Something happened to Ry’s eyes as he looked at her. They brightened somehow, as if they’d become lit from the inside. And when she saw that look, something happened inside her chest, too. Everything shifted, never to go back to where it had been.
He leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table. ‘It’s a shiraz sangiovese from McLaren Vale. Isn’t it a gorgeous drop? I’m thinking of adding it to the wine list at the pub.’
Julia nodded and sipped some more. ‘You should.’
‘And we should eat,’ Barbra announced, placing the curry on the table before them.
After the meal, Julia rose to clear away the plates. She’d been waited on hand and foot during the evening, and felt it only right to repay the favour. A slightly woozy feeling washed over her as she walked to the kitchen, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The wine, the food and the easy conversation had warmed her. As she placed the stack of dishes on the sink, she took another moment to watch mother and son.
Barbra was laughing happily, taking another sip of her wine, and Julia had to admit her surprise. If Julia had to pick a look for Ry’s mother, she would put her in the ageing hippie social worker box rather than the one marked society wife. Barbra’s long grey hair hung loosely around the shoulders of her curvaceous frame, and Julia admired the unusual silver pendant she wore, setting off her deep purple tunic. Comfortable jeans and flat shoes, perfect for weekend walks along the beach, completed the look.
Julia returned to the dining table.
‘Barbra, tell me more about walking the Cinque Terre. Did you always want to see those little Italian villages?’
‘Oh God no. I wasn’t there for the walking, Julia. I was there for the eating!’
‘And not the men?’ Ry teased, downing the last of the wine in his glass.
‘Don’t get me started on the men! Flirting is the national sport of Italians. It’s divine.’
‘You were there for three months. Why didn’t one of those ageing bronzed Italians sweep you away to his villa on Lake Como and make you the Countess of Chicken Parmagiana?’
They laughed and laughed, no doubt more loudly than they might have otherwise if they hadn’t consumed so much good wine. Julia knew from her own mother’s experience what it was like to be a widow in middle age and Ry clearly understood it, too. She watched him, as she’d done most of the night, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, loose and relaxed. In his other hand, he held his wine glass by the bowl, absent-mindedly swirling it around and around, absorbed in the vibrant colours drizzling down the crystal sides.
‘And the food in that part of Italy? Magnifico,’ Barbra continued. ‘Did you know it’s the home of pesto?’
‘No, I didn’t know that, Mum.’
Barbra turned her gaze on Julia, ‘Have you ever been to Italy?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Julia admitted. She didn’t come from the kind of family which bestowed fancy overseas trips, gap years and graduation presents on their children. And once she’d made her own way in the world, she’d never had the time for a big trip. She had never wanted to be away from work that long.
Barbra shook her head. ‘Well, it’s high time you did. Have you travelled much?’
‘I went to Bali a couple of years ago with some friends for a shopping trip.’
Barbra spluttered. ‘Oh my darling, you haven’t lived! Travelling is absolutely the best way to make sense of yourself and your place in the world. That’s what I keep telling Ry. Really, he just needs a holiday.’ She stood up from her chair, picked up her wine glass and held it high in a salute.
‘Ry, your wine has been delightful, thank you my darling.’ She leaned over to kiss the top of her son’s head. ‘I’m off to bed.’ She swooped down to kiss Julia on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Julia. It’s been an absolute delight to meet you. I’ll be here for a couple of days, so pop over for a coffee if you feel like a break from all that renovating.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Julia told her. ‘Thanks again for the wonderful dinner. That was simply the best curry I’ve ever had.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.’
Ry waited for Barbra to head up the stairs and listened for the sound of her door closing behind her. He downed the rest of his wine in one long gulp and leaned across the table.
‘So.’
‘So,’ she replied. ‘What a night.’
Ry reached across to hold her hands. His fingers were warm, his eyes clear and his penetrating stare rumbled her nerves.
‘I’ve been wanting to tell you … you look …’
She raised her eyebrows when he hesitated. ‘Exhausted is the word you’re looking for, I think.’
‘I was going to say … beautiful. You look amazing tonight, Julia.’
