Roughing It With Ryan

by Jill Shalvis

  And Suzanne’s breathing was very ragged, more so when she slipped her hand inside, past the melted ice cream and wrapped her fingers around him. He was fully erect, needing release, and she was so desperate for the same thing she could hardly contain herself.

  “Your bed,” he said.

  But she shook her head. She didn’t want to wait that long. “Here.”

  He fascinated her, he had from that very first day when he’d dropped out of that tree, but this, right here right now, was taking that fascination to another level and she knew it. He was real, much more real than anyone else she’d let in her life. He had hopes and dreams. He was physical, astonishingly graceful.

  Powerful.

  And aroused. For her.

  She wanted him, wanted him in a way that went beyond the physical, and she was going to have to face that. Later.

  His fingers were shaking as he put on the condom. Watching him was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.

  “Ryan?”

  His gaze, hot and heavy, lifted to hers.

  “Hurry.” She slipped her arms around his neck at the same time he caught her up and hauled her to him. With her wrapped around him, he turned from the counter and faced the table. One swipe of his hand sent her mail and a couple of books to the floor before he sat her on it. He was strong and hard, and she’d never wanted anyone as she wanted him. He took her face in his hands, and when they kissed this time it was no simple, gentle touch but a deep, wet, hot statement of raw hunger.

  They were both lost in it. He bunched the material of her skirt up past her waist. She used her toes to shove down his pants. He pulled a breast into his mouth, teasing the chocolate-covered nipple with his tongue while she guided him to where she needed him most.

  Then he thrust into her, making them both cry out. Using the table for leverage, he pulled back and thrust again, this time going higher, deeper. And then again.

  Looking at him, holding his dark, dark gaze, she burst right out of herself, yet another orgasm, with shocking ease, when such a thing had never come easy for her, never. Always, she’d had to strain and strain, and often had just settled without.

  Not now, though she had the sinking feeling it wasn’t the time or the place, but the man.

  Oh, yeah, it was the man.

  He kissed her again, and touched her face. Drew her hands to his chest and moaned his encouragement when they lowered. And she felt, unbelievably, another tightening within her body. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she watched as he drove her higher, then higher still, and at the end, threw his head back, her name on his lips.

  Just watching him, so untamed, so uninhibited, hearing him say her name in that ragged voice, triggered her third—her third!—orgasm of the night.

  But even as the lights exploded inside her head and her body shuddered with the insane pleasure of it all, her mind rebelled. And held back.

  Because this was nothing but a single episode. An end to a means. A temporary diversion.

  And no matter what her heart cried as Ryan gently put his mouth to hers, no matter what she really yearned for, she wouldn’t let herself sink into him.

  She’d keep her heart out of it.

  FOR RYAN, he came back to earth in slow increments. “If that was just sex,” he said, too weak to lift his face away from Suzanne’s neck or open his eyes. “I’ll eat my shorts.”

  This was greeted with silence.

  Forcing himself, he pulled away from the soft skin of her neck and looked at her.

  She, however, hopped down from the table and bustled around, gathering clothes, tossing his to him.

  “Suzanne?”

  She turned away, staring out the window, into the dark, dark night.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  She hugged herself, and when he put his hands on her shoulders, she stepped forward, and away from him. “Of course I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

  He had a good idea what was going through her head. She was very busy distancing herself, convincing herself that everything was still the same. But she was wrong, nothing was the same, and it wouldn’t be ever again. “What just happened wasn’t the norm for me, I want you to know that.” He’d been with other women, he’d even done it in a kitchen before, once with whipped cream, but even that hadn’t been close to what he’d just shared with Suzanne. Chocolate ice cream or not, this hadn’t been just sex. When she’d been in his arms, he’d felt…whole. And when he’d sank into her body, she’d shattered him, heart and soul.

  “It’s late,” she said. “I’m sorry.” And she walked out of the kitchen. A moment later he heard her bedroom door shut.

  Leaving him standing there in the kitchen with his ego on the floor at his feet next to his pants.

  TWO MORNINGS LATER Suzanne stood in the same kitchen in which she’d allow Ryan to eat her up, literally. Chocolate was involved this time as well, though not quite in the same mind-blowing manner.

  She was putting little dollops of frosting on top of cookies, preparing a dessert tray for her third catering event of the week. A luncheon, a referral from the party she’d catered at Ryan’s.

  Ryan.

  Only two nights before he’d rocked her world right here in this very kitchen, looking at her with those dark, dark eyes as if she could quite possibly be the one for him.

  And she’d ruined that by walking away.

  Which had left her lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for two nights running, wondering which exact gene she’d inherited that had made her such an fool.

  With a sigh, she popped another fattening cookie into her mouth. It made for an even dozen. The chocolate melted in her mouth, the cookie dissolved beautifully.

  Well, good. If she couldn’t keep her personal life on track, at least she made a hell of a cookie.

  AFTER THE LUNCHEON, Suzanne drove through South Village, trying to clear her head. Everything had gone smooth. Better than smooth. She’d booked two more jobs for the following week.

  Pretty good for a hobby, she supposed, and ignored the little voice that said it should be more than a hobby.

