by Liv Rancourt
She reached for the doorknob, half convinced the floor would soften and suck her down. She half hoped it would.
“Use the other bathroom, dude.” Ryan sounded gruff, tired, and bothered by the invasion of his privacy.
She almost backed out, except somehow the door clicked shut behind her and she was stuck. Floating steam blurred the edges of the scene, giving her an impressionistic view of a cream and rust counter and gold fixtures. “It’s me.”
He jerked open the curtain and poked his head out, tendrils of wet hair splayed across his forehead and down as far as the hitch in the bridge of his nose. Surprise, irritation, and something else flashed through his eyes, as quick as the changing pages of an old flip-book cartoon.
Hoping she had her big girl panties on, Danielle dropped her messenger bag on the floor. “You left without saying goodbye.”
He ducked back into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. “Hang on.” The handle gave a soft squeak as he turned the water off and the billows of steam started to fade. Without coming out from behind the curtain, he pointed at a worn white towel sitting on the counter. “Hand me that.”
“Bossy,” she said, mostly under her breath. The towel came off her hand funny and he had to reach to pick it up. As if she needed a reason to blush harder.
“You could wait in the living room.”
She crossed her arms and let a few seconds spin out, the warm, moist air coating her skin. “Do you want me to?” She tried to sound tough, but he had to know she was faking it.
After a longer silence, his voice came out lower and gruffer than normal. “Not really.”
She pressed her palms into the sharp edges of the countertop. She didn’t have to wait long before he brushed open the shower curtain and, giving his head a final shake, stepped out. The towel was wrapped tight around his hips. Despite the blurring effects of the steam, she caught the curve of his biceps and the dusting of dark curls on his chest. He came at her, steady and aggressive. He backed her up until the edge of the counter creased her butt, the pressure of his hips against her so boldly sexual it made her lightheaded.
“Well, Princess, this is a nice surprise.” He bent down and spoke right into her ear. His breath sent shivers down her neck. “Sorry I interrupted your date.”
She gulped, working to steady her voice so she could get through her list of concerns. “Wasn’t a date.” Her nipples tightened, her lace bra becoming exquisitely rough.
“And New Year’s Eve won’t be a date either?”
She squeezed the counter. They needed to hash this out before she accidentally-on-purpose ripped the towel away. “No.”
“It could be, right? You haven’t made me any promises.”
That jerked her chain, and she glared up at him. “You haven’t made me any either.”
“Should I?”
His big, powerful body almost bent her back over the vanity. The gleam in his eyes was steamier than the shower, and though he kept one hand on the towel, it wouldn’t take much to get him naked.
She still had her jacket on.
She squirmed, wrestling her arms out of the quilted down coat, a move that rubbed her breasts against his chest. His fingers contracted, a tiny movement, a hint that he wanted to grab something. Hopefully her. He used his hips to pin her to the vanity and his gaze to pin her to the conversation.
She tossed the coat aside. “Better,” she said, her voice reduced to a bare rasp.
He rested his hand on her shoulder, his thumb finding the pulse in her neck. “We were talking about promises.” He crowded her space, letting go of the towel to cup her jaw with both hands. Only the press of their bodies kept the damp fabric from dropping to the floor.
If she reached down, she’d be able to put her hands on his naked ass, and the heat burning deep in her belly made it hard to think straight. Keep your hands on his shoulders. She didn’t want to talk about promises. She didn’t want to talk at all. Shoulders, damn it. “I’m only going to be here another month or six weeks.” She had to clear her throat to keep talking. “And you just got out of a relationship.”
His lips almost touched her forehead and his damp chest pressed against her sweatshirt. “That was done a couple years ago.”
“Still, we shouldn’t commit to something that isn’t going to last.” Her sweatshirt was damp where his chest pressed against her body and the heat lower down made thinking difficult. “But seriously, I don’t want to be with anybody else.”
He exhaled, low and throaty, and his shoulders relaxed. She tipped her face up, and he angled down to meet her lips.
