18.
“Good morning, sunshine!”
The irritatingly cheerful voice yanked Hailey out of dreams of stormy oceans where cocktail glasses were rocking boats and the moon was a glacé cherry.
Sunlight spilled onto her face as she turned over with a scowl. “Whatmeist?”
The bed dipped as someone sat next to her. “Ten in the morning.”
She jerked upright. “Work!” Then pain slammed into her forehead and she groaned, one hand cupping it.
“It’s Sunday.” The scent of roasted coffee beans wafted in front of her nose. She sniffed and blindly grabbed for it.
“Uh-uh.” It was held out of reach, prompting a grumble. Her tormenter only sounded amused by it. “First I want to see those beautiful eyes.”
“Nuh.”
“Yes. C’mon, open up for Ryder.”
Ryder.
Her eyes shot open, watering as the light hit. She clutched the sheets to her chest, vaguely realizing all she wore was her sleep shirt. “Ryder?”
He sat so close the sunlight picked out the specks of amber in his eyes. “Morning.” He held out the coffee, packaged in a cardboard cup. “For you.”
Why the hell is Ryder here?
Worse, why was her brain trying to beat its way out of her skull?
She took it with an awkward smile. “Uh . . . thanks.”
Prying the lid off, she put the plastic on her night table and blew on the latte. The steam went up her nose. “How’d you know I like lattes?”
“Who doesn’t?” He shrugged.
She warmed her hands on the cup as she continued to blow on the burning liquid. Anything to avoid eye contact. As subtly as she could, she shifted enough to confirm . . .
Yep. No underwear. No underwear and Ryder was here on a Sunday morning.
Apparently, she’d not only downed two Geniegasms, she’d also thrown off any inhibitions she’d ever had.
She had no idea how they’d gotten from point A to point B to the point where she’d lost her underwear.
She wondered how she could bring it up as she took a cautious swallow of coffee.
“So, some night last night,” he commented.
She choked, coffee shooting down the wrong passage. Spluttering, she hacked out a couple of coughs, heaving as she stared wide-eyed and watery at him. He helpfully pounded her on the back until she waved him off.
Her throat was raw as she managed a croaking, “What?”
His grin was innocent. “Surely you remember? I tell you, Hailey.” His smile turned reminiscent, his gaze warm as it trickled over what he could see of her beneath the covers. “The way you moved, the pleasure you took in it. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”
Her whole face steamed up. “Ah. So we . . . I mean you came here and we . . .”
“I’ve never seen a woman do it like that before.”
She gawped. Her hands clenched so hard on the cup, the cardboard mottled.
Wow. Congrats. You’ve entered One-Night-Stand-Ville. Population: your slutty ass.
“You really don’t remember?” he asked, head tilted. There was something in his face that made suspicions rise, a mischief he couldn’t hide.
“We didn’t do anything.” She studied his face, relief and disappointment mingling like juice into water. Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re teasing.”
“We didn’t do anything,” he confirmed. His dimples flashed as he patted her on the knee beneath the covers. “You did.”
She paused, about to sip her coffee. Wary, she looked at him. “I did?”
“Yep. Ruined me for other women.” He put a hand over his heart with a sigh. “Your striptease to Shania Twain will never be topped.”
Mortification hit like a truck running a red light. Not Twain.
Then, striptease?
“Okay.” She placed the half-full cup on her night table, then flopped and buried her head in the pillows. Her moan was heartfelt.
Ryder Wood had seen her do a drunken striptease to Shania Twain. There wasn’t a hole deep, dank, or dark enough to hide in.
His hand settled on her back and rubbed. “I thought the part with the chair was the best.”
Another moan, to which he gave an answering chuckle.
Now he’d said it, vague pictures came back to her of him flashing them here, of her turning on “sexy” music, then of her getting stuck in her shirt as Shania belted out how good it was to be a woman.
She slid down under the thick, heavy weight of the duvet. Maybe if she burrowed down enough, she’d make it to Australia.
