Ashley pursed her lips in thought. “But why come after us and Uncle Jerry?” Then her eyes narrowed. “Could this have anything to do with your investigation?”
Smart woman. “I think so. Kenny found out that Hogan is missing.” Her eyes widened as he explained.
“You were right, Ron. Something happened that night and someone wants it buried.”
“While another—the sender of those letters—wants it out.” Knowing the identity of one of them might give him an edge, and that was where Ashley and what she saw that night came in.
Ashley reached out to stroke the bandage on his jaw, but she had a faraway look in her eyes. “Do you think Ryan Doyle could be doing this, Ron? You know, bringing up the unpleasant past so your mother can sell him Carlyle House instead of me?”
Doyle was ruthless, but was he the type to play games? “I can’t see him clipping words from a newspaper to make a list of names, but putting fear of God in people is definitely up his alley. I’ll run your theory by Kenny and see what he thinks.”
Talking about Ryan reminded Ron of his father and the rumors about the fire at Carlyle House, something he didn’t want to think about now. Or share with Ashley, the nagging voice in the back of his head added. He had an agenda, and it didn’t include Ashley kicking him out because she didn’t like the reason behind his investigation. He planned to explain everything to her in due course, when the time was right, preferably after she knew him better. She should be able to understand his reasoning. It was time to change the subject.
“So? Where was Matt Kirkland while you were visiting the shrink and being tailed by the biker?”
“Taking care of his mother…poor Sonya.” She quickly explained Jeremy Kirkland’s condition. “I took a taxi home.”
“So you lied when you told me Matt would give you a ride.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with me, Mr. I-bumped-into-a-door.”
He grinned. One thing he loved about her was the way she wasn’t afraid to put him in his place. Love? Whoa, where did that come from? What they had was a bond forged by a ten-year-old terrible accident and strong physical attraction.
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Have you eaten, babe?”
“No, I just got home. Didn’t have much to eat but vending machine snacks and….” She stopped and grinned, as though she’d read his thoughts. “Are you starved?”
“For weeks now,’ he answered.
“What did you have in mind? Chinese? Italian?”
Ron chuckled, lifted her up to set her on the table, then slipped between her legs. He cupped her cheeks, leaned forward to nibble her lips. “Irish,” he whispered. Then he moved to her ear and took a tiny, sensual bite. “A side order of an artist.” His hands cupped her bottom and pulled her until she was flush against him. She felt good, warm, soft yet firm. “A main course of a delicious mural painter with double scoop of decadent,” his gaze dropped to her cleavage, “strawberry dessert.”
She giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered, “Hmm, I think I’m going to thoroughly enjoy this meal.” Then she locked her lips with his.
CHAPTER 11
Ron allowed her be the aggressor for about five seconds. Then he took charge of her mouth, her senses, every breath she took. Vibrant, strong, bending her backward and not hiding his needs, his kiss drew out every yearning buried deep in her heart. Breathing became difficult. But then again, who needed oxygen.
Blood roaring in her ears, warmth unfurling in her belly, Ashley let her palate savor his taste, a mixture of mint and coffee. Her mouth danced and mated with his, her body welcomed the smoldering heat they were generating. It was their first kiss all over again. The falling apart feeling, the helplessness and the need so great she felt like screaming.
When he finally moved from her lips to the side of her face, she took in achy breaths. The sharp clean smell of his musky aftershave slammed into her, further weakening her. She pressed closer, needing his strength.
“Ron? I feel…I’m uh….”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest, pulsing through her. “I feel it too, baby,” he whispered against her sensitized skin.
His hand moved to her hair tumbling down her back. He gripped the strands, tugged her head back and trailed his hot lips along the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. Ashley’s arms dropped from his neck to brace herself against the table top, but his arm cradled her, pulled her closer.