Her heart began to pound and her mouth felt like a bowl full of cottonwool. ‘You’re not so shabby yourself.’
She pushed back her chair and stood. ‘Thanks for your help today and for the wine.’ Uncontrolled, the tension coiled up inside Julia and lodged in her throat. ‘I should probably get going.’
Pulling her pashmina around her, crossing her arms, she walked to the door. Ry was right there beside her, his arm brushing her shoulder as he reached out to open it. She watched him tighten his grip on the handle and hesitate. Then, turning to her with searching eyes, he reached for something altogether different.
One step and he’d forced her backwards, pressing her up against the door with the full strength of his body, his arms anchored on either side of her shoulders, catching her in his net.
‘Ry.’ She was beyond control now. Reaching up for him, she curved a hand around his collar, forcing herself against every square inch of him. She stood on her toes to reach his neck, where the hard cord of muscle met his collarbone, and nipped his skin with her teeth. With her free hand, she tugged at the waistband of his jeans, pulled at the hem of his T-shirt, almost tearing his jumper out of the way so she could get her hands on his body, feel his hot skin against the cool of her hands. She desperately needed to feel his muscles bunch and move with her touch, to stretch her fingers across his belly, to feel his hardness in her fist.
Ry grunted and tangled his hands in her hair, pulling back so he could search her face. His hungry gaze moved from her lips to her eyes and back to her lips in what felt like tantalising torture, being in his arms, captured by his strength, and waiting for his mouth to crush her. She was bewildered by how much she wanted him, how desperate she was to feel his lips, to feel him filling her. Her body was running the show now, demanding exactly what it needed, burning her up from the inside and sending electrical shocks from her lips to the junction of her thighs. She squeezed them tight, taking pleasure in the friction. She tried to say his name again, to beg, but her breath caught and her heart was racing. All that came out was a moan.
That was enough. His hold on her strengthened and he found her lips, overwhelming them with his, open-mouthed and urgent, his tongue seeking hers and swirling his around it. He tasted like the shiraz they’d been drinking, full-bodied and bold.
Julia felt herself blissfully surrendering to this want, this need to have him. She snaked a hand around his waist and savoured the muscled strength she found at his hips, gripping him tight to pull his erection closer to her. The wine buzz had not only knocked off her usual reserve, but had awakened a desire in her she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe not since …
She pulled her mouth from his, used her hands to push his hips away. He held onto one arm and cupped her left breast with the other, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her hard and aching nipple. She shivered and cried out. His lips brushed her earlobe and he whispered fiercely, ‘I’m not stopping now, Julia.’
‘I don’t want you to.’ A sigh.
‘I need to get you naked and fuck you.’ A demand.
Thank you, Jesus, she thought.
Her voice trembled ‘Five minutes. My place.’
Julia gripped the door handle to steady herself as much as to open
it and stared back at him. He looked like a man about to get laid. Hot and hungry and so ready.
‘You know the address.’
He lifted his wrist to check the time on his watch, tapping it twice. ‘Your time starts now.’
CHAPTER
13
Julia barely made it to her bedroom before she heard the front door slam shut and then the echo of Ry’s long-legged strides across the empty living room floor. She spun around and there he was, filling the doorway of her bedroom, his face and body streaked by the moonlight through the venetian blind.
He stopped, found her and branded her with the desire in his eyes. A frisson raced through her, a tremble from her head to her sex to the tips of her fingers, every part of her pulsing with the need to touch him. She clenched her fists to stop the rush and found her voice.
‘I thought I had five minutes.’ She didn’t really want five minutes. She didn’t want five seconds. She wanted him now.
‘I couldn’t wait.’ His voice deep and rugged, Ry yanked his T-shirt over his head, his naked, magnificent chest shifting in the half-light with every breath he took. He didn’t move, just watched her watching him.
Julia’s eyes wandered hungrily over the man she was aching to touch. All six-foot-four of the sexy-as-hell Ry Blackburn. God, how she wanted those strong arms to engulf her, dig her nails into
his strapping shoulders and feel every inch of every muscle and sinew and tendon on that body. She wanted to taste his nipples and feel his hard chest pressed solidly against her, crushing her breasts, squeezing the air from her lungs.
