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 in time to see Ryan approaching the deck, his 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 dripping from her hair and into her eyes. “You,” she squeaked.
“Me,” he confirmed.
She was suddenly grateful to be submerged in cold water, because the sight of him 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. “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 his back pocket 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…where Ryan had dropped his clothes before he’d crawled into bed with her.
“Yes to this question,” he said, holding up the page. “I’m Up For This. Are You? Well, babe, yes. I am definitely up for it.”
Heat scorched her cheeks. Scrambling up the metal ladder, she hauled herself out of the pool and shot a wet arm in his direction, trying to grab the list.
Grinning, he held it out of her reach. “Finders keepers,” he mocked.
“What are you, five? Give it back. That’s personal property,” she snapped.
Rolling his eyes, he obligingly handed her the list, which got soaked the second her wet hand clutched it. The ink began to smear, and for some asinine reason, she fanned the sheet to stop the smearing. What was the matter with her? A total stranger had just become privy to all her secret fantasies and she was trying to preserve the words? She ought to be burning the damn thing.
“Don’t worry,” Ryan said graciously. “I memorized it.”
She set her jaw. “You had no business reading that.”
“Maybe not, but I did, and now it’s branded into my memory. It kept me up all night, you know. There I was, tossing and turning, wondering where we should go to take care of number four. A park? Out here in the pool? The back alley of a bar? Damn, the possibilities are endless, Annabelle.”
Number four? What was he—her cheeks burned. Sex in public (preferably a place without security cameras). Oh God. She couldn’t believe he’d actually memorized it. The last time she’d been this embarrassed was back in the third grade when her frenemy Joan poured water on her crotch and proceeded to tell the entire class she’d peed her pants.
“We are not going anywhere,” she said stiffly. “I, on the other hand, am leaving now.” Her back was ramrod straight as she stomped toward the chair where she’d dropped her towel.
She felt Ryan’s eyes on her as she dried off, and knew he was ogling her tiny bikini. A sick part of her was even a bit flattered, but the embarrassed part overruled it, pushing her to dry off faster and wrap the towel around herself.
“So is that a no?” Ryan asked casually.
“Huh?”
“You won’t let me help you?” he clarified.
She frowned. “Help me do what?”
“Cross out all the dirty items on your dirty list.” He offered a charming smile. “Look, it’s obvious you can’t carry out some of those, uh, activities, alone. I’m just offering my services, babe.”
“Again with the babe?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want or need your help. That list was intended for someone else.”
He paused. “You got a boyfriend?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “No. Well, maybe.”
“Which is it—yes, no or maybe?”
She fought a wave of exasperation. “All of them, okay! I have a boyfriend, a sort of fiancé, but we’re on a break right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“A sort of fiancé?”
“It’s a long story.” She grabbed her clothes, then slipped her feet into her flip-flops. “You are the pushiest guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”
A thoughtful expression flitted over his face. “I’ve never been called pushy before. Endearing, sure. Charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous. A real-life Michelangelo’s David. But never pushy.”
A laugh slipped out of her throat before she could stop herself. “A real-life Michelangelo’s David? Wow. You are so full of yourself, I don’t even know what to do with that.”
“You could do me,” he said glibly.
Her thighs quivered. Just a little. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She needed to get away from this guy. He was too freaking tempting, and right now she needed to avoid temptation. She’d left San Francisco to think about her relationship with Bryce, not jump into a fling with a guy who had major over-confidence issues.
“I won’t even dignify that with an answer. I’m leaving now.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She was halfway across the lawn when he called, “Annabelle!”
Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”
“If you change your mind, I’m in Two-B.” His handsome features were the epitome of cocky.
She kept walking, not allowing herself to breathe until she was inside the building. Her breath came out in a shaky puff. Jeez, why did he have to be so damn attractive? If she were here under different circumstances, then maybe…maybe she’d act out all of her wildest fantasies with this guy. But her heart still belonged to Bryce. Kind of. God, she wasn’t the least bit sure how she felt about Bryce. They’d been in a serious relationship since she was eighteen years old, living together when she turned twenty, officially engaged when she was twenty-three. And yet he’d broken things off as if their relationship didn’t mean a thing to him.
Not a break-up, time off, a condescending voice reminded her.
Right, “time off” was how he’d phrased it. Well, she hadn’t wanted time off. He’d gone and made that decision for the both of them.
With an unhappy sigh, she went back to Christina’s apartment, cursing Ryan for ruining her day. All she’d wanted to do was lounge around in the pool, and now she was back in the apartment, sulking again.