Their kiss was light and cautious, dipping in and testing the waters. She parted her lips, flicked him with the tip of her tongue.
He growled, reaching around her with both arms and lifting her bum onto the edge of the vanity. The air was sweaty, steamy, hot. She opened her knees and he closed in, rocking his hard length against the seam of her jeans. Her sex clutched, a low smolder radiating through her belly, and what was left of her conscious mind wanted to magic away the layers of fabric separating them.
They kissed long and hard and sticky sweet, a mashup of lips and tongues and wrenching raw need. He found his way under her sweatshirt, fingers dancing over her nipples, bathing her in liquid fire.
“We’re making out in the bathroom,” she said, the sauna they’d created mellowing her voice to a whisper.
He hooked a finger through one of her belt loops and tugged. “Take these pants off and I’ll show you something else we can do in here.”
The husky edge to his voice blew right over her, causing her need to flame. He claimed her mouth again, a kiss so deep she could have drowned in it. She hitched up farther on the counter, locking her ankles at the small of his back.
The towel fell lower, pretty much hanging on his erection, the rest of him bare and buff and gorgeous. Danielle was busy exploring as much as she could reach when Ryan’s stomach gurgled, making her giggle and him snuff a laugh in her ear. He scraped his teeth down her earlobe and shifted back, letting a breath of moist, cooling air come between them.
“Yeah, dinner,” he said, and while he might have been referring to food, his eyes were all about dessert. He hitched the towel back up, but not before she’d had the chance to follow the line of dark curls south from his belly button.
“I guess I didn’t eat either.”
“Should I call out for pizza?”
Oh hell no. “You’re standing there mostly naked and you want to talk about food?”
“Mom always told us never to answer a question with a question.” He brought the towel higher on his hips. “But we can eat later.”
“Later.”
Ryan cracked the bathroom door open and scanned the hallway. The only one around was Barnabas, sitting like an orange tabby sphinx, tail wrapped over his front paws.
“All clear.” Keeping Dani close to his body, Ryan guided her across the hall to his room. He turned on his bedside lamp. Her hazel eyes were huge and dark, and even dressed in an old sweatshirt and grubby jeans, she looked elegant.
He willed himself to relax, determined to stretch this out for as long as possible.
Dani had other ideas.
She snared him with a kiss, as stunning as it was raw. Not gentle. Not delicate. All tearing heat and wrestling tongues. He needed his hands on bare skin. He dropped the towel and reached for her sweatshirt. She was already sliding out of her jeans.
The cooler bedroom air raised gooseflesh down his arms. Well, either cool air or nerves. This wasn’t Cherry and he wasn’t drunk. This was Dani and he was sober; and he wanted her with a raging ache in his balls and a sharp desire in his soul.
He caught a passing glance at a rose-colored bra. She tossed it aside and they faced each other. Naked. He yanked on the band holding her ponytail, just this side of rough. Her hair fell loose around her face and he brought a few of the ginger strands to his lips. The silky vanilla scent made his dick throb.
“No more
waiting,” she whispered, and stepped into him, capturing his length between their bellies.
Breathing hard, he wrapped a hand around her neck, gently running a thumb along the soft skin of her throat. He’d held out until desire almost tore a hole in him. She gripped his ass with both hands, rubbing herself against him, smearing his leaking tip against her skin.
“No more waiting.” This time she spoke louder, more assertive. He thought about saying something about how he felt, telling her some deep, personal thing. Then the tip of her tongue ran along his bottom lip.
Shit.
“You know what, Princess?” He wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted. “I’m the boss in here.”
Her gorgeous rosy nipples were at the level of his mouth. He latched onto one, laving, sucking, and tasting. She tugged on his hair, shrieked when he bit down. He pivoted and tossed her on the bed, feeling his caveman roots hard.
Leaning back on her elbows, she gave him the full view, her dark eyes begging him to make a move. He knelt between her legs and let himself enjoy the show: full breasts, creamy flat belly, neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair, and long, long legs.
