Heat of the Night

by Elle Kennedy

  “Come on, baby, roll over,” he murmured.

  She shifted, and he helped her along by cupping her ass cheeks and moving her onto her back. He frowned as he ran his hands over that ass, which was much rounder and sweeter than he remembered. And come to think of it, her hair was longer too. Five days ago, when he’d last seen her, she’d had a short blonde bob. Now her hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves. And the tits beneath that thin tank top seemed bigger too—

  Clarity sliced through his mind at the same time the woman beneath him blinked open her eyes. A pair of brown—not blue—eyes stared up at him in shock.

  Ryan shot up into a sitting position, a wave of surprise slamming into his chest. Fuck. Oh, fuck. This was not Christina.

  “Oh my God,” came a high, terrified voice.

  Nope, definitely not Christina.

  He opened his mouth to apologize just as the curvy, curly-haired female bounded to the edge of the bed, shoved the comforter up to her neck, and said, “Please don’t rape me!”

  Chapter Two

  Ryan was off the bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. He didn’t embarrass easily, but the sight of the terrified woman on the bed brought a wave of mortification to his gut. Shit. He’d accosted a complete stranger. Where the hell was Christina?

  He opened his mouth to explain but the stranger he’d just felt up was suddenly on her feet too, and the next thing he knew, she hurled the little lamp on the bed table at his head.

  Ryan caught it easily. “Hey, listen!” he shouted. “I’m not here to—”

  But the woman wasn’t listening. Instead, she’d started babbling. “Seriously, you don’t want to do this. I have, like, eight different types of STDs, so your health is at risk and really, who wants to be at risk?” Her words kept popping out like coins from a slot machine. “I’m actually doing you a favor here, Mister. You should go find someone else to rape—wait, that’s not what I mean, because you shouldn’t be doing this to any woman, ever, I’m not encouraging this at all, I’m just saying…” Her voice trailed off, and that spark of fear returned to her face. She looked around wildly, as if scanning the room for another weapon.

  Ryan stared at her for a moment, bewildered.

  Then he burst out laughing.

  A pair of chocolate-brown eyes glared at him. “Seriously? You’re laughing at me?” Her tone hardened with anger, while one slender arm stuck out and fumbled for something on the nightstand. “I’m giving you five seconds to get the hell out of here, you…you sexual predator!” She made a victorious sound as she found what she was looking for—a cell phone. “I’m calling the police, asshole!”

  Ryan’s laughter died in his throat. No matter how entertaining he found this woman, he wasn’t in the mood to be dragged off to jail. “Hey, now, wait,” he said immediately, setting the lamp she’d thrown at him down on the floor then holding his hands up as if he were surrendering. “This is just a misunderstanding, babe.”

  “Babe? I am not your babe.” Her finger jammed on a button on the phone. “Nor will I be your rape victim so—”

  “I’m not here to rape you,” he cut in, running one hand through his hair in frustration. “Would you just shut up for a second so I can explain?”

  Her eyes flashed, but her mouth promptly closed. Ryan drew in a calming breath, collecting himself, all the while noticing just how freaking hot the woman in front of him was. Along with those vibrant brown eyes and amazing dark hair, she had delicate features that included a cute upturned nose, high cheekbones and sexy pink lips, the bottom one fuller and poutier than the top. Was she a friend of Christina’s? And if so, why had Christina never introduced them?

  “You’re not explaining,” she said, shooting him a dirty look.

  Ryan sighed. “Look, I came here to see Christina, okay? I thought you were her when I got into bed with you.”

  “Christina?” she echoed.

  “Yes. Christina. You know, the woman who lives here.” He frowned. “So who the hell are you and why are you in her bed?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in her bed?” she shot back.

  More frustration crept up his spine. “Are you always this fucking difficult?”

  “Are you?”

  Ryan released another breath. He suddenly felt extremely awkward, standing there in his blue and white checkered boxers, but he made no move to pick up his clothes. He was scared to turn away from this woman. Who knew what she’d do if he took his eyes off of her.

