by Joss Wood
Ryan just laughed.
Eight
That evening, Leroy, too busy showing off his amazing yacht, ignored them, and Ryan was more than happy with that. He and Jaci stood at the back of the boat, where there was less of a crowd, and watched the city skyline transition from day to night. Dusk was a magical time of the day, Ryan thought, resting his forearms on the railing and letting his beer bottle dangle from his fingers over the Hudson River. It had the ability to soothe, to suggest that something bolder and brighter was waiting around the next corner. Or maybe that was the woman standing next to him.
Ryan stood up and looked at her. Tonight’s dress was a frothy concoction with beads up top, no back and a full skirt that ended midthigh. He wanted to call it a light green but knew that if he had to ask Jaci to tell him what color it was she’d say that it was pistachio or sea foam or something ridiculous. Equally ridiculous was his desire to walk her down to one of the staterooms below deck and peel her out of it. His nights had been consumed with thoughts and dreams—awake and asleep—about her. He wanted her again, a hundred times more. He’d never—he ran his hand over his face—craved anyone before.
Ryan rubbed the back of his neck and was grateful that his heavy sigh was covered by the sound of the engine as it pushed the yacht and its fifty-plus guests through the water. Jaci had him tied up in every sailor knot imaginable. In his office this morning, it had taken every atom of his being to push her out of his lap so that he could get back to work. He was watching his multimillion-dollar deal swirling in the toilet bowl, Jaci’s career—her big break and, crazily, her self-worth—was on the line, and all he could think about was when next he could get her into bed.
Despite wanting her as he wanted his next breath, he also wanted to go back to being the uncomplicated person he’d been before Jaci hurtled into his life. And it had been uncomplicated: he had an ongoing love–hate relationship with his dead brother, a hate–hate relationship with his father and, thanks to Kelly’s lack of fidelity, a not-getting-involved attitude to women.
Simple, when you looked at it like that.
But Jaci made him feel stuff he didn’t want to feel. She made him remember what his life had been like before Ben’s death. He’d been so damn happy, so confident and so secure in the belief that all was right with his world. He’d accepted that his father was a hemorrhoid but that he could live with it; at the time his best mate was also his brother and he was engaged to the most beautiful girl in the world. He was starting to taste success...
And one evening it all disappeared. Without warning. And he learned that nothing lasted forever and no one stuck around for the long haul. It was just a truth of his life.
God, get a grip, Jackson. You sound like a whiny, bitchy teenager. Ryan turned his attention back to Jaci, who’d been content to stand quietly at his side, her shoulder pressed into his, her light perfume dancing on the breeze.
“So, whips and chains, huh?” It was so much easier to talk about Jaci’s failures than his own.
Jaci sent him a startled look and when his words made sense, her expression turned rueful. “Well, I’m not so sure about the chains but there definitely were whips involved.”
Dipstick, Ryan thought, placing his hand in the center of Jaci’s back. She sent him a tentative smile but her expressive eyes told him that she’d been emotionally thrown under a bus. He nodded to a padded bench next to him and guided Jaci to it, ordering another glass of wine for Jaci and a whiskey for himself. Jaci sat down, crossed one slim leg over the other and stared at the delicate, silver high heel on her foot.
“Talk to me,” Ryan gently commanded. He was incredibly surprised when she did just that.
“I was impressed by him and, I suppose, impressed by the idea that this rising-star politician—and he really was, Ryan—wanted to be with me. He’s charismatic and charming and so very, very bright.”
“He sounds like a lightbulb.”
His quip didn’t bring the smile to her face he’d hoped to see. “Did you love him?”
Jaci took a long time to answer. “I loved the fact that he said that he loved me. That everyone seemed to adore him and, by extension, adored me. Up to and including my family.”