A beep caught her attention before she could head into the bedroom to change. Her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter, indicating she had a new voicemail. She figured it was her parents, as usual, but when she glanced at the screen, she saw the missed call was from Melinda, one of the assistants at Annabelle’s company.
“Shit,” she muttered. She hoped there wasn’t some big emergency at work. Her boss had assured her she wouldn’t be missed, since October was a slow month for them.
She dialed into her inbox and waited for the message to play.
“Hey, Annabelle,” came Melinda’s somewhat hesitant voice. “I know you’re on vacation, and I hate to bother you, especially with something like this.” A pause. “I was hoping you’d pick up, I hate to mention this in a voicemail,
but…um, did you and Bryce break up? I only ask because I saw him last night at the Sheppard event and he was, um, with someone. They looked pretty close, too. I wasn’t sure if you knew about it and I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but I just thought you should know. Anyway…uh, I’ll see you when you get back.”
Click.
“To delete this message,” a mechanical voice chirped, “press one. To save, press two. To—”
Annabelle hit the end button, then stared at the phone for several long moments. Anger clawed up her spine, settling in the back of her throat in a thick, bitter lump. He’d already started seeing other people? What the hell? They were engaged! Sure, he hadn’t bought her the ring yet, but he’d proposed, and their respective parents were already planning the wedding.
Annabelle drew a deep calming breath, willing herself to relax. She couldn’t believe it. Obviously he’d been dead serious when he said he wanted to see other people. He was already gallivanting all over San Francisco, getting close to some woman at a nightclub event that her company had planned. What. An. Asshole.
Meanwhile, here she was, fighting off the advances of a ridiculously appealing guy, out of respect for Bryce.
Well, screw him. He didn’t deserve her respect.
If anything, he deserved a healthy dose of payback.
Annabelle straightened her shoulders and headed back to the front door. She didn’t bother getting dressed. Instead, she walked out the door wearing her teeny-weeny bikini and hurried down the stairs. When she reached the second floor, she glanced up and down the hall until she saw it.
2B.
She stood in front of the door for a second, steadying her breathing and collecting some courage.
She could totally do this. In fact, she wanted to do it. She wanted it very, very badly.
Lifting her hand in determination, she knocked on the door.
3
Ryan was not at all surprised to find Annabelle on his doorstep. If anything, he wondered what took her so long. He had enough experience with women to know when one was into him, and no matter how many times Annabelle tried to brush him off, he had no doubt that she wanted him. Still, he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.
“Finished playing hard to get?” he asked pleasantly.
Her mouth tightened. “You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. She did, but looked very reluctant doing so. Wary, she glanced around the apartment, taking in the leather couch, the state-of-the-art entertainment system and the two beer bottles on the glass coffee table. It was the typical bachelor pad, but Ryan didn’t care. He was, after all, a bachelor.
“Do you have a stripper pole in the bedroom?” Annabelle asked dryly.
“If I did, would you do a sexy dance for me?”
“Nope.”
“Figured I’d ask.”
Looking awkward, she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her abundant curves practically pouring out of her indecent yellow bikini. She looked good enough to eat, but Ryan kept his distance. Women always needed to set some ground rules, and this particular woman probably had a whole slew of them. He already knew she liked to make lists.
“Three weeks,” she began. “I’m here for three weeks, so that’s all you’re going to get from me.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. I think it’s the other way around, Annie.”
She bristled. “Don’t call me Annie.”
“Whatever you want, babe.”
“Don’t call me babe either.” She rested her hand on the couch and tapped her fingers nervously. “So, um, about the list…”
He patiently waited for her to continue.
“It wasn’t serious or anything.” Her brown eyes avoided his. “I was just joking around.”
“Liar. You’re dying to do each and every thing on that list.”
He could see her biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe some things.”
Ryan took a step closer. Her breath hitched. He could see her pulse throbbing in her throat, and a faint flush had spread just above her tits. Oh yeah. She was totally turned on. Good. “How about we start with good old number one, then?”
He stopped when they were only inches away. Her breasts were practically touching his T-shirt. He couldn’t wait to feel her nipples poking against his bare chest. “What’s number one again?” she asked, sounding breathless.
“Sex somewhere other than a bed,” he recited.
She sighed. “Jeez, you really did memorize it.”
“Couldn’t help it. I have a photographic memory.”
“Or you’re just a pervert.”
“That too.” He flashed her a grin. “You like me, though.”
