by Scott, Inara
“You’ll talk to Gunther about what?”
Alix and Ryker whipped around in unison to see the tall, stocky figure leaning against the doorway. The bright sunlight illuminated his white shirt and linen pants and reflected off the gold chain around his neck. A thick swath of white chest hair peeked out from the top of his shirt.
A rush of overwhelming relief washed over Alix, and she started to take a step toward him. But then she stole a look at Ryker and froze.
Ryker’s jaw was set and tight. He looked as he had as they’d approached Rosalia’s house: hardened and ready for battle. As much as she wanted to run to Gunther like a child and tell him what had happened, Alix knew in an instant that her loyalty lay with Ryker. It was his movie, and he deserved her trust in letting him fix it.
“Gunther.” Ryker acknowledged his presence with a dip of his head but made no move to stand.
“Ryker,” Gunther drawled. He gave Alix a brief hug before pushing her back to study her appearance. “Lord, Alix, you look like hell. Don’t you own a decent-fitting pair of pants?”
Alix’s cheeks burned. She’d never had a parent around to embarrass her in front of the cute boys in high school, but she now imagined she knew what it would have felt like. “Just because I refuse to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of jeans doesn’t mean I look like hell,” she said. “And it’s nice to see you too.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked back and forth between her and Ryker. “So? What are you going to tell me?”
“We’ve run into a little technical glitch,” Ryker said smoothly. “Nothing we can’t fix.”
Alix hid her shock. If Ryker wasn’t telling Gunther about Lena, he probably had a good reason.
“Alix?” Gunther said, searching her face for confirmation.
She forced an easy smile. “You heard him. Technical glitch. Hair in the gate. Happens all the time, you know.”
Gunther narrowed his eyes. “Hmmm. Well, if you say so.” He abruptly clapped his hands together. “I’m here to tell you to go put on your sparkly shoes, Alix. I’m having a party tonight, and I expect you and Ryker to be there.”
Alix recoiled. “A party? I thought we’d decided I would lay low while I’m here.”
Gunther shrugged. “This will be an intimate gathering. Just thirty or forty friends. No press.”
“There’s always press.” Alix walked back to the bar at the end of the room and stared blindly at the bottle of whiskey Ryker had opened a few minutes before. She hadn’t wanted a drink then, but now she did. Familiar feelings of dread clawed at her stomach at the thought of entertaining Gunther’s Hollywood crowd.
Ryker sighed. “You might have given us a little advance warning, Gunther. We’re pretty busy on the set right now.”
Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll have it wrapped up in time. My place at eight. Don’t be late!” With a cheerful smile, he turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door to slam shut behind him.
Ryker groaned. “That’s all we need. One of Gunther’s little gatherings. He must be trying to start generating buzz for the movie.”
“It’s not my fault he wants to have a party.” She tried not to sound defensive, though it was hard when Ryker was staring at her as though she had somehow deliberately planned for this to happen.
“Sure it is,” Ryker said. “He didn’t have parties for me before you got here.”
Alix splashed a measure of whiskey into a glass. She held it up to her lips, steeled her courage, and took a sip. It burned her mouth, and she barely kept from spitting it out. She swallowed, coughed, and set down the cup.
“Not much of a drinker, are you?” Ryker observed.
She coughed again, her tongue and throat on fire. “Wine,” she squeaked out. “I can drink wine.”
“If you say so.” He drummed his fingers on his knee.
Alix removed the elastic from her hair and shook it out over her shoulders. A deep, throbbing pain had erupted behind her temples the moment Lena said “I quit,” and she rubbed gently just above the sides of her glasses to ease it.
“Headache?” Ryker asked.
Alix nodded. “I’m not sure if I should blame Gunther or Lena.”
“There’s plenty of blame to go around. Why pick one?” Ryker’s brows loosened as he watched her. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“It’s been a long day,” Alix said, gazing mournfully at the glass of whiskey she knew she’d never drink. “And it’s barely afternoon.” She continued to rub her temples, imagining the endless evening to come with Gunther’s Hollywood cronies and their gorgeous model girlfriends. Gunther wouldn’t advertise who she was, but he wouldn’t hide it either, and then she’d have to deal with all those questions, the obnoxious comments… She rubbed harder as the throbbing intensified.
“Come here,” Ryker said, beckoning with one hand.
She stared at him without moving.
“I’m not going to bite.” He patted the sofa.
Reluctantly, she edged over and sat as far away from him as possible.
He chuckled. “You pick the oddest times to be shy.” He arranged himself directly behind her on the sofa. He placed his hands on either side of her head, gently removed her glasses, and handed them to her. She took the heavy plastic frames in one hand and tried not to hold her breath.
He rubbed his first two fingers in smooth circles at her temples. The very touch of his hands sent prickling goose bumps up and down Alix’s bare arms. He continued to rub, and the first tingling awareness slowly faded, replaced instead by a warm, gentle throb between her legs.
Ryker’s hands fell away from her head, and equal amounts of relief and disappointment started through her. But then he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the back of her neck. Alix froze, her breath caught.
She cleared her throat. “Ryker,” she started to say but lost her voice when he sucked gently on the spot where the muscles in her back joined her neck.