And then her eyes dipped to his flat and hard belly, and she couldn’t remember the name of those damn muscles that curve around a man’s hips but he sure as hell had them and she stopped breathing. A smattering of hair darkened as it got lower and she saw two very important words half-hidden by the waistband of his denims: Calvin and Klein.
This is really going to happen. Two adults, just sex. Simple, uncomplicated, no-strings attached shagging.
‘Come here.’ Julia reached out for him, snagging her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and then inside his Calvin’s, tugging him closer. Her fingers lingered on his skin, teased slowly around his waist, his heat scorching her fingertips. He felt hard and his skin hot, and he didn’t move or say a word as she spread her fingers and pressed her palms around his waist, feeling every part of him tighten and shift under her hands. She stepped closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek and she smoothed her hands higher and higher, moving up his belly, lingered to feel his heart pounding under her palms, and then up to dig her nails into his shoulders.
‘JJ …’ he breathed in a low growl. She finally met his eyes and saw how much he was holding back, his jaw clenched, his breathing strong.
And then he took over.
His arms crushed her, lifting her off the floor, her legs dangling giddily, every bit of his want and raw desire was in his lips and tongue, dancing, open, demanding, bruising. Julia gripped on tight to his bare shoulders, loving his sheer strength, shivering at the feel of his bare chest, firm against her. She returned every kiss with her own power, taking his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it, tasting red wine and Ry. He stook two steps forward to the bed,
lowered her down and then let go for just long enough to tug at the zipper of his jeans, strip out of his Calvin’s and shuck off his boots.
And then he was naked.
Julia blinked. She didn’t need stage lighting to see the hard evidence of how much he wanted her. Ry loomed over her, meeting her stare without saying a word. He followed her eyes to his cock and grinned when she tore her gaze away to his face.
‘God Ry,’ she stammered, ‘don’t make me wait.’
‘I don’t want to make you wait. I want to make you come.’
And then Julia was beyond desperate for him.
She yanked off her boots, dropping each of them with a clunk on the floor. Ry leaned over her, his strong hands frantically searching for the zip on her jeans, and he dragged them off with her knickers. She whipped her cashmere knit over her head and when he caught sight of her, naked except for the sheer, lacy black bra, he cursed, climbing onto the bed, moved onto her, fitting like a glove between her languid thighs, his erection urging her open.
In an exquisite sexual symmetry, his lips and tongue parted her mouth and she opened for him, clawing at his back, taunting him, marking him as he shifted under her touch. His kisses were rough then gentle, demanding then soft, in wave after wave of sensation. She tried to keep him there, kissing her, but he pulled away, his lips marking a trail down her neck, the soft skin and rounded swell of her breasts, before finding her left nipple, taking it into his mouth. When he teased the other into tightness with his thumb and forefinger, she was nearly undone and could barely breathe. His hard body was hot against her soft skin and his masculine scent was overwhelming her. She realised with a gasp that it had never happened this fast, this intensely.
‘Damn it Ry. Now!’ she pleaded and opened up to him fully, wrapping one leg around his back, squeezing him down with all the strength she had. She plunged her fingers into the messiness of his hair, tangling around it, pushing his face into her breasts, wanting more and more.
But he stopped, swore.
‘What is it?’
‘Fuck.’ He leapt off the bed, the sound of ripping foil the only thing competing with their breathing. Then he was back on top of her with a new urgency, plunging straight into her with a growl. She gasped at the astonishing primal shock of being filled by him, of the pulse beat in every inch of her body. Her legs around him, high and tight, she opened herself up as far as she could so he could pound her with his width and strength. A guttural groan in her ear was all it took for the rumbling in the heart of her own sex to shake her and she struggled for breath as every nerve ending in her body sparked. God, it had never felt this good. Ever.
