“I live about a half a mile from here. Would you like to walk or should I call for a taxi?”
“Walking would be nice. I’d like to see where you grew up.”
As they strolled hand in hand Ryan spoke to a shop owner, introduced her to a former high school teacher and her husband. Others waved or called out to him. It was a community proud of their home-grown boy done well.
“You love living here, don’t you?”
“What’s not to love? And I’ve known nothing else.”
“Never thought of moving on up? The super-neurosurgeon who outgrew his roots?”
“No, here suits me just fine.”
And it did. What was it like to be that secure in those around you that you knew you belonged?
They walked down a small hill that had a line of new-looking condos that had not been constructed to look so modern that they didn’t blend with the rest of the buildings along the waterfront. At the one closest to the East River, Ryan stopped in front of a door stained a dark color. He fished in his pocket and pulled out keys.
“You live here?” Lucy made no effort to hide her amazement. “What a beautiful spot.” Across the East River was Lower Manhattan with all its enormous buildings, including those around Wall Street.
“Come on in,” Ryan said as he opened the door. “Our Chinese should be here soon. We’ll eat out on the deck.”
He led her straight through the living room, stopping long enough to flip on a light in the kitchen before they went out a glass door to a deck. It ran the length of the condo out the back and had a privacy fence separating him from his neighbor. There was a small table with two chairs and an oversized and wide lounge that faced the city.
“I think we timed it just right for dinner and a show.”
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a skeptical look. “So you’re sticking with that story?”
“I am.”
“We eat and then the light show begins.”
The doorbell buzzed. “That will be our supper.”
While Ryan was gone, Lucy looked across the river, watching the shadows begin to fall across the buildings and the orange of the western sky become the backdrop. Ryan had a lovely place to live.
He returned with two paper bags filled with wonderful-smelling food. “I thought we’d have a picnic. Eat out of the boxes. Share.” Going back inside, he brought out two glasses and a bottle of wine. With minimal effort he opened the bottle and poured them both drinks. He then pulled boxes and other items out of the sacks and placed them on the table. “Have a seat.”
She pulled out a chair and sat. “Is there a fork?”
“Fork! There are no forks with Chinese food.” He grinned at her as he picked up chopsticks covered in paper and handed them to her with a flair of a magician. “Have any experience?”
“A little.”
“I’ll help you.” He opened a box of rice, pushed it toward her and opened another for himself. A larger container with chicken and broccoli he placed between them. He stripped the paper off the chopsticks and manipulated them like a pro between his lean fingers. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The dexterity he used to do delicate brain surgery would lend itself to using chopsticks to eat.
She followed suit with the chopsticks but her ability was much more hit and miss than his. Ryan laughed when she must have looked like a snapping turtle going after a morsel before it fell back into the box.
“You’re going to starve at that rate and I’m going to look like a poor host. Let me help.” He scooted closer and offered her a bite on the end of his chopsticks.
She continued to make efforts of her own while he filled in between them. Over one offering she looked up and found him looking at her intently. It was heady to be the center of his attention. One who loved those he cared about so totally. She could be overwhelmed by his magnetism with little effort on his part.
Ryan looked away, breaking the moment, and dropped his chopsticks into an empty container. He stood and put out his hand. “Come on, we’re going to miss the show.”
She put her palm against his and stood. He led her to the lounger. Letting go of her hand, he settled into the chair and stretched out his long legs. “Join me.” He patted the space next to him.
The lounge should have been large enough for two but with Ryan’s size it seemed far too small. “There’s not enough room for both of us. I’ll just pull a chair over here.”
“I’ll make room.” He scooted over as if he planned to give her plenty of room. “The show’s much better from here.”
She sat alongside him. They touched from shoulder to foot. She pulled her coat closer around her. He picked up a blanket from beside the chair and spread it over their legs. “Lift your head.” She did so and he slid an arm behind her neck, resting his hand on her shoulder. He tucked her closer. “Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No, you’re not. You’re as tight as a guitar string.”
She shifted and found a more comfortable position.
“You know, if you keep that up this may not remain just a light show between friends.”
She stiffened. What had she been thinking to agree to this?
Ryan chuckled. “I’m kidding. I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want me to.”
Hadn’t he kept his word so far? The problem was, she wanted him to do plenty. Settling next to him and clasping her hands in her lap, she looked at the horizon. The lights of the city began to flicker on. “Oh, this is amazing. I just saw the lights on the top of the Chrysler Building come on.”
“It’s beautiful.” He fingered the tail of her braid, which was lying against her arm.
“Thanks for sharing this with me. It’s everything you said it was.”
“You’re welcome.”
They continued to watch until the kaleidoscope of colors from the buildings reflected off the water. Could anything be more wonderful than being in Ryan’s arms and watching the sun set to a beautiful light show?
“Wow, this view is something. You must be in demand as a date for this alone.”
“So you think my sex appeal is location-related?” He spoke so close to her ear that his warm breath brushed her skin.