A quiet sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. What was she going to do? What should she say?
Ryker appeared to take her exhalation as a good sign. He continued to trail kisses down the length of her neck and across her collarbones. His fingers trailed across the soft fabric of her T-shirt, cupped her breasts and then released them. Prisoner to the sensual spell he was weaving, Alix froze, unable to move, to think.
“I love your breasts,” Ryker murmured in her ear. “Full, soft, begging to be touched.” He teased the nipples to peaks, moving his thumbs in slow circles.
Alix’s eyes slid closed. His hands were like a powerful drug, eating away at her inhibitions and fears.
“I want to see you naked,” he said, slipping his hands under her shirt to rest on her bare skin. “I want to take you in my mouth and watch you move underneath me.”
She melted against him, shivers racing along her spine. When his fingers reached under her bra to caress her, she moaned again, this time because a sharp jolt of pleasure shot between her chest and her core. Her back arched, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
He kept one hand at her breast while the other slipped lower, down her stomach, over her jeans, to rest between her legs. Alix jerked back, her body seeking his.
“Ryker?” A voice sounded in the hallway.
“Not now.” He lifted his mouth from her shoulder to call back at the voice but didn’t move his hands.
Alix took advantage of the moment to give herself a quick, internal slap. She bounded up and over to the door, which she flung open. Amir stood on the other side.
“What’s up?” she asked cheerfully.
“People are wondering about tomorrow,” Amir said, darting a look between her and Ryker, his curiosity barely contained. “Do we still have rehearsal?”
Ryker stood and eyed them both, a familiar mix of irritation and amusement quirking his lips. “Of course,” he drawled. “Call is at eight sharp. Don’t be late.”
Alix cocked her head at
Ryker. “Really?”
“We’ll work this out by then.” Amir nodded and turned to leave. Ryker watched him disappear down the hallway and then locked the door behind him. “Now, where were we?”
Chapter Seventeen
Before she had time to respond, he took her face in his hands. She fit perfectly in his palms, her full lips slightly parted, her expression a blend of fear and desire.
She didn’t pull away when he dragged her against his chest. Her arms simply collapsed, her forearms pinned between them. He wanted to feel more, feel her breasts unbound against him, but instead he focused on her mouth. It felt strange to keep trying to seduce a woman who seemed so willing yet so determined to avoid consummation. But he couldn’t stop touching her. He couldn’t walk away. He even found himself enjoying the game, perfecting the art of arousal and satisfaction without any promise of sex on the other end.
She was tentative, restrained, and he coaxed her with his lips and tongue. Trust me, his mouth told her. I will pleasure you. He caressed her forehead and temples, running his fingers through her hair, tangling them in strands of pure silk.
He felt it the moment her resistance melted. It didn’t trickle past but washed away like a great flood. Her fingers tensed, and she exhaled on a long, languid breath. Then her tongue began to dance with his, seeking and teasing, pulling away before going deep. When she bit his lower lip, a jolt of pleasure ran straight to his groin.
She tugged him over to the couch, pushed on his chest until he fell back against the cool leather. Then she slid down between his legs until her knees settled on the floor. He sat up straighter and ran his fingers down the length of her spine, feeling the outline of each vertebra through her dress before letting his fingers slip around to hold her tiny waist. She broke the kiss for a minute, stared at him with some intense, unspoken emotion, and then slowly, methodically, began to unbutton his shirt, punctuating each button with a kiss and a flick of her tongue.
When she reached the top of his pants and started on his belt, Ryker got the first inkling he had lost control. A voice in the back of his head told him to move, grab her hands, and kiss her until she was helpless beneath him. But the voice couldn’t seem to propel his body into motion. He was frozen, helpless under the sensual onslaught of her tongue, her busy fingers, and her warm, soft breath.
When her hands brushed against him, the erection that had been growing more painful by the moment jerked his hips halfway off the couch.
Her mouth moved lower on his chest as her fingers busied themselves with his belt. It was torture, that mouth, catching his skin between her teeth in a nip and then soothing the sting with a lick of her little pink tongue. As she worked, she floated against him, alternately pressing her breasts into his chest and letting the hard nubs of her nipples rub against him, and then moving back to take another bite.
When she loosened his belt, his cock took over and erased all rational thought from his brain. With a hungry look in her verdant eyes, she pulled open his pants and caressed him through a thin layer of cotton. Her touch burned with a mix of pleasure and pain. He groaned, and one hand came to rest on her head, massaging her silky hair as she kissed a line of fire from his stomach down to the elastic at the top of his briefs.
Her skin was soft and smooth, teasing him with its proximity as she stopped and rubbed her face against his stomach. His shirt draped across his bare skin, and she tickled around his hips, her fingertips gliding over his chest, nipples, navel, leaving his muscles bunched and hard behind her.
“Honey, slow down…” His voice came through tight lips, his breath whistling a second behind. He tried to loop his hands under her arms and pull her up, but she refused to back off, taking that moment to pull back the elastic and free his erection to her slender fingers.
