Text Appeal

by Lexi Ryan

  Oh, boy. This certainly didn’t relax her. Her pulse spiked but not in the thready panicked way of ninety seconds ago. This was a powerful spike. The kind that sent signals to the brain to pump more blood and to pump it all to her breasts, nipples, and the sweet, hungry spot between her legs—ASAP.

  “What makes your mind go blank and your muscles turn to jelly?”

  His mouth traced the line of her neck. Not kissing, exactly, not even tasting. More like sampling the texture of her skin. The action made her feel beautiful and wanted. Heat pooled low in her belly followed by moisture between her legs.

  “God, you smell good,” he whispered against her ear.

  Suddenly, she was against the wall and Charlie’s mouth was on hers.

  Her fingers curled into his biceps.

  His tongue slipped past her lips and his thumb traced the edge of her jaw. Her shoulders relaxed, and she opened under him, turned into the kiss and tasted him.

  Charlie tasted of breath mints and hot, delicious male. And as he kissed her—God, could he kiss—bubbles of nervous pleasure tickled her belly and spread a shiver all the way to her fingertips.

  She slipped her hands to his waist and yanked his shirt from his jeans. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin, wanted to scrape her nails over that taut stomach. Hell, she wanted to go further south but she’d take this as a starting point.

  “Riley.” His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke. “We’re here.” His hand was on her breast now, his thumb teasing her nipple through her bra.

  “Mmm,” she said, because she didn’t care about the elevator door anymore. She cared about Charlie and how good he tasted and how soon she could test the fit of his cock in her hand. She cared about leaving Chaz and coming to Charlie. She cared about feeling alive.

  She fumbled for the button on his slacks.

  “Riley.” Her name was more groaned than said.

  He pulled her hands from his waistband and wrapped them around his neck. His mouth took hers, hard, desperate. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh and her hips instinctively rocked toward him.

  He rubbed her through her panties. She buried her face in his neck and rocked against him, somehow channeling all the energy from her fear into desire.

  He slid his fingers under the lace, and she clung to him. She was slick with need and he slid over her clit and back. She arched, pressed into him, willing him to slide inside her.

  When he finally dipped a finger inside her, her own gasp of pleasure mingled with his groan.

  “God, you feel good,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

  She clung to him, latched onto his neck and sucked while her hands clawed at his back. She rocked into his hand, let him fuck her with his fingers.

  She wanted more. So much more. “Get inside of me,” she whispered. It was need—and fear, and confusion, and a horrible feeling that her life wasn’t in her control after all—that had her making this request.

  “Here?” His voice was rough, like it’d been dragged over the ragged edges of need. “You’re sure?”

  “Now,” she said. “Please.”

  She thought he’d pull her panties to the side and slide into her quickly, take her fast and hard against the wall. She was surprised when he dropped to his knees and gently peeled the red lace from her hips. One at a time, he lifted her feet and helped her step out of her panties.

  She made the mistake of taking her focus off him, of looking to the opposite wall of the elevator. “Oh, shit,” she whispered, her heart lurching.

  “Look at me, Riley,” Charlie said, still on his knees.

  She looked down into those blue eyes looking up at her like she was a goddess.

  Bunching her skirt around her waist, he pressed his mouth between her legs, licked, kissed, sucked.

  The world reeled.

  She fisted her hands in his hair. She’d always loved the feeling of a man’s tongue against her sex, but Chaz didn’t like going down on her. She’d never pressed the issue, but God had she missed it. She didn’t even realize how much until she felt Charlie’s mouth on her.

  She opened her eyes to take in the sight of him kneeling before her, the erotic image of his face buried between her legs. He was sliding a condom on while he worked her with his mouth.

  “That’s what I call multi-tasking,” she whispered.

  He chuckled and slowly stood, keeping a hand between her legs. “I could taste you for hours,” he whispered as he fondled her.

  She kissed him and tasted herself on his lips. “Play your cards right and maybe someday I’ll let you,” she whispered.

  “I’m damn good with cards,” he said, sliding his hands behind her ass and lifting her. “So don’t make any bet you can’t make good on.” With that, he settled her on the long, hard length of his cock.

  She pressed herself against the wall, rocking her hips into him as he filled her, wanting to be impossibly close to him. His fingers dug into her hips, guiding her through to meet his rhythm.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered against her ear, and the words made her clench around him. She circled her hips to feel the rub of her clit against him, and he pulled back, withdrawing almost all the way before bringing her down again.

  The head of his cock pressed against her cervix, making her moan and hold him deep inside.

  When she came, it wasn’t in a blinding flash of light but in pulsing ripple of pleasure. Her orgasm rolled out from her core in waves.

  He pressed his mouth to hers, kissed her as he pumped his hips and followed her orgasm with his own.

  ***

  Charlie couldn’t believe he was holding this beauty in his arms. He looked down at Riley’s flushed cheeks and unwrapped her legs from his waist. He adjusted her clothes, covering her, and did the best he could with the condom.

