"Stop," he said, always the type to be uncomfortable with overtly emotional displays. Maybe that was something I had picked up from him. "That's family," he added, shrugging it off. "Now, up," he demanded, patting me, obviously having had enough affection to last the day or month or year.
We talked for a couple more minutes, finished our beers, then said our goodbyes. It was late and my uncle had to be up at the crack of dawn.
"He likes you," I told Ryan as we got in the car and pulled away.
"We barely talked, honey," he said, shaking his head.
"I know. But he's not all that talkative anyway. Besides, you are who got me out of my apartment."
"Because of a gas leak and an assault and then a kidnapping," he said, looking over for a second with a wry smile.
"Yes well, he doesn't know that, does he?" I added with my own smirk as we pulled up into the lot of the hotel.
Ryan parked and came around the car to me. There was a brief, nauseating stab of discomfort as we walked past the spot where I had been taken. As if sensing it, his hand reached for mine and squeezed it tight. He didn't let go until we were safely behind the penthouse door.
"Bath?" he asked, already knowing my rhythms.
"God, yes," I admitted, wanting to wash a day full of fear and worry and other mens' hands off of me.
"Company?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "Can't promise I will keep my hands to myself," he added, eyes going a little heated.
"Can't promise I won't enjoy that," I added, smiling.
I'd never bathed with a man before. Showered, sure. But usually it was a rushed 'we are both late and need to get to work and stop hogging all the freaking hot water' unsexy kind of thing. I had never been much for baths in my old life. I had too much going on, not enough time to laze about in a tub. Plus, my tub sucked.
I had a feeling though as I moved in and filled the tub, dropping bombs in and watching as flower petals drifted out across the water, smiling a little wistfully, that I would really enjoy it.
"Might be a bit awkward if I'm the only one fucking naked in the tub," Ryan announced, snapping my attention back to the side where I found him standing there in just his black boxer briefs, brow raised at me.
"Oh, right," I said, shaking my head at myself. A completely ridiculous little surge of anxiety bubbled up in my belly as I reached for the hem of my shirt. This was a man who had seen me naked. Several times. He had touched and kissed and licked almost every part of me. It was silly to feel insecure.
But, the anxiety reminded me, always happy to play devil's advocate, it's different when it's in the heat of the moment and clothes are flying and hormones are raging and all you can think about is getting to an orgasm. This was completely different.
"How about I do it?" Ryan asked, brushing my hands away, grabbing the shirt, and hauling it off me. There was barely even a pause before his fingers found my button and zip and he was yanking the material down my legs.
There was a pause then, his fingers traced gently up my hip, my ribs, around my back. His fingers worked my clasps on my bra and pulled the material free. Almost simultaneously, my hands reached for his boxer briefs and his hands reached for my panties and we were both naked.
He didn't pause; he turned from me and climbed in the tub, reaching up for me and pulling me in as well.
"Could get used to this," he admitted, pulling me back against his chest, his legs up on the outsides of mine, his arms crossing over my chest and belly, his lips pressing gently into my temple.
And I couldn't have agreed more.
I could get used to it.
"Talk to me," he demanded softly, his hand starting to graze gently over my belly. It wasn't sexual, but it had the same impact as though it was regardless. My body couldn't be touched by his without it getting the signals crossed.
"I don't have anything to say," I murmured, turning my head so the side of my face rested on his chest.
"Honey, you were just conned, kidnapped, held hostage, threatened, and rescued and you don't have shit to say?"
"Not really," I said, smiling a little when he snorted.
"How did your wrists end up like this?" he asked, his finger moving across one of the wrists in question, making my gaze follow.
As I suspected, they looked a lot worse than they had the last time I looked at them. They each had a deep purple and blue band around, unmistakable for what it was.
"Albert was in the back with me and I, um, was trying to get away and he held me down."
"You got him pretty good. Those scratches were brutal-looking."
"I bit him too," I added, smiling a little.
