The Cat's Pajamas

by Soraya May

  “—and are not going to see. Ever.”

  Ryan put his glass down. “Oh, really? Come to think of it, you did make some pretty bold statements about my inability to handle said style and rhythm, in said package, earlier in the evening. We were getting slammed at the time, as I recall, or I would have called you out on them. Care to back them up now?”

  I scoffed, or did my best to make a scoffing sort of noise. “I must have put more rye in your drink than I’d intended. If you think you’re going to goad me into dancing…”

  “That. Is exactly what I’m going to do, Cat Milsom. And you want to know something?”

  I leaned back, crossing one ankle over the other, and looked sideways at him. “What, Doctor Ryan Sanders?”

  “It’s going to work. You want to know why?”

  “Do enlighten me.”

  “Because, as you said on the very first night we met, you think you know exactly what kind of guy I am. And that, as it happens, is your problem.”

  “You’re my problem.” I poked him in the chest. “One great big walking hunk of problem, is what you are. Stuck here in my bar.” With broad shoulders, and narrow hips, and looking unexpectedly sexy in that apron with your sleeves rolled up. I blinked, and hoped he didn’t notice.

  “I’m going to politely accept your use of the work ‘hunk’ at this point.” Ryan waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I stifled a giggle.

  “It’s like a horror movie: old bar has a terrible secret lurking in the basement. Except the terrible secret is an archaeologist with an overinflated sense of his own appeal.”

  “Now that comment,” he picked up his glass again, and looked at me over the top, “I will rise above. But that isn’t quite what I mean. What I mean is that now you can’t stand to be wrong in your—quite unfair, I might add—character assessment. You just have to be right that I’m some kind of irresponsible bad-boy, don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m right about the irresponsible part, that’s for sure. Not that it was difficult to spot the first time you kissed me.”

  He clapped both hands to his chest in a gesture of shock. “Hold on. You kissed me, as I recall. I was minding my own business—”

  “You were staring at my ass, you mean.”

  “I was not! Well, maybe a bit. Yeah. Okay, I was. A bit.” He didn’t look at all contrite. “I just didn’t expect to be, well, suddenly overwhelmed. Right in the alcove, too. Not,” Ryan held up a hand quickly as I attempted to poke him in both eyes at once, “that I’m complaining. Far from it.”

  “Yeah, you’re such a model of forbearance and gentlemanly conduct.” I frowned at him, but the look in his eyes made my breath catch.

  Miss Restraint. Calling Miss Restraint. Has anyone seen her?

  Something had happened to this conversation a few sentences back, and parts of me were getting worried, while other parts were very much enjoying it. “Not for you to take advantage of a lady in her own bar, right?”

  “Noooo. Not unless she would really like me to.”

  “How noble of you.” I sighed theatrically and swirled the ice in my drink. “In any case, your claims of decency and propriety make me fearful for your health if you were to see me dance. The shock might be too much for you.”

  Am I saying this out loud? You are a very bad woman, Cat Milsom, and you are only making trouble for everyone with this line of discussion.

  “Now that is a risk I’m willing to take.” Ryan’s expression could only be called a smirk.

  I looked at him over my glass. “I’m a doctor, remember? I took an oath to first do no harm. If something were to happen to you, I,” I took a deep breath, and Ryan’s eyes widened quite satisfyingly, “why, I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “Would you like me to sign a disclaimer, or what? Life is risk. Hand me a pen and paper.”

  “Hmm.” I was inexplicably aware of the fit of my jeans, of the fabric of my top against my skin. Ryan’s eyes were on me, and this time he wasn’t really bothering to be subtle about it. The air felt warm between us. “I guess that counts as informed consent.”

  “I can assure you I’m of sound mind and…body. Show me what you’ve got on the dance floor, boss.”

  Dammit. What the hell. It’s not like I’ve ever done anything irresponsible before. Except for, you know, the last time I did, with the this very same guy.

  Standing up, I wiggled my hips. “Are you sure?”