“Hailey? Can you breathe in there?”
“Unfortunately.”
His hand came unerringly down on her butt, tapping it. She squeaked in surprise.
“Come on now,” he said, his laughter-filled voice muffled through the duvet. “I’m making omelets.”
She’d sooner make herself a little den under this duvet. A few snacks, an iPad, she could exist here for a while.
The bed shifted as he stood, and she heard him walk to the bedroom door. “Five minutes,” he called. “Or I’m coming in after you.”
“That’s supposed to be a threat?” she muttered to herself.
The door closed as the duvet flung itself against the far wall.
* * *
Ryder chuckled as he heard the curse from inside Hailey’s bedroom. So cute. Seeing her with her blond hair tangled and a pillow crease on her cheek, not to mention the sleepy green eyes, it had been hard not to crawl into that bed with her. Especially with her sloppy invitation from the night before.
Buuut it had to come from her. A sober her. Much as he’d enjoyed the adorable striptease turned disaster last night.
He tossed peppers into the pan when her bedroom door opened. It was a sheepish Hailey who emerged, dressed in sweatpants, hair brushing past her shoulders, an oversized jersey slipping off one shoulder. The sleeves hid her hands as she awkwardly pushed some hair out of her face. “Smells good,” she said.
“Take a seat.” He finished the omelet and slid it onto a plate. In his experience, nothing beat the hangover blues like coffee and an omelet. Breakfast was his specialty—mainly because it was the only decent thing he knew how to cook. Another perk of living in a hotel.
They ate in silence, a comfortable one for him but judging by the way she avoided his gaze, she was wishing him far away. Good thing he hadn’t given her her wish yet or he might have found himself in Alaska.
He finished first and picked up the mug he’d adopted. He cradled it in his hands as her clock ticked off another minute. “So we going to talk about last night?”
Her knife grated on the plate. Her eyes were wary when she looked up. “About the dance?”
“About your invitation.”
As he watched, delectable red filtered into her cheeks. It made him smile. He could count on one hand the women he’d been with who blushed.
She carefully put her cutlery onto the plate, her omelet half-eaten. “Okay.” He could almost see her steeling herself.
It was like she was going before a firing squad. He didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted.
She exhaled, discomfort marching across her face. “Okay. So I was thinking . . .” She pressed her lips together, exhaled, and closed her eyes. “ . . . we should have sex.”
Fantasies he’d been stockpiling burst into being. The trick would be which to choose from first. He let his gaze travel over her hungrily. Finally.
She clearly read his silence the wrong way as she covered her eyes with her hands. “Oh, God. I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? You’re probably not meant to talk about it. In fact, that article I was looking at said—”
“Article? You researched this?”
“Maybe.” She dropped her hands to reveal blazing cheeks. Her chin came up. “It’s not like I’ve ever done this, a fling without strings, before. I wanted some pointers.” She pushed her chair back from the little table and paced to the couch and back. “
I’m tired of feeling . . .” She hesitated as if she were picking and choosing her words. “Look, my ex really hurt me.”
“I guessed.”
“My confidence when it comes to men has pretty much been in the toilet since him.” Another of his guesses confirmed, though something in his gut burned at the idea of some jerk raking her over the coals. “I’m not ready for a relationship,” she continued. “I don’t know how to do a fun affair with a shelf life, but I want to try. With you.” Green eyes looked at him as if he needed to be begged. “But there have to be rules.”
“I—”
“I’ve read up on it so I know the standard rules of a casual affair are that you don’t act like you own the other, no talking of feelings, and there should be no expectation of long term.” She was looking at him earnestly now, so damn cute with her research and her vulnerabilities. She was a control freak, but he found that surprisingly alluring.
“Ah,” he managed when she looked to him for response.
“Obviously we can still hang out,” she said, clearly accepting that. “You can continue to show me how to be reckless, take impulsive moves, and I’ll be planning the party for your brother. But the focus would be on sex and fun. Not feelings.”