  Maybe she just hadn’t been born to be regimented, responsible or serious.

  It was afternoon and the streets were humming with action. Businesswomen were out on break shopping and lunching. Men were watching the women shopping and lunching. There were bikers, walkers, joggers…all talking, laughing or, in the case of a roller-blading teen, singing at the top of his lungs. Scents from the sidewalk cafés contrasted with the scents of Southern California air—flowers and smog.

  Suzanne stopped to buy a newspaper, thinking she still needed a job, then drove around some more, checking out a few newer cafés and restaurants.

  She came back to reality when she ended up at Ryan’s office.

  To get out or not, that was the question now. She wondered what it meant that she couldn’t come up with an excuse for being there other than the simple one. She wanted to see him.

  “Hey.”

  At the husky voice in her ear, she jumped. Ryan stood next to her car, looking so good her hands itched to touch, though his smile seemed a bit strained and there were things in his eyes that…oh, God, the things in his eyes.

  “Hey,” she said back. “I…just wanted to…” She couldn’t remember. “Um…”

  He looked at the newspaper on the passenger seat. “Job hunting?”

  “Still.”

  “What’s up with the catering?”

  “It’s just—”

  “A hobby,” he said with her, then smiled.

  “It is.”

  “I know it. What I don’t know is what you’re so afraid of.” He said this softly, without any censure or reproach.

  And maybe that was why she was able to give him a helpless smile and admit the truth. “It’s the usual.”

  “Failure?”

  She nodded, struck dumb by how well he understood her. Had anyone ever understood her so well?

  “Suzanne, don’t you love catering?” />
  “Of course.”

  “Don’t you love being in charge of your workday?”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  “Are you making money at it?”

  She nodded, then covered her eyes. “I know, I know, it’d be a perfect way to get responsible.”

  “I meant it’s a good way to make you happy.”

  No one had ever worried about her happiness, no one.

  “Suzanne, just because your past relationships haven’t worked out, doesn’t mean you’d fail at this.”

  When she would have looked away, he leaned in and touched her face. Made her look at him. “And since we’re listening to what I think…I think I am very glad those other relationships didn’t work out. That was fate. You running your own business is fate. And Suzanne? We’re fate, too.”

  She closed her eyes. “Ryan.”

  “Come to dinner with me.”

  Bad idea. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then let’s go walking.”

  “I’m…”

  “Anything, Suzanne.” His voice was low, his eyes fierce. “Let’s do anything, even just stand here and stare at each other.”

  That wouldn’t work either. She’d made a promise to herself, and no matter what he did to her insides, she had to keep that promise. It was all she had. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry,” she whispered, and reversed out of the lot, praying she didn’t run over his foot.

  She made it back home before she let herself think.

  She needed ice cream. Nope, she couldn’t even count on that as comfort food any more because she couldn’t eat it without thinking of wild, hot, on-the-table sex with Ryan.

  Chips, she decided as she climbed the stairs. She could go for a big bag of barbecue chips. Yeah, that would work, there was absolutely nothing sexy about a bag of chips.

  Unless of course they were scattered across the magnificent body of one Ryan Alondo. Now that would be sexy because she could start at his toes and eat her way up his long, lean form and—

  Bad Suzanne, very bad.

  She’d have to skip the chips, too.

  Taylor’s front door was open. She’d been out shopping at estate sales again, Suzanne thought with a fond grin as she skipped her place and stepped into Taylor’s living room. A three-foot-high brass frog greeted her, as did an ornately carved wooden umbrella holder and a glass shelving unit upon which sat a collection of pewter figurines from Alice In Wonderland.

  She knew Taylor couldn’t help herself, that collecting was firmly entrenched in her blood, but to gather more stuff when she’d only have to sell them off to finish the building? Suzanne wondered how long before they were both out in the street.

  There were voices in the kitchen, several low and male, and at least one female, but it was the gathering of men that made Suzanne’s heart start pumping.

  Ryan? Had he beat her here for some reason? “Taylor?”

  “Come on in!”

  Suzanne did with pitiful eagerness. There were two men at the table, bent over a set of plans. There was also a young woman, her dark hair cut spikey and close to her face, with a multitude of earrings up one ear. She wore frayed jeans, a handkerchief for a top and sported a diamond in her belly button. She sat filling out something on a clipboard. “Hey.”

  Taylor sauntered across the small room toward Suzanne as only Taylor could. “What’s up?”

  Suzanne lifted a brow. “You’re the one with a kitchen full of people.”

  “Oh, well. It’s a busy morning.” She lowered her voice. “Those two at the table are presenting a bid to renovate the building. They took one look at me and decided they could bend me over a barrel with the price. Of course I’ve cheerfully informed them they were sorely mistaken. They’re now groveling and figuring out how to lower their price like good little boys.”

  Only Taylor. “And the interesting looking woman?”

  “That’s Nicole Mann.”

  At the sound of her name, the woman with the clipboard looked up. She had the most unusual gray eyes Suzanne had ever seen. Taylor jerked her head, indicating Nicole should follow her and Suzanne out into the hallway.