Another of the 110 ways family can mess with your head, Ryan thought. It had been a long time since he’d interacted with the Brookes-Lyon clan but he remembered thinking that, while they were great individually, together they were a force of nature and pretty much unbearable. “My family loved him. He slid right on in. He was as smart and as driven as them, and my approval rating with them climbed a hundred points when I brought him home and then skyrocketed when I said yes to getting married.”
The things we do for parental and familial approval, Ryan thought with an internal shake of his head. “But he wasn’t the Prince Charming you thought he was.”
Jaci lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We got engaged and it was a big deal, the press went wild. He was a tabloid darling before but together with the fact that he was gaining political power, he became the one to watch. And they really watched him.”
Ryan frowned, trying to keep up. “The press?”
“Yeah. And their doggedness paid off,” Jaci said in a voice that was pitched low but threaded with embarrassment and pain. “He was photographed in a club chatting up a Brazilian blonde, looking very cozy. The photos were inappropriate but nothing that couldn’t be explained away.”
She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and sighed. “About two weeks after the photographs appeared, I was at his flat waiting for him to come home. I’d prepared this romantic supper, I’d really pulled out the stops. He was running late so I decided to work on some wedding plans while I waited. I needed to contact a band who’d play at the reception and I knew that Clive had the address in his contacts, so I opened up his email program.”
Ryan, knowing what was coming, swore.
“Yep. There were about sixteen unread emails from a woman and every one had at least four photos attached.” Jaci closed her eyes as the images danced across her brain. “They were explicit. She was known as the Mistress of Pain.”
He winced.
Jaci stared across the river to the lights of Staten Island. When she spoke again, her words were rushed, as if she just wanted to tell her story and get it done. “I knew that this could blow up in our faces so I confronted Clive. We agreed that we would quietly, with as little fuss as possible, call it quits. Before we could, the story broke that he was seeing a dominatrix and the bomb blew up in our faces.” Ryan lifted his eyebrows as Jaci flicked her fingers open, mimicking the action of a bomb detonating.
“Ouch.”
“Luckily, a month later a crazy producer made me an offer to work in New York as a scriptwriter and I jumped at the chance to get the hell out of, well, hell.”
“And you didn’t tell your family that you had a job?”
“It’s not like they would’ve heard me, and if they did, they wouldn’t have taken it seriously. They’d think my writing is something I play at while I’m looking to find what I’m really going to do with the rest of my life.”
Ryan heard the strains of a ballad coming from the band on the front deck and stood up. Pulling Jaci to her feet, he placed his hand on her hip and gripped her other hand and started to sway. She was in his arms, thank God. He rubbed his chin through her hair and bent his head so that his mouth was just above her ear. He thought about telling her how sorry he was that she’d been hurt, that she deserved none of it, how much he wanted to kiss her...everywhere. Instead, he gathered her closer by placing both his hands on her back and pulled her into him.
“For a bunch of highly intellectual people, your family is as dumb as a bag of ostrich feathers when it comes to you.”
Jaci tipped her head and he saw appreciation shining in those deep, hypnotic eyes. “That’s the nicest thing you�
��ve ever said to me.”
He was definitely going to have to try harder, Ryan thought as he held her close and slowly danced her across the deck.
* * *
Leroy didn’t bother to engage with them, Jaci thought, when they were back in the taxi and making their way from the luxury marina in Jersey City back to Manhattan. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.
She sighed, frustrated. “God, the business side of moviemaking gives me a headache.”
“It gives me a freakin’ migraine,” Ryan muttered. “I’ve got about a two-week window and then I need to decide whether to pull the plug on the project or not.”
Two weeks? That was all? Jaci, hearing the stress in Ryan’s voice, twisted her ring around her finger. Who could magic that much money out of thin air in less than two weeks? This was all her fault; if she hadn’t kissed him in that lobby, if she hadn’t gone to that stupid party, if she hadn’t moved to New York... It was one thing messing up her own life, but she’d caused so much trouble for Ryan, this hard-eyed and hard-bodied man who didn’t deserve any of this.
