The muted light from her lamp played across his rugged features and golden scrub of hair, the short strands rakishly disheveled from where he continually ran his hands through them. At the moment, one hand rested on his hard abdomen, fingers idly stroking, making her wish they were her own, the other propped behind his head, causing the hard muscles in his arm to bulge, stretching the seams of his T-shirt.
It seemed that everywhere she looked, he bulged with long, lean muscles, his body a mesmerizing work of art in the soft light and shadows. What would it feel like to be at the mercy of all that magnificent power and strength? To feel the delicious weight of his body against her own, those hard muscles pressing her down, holding her at his mercy as he pounded into her, losing control and giving her everything he could? His powerful physique intoxicated her with its masculine beauty, and the bastard knew it. His high cheekbones were hot with the flush of arousal, and the telling expression on his handsome face said he was only too aware of how he affected her, the cocky lift at the corner of his silky lips a testament to his arrogance.
God, he wasn’t even doing anything, was just lying there, for crying out loud, and she still couldn’t tear her eyes away. Everything about him was a seduction and a sin, from the thick ridge of his cock beneath the worn denim of his jeans, to the look in his eyes that once again said he wanted to take her hard and rough and deep.
He scooted down, making himself more comfortable, his blue eyes traveling over her, the heated look in them telling her he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It also said he liked what he saw.
Well, at least that much had changed, she thought with a wry groan. He no longer looked right through her, but seemed to take notice of the fact she was a woman. The knowledge of just how much evidence he had of that fact made her want to start blushing again, but she managed to fight back the telling action and repeated her question. “Why are you still here, Ry?”
Instead of answering her, he smiled and said, “You sure as hell took enough time to clean up.” He hated the unfamiliar thread of need in his voice, but there was no help for it. Just looking at her made his pulse race—his heart pump like a son-of-a-bitch. Damn it, he was needy, because he sure as hell needed her, and that should have had him running like hell, instead of planting his ass in her bed as if he never planned on getting back out of it. “You know, you can scrub all you want, Shea—but I don’t wash away that easily.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she drawled too sweetly, clearly still pissed with him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
His stomach growled at him, reminding him he was hungry, but she didn’t look as if she were going to offer up the use of her kitchen for a midnight snack. A midnight fuck would be even better, but he didn’t think that was going to be an option either. He’d pissed her off, but good, with his weird little moment of panic back there, and she sure as hell didn’t look like she was in the mood to be forgiving. Not that he could blame her.
Christ, she’d had one hell of a night, and he sure as shit hadn’t helped the situation.
And he couldn’t help but smile at her spunk, finding her too adorable for words standing there in her threadbare shorts and shirt, glaring at him as if he were a bug she was getting ready to squash. “Hannah called while you were in the shower. Said she’d call back on Sunday.”
Shea’s answering smile felt tight, as if her face might crack with tension any second now. “Great. Thanks for the message. Now you can go.”
“I’m not leaving you alone after you were physically assaulted, nearly raped, and have a front door that’s busted open.” His posture was casual, completely belying the hard-edged tone of his voice.
Well, when he put it like that, maybe she really didn’t want to be alone tonight after all. She was, however, going to sleep alone. “Fine then, but you sleep on the couch.”
He glanced at his watch, and then leveled another heated look on her, one she felt all the way to her toes. “It’s still early for me—for a Friday night,” he replied casually, as if they found themselves in this exact, bizarre situation all the time.
“Yeah, well, it’s late for me, Ry.”
For a split second he looked as if he’d argue, but then his eyes found the bruise on her cheek and he apparently changed his mind. Rolling off the bed, he grabbed the throw she had folded across the bottom. When he reached her side, he tilted her chin toward him with the edge of his fist, waiting for her questioning gaze to meet his steady blue one. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”
Shea blinked, trying to hide the fact that she did—but he was already gone.
Chapter Five
The first thing Ryan realized when he opened his eyes to the early morning sunlight streaming through the slanted blinds was that he wasn’t on the couch.
The second was that he was in her bed.
Shea’s bed.
Holy fucking shit! He took two deep breaths while he struggled to ignore the feel of her all but wrapped around him, and searched for the memory that explained why his ass wasn’t where he’d planted it last night…after eating her out…and then being a total ass and pissing her off.
It took him a few moments, but he finally got it. He’d awakened sometime around three to the sound of Shea crying out in her sleep, and like the pathetic idiot he was, he’d come in here to make sure she was okay and ended up holding her until she fell asleep again. Only he’d obviously fallen asleep too, and now look at him.
He had two really bad friggin’ problems here, the first being that the intoxicating woman whose bed he was in was all but tied in a knot with him. The second was even worse because it meant that it was about damn time he faced up to the truth and stopped lying to himself.
Despite his reservations, and the complications he knew it would cause, he was more than ready to physically involve himself with the delectable Shea Dresden in every possible way there was, no matter how much shit it landed him in. There was no physical domain on that gorgeous body of hers that he didn’t long to dominate and control, explore and exploit.