  Riley blinked up at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she steadied herself on her feet.

  “You watched me dance,” she said, her words so soft he almost couldn’t hear them.

  Charlie hit the button on the elevator to make the doors open. “What?” As he waited for the metal doors to slide apart, he was struck with the reality of what he’d just done.

  What would have happened if someone from a lower floor had been waiting for an elevator? His first time with Riley could have ended in disaster, and that wasn’t what he wanted her remembering. He cursed himself for his carelessness.

  “Yesterday before dinner,” she said. He led her out of the elevator and into his suite. “You sent me texts saying you watched me dance.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. It was a nice memory. She didn’t have the typical dancer’s body—lithe with minimal breasts and no hips. Riley’s curves made her movements all the more beautiful, all the more seductive. “I liked watching you. Did you mind?” he finally asked.

  She frowned. “Why would I mind? It was…”

  When it seemed as if she didn’t plan to finish her sentence, he tipped up her chin and looked into her eyes, his heart tight. “Tell me.”

  “It made me feel like I matter.”

  Internally, he winced. He understood her statement even if he wanted to protest. For too much of his life, moments of feeling significant were few and far between. Who knew rich heiresses could feel the same way? “You do. More than you know.”

  He dipped his head to sip at her lips.

  His cell rang, and Charlie fished it out of his pocket and threw it on the floor, never taking his lips from hers. After five rings, it stopped for ten seconds then started again.

  She giggled against his lips, pulling away slightly. “You can get it.”

  He grunted. “The day I choose that damn phone over a beautiful woman in my arms is the day you need to put me out of my misery.”

  She tilted her chin up, her eyes luminous as she treated him to that beautiful smile. “Maybe it’s important.”

  The cell stopped ringing and his hotel line started. Charlie sighed and snatched it
up. “Singleton.”

  “Great news!” Rick said. “UltimatePokerPowerhouse.net made an offer.”

  “I’m a little busy right now, Rick. Call me tomorrow.”

  “I told them to piss in the wind, of course. They totally low-balled you, but don’t worry man, I’ll take care of it.”

  “That’s what I pay you for,” Charlie grumbled. The offer should have been a relief, but right now, the only thing he cared about was standing in his room with too many clothes on. “Talk to you tomorrow.” With that, he hung up.

  “Was it urgent?” Riley asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “To my agent, everything’s urgent.” He exhaled slowly and treated himself to a long head-to-toe-and-back-again look at Riley. Short black skirt, black halter, heels. Her legs were long, lithe but sculpted.

  “Is he a good agent?”

  Charlie groaned, grabbing her arm and tugging until her body was pressed against his. “I’m not in the mood to talk about Rick.”

  He pressed his lips to hers again. He’d wanted so badly to do this while they were dancing last night. She’d fit perfectly in his arms, and he’d wanted to taste her lips, to thread his fingers through her hair and kiss her until she kissed him back. He’d been fueled by more than physical attraction. He’d been fueled by sheer masculine possessiveness. He’d wanted everyone in that restaurant to know she was his. And this morning when he’d seen the paper, a small part of him had gloried in placing that stamp on her.

  The picture of their kiss had said it all: This was Charlie Singleton’s woman.

  But was she?

  He was loathe to end their kiss, but made himself pull away. “What happened with Chaz?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want him to ruin this night.”

  His breath left him and his shoulders relaxed as he gathered her to him. That would have to do. This night was special to her, and that was enough. For now.

  He took her hand and led the way to the bedroom. When he opened the door, he saw the candles he’d lit when she arrived still burned, giving the room a soft, romantic glow.

  Riley’s breath hitched. “Oh.”

  He turned to her. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes.” She blinked and her eyes were moist. “And I like you.”

  He ran his thumb across her cheek, over her lips. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  Slowly, he undressed her in the candlelight. He pulled her shirt over her head then put his mouth on her collarbone, the bare curve of her shoulder, the swell of her breast, the flat of her belly. He slid her skirt from her hips and lowered himself to his knees like he had in the elevator, only this time he wouldn’t be rushed. He intended to kiss every inch of her. He lifted her left foot, then her right, helping her step out of her skirt. After slipping her shoes off, he kissed each arch.

  He slowly worked his way up from there, pressing his mouth against the inside of each ankle and feeling his cock swell at her stifled moan. He slid his hands up her legs, brushing his fingertips lightly between her thighs and bringing his mouth to follow the lead. When he ran his tongue along the soft flesh of her inner thighs, air left her lungs in an audible whoosh.

  “Charlie,” she whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair as he explored.

  He looked at every inch of skin, searing it on his memory with the palm of his hands, the press of his lips, the tip of his tongue.

  “You don’t have to…”

  He chuckled, and—an arm behind her legs, another behind her back—swept her off the floor. She yelped, and he grinned as he lowered her onto the bed.

  “Sweetheart, with sex, putting on a condom is the only thing I do because I have to. Everything else is I do because I’m a hedonistic bastard who gets off on making you come.”

  He slid a hand between her legs to prove his point.