As Ry claimed her, she clenched him tight, wanting to hold him there forever. His hips responded with a thrust and he whispered her name as he freed her breasts, kissing her from nipple to nipple, from the inside curve of her left breast up to her collarbone and then her mouth. Demanding, wet, hot kisses, crushing her.
Inside her, filling her body and soul, Ry found his rhythm and she rode the wave with him, his whole body clenching. When he came with a resounding thrust and a moan, she gripped him tighter, clutching his arms, kissing his stubbled jaw, and then devouring his mouth when his lips found hers again. He was on her, all around her, inside her. She felt possessed by him, taken over, protected and devoured. And it was intoxicating and addictive.
Julia’s fingers savoured the strength in every cord of muscle on his shoulders and back, stroking him in circles, waiting until she could feel the tension slip away. Then, she slid her hands down the strong planes of his back and hips to his butt and squeezed it roughly, thrusting him towards her, feeling him fill her.
He didn’t move, just lay there, claiming her, his body on hers, covering her, warming her in the cold winter room. Even in the semi-dark, his sapphire-blue eyes lit a fire in her the way they always had.
He planted a quick kiss on her swollen lips and eased out of her.
‘Don’t move.’
Move? I want to dance a tango and scream. I’ve just been had by the sexiest man in the world!
Julia simply screamed on the inside and Ry returned a minute later, climbing back on top of her, his wonderful body all over her again.
He kissed her with gentle lips and a sexy grin. ‘Hey.’
‘Hi.’
‘You ready?’ He cocked his eyebrows.
‘For what?’
‘This.’
With a smirk he kissed a path down Julia’s body, from breasts to ribs, from belly button to hipbones. When he reached the top of her thighs, he grinned up at her with raised eyebrows before dipping his head. The feel of his lips on the soft insides of her thighs sent an ache to her core and she arched up against him, urging
him on. His fingers found her centre and, using them to part her delicate folds, he used his tongue, circling, swirling, slow strokes and exquisite pressure, licking and sucking her into his mouth.
Julia felt the pressure build and then crack, felt the bliss sweep over her and inside her, heard a moan from her mouth and his name on her lips in a cry of ecstasy so powerful she could taste blood in her mouth. The rush took over, blurred her vision, squeezed the air from her lungs, short-circuited all her senses. She felt ruined and reborn at the same time.
And then she was aware of Ry right beside her, squeezing his masculine frame next to her in the single bed, covering them both with the blankets. His warm, safe hand rested on her belly, which was still twisting and shifting, and his strong thighs curved against her. She didn’t feel crowded or smothered. She felt safe and free.
When Julia could think straight, she flickered open her eyes and he was right there, half in shadow, half in light. Propped up on one elbow, he was watching her, gently tracing a finger over her reddened cheek, her bruised lips, the soft curve of her jaw. A half smile tugged at his lips and his brow creased.
They simply looked at each for a long moment.
‘What just happened?’ she whispered with a sensuous sigh. He looked as confused as she felt. Confused, satisfied, slightly baffled.
‘That was …’ He blew out a breath.
‘Unexpected,’ she managed to say.
‘Unbelievable.’
He cupped her left breast tenderly, curving his fingers around its soft fullness and leaned down to flick her nipple with his tongue, teasing it back to a nub. His eyes were on her and she smiled, arching her back in response.
‘God you’re beautiful, JJ.’ The softness in his voice had her heart missing a beat.
‘Well,’ she said, her voice catching, ‘a girl never gets sick of hearing that.’
‘I mean it. You’ve always been beautiful.’ His blue eyes glistened and a serious smile tugged at his lips.
She reached up to touch his hair, smoothing it behind his ears, and then let her fingers drift down to the scar on his cheek. She traced its line, slowly, feeling its subtle edges against the stubble and took in every part of his face, the way its shadows shifted in the moonlight. His eyes smiled and his mouth moved towards her, gently, slowly, tenderly, teasing her with his lips. A warm and full feeling washed over her and the last thing she remembered was the feel of Ry’s fingers intertwining with hers and the taste of shiraz on her lips.
Nobody But Him Page 12