  “Okay. Let’s calm down here,” he said quietly. “I’m Ryan, all right? I live downstairs. What about you?”

  “I’m Annabelle,” she answered, sounding reluctant. “Christina’s letting me stay here for a few weeks.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “See how easy that was? So, where exactly did Christina go?”

  “Vegas. She eloped with her boyfriend Joe.”

  Surprise jolted through him. “She told me they broke up.”

  “They did.” Annabelle shrugged. “But she said he sent her all these flowers and then this super sweet card begging her to take him back, so she did, and then he proposed, so she said yes, and now they’re in Vegas. Anything else you want to know?”

  The disappointment he experienced at the news that Christina was back with her boyfriend wasn’t all that great. That was the nice thing about flings. You didn’t get attached, didn’t feel crushed when the other person left. If anything, he was happy for Christina. She’d admitted to him that she still loved her ex, but the guy had been too much of a selfish jerk to appreciate the good thing they had. Evidently the guy smartened up.

  Still holding the phone in her hand, Annabelle took a couple of steps toward him, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. Her pink tank top did nothing to contain the soft jiggling of her stupendous tits. And those little boxer shorts she wore hugged her firm thighs, revealing smooth, shapely legs and tiny feet with red painted toenails.

  Despite himself, Ryan’s cock twitched inside his boxers. He was ridiculously turned on, and in his state of undress, he couldn’t really hide it either. His dick poked against the front of boxers, providing a tent that could accommodate an entire campsite. Annabelle’s brown eyes widened slightly as her gaze dropped south.

  “Seriously?” she blurted out. “Can’t you keep that thing in control?”

  Another laugh bubbled out of his throat. “You should take it as a compliment.”

  Her cheeks turned bright red. “Look, as fun as this entire encounter is,” she said, sarcasm ringing in her voice, “could you please leave? I was trying to sleep before you burst in here like you own the place.” Her eyes narrowed. “Were you involved with Christina?”

  “Kind of. Nothing serious, though.” He shot her a dry smile. “Actually, not serious at all, seeing as she eloped to Vegas with another man.”

  “You don’t look too beat up about it.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I’m not. Like I said, it wasn’t serious.”

  “Good. Great. Now that we’ve cleared that up, could you please go?”

  He knew she was making a very good point here. He should go. Now that his plans for a night of steamy wild sex had shot up in smoke, he had no reason to stick around and chat with Christina’s weird houseguest. Still, Annabelle was super hot, and he was super horny, so…

  As if reading his mind, Annabelle held up the cell phone and said, “Don’t even think about it, pal. Touch me and I’ll call 911.”

  He grinned. “Come on, you know you’re tempted.”

  Her cheeks grew redder. “Tempted to do what?”

  “To get back in bed. With me.” He cocked one brow. “And I can assure you, we’d have a really good time…”

  She stared at him for a moment, then let out a high, melodic laugh. “Oh God. Do women actually fall for that stuff?”

  He frowned. “Yes.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t.” She rested one hand on a curvy hip and nodded at t
he pile of clothes next to the bed. “Okay, time for you to go, Robert.”

  “Ryan.”

  “Whatever.”

  He found himself grinning again. Damn, he liked her. It was rare to come across a woman that was immune to his charm, even rarer to find one that managed to keep his interest for more than five minutes. He had no idea where Annabelle had come from, or how long she planned on staying in the building, but he hoped she stuck around for a while. Or at least long enough for him to get his hands on those delectable curves again.

  “Why are you still here?” she grumbled, jolting him from his thoughts. “I’d like to get some sleep sometime this century.”

  His lips twitched. He wondered if she brought that sexy sarcasm of hers to bed with her. “I’ll get right out of your way,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes. He strode to the side of the bed, making sure his bare arm rubbed against her bare arm as he walked by. He heard a soft intake of breath, but when he glanced over, she just looked annoyed.

