Against the Wall

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Some dignity would be good at a time like this, not to mention some clothes, but she thought it’d look too ridiculous to go bending down for her dress at this point. Whatever chance at modesty she’d had was long gone by now, so she straightened her shoulders and tried for as much bravado as she could muster. Then found she could muster pretty well.

  “Well, I’ll, um, just say thanks I guess and go get my shower. If it’s not too much trouble, lock up on your way out.”

  Praying her legs wouldn’t give out and land her flat on her face, she walked to the bathroom, still wearing her silly sandals. She didn’t take another breath until the door was safely locked behind her. Without listening for the sounds of him leaving, Shea turned on the shower, stepped beneath the hot spray, and washed the evidence of the last fifteen minutes away as best she could.

  Too bad she had a feeling the memories were going to last a lifetime.

  Chapter Four

  Fuck. Ryan couldn’t believe he’d panicked and just let her walk away! What the hell was the matter with him?

  Shit, he’d never had his two heads cause such a big friggin’ problem in his entire life. Thinking and sex did not go together, end of story. So then why did she have him so twisted up in knots he couldn’t keep even that simple fact straight? Damn woman had him going out of his mind!

  Now she was in the shower, after delivering her cool dismissal, while he stood rooted in place, his cock about ready to climb up his body and strangle him for screwing this up—and his mind still reeling from the emotional assault she’d made on him.

  He needed to get it together before she came back out, because no way in hell was he leaving her alone. He might be scared shitless of the way she made him feel, all desperate and needy and like a keg of dynamite just waiting to blow, but he wasn’t such a prick that he was going to leave her by herself tonight.

  And if his dick was snickering, knowing his motivation was a hell of a lot more than honorable, he did his best to ignore it. He may have screwed up his chance to fuck her tonight, but Ryan knew they weren’t done. Not by a long shot. He just had to figure out how to get inside of her without doing something really stupid and falling—

  No!

  No. Fucking. Way!

  Damn it, he wasn’t even going to think it.

  Needing a quick distraction, Ryan searched out his discarded shirt, slipped it over his head, and began the stubborn task of trying to hide his cock behind his fly again. After some careful maneuvering, he finally got the damn thing put away, but no way in hell was it hidden, leaving a long, highly noticeable ridge from the base of his zipper all the way over to his left hip. But, at least it was no longer poking its head out, begging for attention.

  That taken care of, Ryan collected the shattered pieces of the lamp she’d crashed over Spalding’s skull, dumping them in her kitchen rubbish bin. Then he figured he might as well take the opportunity to get to learn more about the woman turning his entire world upside down, and since the water was still running, he started a slow walk around her bedroom.

  For a guy with really rugged taste, he was kinda surprised how much he liked it. It was feminine, but not frilly, with books crammed into every available space and thick, scented candles decorating every surface. A case packed full of CDs caught his eye on the other side of the room, standing next to her dresser which had her sound system on top, and he walked over for a quick look, interested to know what kind of music she was into.

  His eyes scanned the titles, and he snorted. Huh—it figured. There were rows and rows of alternative rock, along with countless classical compilations and operas, for crying out loud. But then he finally found some Stones, and Pink Floyd, and The Who, so maybe there was hope after all. She didn’t have any Springsteen or Clapton, but hey, he could always remedy that later on.

  And whoa—what in the hell was he talking about now? Where did this shit keep coming from? Jesus, it wasn’t like they were getting ready to play house or anything. He just wanted to fuck her, not move in with her!

  The water was still running, and he was quickly looking for another distraction when her phone rang. Not thinking twice about it, Ryan walked over to her bedside table and lifted the receiver, muttering, “McCall,” into the mouthpiece.

  “Uh…Ry? Is that you?”

  Well, shit.

  “Yeah, Hannah, it’s me. What’s up?” he drawled offhandedly, suddenly realizing his mouth was still wet from going down on Shea. He wiped his face against his shoulder, trying to ignore the very un-ignorable taste of her cunt in his mouth, coating his tongue like sweet, addictive syrup.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he kept his stupid shit together and nailed her while he had the chance? If screwing her was half as good as eating her, it was something he definitely didn’t want to miss, no matter how uneasy she made him.