He wondered if he should feel kind of insulted, but honestly, he was having too much fun to care. “Sure.”
She raked her hands through her hair and tugged, lifting the jersey a couple inches. He caught the flash of toned, tanned navel and his mouth watered.
“The thing is, I’m ready for the next step in the be-reckless plan,” she said. “And I want you to be the one I try this casual thing with. You’re nice and honest and you look really, really good, and you make me feel better than I have in a while.”
“Thanks.” He had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He nodded. “I like you, too.”
She did smile then, a little shy. He wanted to taste the curve. “I’ve thought about it and decided as long as we stick to the rules, we should be fine.” A glance from those green eyes quickened his heart. “What do you think?”
What did he think? His whole body vibrated with the need to kiss her, but at the same time he wanted to grin and sweep her up and dance around the kitchen with her. She was just too damn cute. Wanting him to show her how to let go, but simultaneously needing control over the situation. There was no other woman like her. “I’ll play by the rules if you will.”
“Oh. Great.” A flush tinged her cheeks pink as she knocked her hands awkwardly together.
Ryder almost took a step forward but forced himself to stop. If she needed to feel in control, this had to be her thing to initiate. He willed himself still as she raked her teeth across her bottom lip.
God, the things he could do with that lip. Even from sitting over here.
Squashing the magic that begged to stroke and tease, Ryder gazed at her. “You sure you want this, Hailey?”
It was so quiet, he heard his own heartbeat.
Then her arms fell to her sides. “Yes,” she said. “I’m all in, Ryder. I want—”
Before she finished the sentence, Ryder flashed to her. He hauled her up on her bare toes, tunneling a hand through her hair and bending her head back for his plundering mouth. Her taste, mingled with mint from toothpaste, hit with the same potency as expensive whiskey as her tongue wound around his.
A moan caught in her throat; he felt it as he pulled her even tighter into him. His cock throbbed as he nibbled that bottom lip, soothing the hurt with his tongue.
Then he released her.
Flushed, delectable, and confused, she blinked up at him.
“Damn, but I want you, too,” he said in such a low voice it was unrecognizable. “I want you on your back, on your front, on your side. I want you sitting and lying down and up against the wall, pounding into you so hard you’ll feel me for a week. I want to lose count of your orgasms as I taste you.”
Her whole body quivered against him.
“I have one more rule for you,” he forced out before he took her to any flat surface, stripped her, and devoured her. “When one of us wants to break it off, the other lets them without argument or question.”
Her mouth was moist and swollen from his, her eyes greener than a polished apple.
He realized his hand was still on her ass. He liked it there. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not Mr. Right. I’m not the one.” He gazed into her face. “Do we have a deal?”
He saw the minute her thoughts cleared and she was Hailey again. Her jaw firmed and angled up as she smacked him on the chest. “Get over yourself before your head gets so big your center of gravity shifts. Didn’t you hear anything I said a minute ago? I know how the game is played—hello, I’m the one who said there should be rules. I’m not in love with you, Ryder. I just want to feel good again.”
Ryder caressed the hand that remained on her ass, loved it when her eyes became slumberous. “You will,” he promised darkly.
19.
“Nothing but a big tease.” Hailey humphed to herself as she cleared the breakfast dishes away. The crockery clinked with more force than was good for them.
Contrary to what she’d expected after that melt-your-panties speech and the promise that heated his eyes to smoldering amber, Ryder had done nothing more than kiss her again—her hands all over those abs she had yet to see but felt spectacular—before he’d left with the promise he’d pick her up for something “fun” later.
Now that she’d made the decision, she’d sooner have shown him something “fun” that they could do without even leaving the apartment, but apparently the Genie was making sure she’d thought it through.
Damn it, why did that make him so much sexier? Hard enough to resist him as it was.
Except now she didn’t have to.
Ryder Wood was going to be her lover.