“Maybe.”
He eliminated the last inch between them, pressing his body against hers. A shaky breath flew out of her mouth. “Maybe?” he teased.
“Fine, I like you,” she conceded. She paused, then tilted her head. “So, um, how do we do this?”
He froze. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin,” she huffed. “I just haven’t had sex with many strangers, okay?” She hesitated again. “Do you want me to take my bikini off?”
Ryan let out a low chuckle. “That’s a good start.”
His pulse sped up as she raised her arms and reached for the tie behind her neck. Anticipation coiled in his gut.
Then she stopped. Rather than untying her bikini top, she narrowed her eyes and said, “I think you should do it first.”
“Do what?”
“Get naked. Because really, why should the girl always undress first? You’re so sexist, Roger.”
He sighed. “Do you always have to overanalyze every last detail?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Then overanalyze this.”
Before she could respond, he captured her mouth with his. The kiss shut her up completely, and soon she was rubbing her tits against his chest like a contented cat. Fuck, she tasted sweet. Ryan slipped his tongue in her mouth, licking and exploring, while his hands drifted south to rest on her firm ass. She gave a soft whimper, then deepened the kiss. When her tongue entered his mouth, he groaned, as blood pooled in his groin and his cock thickened against her belly.
She reached down between them and rubbed him over his shorts, eliciting another groan from deep in his throat. The who-undresses-first debate went up in flames and soon they were both tugging at their own clothes. Her bathing suit was flung across the room, his shorts ended up under the couch, and who knew what happened to his T-shirt. Ryan didn’t care. His entire body was on fire. So was Annabelle’s, judging by the rosy flush rising on her smooth, golden skin.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped.
She had an hourglass figure, with a curvy ass he couldn’t help but dig his fingers into. And her pussy was completely bare, which made his mouth go dry and his tongue tingle. Damn, he couldn’t wait to taste her. His cock bobbed against her stomach as he drew her close again, kissing her hard and deep. Then he slid down to his knees and pressed a soft kiss right between her legs.
Annabelle gasped, teetering on her feet. “Oh, God. That’s…so good.”
Steadying her with his hands, he dragged his tongue up and down her slit in featherlight strokes. Her soft moans egged him on. He loved hearing a woman moan for him.
He hated taking his mouth away, but Annabelle kept swaying like she might keel over, so, with a laugh, he gripped her hips with his hands and said, “Get down here.”
The living room floor probably wasn’t the most comfortable site in the world, but Annabelle didn’t even blink as she stretched out on her back, her body spread out beneath him like a juicy holiday feast.
“I feel like such a slut,” she breathed, looking half-amused and half-worried. “We don’t even know each other.”
“Yeah, but I’m dying to g
et to know you,” he replied, settling himself between her thighs.
His cock ached to slide inside, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. Straddling her, he bent down to kiss one of her distended nipples, sucking it deep in his mouth. She made a sexy little sound and then tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him even closer. He suckled and licked, cupping her tits with both hands and kissing all that smooth, silky flesh.
“You are such a tease,” Annabelle said, breathless and excited. “Will you just get inside me already?”
“Sure.” He slipped one hand between her legs and pushed two fingers in her pussy.
They both groaned.
She was soaking wet. He quickly slid down her body again, his mouth desperate to lap her up. He swirled his tongue over her clit, then dragged it down her wet folds and thrust it deep inside her.
Annabelle moaned, her hips moving restlessly as he went down on her. “You’re good at that,” she mumbled. She made a wheezing sound. “And if you say it’s because you’ve had a lot of practice, I’ll slap you.”
He laughed against her pussy. Yep, sarcastic even during sex. He’d known she would be, and damn, he loved it. He also loved driving her wild, flicking his tongue over her clit, licking every inch of her until she was moaning uncontrollably. Her sweet taste made him dizzy with lust, and his cock throbbed, hard and full and dying for release.
Annabelle moved her hips faster, her breathing heavy, but just as he felt her clit pulse against his lips, he drew back. He had a crazy urge to see her eyes when she came. Abruptly, he shot to his feet, his cock poking out like an angry sword.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she grumbled.
“Condom,” he said hoarsely.
He went from the living room to the bathroom and back to the living room in less than ten seconds. Ten seconds after that, he had a rubber on and was entering Annabelle with one swift thrust.
“Oh Jesus,” he hissed out. She was so tight he nearly exploded from the feel of her inner muscles clamped around his dick. “Are you always this tight?”
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 1-3 Page 31