“I’m so, so sorry.” Jaci rested her head on the window and watched the buildings fly past. “This is all my fault.”
Ryan didn’t respond and Jaci felt the knife of guilt dig a little deeper, twist a little more. She thought about apologizing again and realized that repeating the sentiment didn’t change the facts. She couldn’t rewrite the past. All she could do was try to manage the present. But there was little—actually nothing—that she could do to unravel this convoluted mess, and she knew that Ryan would tie her to a bedpost if he thought that there was a minuscule chance of her complicating the situation any further.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him dig his slim cell phone out of the inner pocket of his gray jacket. He squinted at the display. His long fingers flew across the keypad and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch, the hint of a smile passing across his face.
Ryan lifted his eyes to look at her. “Your brother just reamed me a new one for sleeping with you.”
Jaci ignored the swoop of her stomach, pushed away the memory of the way Ryan’s arms bulged as he held himself above her, the warmth of his eyes as he slid on home. “He thinks that we’re sleeping together?”
“Yep,” Ryan responded. “And if you check your cell, you’ll probably find a couple messages from the rest of your family.” Ryan placed a hand on her thigh, and her breath hitched as his fingers drew patterns on her bare skin. “Priscilla has a very big mouth.”
“Oh, dear Lord God in heaven.” Jaci resisted the desire to slap her mouth against his and made herself ignore the heat in his eyes, the passion that flared whenever they were breathing the same air. She grabbed her evening bag, pulled out her own phone and groaned at the five missed calls and the numerous messages on their family group chat.
Oh, this was bad, this was very bad.
Jaci touched the screen to bring up the messages.
Meredith: You have some explaining to do, sunshine.
Priscilla: Screenwriting? Really? Since when? Why don’t you tell me anything?
Ryan moved up the seat so that his thigh was pressed against hers, and her shoulder jammed into his arm. She inhaled his scent and when heat dropped into her groin, she shifted in the seat. Ryan moved her phone so that he could see the screen.
Neil: Ryan? I was expecting you to have coffee with him, not an affair!
Meredith: Admittedly, anyone is better than the moron, but I don’t think you should be jumping into a relationship this quickly!
Archie: Ryan? Who the hell is Ryan?
Neil: My Yank friend from uni, Dad.
Archie: The Hollywood one? The pretty boy?
Jaci rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. Damn, the Atlantic Ocean might be between them but her family still managed to exacerbate her headache. She looked at Ryan and shrugged. “Well, you are pretty.”
Ryan dug an elbow into her side. “Your opinion on how I look is a lot more important than your father’s,” he said, his tone low and oozing sex.
Jaci deliberately lifted her nose in a haughty gesture, her eyes twinkling. “You’ll do.”
Ryan squeezed her thigh in response. “I suppose I asked for that.” He nodded to the phone in her hands. “So, what are you going to tell them?”
Jaci tapped her finger against her lips. “The same thing you told my mother—that it was a pretend thing, that we aren’t in a relationship, that this isn’t going anywhere.” She turned her head to look out the window. “Basically the truth.”
Ryan’s finger and thumb gripped her chin and turned her face to look at him. Jaci stifled a sigh at his gorgeous eyes and gripped her phone with both hands to keep them from diving into his hair, from rubbing his neck, his shoulders. Her mouth wanted to touch his, her legs wanted to climb onto his lap...
Ryan looked at her mouth and she felt his fingers tighten on her chin. He was fighting the urge to kiss her, as well, she realized. His rational side was barely winning and that realization made her feel powerful and feminine and so wanted. She’d never felt this desired. No man had ever looked at her the way Ryan was looking at her right now, right here.
“Your family is thinking that we are sleeping together,” Ryan stated, his thumb moving up from her chin to stroke her full bottom lip.
Well, that was obvious. She glanced at her phone in confusion. “Well, yeah.”
“Not that I give a rat’s ass what your family thinks, but...”