He was pretty damned sure he’d never be this hard again.
Dani grasped his wrists and pulled. He resisted her, wanting to draw out the anticipation.
“I said, no more waiting.” Her naughty grin hammered at his self-control.
“And I said I’m the boss.”
“You aren’t the boss of me,” she said, all throaty and sexy. Damn, she was going to have him shooting his wad in about ten seconds.
He ran his hands up her calves, spreading her knees that much wider. She blushed but didn’t fight him. “Oh yeah? When I’m working on your house, you tell me what to do, but in here, I tell you what to do.”
She giggled and arched her back. “Wait a minute. At the house you tell me what needs to be done, then I say to do it. It’s not like I’m really in charge.”
“Well if we’re lucky that’s how it’ll be in here, too. Now don’t move.” He crawled across Dani’s body to the nightstand for a condom and had it stretched over his shaft by the time he got back between her knees. He loved that she was so strong, so confident, as if time had taught her to reach directly for what she wanted. Sleeping with Cherry had made him feel like a servant being allowed a roll in the royal hay. This quivering, yearning demand was something entirely new.
She half sat, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and dropped, pulling him down over top of her. With a grin, he trapped her wrists over her head. He was poised at her entrance, his ass and thighs shaking. He worked her neck with his lips and tongue, tasting salty skin, drowning in her warm rose scent. She wrapped her thighs around his hips, drawing him farther in.
“For a classy chick, you’re kinda dirty in bed,” he said.
She rocked her hips against him. His body shook with the effort it took to hold back. He wanted to ease into her, slide deep into her warmth, and make every stroke last in case he never found his way there again.
“Now.”
The word was a brush of air against his skin. They were forehead to forehead, their hands clasped overhead, fingers interlaced, pressed against the mattress. He thrust and held still until he could control the burning load building in his balls.
She nipped the end of his nose. “Let’s go.”
He did.
He pounded into her, setting a pace so fast he’d never be able to sustain it. Her soft murmured “yes, yes, yes” could have sounded like a porno movie.
It only drove him faster.
“You’re so good, Dani. So sweet.” He had to slow down or he’d explode. He rose up on his knees, sitting on his heels and lifting her ass in his palms, changing the angle, making it shorter, tighter, deeper. He found her bud with his thumb and rubbed small circles. He kept going until she wailed.
Her body tensed and she tossed her head back, hair spread like a ginger corona. She clawed at his arms, her spasms milking him until he could barely hold it together.
Sweat ran down the side of his face, the small of his back, and her body softened, relaxed. He lowered her hips, stretched out over her, caged her body with his arms. Her legs wrapped around him so tight he was pretty sure she was ruining him for anyone else. He buried his face in the hollow of her throat and picked up his rhythm.
“Oh my God.” Dani sighed, and the sweetness in her voice sent him over the edge. He gave in to the tightening in his balls and tensed for the surge that ripped through him in an endless pulsing loop.
The universe paused for one blinding second.
He landed heavily on her, breathing hard, lips pressed against her forehead. “Do me a favor.” He had trouble forcing the words out, still lost in the Neverland that only the best sex gets to.
“What?”
“Promise me we can do this again.” He stroked along her side, grinning at the shivers radiating from his touch. “You are the most gorgeous woman ever.”
She stared up at the ceiling, her tiny smile telling him the compliment scored a hit. “I think I need a shower, a decent haircut, and pedicure.”
“Straight up, babe, I don’t think you could look any better than you do right now.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Easy to say when you’re balls deep.”
“Don’t be like that, Princess.” He patted her cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He rocked onto his heels, keeping a hand on the condom. His knees wobbled on the two steps it took to get to the trashcan. Landing beside her in the bed felt warm and good, and he laid a palm flat on her belly. “Now you have to believe me.” He nuzzled the tender skin behind her ear. “You are beautiful.”
Her only response was a long, slow kiss.