  “I am extremely sure.” His eyes didn’t leave me, and right now, I really didn’t want them to.

  Reaching behind the bar, I flicked the switch on the stereo, and music filled the bar again. By now, all the patrons had long since departed the area, and we were well and truly alone.

  “You’d better follow me, then, Dr. Sanders.”

  Walking to the dance floor, I felt the music coming through the floor, rising up through my heels and into my body. I started to dance on my own, swinging my hips, and turning to watch Ryan over my shoulder. He was gripping the bar-top as if trying to keep from flying away, watching me intently. I breathed in; the night air was intoxicating, to the point where I almost had to steady myself.

  Right now, I want him to want me. Right now, I want him to want me more than he wants anything else in the world.

  We were on top of a freight train, barreling through the darkness; Ryan was a couple of yards away, but I could tell from here that he didn’t want to get off any more than I did.

  “You seem a little distressed, Dr. Sanders.” I hooked one thumb into my belt, and slid my other hand up my thigh, watching him.

  He growled and stood up. “Damn. You are even more impressive when you’re out from behind that bar.” Striding toward me, his arms went around my waist—just like that, without asking. God, yes—and we moved together. I ground against his knee, and pulled him into me, urgent and hungry.

  “Mmm, very impressive,” Ryan muttered into my ear as I pushed into him. “I continue to be surprised by your talents.” Quite slowly, he bent his head and put his lips on my neck. I moved with him, tilting my head back to give him more access to my throat. “Oh, you have no idea about my talents, believe me.”

  Inside me, a part of me still couldn’t believe what I was saying.

  What the hell? I keep telling myself I’m going to be friendly and professional, and all of a sudden I’m turning into this siren, telling him about my ‘talents’. His kisses on my neck were drowning out what little common sense I had left, and I couldn’t help moaning as he kissed me harder.

  “Damn, that’s sexy.” Ryan pushed his knee harder between my thighs, and I slid up and down on him, getting more and more horny by the minute. His kisses progressed across my collar-bone, from one bare shoulder to the other, feeling like fire on my skin.

  I slid one hand up underneath his shirt, feeling his muscles strain against me.

  Bam. Miss Restraint has well and truly left the building.

  It was like a dam had burst; all the memories of the kisses we’d shared, all the times I’d looked at Ryan and wondered what it would be like to have him right here, all the momentary fantasies right up to the edge between us, all came together in one moment. This is really happening, right now, and I don’t want to stop.

  Without any conscious thought, my other hand went down to the bulge in his pants, and he growled in response. “You keep doing that, you’d better be buying and not just looking.”

  “Oh yeah?” I massaged his hardness, feeling him urgent against me. “You…mmm…you’re damn right I’m buying if this is what you’re selling.” My fingers found his zipper and slid it down with a soft metallic noise. “How about an inspection of the merchandise?”

  Ryan’s hands were twined in my hair, tilting my head back, and his mouth was on my neck again, kissing hard enough to leave a mark.

  I’m going to have to wear a scarf for a few days after this, especially around Farrah, I thought, but my own desire swept any more thoughts away as I slid my h
and into Ryan’s pants, and slipped my fingers around him, stroking him rhythmically to the music. Now it was his turn to gasp. “Fuuuck, Cat…”

  Around us, the music continued to pulse, but I hardly heard as much as sensed it, pushing into me, driving me to do things I’d never thought of doing. I looked up at him, my hand still on him, almost unable to believe what I was doing.

  “Is this—are we really…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Ryan raised his head from my neck, and looked right at me. I saw the same look of amazement in his eyes, and he smiled.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think we are. Really. Are we?”

  Rather than answer, I kissed him again, and he pulled us toward the bar, almost hopping. Turns out it’s hard to walk when you’ve got your hand in a guy’s pants. Who knew?

  I reluctantly released my hold on him, and he swung me around, grinning wickedly. “I think you deserve a dose of your own medicine.”