  “Suzanne,” Taylor said when they were all in the hallway. “This is Nicole Mann. She’s applying for a place here. I’m thinking the loft will be ready by next week. Unless you want it back.”

  “No, I’m set where I’m at.” Suzanne smiled at Nicole, who didn’t quite smile back. “The loft is great. Nice view of the city now that the trees are gone.”

  “I don’t have the time to breathe much less appreciate a good view.” Nicole handed the clipboard to Taylor.

  “All filled out?” Taylor skimmed the form. “You’re a doctor?”

  “Surgeon.”

  Suzanne was stunned. There was no way this woman who looked younger than she herself could be a surgeon. But Taylor continued talking before Suzanne could ask Nicole any questions.

  “And it’s just you, right? No roommate or significant other?”

  Nicole shuddered. “God, no.”

  Taylor laughed.

  Nicole didn’t. “Why is that funny?”

  “Let’s just say Suzanne and I are on the same wavelength as you, that’s all. We’ve taken a vow of singlehood, just to save us gray hair.”

  “Works for me,” muttered Nicole, but this time when she smiled, it reached her eyes. “Call me at the hospital when the place is ready. It’s where I’m at pretty much 24-7.”

  “Will do.” Taylor watched Nicole vanish down the stairs. “You know, there’s just something about her…”

  “Do you think she has other stuff pierced?” Suzanne wondered.

  “Ouch. I hope not. But I meant the feeling I had when I first looked at her. It was the same feeling I had when I first looked at you.”

  “Yeah?” Suzanne smiled. “Like ‘get this girl off my property before her and her bad karma bring a tree down on my building’?”

  Taylor laughed. “No. Like she’s going to become someone special to me.” She nudged Suzanne’s shoulder with her own. “Just as you’ve become.”

  Suzanne smiled a little, startled by the sudden lump in her throat. “You’re special to me, too.”

  “Special enough to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Which, of course, is why you’ve got circles beneath your eyes and you’re avoiding talking about you know who.”

  Suzanne managed a laugh. “I’m not avoiding talking about him.”

  “Really? Then why won’t you say his name?” When Suzanne didn’t say anything, Taylor said it. “Ryan. Ryan. Ryan. Come on, you can say it. Ry—”

  “Look…” Suzanne blew out a long breath but had to laugh at Taylor’s knowing expression. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

  “Sure.” Taylor smiled. “How’s your catering business going?”

  “It’s just a—”

  “Hobby,” Taylor said with her, then shook her head. “Look, hon, I already love you. But you’ve got a serious case of denial going all the way around. You’ve got a great business practically running itself, and the prospect of some really good sex. Why can’t you just enjoy it? What’s the worst thing that could happen if you let yourself be happy?”

  She could fail. And…well, she could fail.

  And, oh yeah, she could fail.

  11

  RYAN FOUND HIMSELF inundated with jobs, which coincided with his midterms. Which coincided with his inability to think of anything and anyone but Suzanne.

  It wasn’t good. He needed concentration. His latest job required him to take down a series of ten palm trees, each a towering seventy-five feet. Big job. Important job. It had been waiting for him for weeks.

  So why he drove the wrong truck, with the wrong ladder system and lost two hours of work was beyond him.

  The next day he ran out of gas halfway to the job and had to call Russ for a ride, losing another hour of work.

  On the third day he didn’t re
member to pick up Angel from school when she’d called and asked. He’d forgotten his own damn sister.

  On the fourth day he miraculously made it to his jobsite without interruption, and felt quite proud of that fact.

  But then was immediately surrounded by his two brothers and sister, all of whom were looking at him so gravely his heart stopped. “What’s the matter?” He pictured a serious illness, a death, something mind-bendingly awful enough to put that doom-and-gloom look on their faces.

  “You,” Angel said gently, then shoved him into one of the folding beach chairs they kept on the job for lunch break. “You’re the matter. Ryan Alondo….” She waved a hand. “Welcome to your intervention.”

  “My what?”

  “You heard me. Just sit there and listen.”

  “Yeah.” Rafe took off his sunglasses, appearing haggard and worried, and took a deep breath. “Okay, here it goes. First, you’re forgetful. You’ve never been forgetful before, Ryan.”

  “It’s like you’ve gone blond or something,” Russ said, shutting his mouth when Angel glared at him.

  “So, you tell us.” She stood over Ryan with her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter? Are you sick?”

  “No. No!” he added more vehemently when he saw how worried they really were. “I’m not.”

  “Are we having money trouble?” Russ asked, because it was Ryan that handled the bulk of their pay, investing it for them.

  “Yeah, like, did you take up gambling, and lose everything, and don’t know how to tell us?” Rafe asked. “Because if you did, that’s okay. We can make more. We just want to know.”

  Ryan would have laughed if there was anything funny about the fact that he’d really freaked them out. They were staring at him as he had stared at them over the years—an expression of sober grimness mixed with a lot of love.

  The irony was not lost on him. “I didn’t lose all our money.”

  “Is the business going under?” Angel asked. “Because that doesn’t matter either, you know that, right? We’ll find something else, we’ll work at Taco Bell, we’ll—”