Jaci felt her breath stop somewhere on the way to her lungs. “But?”
“Screw this, we don’t need to explain this or justify this or make excuses for this.”
For what? Jaci frowned, confused. “What are you trying, very badly, to say, Ryan?”
“I want you. I want you in my bed. Screw the fact that you work for me and the film and all the rest of the craziness. I just want you. Come home with me, Jace. Be mine for as long as this madness continues.”
Be his. Two words, two syllables, but so powerful. How was she supposed to be sensible, to back away, to resist? She wasn’t an angel and she definitely wasn’t a saint. Jaci quickly justified the decision she was about to make. He wanted her, she—desperately—wanted him. They were both single and this was about sex and passion and lust... No love was required. They weren’t hurting anyone...
If you fall in love with him, you’ll hurt yourself.
Then I won’t fall in love with him, Jaci told herself. But a little part of her doubted that statement and she pulled back, wondering if she shouldn’t just take a breath and get oxygen to her brain. You’ve been hurt enough, that same cautious inner voice told her. And Ryan would take what was left of her battered heart and drop-kick it to the moon.
“I can’t get enough of you,” Ryan muttered before slanting his mouth over hers and pushing his tongue between her parted lips. One swipe, another lick and all doubts were gone, all hesitation burned away by the heat of his mouth, the passion she tasted on her tongue. His arm pushed down between her back and the seat, and his other hand held her head in place so that he commanded the kiss. And command he did, and Jaci followed him into that special, magical place where time stood still.
Under his touch... This was where she felt alive, powerful, connected to the universe and sure of her place in it. When she kissed him she felt confident and desired and potent. Like the best version of herself. Ryan’s mouth left hers and he feathered openmouthed kisses across her cheekbone, along her jaw, down her neck. Jaci shivered when he tasted the hollow of her collarbone.
“We’ve got to stop making out in cabs,” Ryan murmured against her skin.
“We’ve got to stop making out, full stop,” Jaci tartly replied.
“News flash, honey, that’s probably not going to happen.” Jaci felt Ryan’s lips curve
into a smile against her neck. The backs of his fingers brushed her breast as he straightened and moved away from her, his expression regretful. He looked past her and Jaci finally noticed that they were parked outside Ryan’s swish apartment building.
“Come inside with me, please.”
How could she resist the plea in his eyes, the smidgen of anxiety she heard in his voice? Did he really think that she was strong enough to say no, that she was wise enough to walk away from this situation, to keep this as uncomplicated as it could possibly be? Well, no chance of that. Her brain thought that she should stay in the cab and have the driver deliver her home, but the need to erase the distance between them, to feel every naked inch of him, was overpowering. She wanted Ryan, she needed him. She was going to take him and have him take her.
The morning and its problems could look after themselves. Tonight was hers. He was hers. Jaci opened the door and left the cab, teetering on her heels as she spun around and held out her hand to Ryan.
“Take me to bed, Ry.”
* * *
Ryan enjoyed women; he liked their curves, their soft-feeling, smooth skin, the small, delicate sounds they made when his touch gave them pleasure. He loved the sweet-spicy taste of their skin, their pretty toes, the way their tantalizing softness complemented his hard, rougher body.
Yeah, he liked women, but he adored Jaci, he thought as he slowly pulled her panties down her hips. Naked at last. Ryan, minus his jacket and black tie, was still dressed and liking the contrast. He dropped the froth of lace to the floor and sat on the side of the bed, his hand stroking her long thigh, watching how her small nipples puckered when he looked at them. He’d had more than his share of women but none of them reacted to his look as if it was a touch. There had never been this arc of desire connecting them. He’d never felt a driving need to touch anyone the way he wanted to touch her.
It was both terrifying and amazingly wonderful.
“What are you thinking?” Jaci asked him, her voice low and sexy. Ryan usually hated that question, thought it was such an invasion of his privacy, but this time, and with this woman, he didn’t mind.