by Eden Summers
“Don’t think so loud.” She squeezed the head of his shaft, delighting in another hiss.
“Then don’t deny me,” he growled. “Stop worrying. Stop obsessing over the negative thoughts.”
He ground into her, her hand falling away as his cock nudged her entrance. She arched into the sensation, allowing him to slide into her, his length sinking deep. Her core contracted around him, another emotion-inspired orgasm already hovering close.
His palm glided over her waist, her ribs, to the curve of her breast. His thumb stroked lazily over her nipple, forward, back, forward, back, the slow tempo mimicking the way he began to move inside her.
His mouth found hers and their rhythm increased. The brushes of his thumb became harder, the glide of his tongue a lascivious swipe, the grind of his hips so painstakingly deep. Then everything stopped—sound, movement, pleasure.
“Shit.” He withdrew and shoved from the bed.
“What is it?” She scrambled onto her elbows, tracking his movements as he lunged for his pants.
“Protection.” He pulled out his wallet, his cheeks flushed with arousal, embarrassment or maybe even guilt.
“It’s OK.” She held out her hand. “Give it here.”
He handed over the wallet and fixed her with a chaste grin. “I’m not used to…”
“I wouldn’t want you to be.” She didn’t want him to finish his sentence. She didn’t want Julie in this room, or anyone else, for that matter.
“It’s in one of the side compartments.”
He climbed back between her legs, paying homage with his lips to the inside of her thighs, her hip, her stomach. His attention was a delirious distraction as she ransacked his wallet, pulling out business cards and old receipts until she found her prize.
“Got it.” The foil was scratched and crinkled, her fingers flicking over something rough on the other side. She flipped the small square and found a piece of paper stuck to the packaging. A tiny blue Post-It that read—Enjoy the ride, bucko. Love Taiden.
“Does Sean usually leave love letters on your condoms?”
“What?” He paused, his lips poised above the curve of her breast.
“Yep.” She held up the note and tried not to laugh as he squinted at the writing.
“Everyone’s a comedian.” He snatched the paper and threw it aimlessly. “God knows how long that’s been there.”
She wondered, too. Had it been days? Weeks? Months? “Make sure you thank him for the well wishes.”
“Yeah,” he grated. “I will.”
His hand covered hers, the foil packet disappearing with his retreat. With a bite of his teeth, the wrapper was opened, the protection removed. Then he was gripping the base of his shaft in one hand and placing the condom over the head of his cock with the other.
She was embarrassed by her fascination as she watched him cover his length. He was so hard. So temptingly real.
“Want me to go slower to prolong the show?”
Bastard. “I could watch you do that all day.” She met his gaze, smirked. “But then you’d never get what you want.”
His eyes softened as he leaned down to hover over her, hip to hip, chest to chest. “I already have what I want.”
She quirked a brow and jolted her pelvis. “So there’s no need to go any further?”
“There’s no necessity.” He ground his erection into her, the head of his cock finding her entrance. “But there’s definitely need.”
She scratched her nails along his back and wove her legs around his waist. “I think there’s a necessity to stop talking.”
He brought his nose to hers, his smiling lips an inch away. “I’ll never speak again.”
The lush stroke of his mouth brushed over hers as his hips nudged into her. His cock breached her pussy, the penetration sinking further while his tongue coaxed a deeper kiss. He didn’t break his promise when he pulled back. He didn’t speak. But his eyes whispered compliments, the endearments making her moan.
He held her captive, surveying her as their rhythm increased. The grind of his pelvis became harder, his fingers clutching the bed coverings beside her head. The tendons in his neck tightened, his body glistened with a sheen of sweat. She leaned up to nip his shoulder, to lick and suck his salted flesh. Everything she did gained a response—a hiss, a growl, a harder thrust of his hips.
She clenched down on him and wove an arm around his, her nails digging into his bicep to hold on. The necessity to slow ate at her. She didn’t want this to end, but she couldn’t stop. Every grind against her clit piercing increased the insanity. Each peppered kiss along her skin stoked the need to come.
When his beard grazed the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder joined, she lost hope. Her pussy fluttered. Spasmed. Her eyes clamped shut as she called out, the sound deafening. Then he was there with her, her name moaned over and over.
The friction built with his harsh thrusts, her receding orgasm coming back with vengeance. “Shit.” She came again, her legs so tight around his waist she thought he might break. She was still coming when she opened her eyes and found love staring back at her.
The shocking image dissolved her pleasure, the seriousness dragging her into the real world where fantasies didn’t exist. She’d never seen that look before. Not from any man. And not through all the years she’d seen him with his wife.
The affection he had for her was hers alone. A tangible emotion she would adorn like a treasured piece of jewelry. “How long have you imagined this?”
“All my life,” he murmured, placing a kiss against her sternum.
She closed her eyes with a smile, allowing a few seconds of shameless bliss before she looked at him again. “Ryan, I’m serious.” She tugged on the loose strands of his hair, demanding focus. “How long have you wanted to be with me?”