If the size and stiffness of his morning wood was any indication, he was in some serious fucking trouble here. The fact that she was resting one hand low on his abs, just to the right of his raging hard-on, definitely didn’t help the situation. And the fact that one of his own hands had wedged itself snugly between her soft, slender thighs, while his other arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, cradling her face against his chest, was even worse.
Hell, he’d slept with scores of women, but it’d never felt like this. Usually waking up in a woman’s bed made him edgy, tense, and eager for escape. It did not make him want to hold her closer and fall back asleep with her in his arms, or better yet, wake her up with a soft, sleepy morning ride. Why was Shea so damn different? Why did she fit against him as if it were exactly where she belonged? And why was he worrying about a way to convince her to let him stay instead of doing the usual and getting the hell out of there?
With each breath she drew in, her soft breasts crushed against his ribcage, and the exquisite torture was quickly triggering a painful throbbing right in the core of his cock. The urge to press his hand higher between her thighs, until his fingers were investigating her sweet, sleep-soft cunt had him groaning aloud.
The deep rumble echoed through his chest, and Ryan watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Shea softly began to stir. She stretched lazily, like a well-rested kitten, making him smile. To his immense relief and utter frustration, it moved her down in the bed, until his hand nestled right against the heated juncture of her thighs.
Oh hell.
He could feel the warmth of her cunt through the thin barrier of her jersey shorts, the same cunt he’d had his face shoved into just about seven hours ago, and his body shuddered in reaction. His fingers flexed, moving against the swollen cleft, and he knew she hadn’t bothered to wear panties beneath the soft material. Christ, just a shred of insubstantial cotton and he’d be touching warm, wet pussy. His nostrils flar
ed, sweat broke out across his brow, and his jaw locked. He struggled to keep his fingers still, when all he really wanted was to push the crotch of her shorts aside and feel her against his skin.
It was a jaw-grinding, physical ache not to press between them, to seek out her pulsing, swollen clit and stroke her until she came like a warm flood against his hand. Screwing his eyes shut, he imagined sinking his finger deep into that narrow slit again, feeling it squeeze him so tight. Then he’d sink in another, tongue her nipples until she relaxed around him, and force her to take three, stretching her until there was a chance in hell he’d be able to work his cock up into her. Then he’d plow hard and deep until his balls were jammed up against her ass and his cock-head was nudging the back of her throat.
Ryan felt his balls tighten, the first few drops of cum seeping from his slit, and realized with a muffled curse that he was about to explode just from thinking about fucking her. He groaned, feeling like a thirteen-year-old boy waking up in the tumultuous throes of a wrenchingly wicked wet dream. He wanted to laugh and swear and bang his head against the blasted wall all at the same time.
And he really wanted to screw the brains out of the pretty little imp lying in his arms.
Her eyelids flickered with movement, a rapid beat of long lashes against creamy skin, and then she was looking up at him, her gaze cloudy and unfocused from sleep. There were lines of uncertainty between her finely arched brows, but sensual interest beginning to burn bright in her eyes. “What are you doing?” she asked in a husky murmur.
“Nothing at the moment,” he drawled. “If you want to keep it that way, I suggest you move your hand.”
Shea smiled, looking like the cat that’d just swallowed the canary, feathers and all. “Yeah? Where do you think I should move it?”
He gave up the fight and nudged his cock into her, hitting her hip, letting her feel how massive she’d made him. “Hell, it really must’ve been too long for you if you can’t figure that one out on your own, sugar.”
Shea stared up at him, awed by the smoldering blue of his heavy-lidded gaze and the strong jaw covered in dark golden stubble, both of which took his already irresistible good looks to the point of overkill. He was just so damn sexy—it was hell on a girl’s resolve not to fall all over him.
His hand moved against her, his thumb sliding beneath the edge of her shorts, stroking the naked lips of her pussy as they grew slicker and slicker for him. Her breath caught on a sharp gasp and he smiled. “You really do need to be fucked, don’t you?”
Not by just anyone, she thought with a delicious shiver. Only by you.
But she was going to be damned before she let him screw her for the sake of charity, like it was his duty as a guy to make sure she got her sex fix. Men, she screamed inside her head, rolling out of the bed before he could grab hold of her.
“I’m not interested in a pity fuck, Ry. So thanks—but no thanks. I guess I’ll just keep waiting until I find a man who wants me as much as I want him.”
“Like hell you will,” he snarled, rolling out of the bed, his boxers tenting high and hard in front of him, drawing her eyes against her will.
She tried to look away, but Jesus—what woman in her right mind wouldn’t stare at that thing when it was being so brilliantly displayed?
Shea just kept staring while he stood there, fighting an internal struggle she knew nothing about, but as soon as he started around the end of the bed, straight toward her, she started backing up. Back, back, back, until she came up hard against the wall in the same damn place she’d been last night when he’d gone down on her. When he’d showed her that whatever measly pleasure she’d managed to give herself over the years was nothing compared to what Ryan McCall could deliver.
Knowing the question was as asinine as it sounded, she asked it anyway. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You offered me a fuck last night,” he rasped, the husky sound scraping delicately across her skin, leaving chills in its wake. “Now I’m taking you up on it.”