  She moaned and arched her back, pressing into the pressure.

  He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “I was so hard last night, thinking about you touching yourself in your apartment. It took everything I had not to come over there and help you along.”

  She pulled in a ragged breath.

  “You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you?” He slid a finger inside her. Hell, she was so damn wet, his cock instantly grew harder.

  “Your mouth is pretty vain to take credit for the work of your hands,” she whispered, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes fluttered closed.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear, nibbled along the shell, sucked the lobe between his teeth, all while working her with his finger. He slid a second inside her, and she took in a sharp breath.

  He loved watching her face, watching how she could hardly keep her eyes open against the pleasure. “When I have my fingers inside you like this, you can’t hide your reaction to my words. I feel you clench around my fingers when I talk to you. And I just bet if I tell you what’s on my mind—how I want to part your legs and bury my face between them—” She pulsed around him, and he smiled. “—yeah, I was right. You like the words.”

  Then he did as he’d promised, sinking down on the bed and parting her legs so he could taste his fill of her.

  Chapter Twelve

  The elevator, the bed, the shower—Charlie still hadn’t gotten his fill of her. He brushed her hair out of her face, loving the silky feel of the wet strands against his fingertips.

  “Thanks for helping me overcome my fear of elevators,” she whispered, a half smile curving her lips.

  “Any time you need to be distracted on an elevator ride, I’m your man.”

  She giggled and nuzzled her face against his chest. God, but she felt right in his arms.

  “Have you always been afraid of elevators?”

  Silence drew taut like a wire of energy between them. “Not always.” She rolled to her back and looked at the ceiling. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “I lost my mom when I was twelve.”

  He put his hand against her face. “Riley, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Had there been some sort of elevator accident? A fire and her mother had been trapped? “What happened?”

  “Did you know she was a dancer?”

  He didn’t answer, didn’t think she was really looking for an answer. This wasn’t about him.

  “She was beautiful. So talented. But she put a lot of pressure on herself to be the best in her company while also being the best mom. I knew something had changed in her, but she’d sheltered me so much I didn’t have a context for understanding that she’d begun using drugs—speed, mostly, to help her get through her days. They found some downers in her purse after she died too, probably the only way she could sleep at night.”

  Charlie reached down between them and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

  “We were on our way up to see my father when she died. She never took the money he’d offered her to help raise me. She was too proud. But I wanted new ballet slippers for my recital, and she couldn’t afford them. She was swallowing her pride to ask him for money. I didn’t know him very well then—we didn’t do visitation or anything because he’d honored my mother’s decision to raise me on her own. I didn’t appreciate the kind of humility it took to ask my father for money. But she was doing it. Dance was so important to me. I wanted to be like her, and she could hardly afford the lessons, let alone the recital outfits.”

  Charlie’s chest tightened. Why hadn’t her father insisted on providing for Riley? Insisted on being part of her life? At least the asshole had been lucky enough to know he had a daughter.

  “There was a big storm that day, and we were in that elevator when the power failed. Maybe it was the stress of being stuck or maybe she was anxious about seeing my father, but her heart had been battered by drug abuse, and she had a stroke. When the door opened to my father’s executive suite, she was on the floor and I couldn’t get her up. I screamed for help but…” She closed her eyes.

  “She was already gone,” Charlie finished for her.

  “She was dying and I couldn
’t help her. For a long time I thought she wouldn’t have died if we hadn’t been in the elevator. I know better now. She’d been too hard on her body, and it was a matter of time.” She gave a forced smile. “I guess by the time I was old enough to understand, my fear of elevators had evolved into an out-and-out phobia.”

  Charlie rolled so she was under him. Supporting himself on his forearms, he looked down at her. She hadn’t shed a single tear telling her story, but he kissed her cheeks where the tears should have been. She closed her eyes and didn’t protest, and he sank lower and kissed the skin between her breasts, right over her heart.

  When he spoke, his voice was rough. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Then he slid his arms under her, taking her with him as he rolled to his side.

  She pressed her palm against his chest. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Hush and let me hold you,” he said. He felt the moment she surrendered to it, the moment she melted against him and closed her eyes.

  There was more to the story, but she didn’t need to fill in the blanks for him to understand. Her father hadn’t been in her life before, but he must have stepped in when her mother died. She’d lost her mother that day, but she’d also lost her life. And the new life she’d been given couldn’t have been an easy one. Charlie had seen the way Riley lived to please her father. What he hadn’t seen for himself, he’d heard from Lacey.

  Charlie threaded his fingers through Riley’s hair, wishing he could take away her hurt. Wishing he were the kind of man who stuck around…the kind women wanted to have stick around.

  When he’d been served with those paternity papers, there had been a part of him that had understood Angela’s decision to keep the child from him. He would be a shitty father. Or would have been. Now? He wasn’t sure.

  Riley moaned in her sleep and shifted to press her cheek against his chest.

  I love you.

  Why was it that the love of a sweet little brunette could make him believe for the first time that he could be worthy of title father?