by Maisey Yates
She moved her hands down his chest, feeling his muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt. Yes, they were as hard as she’d imagined. Everything about him was all that she’d dreamed of, everything and more. She moved her hands down lower still, pressing her fingertips up beneath the edge of his T-shirt, her hands making contact with his hot skin. He had just the right amount of hair on his well-defined stomach, enough to remind her that he was a man, and she was a woman. She moved her hands higher, to the hard wall of his chest muscles. Oh yes, he was very much a man.
“Off.” That was the best she could do. The most she could say.
He said nothing in return, releasing his hold on her to take a moment to take off his jacket, and wrenched his shirt over his head. She whimpered, surveying the perfectly defined lines on his chest and stomach, the V that disappeared down beneath the waistband of his jeans, an arrow pointing to the part of him she most craved.
She didn’t know who she was right now, this wild, hungry creature who craved Ryan at the expense of everything else. Damn her pride, damn common sense.
Okay, that was a lie. She knew exactly who she was. She recognized this woman. This was the woman she was in her fantasies. The woman she was late at night when she allowed dark, heady thoughts of him to enter her mind. This was the woman she’d always wanted to be.
That thought made a smile curve her lips.
“You like what you see?” he asked.
“That’s an understatement.”
“I think this calls for a trade,” he said. “Remember, it’s been more than a year for me.”
“It’s been quite a while for me too,” she said, ignoring the fact that the statement fudged the truth a bit. “So I’m going to need some time to enjoy the scenery myself.”
“Enjoy it topless.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He reached forward, tugging her sweater up over her head, taking her beanie off with it, leaving her standing there in her plain, white bra. She wished suddenly that she had underwear more befitting of the vamp she felt like she was in this moment.
This was definitely virgin underwear. But she would try not to let that deter her.
The underwear wasn’t going to stay on for long anyway.
A crease formed between his brows, his lips turning down. That couldn’t be good.
“No woman wants a man to frown at her breasts, Ryan.”
“That’s not what I’m frowning at,” he said.
“That’s only slightly reassuring.”
“I’m pretty sure every member of the Travers family will kill me if they ever find out about this.”
“I’m not going to give Elizabeth the gory details.” That seemed strange in a way. Elizabeth had most certainly told Holly when she’d lost her virginity. But Holly was an expert at deflecting questions about her love life, about crushes she might or might not have. Because she didn’t want to admit to her friend that she’d never actually had sex. She’d always managed to keep her feelings for Ryan under wraps. She’d also managed to never exactly admit she’d never had sex before. This would just be an extension of all of those secrets, all of those little lies.
Again, worth it.
“You’ve always been...”
“If you say like a sister to me I’m putting my sweater back on.”
“No. Not that. But, a lot younger.”
“Four years. That isn’t so much.”
“It was when we met.”
“That has nothing to do with now. Nothing to do with where we’re at. We are both adults. And we are both almost naked. So, really we should just get all the way naked and get on with things.”
He chuckled, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You definitely seem to know what you want.”
“Definitely.” She looked down at the very clear bulge pushing against the denim. “Pants off.”
There. Regardless of the sexual status of her underwear, she was doing a pretty good job of holding her ground.
What she’d said earlier about her job making up for all of those missed parties? It had been a lie. This, right now, was every atonement for every missed party. For everything she’d ever wanted that she hadn’t gotten. For every night she’d gone to bed hungry, every day she’d gone without a hug, without so much as a sideways glance.
She would take this as atonement for all of that.
Which was potentially a lot of pressure to put on Ryan’s body, but if he didn’t know, he wouldn’t mind.
He put his hands on his belt buckle, worked the end slowly through, undid the snap, then the zipper. She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. She was pretty sure Santa and all his reindeer could stampede through the living room and her eyes would still be glued to what Ryan would reveal next.
He pushed the pants down his lean hips, taking his underwear with them, leaving himself completely naked in front of her.
She sucked in a sharp breath and nearly choked on it. She’d never seen a naked man in person. Naked, and erect. Very, very erect.
She swallowed, trying to force her heart back down into its proper place. She looked back up at his face, and saw him studying her with an odd expression.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“Because I like what I see.”
“Okay, I wasn’t sure. You looked slightly terrified. I wasn’t sure if maybe something had mutated from all the disuse.”
“A year? Seriously, don’t be dramatic. Nothing mutated. As near as I can tell.” She bit her lip. “Of course, I might need to examine everything a little bit closer.”
“I think we can stop bantering now,” he growled, pressing her back up against the wall again, kissing her deep and hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in this, in him, in the rough feeling of his hands on her body, of the heat of him pressed so tightly against her.