His clever hands were gentle yet firm, his body hard and hot. She squirmed, wanting to get closer, to feel his skin against hers. She fisted his T-shirt and yanked it from his pants. She moved lower, found the area where the shirt ended and skin began, skimmed over smooth, velvet skin draped over lean muscles. A groaned escaped him, then he went still.
Please don’t stop now. I don’t think I can stand it. Her heavy-lidded eyes opened, then narrowed with confusion. Did she do something wrong? “Ron?”
“Take it off.” His gaze, hot and fierce, drifted to the buttons in front of her dress, then connected with hers again. His fingers continued to stroke her arms, but something devilish danced in the depth of his black eyes. “Slowly, Ashley. One button at a time.”
What did he want from her? Total surrender? That was something she’d never contemplate doing with any other man. Ever since their telephone conversation, when she acknowledged her growing feelings for him, she thought of nothing else but making love with him, surrendering to their passion. A hot, no-strings-attached, fun affair was what she intended to have with this man. When it was over, and there was no doubt it would be, she wasn’t going to have one iota of regret.
She licked her lips. “Why don’t you do it your…?”
He cut off her protest with a marauding kiss until she was clinging to him, gasping and panting. “I want you to offer yourself to me,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “Freely.”
His words, something in the timbre of his voice, told her the request was important to him. Her desire to please kicked in. She exhaled through parted lips and gazed at him from under the canopy of her lashes, as she slowly undid a button, then another and another. The buttons went all the way to the middle of her thighs, but she had no intention of going that far. Just to her belly button. She was experienced enough to know how to tantalize a man.
As more skin came into view, his breathing quickened. Good thing she had deliberately not worn a bra. Her fingers skimmed lazily over her exposed neck, chest, followed the lapel of her dress to the swells of her breasts. She paused, then nudged the dress apart so her breasts spilled out. A four-letter word escaped Ron’s lips. The savagery in his tone sent excitement pulsing through her body.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was low and ragged. He cupped the undersides of her breasts and buried his face in her chest.
His hot, seeking mouth and questing hands were everywhere. Her nipples pebbled before he could touch them, begging for attention. When he took them between his thumb and forefinger and gently teased them, her body jerked and shuddered. His mouth replaced his fingers and she buckled, her senses throbbing, liquid heat heading straight between her legs. For a while, she did nothing but hang on to him.
One of his hands followed the curves of her body and landed on her knee. Her thighs trembled with anticipation. He pushed the dress up, stroked her inner thigh and murmured, “Silk, so soft,” and inched higher. His eyes, bottomless pools of desire and wickedness, sought hers. “Open up, sweetheart,” he ordered roughly. “I want to touch you, feel you.”
Ashley released a shaky breath. At this rate, he was going to push her over the edge in no time. Her fingers dug into his flesh. Not to stop him. She wouldn’t dare. Her legs spread, willingly accommodating him.
He pushed the soaking lace of the G-string panties out of the way and touched her. Instinctively, Ashley closed her quivering thighs around his hand. Growling an unintelligible command under his breath, he grabbed the back of one knee, pushed her leg up until her heel rested on
the table. Before she could protest, he was cupping her, stroking her, sliding a finger inside her.
“Ron?” she gasped.
“Let me please you,” he mumbled, then his mouth claimed hers, urgently, possessively.
Her inhibitions dissipated. Ashley writhed and rocked against his hand. Every single muscle and bone in her body was in tune with the movement of his fingers. The exquisite double assault on her senses—his tongue in her mouth, his fingers in her lower lips, stroking, teasing, giving—were too much. Vibrant colors exploded behind her close eyes and a sob rose from deep inside her as her body fell apart.
His mouth swallowed her sob, his tongue stroking her inner cheeks. His fingers eased out of her, gripped her panties and yanked. The flimsy material ripped.
“Ron,” she protested weakly.
“Never liked my presents wrapped,” was his growled excuse.
Her leg slipped from the table top as she bunched his T-shirt and tried to peel it off his body. “Take it off,” she whispered, repeating his earlier words.