A little squeal shot past her closed lips. If there was ever a time to squeal, now was the time. Finally, she would feel good about herself as a woman again. She would feel attractive and sexy—already Ryder had left her with a glow of anticipation, a pleasurable tingle in her belly. He made her feel good.
And he was going to be her lover. That couldn’t be overstated.
Hailey did the rest of her Sunday morning chores with a bounce in her step, the cursed Shania Twain replaced with a medley of upbeat housework songs. And all the while she dusted and vacuumed, she let her imagination run wild with what Ryder would do with her, what would happen when he showed up.
She leaned against the broom she used to do the bathroom floor and closed her eyes. She pictured her living room awash with candles, more than she owned because what good was a fantasy if it had any place in reality, a little soft jazz on her music system. She threw a couple of glasses of wine in there for good measure, not that she anticipated drinking.
Although it had been a while since she’d had sex, maybe she would need some courage, but he’d already seen her drunk once and it wasn’t a good idea to use alcohol as a crutch, and her dad always said—
Lawson. You had a fantasy happening. Your dad? Not welcome.
Hailey cleared her mind of rambling and returned to the vision, only now Ryder was there with her. Shirtless, of course, all tanned, buff torso, rippling with muscle. His eyes glowed in the light from the candles as he reached for her.
His kiss would be hungry, starving, his hands equal to the fervor, in no time at all stripping her of a very nice silk negligee she’d seen in Victoria’s Secret the other day.
“God, I could devour you,” he’d purr before plundering her mouth again. His hands would move lower, lower, lower . . .
BBbbbrrrriiiiinnnnngggggg.
The broom clattered to the bathroom floor as Hailey jolted out of her daydream. A little hot, a lot turned on, she pushed a hand haphazardly through her hair and went to get the phone.
“Ah, hello?” she said after she’d picked it up. She cleared her throat of the fuzz. “Hello?”
“Young lady, I want you to ex
plain yourself right now.”
At the sound of her dad’s rumble, she was instantly a teenager again, frozen in the act of stuffing her bra. “Dad?”
“Don’t ‘dad’ me. I want an explanation, Hailey May, and I want it—no, Sara, I told you I’d handle—”
Hailey heard the sounds of a scuffle before her mom’s voice came on the line. “Hi, darling.”
“Mom,” she said with extreme caution.
“How are you?”
“Up till about two minutes ago, okay.” Apart from the whole Ethan wedding. Which she was going to tell her parents about. Eventually. When she made sure she’d hid her dad’s gun. “What’s got Dad so wired?”
“You know he gets grumpy sometimes.”
“Naval officers do not get grumpy, Sara,” Hailey heard her dad state in the background. “Give me the phone.”
There was a pause where Hailey assumed her mom held her hand over the speaker. Then, “That’s better. We can’t have a proper woman-to-woman chat with Dad breathing down our necks.”
A bad feeling curdled in Hailey’s belly. “Woman to woman?”
“Mmm,” her mom confirmed. “Darling, do you have something to tell me?”
“Ah . . .” She considered fobbing her mom off, but there was no use. If Sara Lawson had the scent of a secret, she was harder to shake than a spaniel off a ball. She exhaled. “What do you know?”
“I saw you and your new boyfriend on Lisette’s Hour.” Hailey heard the coy smile in her mom’s voice. “He’s a dishy sort, isn’t he?”
That made Hailey grin. Dishy. Ryder was a dish, all right, one to be consumed in small bites. “He’s attractive, I suppose. But he’s not my boyfriend.” Too late, she remembered she wasn’t supposed to admit that.
Not that her mom believed her anyway. “I saw the show, Hailey. Don’t be thinking you can run circles around me. There was enough sexual tension between you to light a small bonfire.”
“Mom.” Hailey settled on the arm of the couch. “Please.”
“You don’t think your dad and I have sex?”
“Blah.” Hailey wrinkled her nose and made a face. “I prefer to think I flew in with the stork.”
His Command Page 18