  Bending down, he collected his jeans and T-shirt from the floor and tucked the pile of clothes under his arm. Somehow he doubted she would grant him the time to get dressed.

  “Do you have a key or did you break in?” she asked sternly.

  “Spare key. I left it in the living room.” Impulsively, he looked her way and cast a devilish grin. “What do you say I keep the key and come by tomorrow night?”

  Annabelle laughed.

  He pursed his lips. “Was that a yes?”

  Another laugh, this time with the words, “Hell, no” mingled in there.

  “Your loss,” he said with a sigh.

  Those liquid brown eyes glimmered with amusement. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

  He found it difficult to walk to the door, particularly since his cock was still rock-hard and refusing to go down. But monster erection aside, he found it difficult to walk away from her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with a woman. Unfortunately, the fun was one-sided. Annabelle was now tapping her foot all sexy-like, eager to see him go.

  She trailed after him down the dark hallway toward the front door, then said, “G’night now, it was awesome meeting you.”

  His eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Uh, no. I was being fake nice.” She huffed. “Honestly, Roger—”

  “Ryan—”

  “—I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed—” She raised a hand before he could open his mouth. “Alone. I want to go to bed alone, and fall asleep alone, and wake up in the morning, alone. Okay?”

  “Like I said, your loss.”

  The corners of her pouty mouth lifted, just a little. Oh yeah. She liked him. He could always tell when a girl liked him, and this one, no matter how prickly and off-putting she was trying to be, totally liked him.

  “How long are you staying here?” he couldn’t help but ask, pausing in the doorway before she could boot him out.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know? Are you planning on sliding into bed with me tomorrow night?”

  “Will you be here tomorrow night?” he countered.

  Annabelle hesitated. “Yes. I’m here for a few weeks.”

  Ryan gave himself a mental high-five. Oh yeah. Three weeks. He could definitely work his magic on her in three weeks. Hell, he’d probably only need three days, maybe less, to win over this woman. Why he wanted to win her over so badly eluded him, but who cared why? As long as it distracted him from the fact that Jane was having a baby with Becker, he was cool.

  “Well, I look forward to seeing you again then,” Ryan said, letting his gaze sweep from her face down to her cleavage and then back up.

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to see each other again. I plan to diligently avoid you.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Good night, Rick.”

  “Ryan.”

  With a sweet smile, she gave his butt a little shove and pushed him out the door. “Good night,” she said again, and then the door closed in his face.

  Ryan’s mouth stretched out in a grin as he stared at the door and listened to the sound of the lock clicking. “’Night, Annabelle,” he called sweetly before turning toward the stairwell.

  Still holding onto his clothes, he climbed down the stairs to his own apartment, still smiling to himself when he strode inside. Matt had left hours ago, and the apartment was dark and quiet as he locked up and headed for his bedroom. He was too keyed up to sleep, meeting Annabelle had been way too much fun, and his erection refused to subside. Sighing, he dropped his clothes on the chair near the bed, and just as he was debating whether to jerk off or watch TV, a flash of yellow caught his eye. Furrowing his eyebrows, he stepped toward the chair and picked up his jeans. Shook them out a couple of times, then watched as a piece of paper fluttered to the hardwood floor.

  He bent down to pick it up, noticing that the paper had been torn from one of those yellow legal pads. Feminine handwriting was scrawled across the page, and, unable to fight his curiosity, he smoothed out the sheet and read the first line.

  His jaw twitched, then fell open as the words on the page assaulted his eyes. It wasn’t only the intriguing heading that caught his attention—I’m Up For This. Are You?—but the dirty little items that followed. He read each one. Twice.

  Still staring at the list, Ryan broke out in a slow smile. Well…damn.

  Hot fucking damn.