"Good girl," he said, his hand starting to move up and down my thigh in a delicious pace and I knew was absolutely meant to be teasing. "You want to ask me anything?" he asked as his finger traced the spot where my thigh met my hip.
Aside from when his finger was going to move inward and end the torment? "Not that I can think of," I murmured, letting my legs fall open slightly, inviting him in.
"Well then, if all the talking is over..." He trailed off as his finger finally moved inward, stroking up my slit and rubbing over my clit with lazy exploration.
"Ryan..." I whimpered, fingernails digging into his thighs as he kept the impossibly slow pace, driving me upward infuriatingly slowly.
"Not yet," he said, kissing my forehead.
"Please," I begged, my hips moving up to meet his hand, trying to get closer.
"Nuh-uh. We've done the hard and fast thing. Wanna try the slow and sweet thing."
As nice as slow and sweet sounded, my body didn't want to hear about it; it just wanted fulfillment.
With only that thought in mind, I used his knees to push myself up, turning to face him as I stepped out of the tub and reached for the towel, wrapping it around myself.
"Well," I said, forcing the words out and trying really hard to not blush, "you can stay in there and do the slow and sweet thing, romance yourself a little..."
"Or?" he prompted, smiling wickedly and, at that angle, looking down at him, I could see how hard he was already.
"Or you could meet me in the bed and do the fast and hard thing," I suggested, making sure my feet were dry so I didn't ruin my saucy exit by falling on my ass, and moved out of the room.
I heard the cascade of water as he stood and forced myself to not look back as I made my way into the bedroom where I hastily dried as fast as I could and discarded the towel.
"Nope," Ryan's voice called as I moved to go up on the bed.
"Nope?" I asked, turning back to find him walking out, similarly half-dry and completely naked.
"Bed is for slow and sweet. You want fast and rough," he informed me, walking right past me and into the main area of the house.
Acutely aware that there were no real curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows in the main area of the house, I grabbed one of Ryan's white undershirts and threw it on before following him out. Only to find him standing right in front of said curtain-less windows, showing absolutely no signs of self-consciousness.
"Um..." I started, taking a step back toward the bedroom.
"Come over here," he said, voice rough with desire.
"Maybe slow and sweet will work," I said, feeling an almost overwhelming urge to run back to the bed and hide under the covers.
"Nuh-uh, you made your choice," he said, turning to face me, wicked smile on his lips, eyes heated, cock hard. I felt a unmistakable tightening of my sex in response as he held out a hand toward me. "Honey," he added when I didn't move directly toward him, going instead toward the living space.
"Just grabbing something," I said, reaching for the massive box Fee had left and grabbing a condom that was wrapped in an obnoxious bright yellow foil.
"This shirt thing," he said when I stepped in front of him. "This something that's a make or break?"
When I hesitated in giving an answer, I found my wrists snagged and slammed up on the window behind me. Before I could ev
en freak about if the window was strong enough to hold me or not, his hands grabbed the material at the hem and yanked it upward. But when he got it over my head, he didn't pull my arms free. He pulled it roughly down and trapped my arms down by my sides with it.
Before I could even register the intent, he was on his knees before me, slamming me back against the window, yanking up my thigh, and pinning it against it. As the dread filled my belly at possibly plummeting to my death, his head ducked and his mouth sucked my clit into it and all other thoughts flew out of my head.
Completely trapped, there was nothing I could do except let him devour me, torturing me with his lips and tongue as he lavished over me. Two fingers thrust deep inside and started working me- fast, relentless.
But before the orgasm that had my sex clenching could wash over me, he dropped my leg, got onto his feet, slipped on the condom and turned me around to face the window- naked body on full display for anyone across the river with some good vision or a mediocre telescope to see.
His feet kicked mine wider.
Then I felt his cock slide between my slick folds, hitting my clit, and making me let out a harsh moan.