Somehow, he managed to get her jeans and panties off, never breaking their kiss. He cupped her cheek, tracing a line along her jaw, down her neck, pausing for a moment, cupping her breast and squeezing it tight. Brushing his thumb over her nipple, he pinched it lightly between his thumb and forefinger before allowing his fingertips to glide over her stomach, down between her thighs. He stroked her there, where she was wet and ready for him. She gasped, letting her head fall back, giving herself over completely to the sensation.
“I don’t know if I can take this as slow as I should.”
That was fine with her. She’d wanted him for the last fourteen years. In her opinion, slow was overrated.
“Kiss me,” she said, barely recognizing the rough, husky voice as her own.
He obeyed, his fingers moving over her clit as he slid his tongue over hers. Then he cursed, pulling away from her sharply. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh no,” she said. “I don’t have—” Suddenly, she remembered the basket sitting in her hall closet. The basket decorated with fluorescent pink and purple ribbon, filled with favors from the bachelorette party she’d helped plan a couple of months ago. “Hold that thought.”
She extricated herself from his hold to scamper down the hallway, completely naked, well aware that his eyes were on her backside. And that it probably jiggled a little bit with every step she took.
Darn bacon-wrapped everything. Bacon really was overrated.
She opened up the closet, and rummaged past a bin filled with ribbon, a few rolls of wrapping paper, until she found the basket. Inside of it were little party favors. And within those party favors, she knew she would find the required protection.
She pulled out one of the pink, iridescent bags, her face heating as she saw the phallic shaped whistle attached to the outside.
“What is that?”
She looked up, and over at Ryan. She’d been hoping to pull the condom out of
the bag without him having to see it, or any of its other contents.
“A party favor. From a party I coordinated.” She pressed her lips to the end of the penis whistle, and blew. “Festive.”
He laughed, and at the same time, his cock twitched. “I’m not sure how you can make me laugh, and make me want to ravish you at the same time.”
She blinked. “A hidden talent?”
“Very hidden. But then, in fairness, I wasn’t looking for this kind of thing with you.”
She stood there, holding the bag filled with obscene party favors, completely naked, not sure if she wanted to hear what he had to say next. It was so ridiculous, she kind of wanted to laugh too. Unless he was going to say something that hurt her feelings. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
“You had to be off-limits. You were too young. Then you were just a lot sweeter than me. You were always beautiful, Holly. And even though you give me a hard time about it, you let me be grumpy. You listen. And you never tell me to just smile through anything. You’re damn pretty, but that means a lot more than pretty ever could.”
Her heart felt swollen, and that was bad, considering she was trying really hard to keep her heart uninvolved. She didn’t say anything; instead she opened the bag, grimacing when she encountered an anatomically correct action figure, a tube of red lipstick also shaped like the male member, what looked like a pair of hard candy panties, folded up in a plastic bag, and finally, on the bottom, a fun size packet of condoms.
She fished out the protection, dropping the rest onto the floor. “See?”
He took the little packet from her hand and tore it open to reveal four individual condoms inside. “They’re purple,” he said.
She released a heavy breath. “Of course they are.”
“I’m fine if you’re fine. I don’t really care what color it is. It’s not what’s on the outside that counts, after all. It’s being inside you.”
“We don’t really have an alternative. Except not doing this. And that isn’t acceptable.”
He smiled, tearing one of the packets open and discarding the rest. And she forgot how ridiculous the situation was. Forgot that they had a living room cluttered with Christmas decorations, forgot that the condom he was currently rolling onto his thick length was purple, and had come out of the bag with a penis whistle.
Nothing else mattered but this moment. But this man and how much she wanted him.
He closed the distance between them, kissing her deeply, devouring her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled, bringing them both down to the floor with him on top of her between her thighs. The floor was cold, and she didn’t care. It was hard, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this, with him. She didn’t have time to try and make it to the bed. She didn’t have time for anything but this. And she needed this. Needed it more than she needed her next breath.
“Please, Ryan.”
He shifted, the blunt head of his arousal pressing against the entrance to her body. And that was when the nerves hit. She gritted her teeth, screwing her eyes shut tight as he thrust deep inside her. The pain was sharp but brief, fading quickly into something that felt foreign, and not entirely pleasant.
She clung to him, holding onto his shoulders, getting used to the sensation of him being inside her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice strained. If he suspected that she’d never done this before at all, she couldn’t tell.
“Yes,” she said, not entirely certain she wasn’t lying.
She felt full, emotional. Her heart raw and tender. And that was more intense than any pain or pleasure.
Then he moved, sliding his hands down the line of her spine and cupping her butt, lifting her hips to push himself more deeply inside. When he did that, it brought his pelvis up against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, sent a lightning bolt of pleasure through her so sharp, so focused that it stole every thought, channeled all of the sensation that was building up in her chest to pop and crackle through her veins, absorbing her entire being in the pleasure he created with his movements.