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the delicious spot below her ear and whispered, “Forever.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leah had never woken up happy. She’d previously roused from slumber feeling content, occasionally even energized. But never happy, with tingles in her belly and a heavy throb beneath her ribs. Not until today.
Ryan’s arm was wrapped around her waist, his chest spooned against her back.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous?” She turned in his arms, fixing him with a raised brow.
“Yeah, sweetie or pumpkin don’t suit.” His eyes were dreamy, this morning a shade greener than blue. “And although ball-buster was a great fit, I was looking for something more personal instead of a name the band, crew, and anyone in general would be likely to call you.”
“That’s sweet, Ryan. Really sweet.” She shot him a playful glower and then nuzzled into his chest, wrapping her arms around the huge expanse of muscle. They’d stayed awake for hours, the darkness ticking away as they made up for lost time. “I never want to leave this room.”
He ran his fingers through her tangled hair, letting his touch travel down her back with each swipe. Goosebumps awakened under his fingertips, his affection branding her skin like an iron.
“Still think this is temporary?” His lips were against her temple.
“I don’t want it to be.” The vulnerability was hard to admit. Painful, even.
“So how do we make this work? Do we come clean or keep it quiet?”
A breath of derisive laughter escaped her lips. They didn’t even have that measly choice. “At the moment, there’s no option but to keep quiet. We’ve got Felicity and Grander to think about. If this gets out, it’ll jeopardize the publicity campaign for Slicker and inevitably extend our tour. Then there’s your divorce—”
“Forget the divorce. I won’t let Julie affect this in any way.”
“There’s also my boss. He can’t find out. Not until I come up with some sort of leverage.”
“What type of leverage are we looking for?”
She nuzzled further against his chest, wishing his heat and protection would work outside t
hese four walls. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it off and on for years and nothing seems likely to placate.”
“Talk me through it. What’s the biggest hurdle?”
Her happiness was starting to vanish, the bliss of the night before being eaten away by reality. “Everything is a hurdle, and it all starts with my contract.” She leaned one elbow on the mattress and faced him. “I’m paraphrasing, but the document says something like—any physical relationship with a client—casual or otherwise—will result in immediate dismissal.”
“Contracts can be renegotiated. You know that.”
“I do.” She nodded, her lips unable to resist the temptation to kiss his pec. “But my boss won’t renegotiate. Not without something in return.”
“Like money?”
She fought to hide a wince. Putting a price on a newborn relationship wasn’t something she was willing to do. Not only was she protective of her savings, but she was also aware of the heavy weight it would put on both their shoulders. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“I’d be happy to pay.”
This time there was no way to hide the wince. It was there for him to see. “No.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have the means to pay either. With no notable family, friends, or expenses outside of Reckless, her bank balance was exceptionally healthy. It was the idea in general, the Pretty Woman narrative that didn’t sit well. “I’ll think of something else.”
“We’ll do it together. You’re not on your own.” He finger-combed the hair back from her cheeks, his gaze lowering to her neck, his eyes widening. “Christ.”
“What?” She sat up straight, her body on display as she tried to see what he was looking at.
“You’ve got a family of hickies along your neck and shoulders.”
“What type of family? Conservative middle-class or devout Mormon?”
He cringed and delicately brushed her hair back to assess the damage. “Not funny,” he murmured. “It looks like I attacked you.”
“I’ll wear something to cover it.” She collapsed against him, her fingers trailing along the scratch marks and moon like symbols from her previously embedded nails. “You didn’t get away unscathed either.”
“I have battle scars?” His tone spoke of pride. “You can hide yours, but I’ll make sure to wear something that shows mine off.”
Her smile was a mere flash before her thoughts kicked in.
“What did I say?”
“Nothing.” She sat up, gripping the sheet at her chest, and reached for her nightie. “I need coffee.” She pulled the material over her head and flung back the covers. “Do you want some?”
“Sure. After I get a truthful answer.”
She pushed from the bed, considering her response. It was jealousy, tainted with heartache and sprinkled with animosity. None of which he needed to hear.
“Leah?”
She heard the rustle of the bed, then the clink of his belt and the zip of his pants.
“I don’t want to use threats to get you to talk.”
“Threats?” She whirled around, getting caught up in his grin.
“I’ll tell the guys you’re a squealer.” His grin turned to an unabashed smirk. “I’ll tell them everything. Every dirty little detail.”
She raised his smirk and countered with a sexy saunter toward him, stopping toe to toe. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re too much of a gentleman.”
He shrugged, the confident response making her pussy clench. “Wouldn’t I? Pretty soon the world is going to think I turn women to the dark side. Bragging about your orgasm tally will help to keep some balls in my court. And I’m sure Mason would appreciate finding out I was undoubtedly the biggest pain in your ass last night.”
Her mouth fell open. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Literally,” he added.
“Oh, my G—”
He tugged her into his arms, pulling laughter from her in one movement. She knew he’d never rat on her. He was too kind. Too loyal. But he was certainly no longer a gentleman behind closed doors.
“Tell me.” He smiled down at her, not relenting on his tight grip until she calmed and relaxed against him.
“It was nothing.”
“Then spit it out.”