“Hey, Dani,” he said, the words sneaking out while his guard was down. “Remember this in the morning, okay?”
She raised herself up and met his gaze, her expression puzzled. “Um, since I think you just gave me the mother of all hickeys, I’m betting I will.”
He tried to smile, feeling like an idiot for letting his insecurity show. At the light brush of his fingertips on her cheek, she closed her eyes and settled back down against him, the thrum of her heart pulsing against his ribs.
“I won’t forget you, Ryan O’Connor. Not ever.”
“Good.”
Chapter Fourteen
The week between Christmas and New Year, Danielle and Ryan spent as much time together as possible. Danielle didn’t call Maeve, and Maeve didn’t call Danielle, and Danielle tried hard not poke at it too much.
On Thursday morning Danielle was down in the basement doing laundry. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. The text was from Maeve.
Meet us at the Pig tonight. Party planning.
She assumed “us” meant Maeve and Cherry. A trip to the dentist had more appeal, shots of Novocain and all. She jogged up the stairs to the kitchen where Ryan was squatted in front of some cabinet boxes hanging the doors.
“So, tonight.” Danielle took a second to figure out how to frame things. She knew she ought to go meet Maeve, but ‘ought to’ and ‘want to’ were very different things.
Ryan sat back on his heels and set the drill on the floor. “Tonight.” He nodded as if feeding her the words.
“Maeve wants me to come down to the Pig to figure things out for her New Year’s Eve party.”
Ryan scratched the top of his head, looking up at her with a smile that managed not to show any dimple at all. “Yeah?”
“And I feel like I should go.” Danielle squinted at the floor, hoping it would organize her thoughts. “The more I avoid her, the longer she’ll stay mad.”
Ryan stayed quiet for a minute, then shrugged. “Well, if you want to go, you should.”
“You won’t be mad?”
He snorted, shrugged again, and picked up the drill. “Was hoping we could spend New Year’s Eve together.”
“Well we can go to the party together.”
Ryan’s exp
ression underlined the stupidity of that idea. Despite a laundry list of misgivings, Danielle persisted. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”
“Sure, Dani. Whatever.” Ryan eased his weight forward, turning his back to her.
Danielle fought through a wave of oh my God if I don’t do what he wants he’ll leave just like Braden and headed back to the basement. Some clothes needed to be folded, and the brainless, repetitive motion promised to be therapeutic.
Maeve’s text followed her around the house like a big fat elephant all afternoon, until Danielle had the sense she was poised at the top of Class IV rapids in a rubber ducky raft. As an act of self-preservation, she booked a flight to L.A. for February 2nd so she’d know there was an endpoint. She didn’t let herself think about whether it would be the endpoint for her relationship with Ryan.
The Pig was crowded when Danielle arrived, full of wool-wrapped revelers with nothing better to do on a December 30th evening. Maeve had grabbed a booth, and there was no sign of Cherry. Danielle clutched her inner ducky and dove in, striding across the room like she was happy to be spending time with an old friend.
She tossed her purse across the bench seat. Maeve’s crystalline smile froze Danielle’s hand in mid-air. So much for faking it. “Um … hi.”
“Hi,” Maeve said to her cocktail. She’d come straight from work, and her slim, black mini-dress with skyscraper heels made her legs look a mile long.
Danielle was just glad her jeans were clean and there wasn’t too much paint under her fingernails. “I thought Cherry was going to be here.”
“She’s late.”
Danielle perched on the edge of the seat, wondering how long she’d be able to force her way through such stilted conversation.
“Thank you for coming.” Maeve sounded like she was talking to her boss or her Mom or her priest, not her best friend since freshman year of high school.
“No problem. I—”
“You went over to Ryan’s after we left, didn’t you?” Maeve asked, the highball class clutched tightly in her hand.
Eamon’s advice – just tell her what she wants to hear – came close to spilling out of Danielle’s mouth. Instead, she went for the truth. “Yeah, I did.”