He established a steady rhythm, pumping into her hard and perfect, driving them both closer to the peak she knew was up there somewhere, even if she’d never reached it with anyone else before.
He lowered his head, kissing her neck, his breath coming in harsh gasps as his movements quickened. He tightened his grip on her hips, drawing her up against him each time he thrust home. “Come on, baby,” he said, his words broken, jagged like glass. “I can’t last.”
It was that admission, that hard, rough admission, that broke her. That pushed her to a height she’d never known existed and sent her over the edge. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would burst through her chest, her internal muscles tightening around him as pleasure exploded in her midsection, flooding through her, overtaking her completely.
She was floating on a white, endless snowdrift. And when it set her back down it was on the hard floor of her hallway. But it was still perfect, because she was with Ryan. And as long as she didn’t think about the future, that was enough.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE’D ALWAYS KNOWN that kissing Holly Fulton wouldn’t lead anywhere good. He’d been right. He should have listened to that instinct.
Granted, his instinct had not informed him that kissing her would end with him wearing a purple condom and taking her virginity, but he’d known it would be a bad idea.
His knees hurt. He realized that was because he was still braced on the hard floor of her hallway, still inside her and reeling from the explosive climax they’d just shared. As a reintroduction into sex went, it had been mind-blowing. As far as decent human behavior went, it was a new low.
He moved away from her, rubbing his hands over his face. “Just a second,” he said, pushing into a standing position and walking down the hall, calling on all of his self-control to keep from looking back at her naked body as he made his way to the bathroom. He took care of the condom, then went to stand in front of the sink, running water over his face as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Bad idea. He was singularly unimpressed with the guy he saw standing there, looking a lot more satisfied and smug than he had a right to.
Had she really been a virgin? Or was he just hallucinating? She’d said it had been a while. Maybe that’s why it felt different. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was imagining all of it. Maybe he was hallucinating all of this and he’d never kissed her back when she’d leaned in. Had never touched her or told her to take her clothes off.
Maybe he was still standing there waiting to make a move. Damage not done.
He looked back up and saw his all-too-real reflection. If he’d felt any humor around the situation, he might have laughed. Since they had just been discussing emotional honesty and all manner of other bullshit. And here he was taking solace in very clear denial.
He turned and started to walk out of the room, then stopped. He was still naked, and even though they’d just had sex, it felt wrong. She was still Holly. And he was still Ryan. He wasn’t sure walking out of the bathroom wearing nothing but his skin was entirely appropriate.
He reached out and grabbed hold of the fluffy pink towel that was hanging on the towel rack. Purple condom, pink towel. Clearly, the universe was intent on him paying his penance for the pleasure he just received. He wrapped it tightly around his waist, then walked out into the hall, where Holly was standing, still naked. She was looking at him with large, dewy eyes. Shame crawled over his skin like an army of ants.
He was wrong. Maybe he’d always been wrong. It was easy to forget when he was alone. Easy to forget when he was out on the ocean, down in his boat. When he had the reassurance of Margie and Dan that he wasn’t broken in any way.
But sometimes the feeling was impossible to shake. That there were certain things that were inescapa
ble. That the darkness, the destruction, was all in him.
Now was one of those times.
“Holly,” he said, his voice rough, even to his own ears. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”
That was not what he’d intended to lead with. Too late to turn back now. Variations on the theme.
Holly looked like she wanted to fold in on herself, standing there completely naked and exposed. In that moment, he hated himself. “Well, we’ve never talked about those sorts of things,” she said.
He sighed heavily, looking past her and at a spot on the wall. “Evidence that we really shouldn’t have done what we did.”
“I knew what I wanted.”
“Did you? Did I hurt you? Do you need...I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine. Don’t apologize for having sex with me.”
She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, and released it slowly before turning on the ball of her foot and stalking into the living room. He was only human, so he watched the gentle sway of her hips, the slight bounce in her ass. He liked it. Liked it a lot. The softness of her skin, of her figure. The two little dimples low on her back, the full flare of her hips... Yeah, no question it was nice.
Like it a little less, you perv.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes and followed her back into the living room. It looked like a war had been waged in there with Christmas decorations, everything left strewn across the floor like very cheerful debris. And amongst the decorations were their clothes.
Holly threw his at him, and he caught them, applying all of the focus he could muster to getting dressed, and not watching her. He didn’t have the right to look at her.
He was buckling his belt when Holly spoke again. “I kind of liked the towel.”
“Pink isn’t really my color,” he said.
“I disagree. I think we discovered a whole portion of the color wheel that suits you more than you might have thought.”
“Holly,” he said, his tone serious.
“Is this where you speak gravely of your regret over stealing my virtue? Or are you going to twirl your mustache and cackle over your conquest?”