She kept her focus on the lights of the city. “I think you’re fishing for a compliment.”
“Maybe. I thought I told you that I don’t bring people home.”
“By people, do you mean women?”
“Yes. Women. You’re the only woman who has ever shared my view.”
She sat up and twisted around so she could look down at him. “Why?”
His fingers played with the end of her braid, which now fell over one breast. His look met hers. “Because,” he said, his voice low, “you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to share it with.” Wrapping a hand around the mass of hair, he tugged gently, bringing her down to him. His hand cupped her head as he guided her mouth to his. His breath brushed her lips. “I’m going to kiss you. It won’t be a friendly kiss. If you don’t want this, you need to tell me to stop now.”
“The O’Doherty way? A gentleman always.” Her lips touched his.
He pulled her head closer, slanting his mouth and taking the kiss deeper. His tongue found the seam of her lips and demanded entrance. When she didn’t immediately open he pulled back and placed small searching kisses along her bottom lip. He shifted her until she lay along him. Her body followed the contours of his.
Did heaven feel like this?
When the bill of her cap hit him in the forehead she reached up and pulled it off.
He ran his hand down her braid. “I love your hair. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to touch it.”
She reached to remove the band. What little light there was spilled out from the kitchen.
“No, don’t. I want to be the one who sets it free.” His voice had gone low and gruff, creating tingles inside her.
Gently he removed the band from the end. He drew a finger between the se
ctions of the braid, slowly releasing them as if he were opening a present he’d been eager to see for weeks. His sure, precise movements told of his skill as a surgeon. What she did to her hair every day he turned into a sensual experience.
“I know of no one who has hair as beautiful as yours.” He fanned his fingers out and ran them over her head, finishing the job. The waves fell about her shoulders and flowed around them. Filling his hands, Ryan watched in fascination as it spilled between his fingers. He brought a long lock to his cheek, sliding it across his skin.
His mouth returned to hers and this time when he asked, she opened. His tongue entered, savored, sipped and swirled, while his hands burrowed into her hair to hold her head.
She squirmed.
“Easy, honey. We have all night if you wish.” His tone was low and soothing but the tension in his body and the ridge below her hip said he was just as aroused as she was.
Her hands traveled up his chest and wrapped around his neck. Her mouth came down to his, then tugged on his bottom lip before she pressed her mouth firmly against his, letting him know just how much she desired him.
His hands spread her hair out along her back and moved to her waist. He ran a hand under her coat and lightly grazed the inch of bare skin separating her shirt from her pants.
She shivered.
He released her mouth and kissed his way across her cheek to nuzzle behind her ear. His hands glided over the hyper-sensitive skin of her back.
She moaned.
“You like that, do you?” He nuzzled her again while his hands pushed her shirt upwards. He released her bra, his fingertips grazing the under-curve of her breast.
She flinched at the shock of sensation that rocketed through her. His fingertips were prickling heat and softest torture as they trailed over her skin.
“Lift up, honey.”
“We can’t do this here?”
“Why not?” He hushed her opposition by bringing his mouth to hers and giving her another mind-altering kiss. “Are you cold?”
If he continued to kiss her like that, she’d do anything he wanted. She arched her back, allowing him to push her coat away. The movement brought her center into intimate contact with his rigid manhood.
Ryan O’Doherty wanted her. Her.
“Put your hands on my shoulders.”
She did so and he stripped her shirt and bra away. Before she could lower her arms his mouth found a nipple. His lips dropped away with infinite slowness. His actions and the cold air touching her sensitive tip caused her to shudder.
His low chuckle was one of pure male satisfaction.
She hadn’t recovered from the honeyed moment before Ryan showed the same mind-blowing attention to the other breast. His hands skimmed her waist then flowed leisurely upwards until his hands cupped both breasts. He lifted, and weighed them.
They’d changed while she’d carried Emily. Would he mind?
“Perfection,” he murmured, before he kissed the tip of each one again.
Not recovered from his devotion, she sucked in a swift breath when his hands skimmed downwards and dipped below the waist of her jeans while he left kisses across her breasts. She whimpered.
“More?”
“Mmm.” She sounded entirely too sensual even to her own ears. Ryan was making her feel more than she’d ever felt before and he’d done little more than kiss her.
She brought her hands down to his chest. He shifted so they lay facing each other and continued to fondle her breasts as if he found them extremely fascinating. She was grateful he couldn’t see them well. They weren’t as firm or high as they had been before Emily.
Her hand slid down to the edge of his sweater to play with the hem.
“You can touch me,” Ryan said before he nipped at her earlobe. “In fact, I wish you would,” he said as he found her mouth again.
She accepted his invitation and slid her hands under his pullover. It was warm there but his T-shirt still created a barrier. Touching skin was her goal.
Ryan must have heard her groan of frustration because he let go of her and pulled his jacket off and then his sweater. Jerked his shirt from his waistband. “I might lose my mind before you get up the nerve.”