  Wait, what? Oh, hell. Now I’m in trouble. Before I knew what was happening, he’d expertly slipped open my belt, and popped the buttons off my fly, one by one. His strong hands slid beneath the waistband of my jeans, stroking the smooth skin on my hips, and my breath caught in my throat. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him as his hands roamed over my ass, searching, hungry.

  “Damn, that’s really good,” he muttered. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night, you know.”

  Even through the haze of my lust, I couldn’t help smiling. “You should have told me earlier, and I’d have put on more of a show for you.” I whimpered a little as his hand slipped inside my panties, and gently grazed my clit.

  He grunted, hoarse with desire. “Believe me, every time you walk away from me in those jeans, you’re putting on quite the show as it is. Now, enough talking from you.” Gripping my thighs, he hoisted me up onto the bar, making me yelp in surprise.

  “What the h-” Another kiss stopped my mouth, and Ryan shook his head.

  “The only thing I want to hear from you right now are noises of appreciation, Cat Milsom.” Pushing me back onto the bar-top, his fingers hooked my jeans, and in one movement he slipped them down off my thighs, tossing them behind him. I would have shivered in the evening air, but I was too lost in my own desire to even notice. My shoes had clattered onto the floor in a heap with my jeans and panties, and now I was naked from the waist down, exposed to him.

  Ryan let out a low growl of arousal. “Hell, yeah. That’s exactly what I want.” I was wet already, and as he spread my legs, I couldn’t help another whimper of delight and anticipation. Bending forward, he traced a line up my thigh with his tongue, first one, then the other, starting at my knees, and sliding up, gently and insistently, then stopping just short of my mound. I writhed against him and pushed myself up toward his tongue, as he slid one hand underneath me on the bar-top. “Now, it’s time for you to get exactly what you deserve,” he muttered.

  Slowly, his tongue slid onto me, tracing spirals from top to bottom, tasting me. With each stroke, I could feel the pulse of the music around me, and I strained toward his mouth. “Oh, God, Ryan, please…” His hand underneath me guided me up towards his tongue, and he began to dive into me, gently at first and then more insistent, every stroke sending a wave of electricity up my torso. My hands searched for something to hang on to, and finally found the top of the bar, the polished wood soft under my fingers. I braced myself against it, and pushed back into him, trying to get his tongue as deep into me as I possibly could. Stroke after stroke went into me, and with every one Ryan’s hand under my buttocks squeezed harder, controlling me.

  My senses floated; I could only feel him pleasuring me, hear the beat of the music around us, and feel the air on my skin. There could have been a hundred people watching, and I wouldn’t have known or cared any more. Ryan changed his movements, and expertly slid a finger into me, stroking me gently in my most sensitive spot. I yelped again, and then let out a long sigh of pleasure.

  He made a noise of deep satisfaction. “I am very glad you like that.” The stroking continued, lighting a fire inside me, and he bent his head again to press his tongue on me, circling and teasing. This time, I wrapped both legs around his shoulders, drawing him in. He pleasured me, harder than before, and I could feel the fire inside me building in intensity, making me shudder in anticipation of my climax.

  The stroking of his finger within me, and his tongue pressing into me, was pushing all the breath out of my body, and all I could do was gasp his name. “Ryan…ohh…”

  The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, and he increased the tempo of his stroking, pushing me closer and closer with every stroke, licking and circling with an urgent need to satisfy me. I writhed under his tongue and his fingers, again and again, until I could feel my climax building inside me.

  “Ryan…oh God, I—” Then it was upon me, and all I could do was hang on to the bar-top and clasp my legs tightly around him as it crashed over me, filling my senses.

  22

  Cat

  I came to consciousness with Ryan’s arms around me, and for the first time in years, I felt at peace. The cold morning light was filtering in through my bedroom window, and there was condensation on the pane. Outside, I could hear birds chirping in chorus, and a low sound of wind.

  I could feel the warmth of Ryan’s body against me, and hear the steady beat of his heart through my own chest. Still half-asleep, I drifted in and out of consciousness, thinking of what had happened.