His body moved again, jerking and shuddering when she touched his bare skin. He wanted to pull her against him, crush her body along his, but she had rendered him helpless, unable to move or do anything that might stop the next touch, the next sensation. She took advantage of his raised hips to slide his pants and briefs halfway down his thighs. When he was fully exposed, she stroked the head of his cock, and he groaned, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She moved her hand down the length of him, caressing the scar at the base of the head, feeling the length of the vein at the bottom, cupping the soft sac at the end.
She was a witch, a devil, prolonging the moment of first contact, moving her cheek closer to his groin, covering his skin with wet kisses, then tickling the base of him with her tongue. Holding his cock firmly in her hand, she waited, lips practically touching, until he leaped in response.
Then she opened her mouth and took him inside.
He exhaled, his world narrowing to the feeling of her mouth, hot and wet, surrounding him. She sucked on the tip, first gently and then with more force, opening her mouth wider to surround him. The throb and the heat felt so good he needed to go deeper, wished she could take it all at once, and, as if she could read his mind, she took him deep in one long draught.
He was on the verge of exploding, and in desperation tried again, tugging on her arms. “Good Lord, woman, you’re killing me.” He wanted to bury himself in her flesh, not in her mouth.
She backed off only long enough to circle his tip with her tongue, bathe him in long, sensual strokes, and then let the length of him slide deeper into her mouth.
It was too much. Ryker felt himself slip past the edge of control as the pleasure intensified. He began to thrust against her, moving inside her mouth as his hips nearly lifted him off the couch. There was suction, heat, and the movement of her tongue against his flesh, all conspiring to drive him past the edge of sanity. When he approached the edge, he felt his body tense, pause, and then explode in pure pleasure.
#
When the room stopped spinning, Ryker opened his eyes and tried to focus. With some effort, he was able to make out the viewing room, a place he’d never look at the same way again; the blank screen looming over him and the woman who had just fulfilled weeks of fantasies leaning back on her haunches, gazing at him like a tawny panther surveying a kill. If he wasn’t weak as a baby, and far too satisfied to move, he would have drawn her down on top of him and drunk one more time from that dangerous pink mouth.
But instead, he simply looked at her. Even blinking seemed an effort.
The longer he looked, the clearer it became that he had no idea what possessed her. Who she was. What she wanted.
Sphinx-like, she rose to her feet and rearranged her clothes. “I need to get ready,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“What?” He struggled to stand, suddenly uncomfortable with his vulnerability. He jerked up his pants and redid his belt.
“Gunther’s party,” she repeated. “I’ll see you there.”
A roaring sound began in his ears as he worked to shake off his post-climax stupor. He’d never been dismissed before, but he had the feeling that was exactly what Alix had just done. He contemplated her for a moment, watched her pink tongue dart out to moisten her lips. How could that mouth—that incredible, naughty, dangerous mouth—still look so innocent? Her hair draped over one shoulder, sparkling with red and gold lights. Her green eyes were guarded, carefully masking any emotion, but her hands were tangled together in a nervous heap, laced and then unlaced.
“Right,” he drawled. “So I’m supposed to say thanks for the blowjob, and see you later?”
She took a step back, obviously flustered by his anger. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. I thought this was what you wanted.”
He let the silence stretch uncomfortably between them before he spoke again. “I’m not some prick who just wants to get off, Alix. If that’s what you think, then we can forget the whole thing.”
“Forget what whole thing? There is no thing, Ryker. You know that better than anyone.”
Before she could go any further, he pulled her back into his arms and claimed her mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss. She put her
hands back up to his chest as if to push him away, but her protest died before it even began.
He could taste himself on her tongue.
He inserted his hands between their bodies, teased her nipples in several short strokes back to the hard buds she had ground against his skin minutes before. He refused to let her walk away thinking she’d given him what he wanted. Thinking he was some shallow bastard who would be content with a blowjob and a pat on the head.
He leaned forward, put one hand behind her knees and the other at her back, and lifted her off the ground.
She squealed a protest as he dropped her on the sofa, her arms and legs wide as she landed on her back and struggled to right herself. Her eyes were huge, dark saucers in her elegant oval of a face. She swallowed once, then again. He forgot, sometimes, how beautiful she was, when she covered her face with her sunglasses and disguised her body in ill-fitting clothes.
“Ryker, I—”
“I’m not letting you go. Not yet.” With that, he lowered himself into the position she had just occupied, holding her gently in place as she tried to sit up. He swallowed her murmured protest with another kiss.
He turned his mouth to her breasts, nibbling their peaks through the thin material of her shirt until she moaned with pleasure. Then, with a deep sigh, she leaned her head back and let her body melt into the cushions.
He felt a surge of satisfaction. She wanted him. Everything else she said, everything she did was just noise.
Releasing her knees, he flipped her shirt over her head, released her bra, and finally held her naked breasts in his hands. With a fierce pleasure, he caressed her nipples, rubbing circles around her flesh until her hips bucked and demanded his attention. He slid his hand down her body, wishing he had her in his bed so he could lick and stroke every inch of her skin. Instead, he unzipped her jeans. She lifted her hips, and he shimmied the thick fabric down over her ankles. When he reached her panties and found them already wet through, he smiled and felt a new shot of lust.