  Shit, he grumbled to himself, realizing Hannah was talking into his ear and he hadn’t even been listening. “Damn it, Ryan, are you—I mean, you are at Shea’s place, right? My Shea—as in my best friend?”

  “Hmm. Seems that way,” he replied silkily, suddenly angry with Hannah for telling Shea about Red’s. Not that he wasn’t happy with the consequences now, considering he was still reeling from her flavor, but Shea could’ve been seriously hurt because of their scheming—and to top it off, he didn’t care for the tone of Hannah’s voice. “Shea’s in the shower and I’m just waiting for her to get out. You got a problem with any of that, Hannah?”

  His oldest friend laughed her husky, throaty laugh on the other end of the line. “Uh, no need to sound so surly, Ry. I’ve been trying to get you two together for months now. I just, ah, hope you know what you’re doing. I mean—Shea’s not the kind of woman you play around with.” And despite her sweet tone, there was a wealth of warning in her words, reminding him of that mean streak she’d had before her ex-husband got his hands on her.

  He was almost happy to see its return—just not at this particular moment in time. Refusing to let her put him on the defensive, he clipped, “You mean she’s not like the usual women I pick up at Red Mackey’s place?”

  Ryan could almost hear her grimace over the connection. “Oh God, she really went there tonight, didn’t she? What happened? Is she okay? Damn it, I told her to wait until I got back.”

  Instead of answering her string of questions, Ryan asked one of his own while pacing the length of the bedroom. “What the hell were you thinking, sending her to a place like that?”

  “It’s not like I had planned for her to go by herself. I was going to make her take me along as backup.”

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t there, and neither was I,” he muttered angrily, the terror he’d felt when he’d heard Shea’s muffled screams twisting him into knots all over again. “But the bastard who broke into her apartment tonight sure as hell was.”

  “Oh shit,” she gasped, voice hollow with fear. “Tell me she’s okay, Ry. I knew something was wrong. I knew it! That’s why I’m calling so late. I went to bed early tonight, but I woke up with the worst feeling a moment ago and had to call.”

  “Derek and I took care of the asshole before he was able to do much more than scare the hell out of her.” And damn it, his hands were suddenly shaking just thinking of the few strikes Spalding had gotten in.

  Ryan wanted to go down to the station and knock him on his drunken ass all over again. Shit, what he really wanted was to beat the guy to a bloody pulp for laying his filthy hands on his woman, and it had him burning with anger that he wasn’t going to be able to do just that. He should’ve kicked the crap outta the bastard when he’d had the chance.

  Hannah’s voice brought him back to the conversation. “And so you’re spending the night with her? You’re going to stay there with her?” They both knew that what she was really saying was you’re going to sleep with her.

  “You know, as much as I love you, Hannah, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then she said, “She
a’s my best friend, Ry. She’s also not half as jaded as you and so yes, that makes it my business. I don’t want her getting hurt if you’re not willing to offer her more than a quick fuck. She deserves more than that and you know it.”

  “Just be glad I’m happy with your scheming tonight,” Ryan drawled, looking to sway the focus away from his plans for Shea and his own uneasiness about them, to Hannah and Derek, “or I might be tempted to stick my nose in your own sex life and lend old Kiely a hand with you.”

  She groaned, but ignored the loaded comment, saying instead, “Fine, I’m going to go now, but I’ll call back on Sunday before I head home. I’d call tomorrow, but I’m going to be visiting my grandmother in the hospital all day.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell Shea you called and that you’ll call on Sunday.”

  More silence, and then, “Okay. But remember what I said, Ry. Hurt her and I’m going to make you sorry. I’ll become the biggest pain in the butt you’ve ever known. It’ll be worse than that time I put fire ants in your bed after you stole my bra and sold it to that snake Peter Gaze in the sixth grade. Godzilla will be like a teddy bear compared to me. You know I love you, Ry, but somebody’s got to keep you in line. Got it?”