Shea lifted her chin, trying to ignore the rush of heat flooding between her legs, readying her body for his, softening her cunt for the thick penetration of that massive cock in his shorts. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ry, I changed my mind. You’re being an ass and I’d rather screw a snake.”
Shit, he knew he was being an ass, but what other option did he have? There was too much at stake here—too much of him at risk—and this dick-of-the-year attitude was his last shred of defense between sanity and falling headfirst into an emotional unknown that he feared as much as he craved. An unknown that had him completely at this woman’s mercy, his heart hers to do with as she pleased, until she finally told him to fuck off and get lost. And then where would he be?
Uh-uh…no way, he growled, but his body wasn’t listening. It just kept moving in on her, ready to take everything it had wanted and had been denied for too damn long.
He reached her right on the ending consonant, grabbing her wrists and jerking them above her head in a thrilling action of control that excited her more than she could comfortably admit. But damn, it was hard to stay angry when his big, beautiful, half-naked body was pressing into her, making it blatantly obvious he could crush her if he wanted—not to mention anything else that came to mind.
“A snake, huh? Well, that’s too damn bad, Shea, because you’re going to be screwing me.”
She knew it was useless, but she struggled against the restraint of her wrists, her wriggling body only making his that much harder, and had her baby doll tee rising up her torso in the process. “Nice try, Ry, but I know you’d never force me.”
His smile was slow and sweet and sexy. “Who said anything about forcing you, sugar? By the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be beggin’ for it.”
She bucked with all her strength, but he didn’t budge. “Oh, get off of me, you ass! I may want to fuck you, Ry, but not when you’re being a jerk!”
“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers, sweetheart.”
Her eyes flashed with equal parts fury and hunger, as hot and violent as lightning. “Fuck you.”
He winced on the inside, knowing he deserved that one, but was nowhere near being able to control the stream of crap pouring out of his mouth. His defenses had fallen into instinctual battle mode, ready to do or say whatever it took to keep this woman at a distance, while all his body could think about was getting into her. As deep into her as he could go. His heart wanted the same damn thing, and that was the bitch of the situation right there. The more his body and heart wanted her—hungered for her with every fiber and facet of his being—the harder his defenses struggled against it.
He leaned down and licked the side of her neck, just beneath her ear. “Do I hear a pretty please?”
Her mouth opened, but whatever cutting comeback she’d had ready to hurl back in his face got swallowed down his throat instead. It was an instant possession, so thorough she could barely breathe, but then air suddenly didn’t seem nearly as necessary as his tongue and taste and lips devouring her own.
Her head spun with every delicious stroke of his tongue, each deliberate nip of his teeth. There was no way to find herself in such a vicious rush of sensation, the raging pulse of pleasure throbbing within her, centered between her trembling legs. Then she felt her body braced up high against the wall, Ryan’s hot hands slipping beneath her shorts to grip her naked bottom, his hips pushing insistently between her legs, spreading them to make room for him.
“Fuck,” he growled, not knowing if it was a curse or an order and too hard to care. All that mattered was getting inside of her as soon as possible, and he couldn’t even wait until they made it back over to the bed. He had to be crammed up into her fist-tight little cunt right then, that very second. Had to feel it milking him of every drop he had, releasing the agonizing pressure in his cum-filled balls.
Without hesitation, he pushed the waistband of his boxers down. Shoving the loose crotch of her shorts out of his way, his h
and moved between her legs, two thick fingers digging deeply into her pussy, wringing a guttural cry from her lips, a sound she’d never imagined she could make. The rush of need was instantaneous, as if they’d been going hard and heavy at the foreplay for hours instead of only just rolling out of bed. And it was strong enough to force its way past the anger, transforming that volatile emotion into an even more powerful craving.
Who in the hell could stay pissed when they were about to be taken up against the wall by the sexiest, most desirable man they’d ever known? The one who’d invaded her heart and wasn’t budging from the claim he’d made there?
Shea knew she sure as hell couldn’t.
She felt his body tighten, his muscles going taut, and then her legs were caught over his strong forearms. His hands found her ass again, fingers biting into the delicate flesh as he pulled the soft globes apart, opening her even more. She jerked in his arms, completely at his mercy, and then the broad, blunt head of his cock was nudging against her drenched slit, pressing within. At the hot feel of his naked flesh, she froze in his arms, eyes shocked wide.
“Wh-what…” she gasped, trying to think over the roaring of her blood, “what about protection?”
Apparently, he’d forgotten about it, along with his claim to make her beg, and while she wasn’t reminding him about the latter, she needed to address the former.
His defenses in shambles, destroyed by the necessity of having her right where he wanted her, Ryan barely held himself back from thrusting—the hot, wet feel of her cunt gripping the head of his dick nearly driving him over the edge. “You’re not on the pill?” he demanded with a rough growl, unable to believe he was getting ready to pound into her without a rubber. Hell, if she hadn’t stopped him, he’d already be buried deep without even having thought about it.
Against the Wall Page 7
