have you, and you not noticing a goddamn thing!”
Smoooooth. Way to play hard to get, Leilani. She didn’t get the chance to take the words back. Ryan surged forward, crushing his lips to hers with an urgency that stole the breath from her lungs, and the words from her mind.
CHAPTER TEN
Ryan’s pool cue clattered to the floor as he gripped Leila by the backs of her thighs and hoisted her onto the pool table, never breaking their kiss. She’d made him feel protective, but he hadn’t realized she’d been interested in him in high school—not like that. Her admission, and the fact she was heated up enough to be frustrated about it today, filled up that empty place he’d been trying to fill with other women for months.
Her breath hitched when he ran his hands up to her hips, and pulled her to the edge of the table, spreading her legs with his thighs. Had she wanted him all along? If she’d said one word about it to him back then … He smoothed her skirt on the way up, catching the hem, and stroked her thighs, tracing the edges of her panties with the tips of his thumbs. Her pool cue clattered to the ground, her nails dug into his back and she bit his bottom lip.
Hard.
But not as hard as he suddenly grew. Reaching out, he swept the pool balls out of the way and laid them down on the green felt, grinding his hips into hers a couple times. He wished they’d lit more candles so he could see her face better; the faint candlelight shimmering from the bar and the last thin rays of the sun were just enough to see her by. But if he’d had his choice, every bit of her would be bathed in sunlight, highlighting every single inch, every half smile he was able to pull from her lips, every cry of pleasure.
She smiled into the kiss. His body saw her, even if his eyes were blinding with every second that the sun sank farther. He felt it all. The passion-strength of their intertwined fingers when she slid an arm down his shoulder and clasped his hand. The tremors in her legs when they tangled with his. Her breath stalling when he pressed closer to that spot right there. And how wet she was when he reached down and slipped a hand beneath her panties.
She was so responsive, so hot, and ready, she immediately slicked his finger, and he slid it back and forth across her clit, working her with rapid but light pressure. She bucked, and sucked at his lips, his tongue, and he thrust two fingers deep inside, swallowing the moan when she tensed beneath him and pulled away to start clawing at his jeans.
“Now, Ryan, I need you inside me.”
He leaned back a bit. “I don’t have anything.”
“It’s fine.” She got his belt open, and unbuttoned his fly.
He grabbed her hands to still them. “But—”
“I said it’s fine.”
“But—”
She huffed. “I’m on the pill. Just stop talking!”
Thank God. He pressed close again, melding them together with a kiss that devoured her from above as he tugged her panties off. Her hand snaked down his now-opened jeans, and stroked him a couple times, like she’d done with the pool cue. He’d known what she was doing, trying to tease him into a frenzy, but that hadn’t mattered one goddamn bit. He shimmied his jeans down lower, giving her full access. She pulled his cock free from his boxers. “I wish I could watch you doing that.”
She chuckled softly. “You can see it.”
“Not enough.”
“You don’t think it’s better in the dimness?”
He gritted his teeth at the gorgeous way her hands were moving. “Fuck no. I want to watch your hands on me. God, I remember the look on your face when I licked and sucked at you. You were so beautiful. So sexy.”
She clenched him tighter, stroked faster. “What else did you like?”
“Your body.”
“What else?”
“The sounds you made.”
“What else?” she whispered.
“Looking down and watching my dick slide in
side you.”
She moaned and stroked faster. “That was amazing. Was it the way it looked or felt that was the best?”
He bit his lip. “Both. But nothing feels better than being inside you.”
“And why aren’t you inside me now?”
He pulled back to see the heat in Leila’s eyes before gripping a hip and plunging into her in one, long, hard thrust. Their moans sounded loudly, a perfect harmony of a physical union so deep it ran dangerously close to being something more. He didn’t dare to let her in, but he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t close off, any more than he could stop touching her, kissing her, breathing her in as she clutched him tighter.
Ryan drove into her, hard and slow. So hard. If he went as fast as he wanted, he’d blow a hip or his load, and both of those outcomes were unacceptable. He wanted to live buried inside this woman.
“You feel so good.” She wrapped her legs around him and squeezed harder. Ryan agreed but couldn’t talk. Instead, he showed her with his tongue in another passionate kiss all the things he felt, reached lower and skimmed his thumb across her tiny nub until she tightened around him and then he was unable to stifle his moan. I want to see her, need to see her face.
Propped on his elbows, he had room to see her. Crazy how the things about Leila that captivated him most weren’t visible. Her intelligence, passion, and drive. Her fierceness and sharp wit. He kissed the smart mouth that drove him crazy. The full lips that smiled when she was about to come. He pulled back again, and saw on her face, even in the dim light, stamped on every feature, that in that moment she was his.
And in that moment, he realized he wanted her to be his.
***
Not even the fading light could hide the hunger in Ryan’s eyes. It made Leila shiver—and smile. Maybe beneath the bullshit rivalry, he’d wanted her back all along. She didn’t think his reaction was based on her outburst alone turning him on, because there was something more than hunger in his eyes. There was want, and need, and tenderness, and … surprise?
Taken by Storm Page 7