  The water was off now, and suddenly all he could think about was Shea’s wet, warm, dripping body—his for the taking. He gritted his teeth and muttered, “Yeah. Later, Hannah. And I love you too.”

  He hung up the phone, sprawled out on the bed, and tried not to think about how badly he wanted to sink inside of the woman about to walk through the bathroom door. Knowing he needed a distraction, he unclipped his cell phone from his belt and called in to check his voicemail at work.

  While he went through his messages, a paperback caught his attention on her bedside table. Without really thinking about it, just acting on his natural curiosity where this woman was concerned, he reached out and grabbed it, flicking through the pages with his thumb until he randomly stopped about midway through.

  The first word he saw caught his attention, but the second one nearly made his eyes bug out.

  Holy shit! Who would’ve ever thought it? Scholarly little Shea liked to read women’s erotica. How freaking stunning was that? He’d have smiled at the thought of her lying in this bed, snuggled up with her book and sexy little story…if only the thought didn’t make him fucking hard as nails.

  What did she do when she read this stuff? Did she get wet? Did she reach between her sweet, slender thighs and stroke her clit? Finger her pussy? His eyes squeezed shut while a painful torrent of erotic images burned through his brain, leaving him shaky and aching and damn near on the verge of ripping out his cock and pumping himself to some sort of peace right there and then.

  No matter how well he thought he had this woman pegged, she kept shifting the tables on him. Going to Red’s to try and pick him up. Wearing that little fuck-me dress and sandals, looking like a wet dream on legs. Reading soft-core erotica that would have made even the women at Red’s blush. Jesus, no wonder he was so damn fascinated with her.

  Five minutes later, Ryan was still halfway listening to the sound of Derek’s voice giving him an update on Spalding, while his twisted imagination tortured him with image upon image of Shea. He saw her spread-eagled on her bed, knees up, the graceful fingers of one hand holding the lips of her cunt wide while the fingers of the other stroked and dipped into that sweet little hole that his tongue had been shoved up not fifteen minutes ago.

  Oh Christ. He was trembling, a trickle of sweat dripping across his brow at the jaw-grinding visual assault, when she finally came through the door, flushed and smelling sweetly of vanilla, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten.

  Well, food at least.

  “You took long enough,” he muttered, his tone rougher than he’d intended. His eyes devoured her near-naked body while Derek’s voice became a nondescript noise in the background, his complete attention captured by Shea.

  She nearly lost her hold on her towel as she jumped a foot in the air at the husky sound of his voice. “You scared the hell out of me!” she yelped, spinning around to pin him with a glare, careful to keep the slipping towel in place. “What are you still doing here?”

  He flashed a hungry smile, holding up the book she’d last laid on her bedside table.

  Oh crap.

  Not that one.

  It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by her reading choices. No, she was woman enough to know that there was nothing wrong with indulging her sexual fantasies with the help of some well-written erotica. Nonetheless, there was something decidedly awkward about being caught in nothing but a towel, while her dream man—who had just given her head—lay there on her bed as if he were a pasha waiting for her to come and grant his sexual wishes. Desire and lust hit her hard and high, and her pussy flooded while her face and breasts flushed a deep, aroused shade of red.

  Ryan’s smile widened. “Interesting reading, honey. I never would’ve pegged you as a ‘cock’ and ‘cunt’ kind of girl, but I gotta admit I like it. I guess there are all kinds of fun things we get to learn about each other, huh?”

  She stared at him in utter frustration, torn between making a cutting comment about his snooping habits and shamelessly throwing herself at him, begging him to take her every which way he could, twenty times this side of Sunday. No—damn it, she had more pride than that! But it wasn’t easy to hold back, especially with him propped up on her pillows, his muscles bulging beneath his T-shirt and jeans in all the right places. And she really, really wanted to get her hands on that beautiful cock of his again.