She sighed. “I was only thinking that someone else will get the blame for the marks I left on your body. Photos will end up online and name Felicity or Hannah as the culprit. And even if I was held responsible, it would be evidence to ruin my career. So, either way, those marks aren’t something I can laugh about.”
There. The truth in black and white. Also the reality she hadn’t wanted to face after such a fantastic night. She’d anticipated this moment of painful simplicity. The one which sucked the happiness out like a vacuum and replaced it with guilt and paranoia.
“I’ll cover them.”
She sighed and wiggled from his arms. This would be their routine from now on. At least until she found the much needed leverage to take to her boss. They’d have to hide, to sneak, to lie. Every moment would be tainted and juvenile.
“Stop worrying. We’ll work it out.” He glanced at his watch. “Damn it. I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to be ready for that school motivational talk in half an hour.”
Her gaze dropped to the bedside clock—midday. Wow. He was the cure to her insomnia. “I won’t get a chance to see you before tonight’s show.”
“You can’t fit me in?” He reached down to pick up his shirt off the floor, the betraying material moving over his head to cover a large expanse of gorgeousness. “Not even five minutes?”
“Five minutes would turn into ten, then twenty, and so on.” He was addictive and definitely not a case where a five-minute fix would appease. “I’ll try to see you before you get on the bus.”
“I guess that will have to do.” He strode to her, one hand gliding around her cheek to cup the back of her head. “Until then.” He pressed his lips to hers, once, twice, the connection fading before she had a chance to deepen it. “Be good.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan: Where are you?
Leah: Shit. Sorry.
Ryan: Where. Are. You?
Leah: Sidney may have led me astray. It was only supposed to be one drink at the airport bar but her flight was delayed…and more drinks were necessary. I caught the end of the concert but when I went to put my bag on the crew bus I must’ve got distracted.
Ryan: Distracted with what?
Leah: Sleep. I think I passed out. I don’t remember crawling into my bunk.
Leah: Hell, I have no idea how I ended up in an old Korn shirt that isn’t even mine.
Ryan: Are you joking?
Ryan: Leah?
Leah: It was Drew. Perverted little ass.
Ryan: You better be joking. Otherwise you’ll have to explain to everyone why I had to beat the life from him.
Leah: Ryan Bennett is a lover not a fighter.
Ryan: Please tell me you’re joking.
Leah: I’m joking.
Ryan: Are you lying?
Leah: Don’t worry, he didn’t see much. Nothing that he’ll brag about anyway. He values his manhood too much.
Ryan: He’s dead.
Leah: Why don’t any of you have mechanic skills?
Ryan: I guess you heard about the bus breakdown.
Leah: Who do you think has to organize someone to fix it? I bet the sun will be up before I can find a mechanic. Get some sleep. You might be stuck in the middle of nowhere for a while.
Ryan: I’m not going to have time to see you before the show, am I? We’re still an hour from Chicago.
Leah: No. You’ll be lucky if you’re not late And Scott tells me you already have plans with Felicity after the concert.
Ryan: Want me to cancel? You know I’d prefer to spend the night with you.
Leah: Go out. Have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.
Ryan: Slip a spare room card under my door. I’ll come back to you once I’m finished with Flick.
Leah: Spoken like a true player.
Ryan: Don’t go there. You know I’d go public with how I feel about you if I thought it wouldn’t affect your job.
Leah: I know. We’ll make time for each other tomorrow. Promise.
Ryan: I expect your room card under my door. I’ll see you later tonight.
Ryan: Why didn’t you leave a room card?
Ryan: Leah? I’m back at the hotel. Are you still awake?
Ryan: I’m leaving the lobby in half an hour to have breakfast at a place called Bites and Beverages. It’s around the corner. Meet me there. I mean it, Leah. I can’t go much longer without seeing you.
Leah rolled over and groaned at the unwanted necessity to get up. She’d fallen asleep while working on her laptop again. She was still in yesterday’s clothes, the hem of her suit skirt around her waist, her blouse crushed and plastered tight against her boobs.
She patted a hand around the bed, coming up with her phone. The notification light flashed and she unlocked her screen, blinking against the bright light to read Ryan’s messages.
Two days had passed without seeing him. Two torturous days where she would’ve given anything for him to find a way to her side. Instead, he’d given his spare hours to another woman. Her Google notifications a stark reminder of exactly how much time he was spending with Felicity.
But she still wanted to see him.
Be with him.
She threw back the covers, found some clean clothes, and took a quick shower. In thirty-five minutes she was dressed, make-up immaculate, hair done, and striding through the lobby like a woman on a mission.
“Can you please point me in the right direction for Bites and Beverages?” she asked the concierge.
He followed her to the door, held it open, and pointed to the left. “You won’t miss it. I’m sure there’ll be a crowd out the front.”
She’d thought he’d been referring to the popularity of the food. She’d been wrong. As soon as she reached the corner, she found the mob of hungry paparazzi creating a barrier around Ryan, Felicity, and Hannah. The trio were snuggled close, the women framing Ryan as they all smiled for the cameras, lapping up the attention.