  No matter how hard she tried, Annabelle couldn’t get her late-night visitor out of her mind. She spent the morning answering emails and trying to not think about Ryan, but every five seconds, the memory of his gorgeous face and drool-worthy body would float into her mind like a piece of driftwood. Hands down, he was the hottest guy she’d ever met. She still couldn’t believe he was even real. When she’d woken up to find those playful blue eyes on her and that lean, muscular body pressed against her, she’d thought she was dreaming.

  During their entire exchange, she’d been fighting little sparks of desire. That spot between her legs had ached in the strangest way and her breasts had felt so heavy and tingly she’d had to cross her arms over her chest. If he’d stayed for even five more minutes, she probably would’ve jumped him.

  So why did you throw him out?

  Uh, Bryce? she reminded the voice in her head.

  You mean the guy who dumped you?

  She ignored the taunting reply and headed for the bathroom to get a towel. Fine, so maybe she didn’t owe anything to her as-of-two-days-ago ex, but she wasn’t the type of girl to hop into bed with a stranger. She was Annabelle Holmes, for Pete’s sake. Her parents had raised her to be a perfect lady, and ladies didn’t have sex with random men, no matter how appealing they might be.

  She found the towel and slung it over her shoulder, then left Christina’s apartment and walked downstairs. The courtyard was empty when she stepped out into the hot afternoon air, and the pool looked so inviting she had her shorts and tank off before she even reached the deck. Tilting her head, she let the sun’s rays heat her face. Beads of sweat formed between her breasts, but she welcomed the heat, and she was happy to finally get a chance to wear this teeny yellow string bikini. It never got this hot in San Francisco, and the change of scenery was refreshing. Kicking off her flip-flops, she moved to the edge of the pool, took a breath, and dived cleanly into the deep end.

  The cold water engulfed her, feeling like heaven as she swam underwater for a few moments. God, what a gorgeous day. Despite the fact that she missed her job, she was looking forward to a few weeks of downtime. Doing nothing but swimming and tanning and exploring San Diego. She closed her eyes and floated on her back for a while, relishing the solitude, but her me-time was cut short at the sound of footsteps.

  Her eyes popped open just in time to see Ryan approaching the pool deck, his sexy blue eyes seeking her out and dancing playfully.

  She was so surprised she sank in the water like a stone. Sputtering, she broke the surface, droplets drippin
g from her hair and into her eyes. “You,” she squeaked.

  “Me,” Ryan confirmed.

  She was suddenly grateful to be submerged in cold water, because the sight of Ryan made her extremely hot. He wore blue surf shorts and a sleeveless basketball jersey, and his chin was dotted with dark stubble. God, why did men look so good when they were all scruffy? Bryce never sported any scruff—the guy shaved like three times a day just to make sure his aristocratic face remained pretty-boy smooth. But Ryan…oh boy.

  Putting on an indifferent voice, Annabelle raised a brow at him and said, “Didn’t we say everything we needed to say last night? You know, when I asked you to leave?”

  He shot her a lazy smile. “You may have said what you needed to, but I have one more thing to say.”

  “Oh, really? And what’s that?”

  “Yes.”

  Treading water, she shoved wet strands of hair off her forehead. “Yes what?”

  Slowly, he reached into the back pocket of his shorts and removed a wrinkled piece of paper. Annabelle’s eyes widened at the familiar scrap of yellow. No. That couldn’t be the same sheet she’d been using when…shit. Shit, where had she put the list? She searched her brain, finally remembering she’d tossed the fantasy list on the floor before she went to bed. The floor…on which Ryan had dropped his clothes before he’d crawled into bed with her.

  “Yes to this question,” he said pleasantly, holding up the paper. “I’m Up For This. Are You? Well, babe, yes. I am definitely up for it.”

  Horror climbed up her spine, mingling with the humiliation scorching her cheeks. Scrambling up the metal ladder at the edge of the pool, she hauled herself to her feet and shot a wet arm in his direction, trying to grab the list. Grinning, he held it out of her reach. “Finders keepers,” he said mockingly.