His hand went up my back, finding the shirt where it spread from shoulder to shoulder, and pressing me forward slightly, making me angle my butt out toward him and putting my face just inches from the glass. His fingers snagged the material, bunching it in his hands, holding it tight so there was no way I could escape no matter how much I struggled.
Then his cock slid back and slammed deep in one hard thrust.
The force behind it made my body lurch forward, but he yanked back on the shirt and held me in place as he started to slam into me- rough, hard, fast- just like I had asked for.
My orgasm built impossibly fast, making my knees weak and my breath get caught in my throat.
"That's it," he growled, feeling me tighten around him. "Come."
And I did, screaming, literally screaming out his name as I did so.
He slammed into me through it, dragging it out, milking it for all it was worth. But after he paused and I came back down, he was still hard inside me.
Then, as if answering my unasked question, he slid out of me long enough to turn me, then slid back inside- slowly, so freaking slowly that I could feel every inch as he did so. He pulled my leg up, wrapping it around his hips, then reached to pull me free of the shirt I had been trapped in, my arms going automatically around him.
His hand went to my butt, forcing my other leg around his waist, and holding me to him as he walked across the living space and into the bedroom. His knees went on the bed then his body curled over mine as he lay me back, still inside me, our bodies never losing contact.
Propped up on his forearms, he leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to my lips, the sweetness of it I felt down to my soul. "Had it your way," he told me, slowly withdrawing out of me and just as slowly pressing back inside. "Now we're having it my way," he told me, doing another perfect, all-consuming stroke.
Then he had me his way.
And by the time I felt my orgasm cresting, I had decided it was my way as well.
Hell, I would take him any way he would have me- hard and fast and dominant or slow and sweet and loving.
I cried into his neck as I came and he cursed into mine as he did.
Perfect.
He left me for only a moment before coming back, pulling the covers slowly up my body and pulling me onto his chest, his hands sifting through my hair and down my spine.
"What?" I asked, sensing there was something weighing on the silence.
"The wolves backed down," he said cryptically, making me press up so I could look down at him.
"The wolves?" I asked, brows drawn together.
"Past couple of years, you've had wolves at your door, snarling, making you feel like you couldn't leave your house." He reached up, touching the side of my face, his eyes soft, but still somehow heavy with meaning. "They aren't snarling anymore."
He was right.
And, true, maybe psychologically, it was all exposure therapy, being forced out of the comfort zone enough to realize I wouldn't flip out or die outside of it.
But there had been one constant in each situation.
Ryan.
Perfect yet flawed, dominant yet sweet, sexy yet unassuming, understanding yet encouraging.
And I had a strong feeling somewhere deep inside that the snarling didn't necessarily stop because of some force inside of me.
It was him.
My own personal wolf tamer.
EPILOGUE
Dusty- 1 day
"I wouldn't have had Mark drop all this shit off if I realized the cookies wouldn't be for me," Ryan informed me from his position leaned against the counter, wearing only thick gray sweatpants and one of his white tees, his hair casually disheveled. That was all my fault. I had disheveled it. Happily. Enthusiastically. Roughly.
Sex was obviously involved.
"I am saving you some," I insisted, pouring the oil into the pan and putting the burner on under it.
I was making chruscikis, mainly because it was the only recipe I had made often enough to know it by heart since I didn't have my little recipe cards with me at the residence.
And I had just informed him that the plan was to drop some off to his neighbor, the elusive and enigmatic Ross Ward.
"Some?" he pressed, obviously the kind of man who thought with his stomach at times. It was something I found charming.
"Fine. Half," I conceded, dropping a few of the little bowties into the hot oil and watching them sizzle.
There was a real art and science to these cookies. They had to be perfectly cooked or they tasted like crap as soon as they cooled off.
"I really don't think Ward is the kind of man who eats powder sugar covered Polish cookies."