  The previous night had been unexpected, and yet now, in the morning light with his arms around me, I’d felt like it was always going to happen, more than I could ever have believed. We’d been talking, laughing, sparring, flirting, then all of a sudden, as if by flicking a switch, our passion had been unleashed, and neither of us could resist.

  Speaking of flicking a switch, I thought. I was aware of a pleasurable ache and a feeling of intense satisfaction within me, one I could never get on my own. I do not want to know where he learned to do that.

  Ryan stretched against me, and I could feel the pattern of his breathing change. Softly, I turned around within his embrace to face him.

  “Good morning.” One eye flickered open, closed, then opened again. One corner of his mouth quirked up.

  “Good morning.”

  “You’re a heavy sleeper.” I was barely aware of what had happened during the night, but I knew Ryan had never so much as moved once.

  “It’s one of my many appealing traits.” He breathed out slowly, stretched, and kissed me on the forehead. “How are you feeling?”

  I nestled against his chest. “Good. Very good.” His arms gathered me in, and for a moment I wanted just to fall asleep all over again, so I could experience the sensation of waking up with him one more delicious time. One of my hands was on his chest, and the steady sound of his breathing filled my ears. “I think we may have some more clearing up to do downstairs.”

  A low chuckle. “I think so. But maybe not just yet.”

  I snuggled into him closer. “Maybe not just yet.”

  After a while, I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “That was…unexpected.”

  “It was. I hope you’re not experiencing any…discomfort.”

  I shook my head. “No. Well, a little, but not in a bad way.” I wasn’t entirely able to remember every detail of what had happened last night, but judging by the feeling in my thigh and calf muscles, I’d had quite a workout, and it hadn’t been from the dancing.

  Ryan’s hand stroked my hair, and I turned in his embrace a little, enjoying the feeling of him all around me.

  “Did we really…?” He tailed off.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think we did.”

  “Wow.”

  “Just what I was about to say.” This was probably a bad idea. In fact, it was probably in my list of Catherine’s All-Time Top 5 Bad Ideas. But right now, it really didn’t seem like it. It seemed warm, and comforting, and sleepy, and happy, and I could do with more of that in my life. “How the heck did yo
u manage to do that to me?”

  Ryan looked sideways at me, nestled in the crook of his bicep. “Do…what, precisely?”

  “Well,” I made a vague hand motion, “that. Talk me into, well, that.”

  “Talk you into that? Was that gesture,” he copied what I’d just done, “supposed to symbolize the act of convincing you to engage in hanky-panky with your house-guests on top of the bar?”

  “It sounds a lot less appealing when you put it that way.”

  “I’m a scientist.” He tried to shrug one shoulder, and succeeded only in looking like Quasimodo for a moment. “Sue me. Precision is important in my line of work. Anyway, I don’t remember talking you into anything.”

  “You talked me into dancing. I still can’t believe I did that.”

  His smile was the deeply satisfied expression of someone recalling a fond memory. “Oh, I can. I’m not going to forget that for a long time.”

  Downstairs, I heard a soft knocking sound. “Damn. Who’s coming to a bar at this time of the morning?”

  “Damn indeed. What time of the morning is it, exactly?” Ryan sat up slightly, and looked out of the window. “The change of seasons makes it hard to tell down here.”

  I shrugged, enjoying the feeling of pressing into his chest. “Not sure. My phone is…elsewhere.” I have no idea where it is. Along with my pants. Wowee. Looks like Miss Restraint went on a pretty long holiday, and she’s not answering her calls.

  The knocking sounded again. Reluctantly, I wriggled out of bed, shivering in the cold. “I’d better see who it is.”

  Ryan sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Want me to come?”

  “I’d rather have you,” I looked significantly at him, “right here, actually. You stay here, and I’ll sort it out.”

  Slipping into my robe, I padded along the hallway and down the wooden stairs. As I did, the knocking came for a third time. “Coming, coming,” I grumbled under my breath. “You’d better have a good reason for not just going away and assuming we weren’t here.”