He gave a brief laugh and helped her with the shirt then pushed down his pants and underwear and bared himself to her.
Ashley blinked, tried not to stare, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his magnificent form. He was thick, long, hard…perfect. A strange wildness rose inside of her. She reached out, sheathed him with her hand and squeezed.
“Yes,” Ron gasped out with pleasure, tremors raking his powerful frame. “Harder.”
She became bolder, stroked him, loving the warm, hard length of him. She wondered what he would taste like. To feel his long, thick length in her mouth. It would be a major accomplishment to make him writhe under her teasing mouth. Maybe later. Not maybe, definitely later.
She scooted her bottom forward, leaned back and rested her heel on the table top, where he’d placed it earlier, and offered herself to him. Openly and freely, just as he’d asked.
For a moment, he stared at her, right there between her legs, and licked his lips. “Ooh, beautiful.” He pulled his wallet from the pocket of his pants and yanked out a condom. He ripped it open and sheathed himself. Kissing her deeply and hard, his hands reached around her to grab her buttocks. He locked her gaze with his, then thrust inside of her. She gasped at the exquisite intrusion, grabbing his arms for support. A rough groan escaped his lip.
He filled her so perfectly tears gathered in her eyes. It felt right too. He started to rock inside her, slowly, lazily. Pulling and plunging to the hilt. Her hips rose, found his rhythm and matched it. The more he gave, the more she wanted and gave. She pressed her face on his chest, inhaled his musky scent and savored the salty taste on his skin. Her hands stroked his sweaty back, shoulders. When that wasn’t enough, she dug her nails in his muscles, clawed at him and urged him on.
His movements became more urgent, deeper and rougher. The sensation, exquisite and overwhelming, slammed into her, drove her a little crazy. She sunk her teeth on his shoulder. Bore down hard enough that he let out a guttural cry.
He became frantic, bracing her legs against his shoulders and forcing her to lean back and prop her body with her elbows against the table. Almost folding her completely in on herself, he made love to her as if possessed. A man in need of a fix. It was wild, exhilarating. The crest, when it hit, swept her away and elicited another wail from deep inside her. Her nether muscles contracted around him, and his triumphant yell joined hers.
***
Blood ceased to roar in his ears and his trembling body returned to something resembling normal, but Ron still didn’t want to move. Couldn’t move. His gut ached and his legs were barely holding him up.
He turned his head to study Ashley’s face—her eyes closed, lashes black against her rosy skin, lips soft and swollen. Her trembling body, lush, delicate, curved perfectly and naturally against his. A feeling he could only identify as panic sliced through him. He didn’t try to dwell on it, but knew it had to do with the way she’d made him lose himself. So soon, so explosive, so exquisite. He’d known sex would be different with her, but this…this couldn’t compare to anything he’d ever experienced.
He gave the bite mark on his shoulder a brief glance and grinned. Feisty little thing she was, a perfect match for him. The smile disappeared from his lips. He, on the other hand, was the uncouth maniac. So turned on he hadn’t bothered to wait for them to get totally undressed before pounding into her.
Her luscious breasts were still spilling over her partially unbuttoned dress, the nipples tight and rosy. Like tiny strawberries. Her panties were ruined, his pants still trapped around his ankles. He’d behaved like an adolescent at his first sexual encounter. No wonder she didn’t want to open her eyes and look at him.
He kissed her closed eyelids, moved along her cheek until he reached her mouth. She opened up and let him in. So giving, just like a few minutes ago. He deepened the kiss, desire pulsating through him, his body needing hers again.
He eased off the kiss. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You’ll eventually have to open your eyes and look at me.”
She didn’t say anything, just sighed. Ron scowled. He never had to question the way he handled a woman during sex, yet the way she was clamming up on him was disconcerting. Had he been too rough with her? He didn’t think so. They’d both craved it, needed it fast and furious. The marks on his back were proof enough.