"Regardless," I said, shaking my head at him, making a few strands of my hair fall down from my clip, "I think I owe him a tray of them as a thank you for preventing my rape and murder. You know, a gesture," I said, giving him a smile over my shoulder.
"Well," he said, coming up behind me, wrapping an arm around my belly and resting his head on my shoulder, "I guess that would be the right thing to do."
So, twenty minutes later, my belly in knots but not overly nauseating after I fussed with my clothes, hair, and makeup for an embarrassingly long time, we walked into the hall and I knocked on Ross Ward's door.
"Harder," Ryan demanded, standing a few feet back. "He works all night. He's probably sleeping."
"Why didn't you tell me that before I charged over here with cookies and woke him up?" I hissed, big-eying him.
"You were a woman on a mission," he shrugged.
"But what kind of 'thank you' gesture is it to drag a man out of bed when he works all night?" I demanded, voice a whisper-yell.
And apparently Ryan liked that because his smile was radiant. "Like the teeth, honey," he informed me as the door pulled open roughly.
There stood Ross Ward.
Though, unlike Ryan's suspicions, he hadn't been sleeping.
I knew this because he was dripping wet and only in a towel.
Now, I might have been heading headfirst in love with Ryan, but that didn't mean I didn't know a good looking man when I saw one.
Ross Ward was a good looking man.
Other descriptors that came to mind: solid, muscular, scarred, dark, dangerous, ruthless.
That was what you took from one look at his dark hair, dark eyes, dark stubble as well as the broad shoulders, strong chest, impressive abdominal muscles, and general 'what the fuck do you want' aura he had about him.
He said nothing either, just stared at me.
"Ward," Ryan cut in, saving me from choking on my own heart that was suddenly in my throat, forced there by the sheer intimidation of the man before me. "This is Dusty," he explained, giving me a look that suggested I untie my tongue and speak. "Dusty, Ross Ward."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your
shower. I just, um, well, I, ah... I made you cookies," I said, thrusting the decorative serving dish at him, hitting him in the stomach as his hand moved out to grab it from me. "As a sort of thank you for calling Ryan and, well, saving me from being raped and murdered."
There.
It was out.
I could run away now, right?
He was definitely the kind of man any decent person ran far, far away from.
"Looks like I didn't save you from everything," he said, reaching his free hand out and putting his forefinger under my chin, turning my face each way.
"Oh, this," I said, waving a hand, attempting levity. He was so damn intense. "This was from a couple days ago," I added with a wobbly smile.
Ross' hand dropped and he shot Ryan a look with a ever-so slight brow raise. "Every woman in your family come with a boatload of trouble?" he asked, moving backward into his apartment without waiting for an answer and reaching for the door, obviously rushing me on.
"Okay, yeah, we won't keep you. Those are still warm and they're usually better when..."
"Know how to eat chruscikis, doll," he interrupted me.
"Oh, okay. Great. Well, thanks again. Sorry to disturb you."
He didn't say it was no problem or anytime or, well, anything at all.
He jerked his chin at me then shut the door in my face.
"He's not exactly a people person," Ryan told me, trying to soften the blow. "Come on, I have an idea."
His idea involved a chrusciki placed right on the triangle above my sex and powdered sugar sprinkled all over my body.
Which he licked off.
Dusty- 1 week
"You sure about this?" Bry asked from the hallway back in my apartment building, but facing Ryan's... where I had been living. "You can take another week if you need it."
"That's the worst thing I could do," I said, shrugging into my jacket. "Now that I can handle it, I think it's best to get out as much as possible as soon as possible. Rocky," I said, turning back to where he was propped oh-so innocently on the island. But I knew the second I closed the door, he was going to create some kind of problem. While he never messed up my old apartment, he apparently got a kick out of messing up Ryan's. "If you knock down any more of those freaking glasses, I am going to do something truly heinous. Like bathe you," I said with a nod as I grabbed my wallet and moved into the hall with Bry.
Ryan (The Mallick Brothers #2) Page 21