  Oh, man…the things she would do with it if given half a chance. The thought was almost too tempting for her self-control, so she padded on bare feet to her dresser, determined to ignore the long, sexy body draped across her bed, apparently once again listening to someone on his cell phone. She grabbed her favorite pair of jammies and went back into the bathroom to change, thankful that he’d at least put his shirt back on and refastened his fly. The less of that magnificent, muscle-honed flesh she saw, the better—that is, if she was expected not to jump and drool all over it.

  And despite the fact that he’d been a total jerk, a part of her couldn’t help but love the sight of him in her bed. It was strange how he looked like he belonged there. While she’d brushed her teeth, she’d wondered how many times she’d lain in that bed and listened to him screwing some other woman through the connecting bedroom wall of their apartments. Since she’d moved in, how many nights had she gone to switch off her CD player with one hand while crossing the fingers of her other, praying that she wasn’t going to be treated to yet another resounding performance of ooh-ahh-mmm, bang-bang-bang?

  It’d been over a week since the last time she’d been awakened by his wall-thumping entertainment, and she was still hearing the disturbing noises in her sleep. Disturbing because of the way they affected her. Disturbing because she’d never in her life really believed a man could make a woman utter the kind of carnal sounds that no amount of drywall could contain. Disturbing because she wanted, more than anything in the world, to be the woman making those oohs and ahhs and mmms—all of which led up to the most erotic, raw sounding cries she had ever imagined.

  Of course, she’d done a fair bit of screaming tonight herself, she mused, applying a thin layer of lightly scented moisturizer to her freshly scrubbed face. She almost smiled at the thought of how she’d wailed like a banshee when he’d finally pushed her over the edge with that wicked tongue of his and she’d come all over him. Knowing her cheeks were probably crimson at the delicious memory, she carefully avoided looking in the mirror while she went about the rest of her nightly routine, rubbing moisturizer into her skin and attempting to detangle the riot of black curls she called hair.

  She didn’t want to face her ridiculous embarrassment, and she really didn’t want to be reminded of all the differences between her and the women who usually caught Ryan McCall’s eye. They always tended to be tall, where she was not, and tended to be on the s
omewhat top-heavy side of things, which she could only dream about. And, like the gorgeous stud, they took a casual attitude toward sex that she simply couldn’t comprehend. Hell, it wasn’t that she judged it, she just couldn’t get her head around how something so personal could be approached with so little meaning.

  Then again, she was one to talk. Look at her and Jimmy Prescott. When she’d begun to agonize over the fact that she was the only admitted virgin left in her acquaintance, she’d slept with Jimmy—given her virginity to the jerk—when she really didn’t know him at all. Geez, as if the night weren’t already screwed up enough as it was, she had to go and think about that nightmare. Could this get any crappier?

  When she came back out and Ryan was still there, minus the phone now, she paused in the doorway, crossed her arms, and said, “Why are you still here?”

  Lounging back on her pillows, one leg lying atop her bed while the other hung off the side, foot on the floor and knee swinging, he looked like an ad for why good girls should always take at least one turn being bad. Shea licked her lips and tried real hard not to do that drooling thing, while reminding herself that, though she liked the thought of playing the wicked little sex kitten, she obviously didn’t do it very well.

  Otherwise, she’d be having fun getting dirty, instead of having just gotten clean.

  Everything about the man made her think of hot, sweaty, mind-shattering sex. There was just something about his sinful looks and the way he held himself, the constant blaze of heat firing his gaze, which reduced to her a quivering, pulsing mass of need every damn time she set eyes on him.

  He lay there against her pillows, looking good enough to eat—and she’d love the chance to get that huge, hard, hot cock of his in her mouth for a long, lingering taste. His strong jaw was covered with the beginnings of sexy stubble, and she’d love to run her tongue along there as well, until she reached his ear and could taunt the sensitive hollow with her teasing breath. She wanted to run her tongue over his silky skin, savoring his rich, earthy flavor, filling her head with his warm, erotic scent. Actually, she’d like the chance to taste and breathe in every inch of him, from the top of his tawny head down to his two big feet.