“Ashley, look at me,” he meant to order her, but it came out sounding more like a plea.
A smile touched her lips, then her eyes opened. She reached up and touched his cheek, his lips, moved lower to press against his heart. “Hey,” she sighed.
The look in her eyes, the gentle caress darn near did him in. For a brief moment, he was seventeen again, vulnerable, searching for love and acceptance. “Hey to you too. Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
He studied her expression; saw that she was avoiding eye contact. He was never the one to initiate conversation after lovemaking. Never stuck around long enough for it to be an issue, but with Ashley, it bothered him that he couldn’t tell what was going on in her head.
“About?” he asked.
She kissed his shoulder. “Hurting you. I didn’t mean to.”
Something shifted inside him. He studied her face. Her hazel eyes, dilated, gazed back at him, her lower lip swollen from their kisses. There was so much love here, so much tenderness. The thought sent an urgent craving through his heart.
“Don’t apologize. I’ll wear it with pride.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Want to see more?”
She reached out and stroked his chin, around his mouth, then ran a finger across his mouth. “Quit teasing.”
He kissed her finger. “I think every bruise on my body deserves a kiss, but first….” He eased off her, toed off his shoes and socks and stepped out of his pants and underwear. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms went about his shoulders for support, as he scooped his wallet and lifted her off the table. He walked with her to the leather lounge, just like they had earlier, and sat down, her legs straddling his hips. “We’ll start with you.”
She drew in a great breath of air, her eyes widening. “Me?”
“Oh, yes.” He intended to love her slowly, pay more attention to her beautiful breasts, taste every inch of her. He peeled her dress off her body and paused to scowl at the red lace that was once her panties. “I think I was a little rough earlier.”
She glanced down then flashed a grin. “That’s debatable.”
Her quirky humor pleased him. He cupped the undersides of her breasts and flicked his thumbs over the nipples. “Sorry about that. I’ll buy you dozens,” he shot her a hooded look, “but I can’t promise not to rip them off you.”
She grinned. “You don’t see me complaining, do you?”
He laughed. “I like you, Ashley Fitzgerald.” She made him laugh, drove him crazy as hell with her stubbornness, and had somehow stormed past his defenses and touched him like no other woma
n had. He didn’t know if he was falling in love with her, just knew she was special.
He nudged her back until she was lying back on the lounge, his body nestled between her legs. He shifted his weight to one elbow, then studied her lush body. She had the kind of curves a man could feast on for hours, days. He ran a finger down her side. “You have a beautiful body.”
“You too.” She ran her palm along the tattoo on his upper arm, his shoulder, came down his chest and continued lower.
“Uh-ah, you don’t want do that,” he warned.
“What am I supposed to do with my hands?”
“Nothing. Or better yet, hold on to my head while I lick your satiny skin, feast on your juices and make you come, over and over.” He wanted her to forget her name, wail his.
“Oh,” was all she said.
He bent his head and gave her a slow kiss. Then his mouth wandered down to close around a pebbled nipple. She arched her back and hummed under her breath as he suckled it. “You taste so good.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her body quivered, her hands skimmed over his broad shoulders, then through his hair. She gripped his head, offered him her other nipple. He took his time, poured all his desires, feelings and experience into pleasing her.
When he drifted lower to her quivering belly, her scent, feminine and heady, slammed into him. He savored her lush curves, succulent skin. It was killing him not to claim her again, but he held on, determined to prolong the foreplay. By the time he inched his way up her inner thighs, she was chanting his name.
She gave out a cry of pleasure when his mouth finally locked on the moist center between her thighs. Her body rose off the lounge to meet him. The taste of her, the perfection of her silken flesh nearly drove him out of his mind. When she buckled, writhed and screamed her way to a shuddering climax, he didn’t stop licking and lapping, giving her more.
Slow Burn Page 16