“I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
He leaned back so that he could look at her face. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”
“No, but it’s been a long time. I wasn’t the girl with the most boyfriends.”
A soft smile of satisfaction came to his lips. “I’m surprised there weren’t hundreds.” She gave him her best “I don’t believe that” look, which he answered with another kiss.
“Honey, the only thing you can do wrong is not do.” His lips went to her collarbone and moved lower.
She ran her hand under his shirt and upwards until he was forced to remove it too. “That’s better,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Cold?”
“No. How about you?”
“Mmm. No.”
Ryan went willingly towards her. The touch of her breasts against his bare chest almost ended any further foreplay. Her hair dropped around them like a silk curtain.
He had to have her. Soon.
Her hands fluttered over his skin, creating tiny points of pleasure as they went, but he wanted more. That shyness that he’d seen earlier had returned. It intrigued him that someone so sure of herself in some areas was so completely insecure in others. Cupping Lucy’s bottom, he brought her snugly against his manhood, letting her know clearly what she was doing to him.
Lucy flexed in answer, making his heartbeat rise, his blood pound in his head. Her lips found his chest as if she’d discovered the perfect playground. Her cheek rested just far enough above his torso for her to rub against his chest hair. Her warm breath blew gently against his skin, driving his desire higher. The fascination and pleasure she found in him was like balm to his damaged heart.
Ryan stroked along the waistband of her jeans. Each time he dipped beneath he was rewarded with a hitch in her breathing. He brushed her hair away from her face so that he could watch as she explored him. When he went to unfasten her jeans she grabbed his wrist.
“What’s wrong, honey? All I want to do is touch you.”
“I’ve…uh…had a baby. Things have been…stretched, moved around.”
He kissed her, showing her just how sexy he found her. “I’d be surprised if they hadn’t been.” He kissed her again. “Come on. I think it’s time we go in.”
At her stricken look, he grinned. “I said nothing about being done. We’re just going to try a little experiment.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“I’m positive you are.” He climbed out of the chair and stood. Grateful for the cool air circling him, he ached for want of her.
She reached for her shirt and he snatched it way. “You’re not going to need that. Wrap up in the blanket. I’ll get our clothes.”
Taking her hand, he opened the deck door, led her through and kicked it closed behind them. He had no intention of letting her go. With that rabbit-in-the-head-lights look in her eyes, he was afraid she might run. He kept her hand firmly in his as they climbed the metal stairs with the cable-wire handrails to his bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCY’S BREATH CAUGHT. Ryan’s bedroom had a large picture window that shared the same view as the deck. His bed faced the scene. He turned on a small lamp sitting atop a dresser. It gave off just enough light to see well but not so bright as to be harsh.
Ryan led her to the bed. He let go of her hand and rested his hands on each of her shoulders. He gently pushed down until she sat on the edge. He backed away, just out of touching distance. Despite still being wrapped in the blanket, she felt more undressed than he was. She wanted him close, close enough that she could run her fingers over his muscled chest before she lost her nerve. Lifting a hand, she reached out. Capturing it, he gently squeezed her fingers and backed up a pace. He grinned. �
�I’ve created a monster.”
“Ryan—” She started to stand.
“Just listen a minute.”
She sank to the edge of the bed.
“In this room there will be no barriers. Be it clothes, emotions or thoughts. We can do and say anything without it leaving these walls.”
“O’Doherty law,” she murmured.
“Yes.”
The more he spoke the less she could control her hands. They shook. She clutched the blanket, hoping he wouldn’t see.
Ryan removed his socks and shoes, dropping them on the floor. His hands went to his jeans, flipping the button from the hole. She couldn’t look away, her concentration on the movement of his fingers. The only sound in the room was their breathing.
He pushed his pants down to the floor and stepped out of them. The evidence of his desire tented his boxers as he stood in front of her. The heat between her legs, banked when they’d come in the house, flowed again. This time it grew stronger. Ryan looked like a god standing before a display of multicolored lights. She was speechless.
“You’re scaring me, Lucy. But I love it.”
She blinked. “There’s that ego.”
“Yeah, and the way you’re looking at me only makes it and other parts grow.”
Unable to help herself, she stared at his manhood, which stood tall and proud between them. She promptly blushed when her gaze met his pleased one.
Completely confident, he came toward her. Why shouldn’t he be? She drew in a shallow breath. He was stunning. The total cliché Irish package—dark skin, expansive shoulders, thick hair and a grin to die for. The mind-boggling thing was that he was hers for the taking.
He stood so close, all bare and beautiful. She didn’t know where to look, finally focusing on a spot on the wall. He reached out a hand. She placed hers in his.
He tugged her to him, giving her a kiss that started a fire in her. “Now you go stand where I did.”
“What?” Her heart fluttered in her chest. She drew the blanket tighter.
NYC Angels: The Wallflower's Secret Page 11
