Warm fingers pinched her lips shut. Probably a good thing, since more stupid crap was bound to come out and ruin…this, whatever this was. “First of all,” he said, all businesslike. The intensely staid look fit him. Just how clowns were always smiling, sexy bearded guys named Ryan should have this look mastered. She blinked away the feeling that she was staring at a magazine ad as he opened his mouth. “Your cousin’s drunk as hell.”
Sailor rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s usually how these bar trysts work, right?”
His lips twitched. “Maybe for you.”
Her eyes widened and she tried to step away, but his solid arms encased her and held her tight. She hadn’t hooked up with anyone like that since…well, back when she was a total screwup. Standing tall, she opened her mouth, ready to rebut.
Ryan tightened his arms and his mouth fell to her ear. “Jesus, you are sexy as fuck.” Hot breath sank down her neck, sending all her synapses misfiring again. “Listen, I don’t take drunk girls home. I don’t hook up with them, either. Call me crazy, but I’d rather not spend the next few years in jail.” He splayed his hands against her back, digging the tips of his fingers into her skin. “As for your cousin, she’s cute and all, but nothing compared to how breathtaking you are.”
She sucked in a deep breath. Guys didn’t call her breathtaking. Didn’t say she was sexy. She stared at the apartment’s dingy white popcorn ceiling. “So…you weren’t trying to hook up with her?” No joke, she needed to stop talking. Like now. Excuse me while I go fetch a bottle for my annoying, whiny mouth!
“I was trying to get away from her,” Ryan said, patient as ever and at the same time nuzzling her neck. His teeth grazed along her skin. “Thanks for saving me, by the way. I owe you for that.”
The floor suddenly plummeted out from under her feet, and he spun her around, sank onto the couch, her directly on top of him until their bodies fit together in a way that hadn’t been possible when she was standing. “That’s better. Are we done validating the reason we are here tonight?” He fanned his hands over the insides of her knees and pushed them farther apart, her body dropping like a deadweight onto his hard length.
“Oh.”
He didn’t give her but a millisecond to process the mouthwatering pressure against her center before he dipped his fingers into the neckline of her shirt and cupped a handful of her breast. He brought his face up to her chest and circled his tongue around her nipple. Once, twice, and by the third rotation, fire erupted between her legs.
Feeling fidgety, like a swarm of fireflies had suddenly taken flight down the insides of her thighs, she shifted her hips, pressing then releasing into his growing bulge. Her earlier worries suddenly dissipated, taking a backseat to the feel of him against her. The brush of his tongue on her skin, the pinpricks of heat where his fingers trailed up her back, dragging the material of her shirt with them. Air cooled her exposed skin.
This wasn’t wild and reckless. No, her actions were measured now. Controlled. Completely thought out. Because in that very moment, satisfying her body’s burning need for release was the mature thing to do. Hallelujah for getting older!
“You are ridiculously sexy,” he said, suddenly breaking her out of her thought.
She laughed. “You don’t need a line. I was already kissing you.”
Without warning, he flipped her, the soft couch molding around her back, the gravity of his body weighting her even more. “It wasn’t a line.” He ducked his head and pressed his moistened lips against her stomach at the same time he worked the denim down her legs.
Words whispered against her skin, something like, “Did I say ridiculously sexy? I meant exceptionally, superbly, extraordinarily sexy.”
She was exceptionally, superbly, extraordinarily turned on.
He started mapping out her body with his lips, trailing his tongue up her thighs and stroking the skin of her hip just below the waistline of her panties. It’d been months since she’d last had sex… Was she going to totally suck at it? She started to open her mouth—a warning of such was probably the polite thing to do. A hey, this might not be as good for you as it will be for me, but then one of his hands pushed her panties to the side and something in her brain detonated. Blackness tiptoed across the edges of her vision, and all the feeling in her body seemed to taper into that one spot where he was touching her. Holy heart attack, it felt incredible. His fingers caressed a part inside her that had her bowing up and toward him.
Her hands had a mind of their own as they kneaded at his back and then slipped around to his stomach, where she flicked open the button on his jeans. He made a sound in the back of his throat, and his lips crashed against hers. He kissed her fiercely, weighting her down into the couch. The kisses kept building—harder and quicker—and she needed something more. She slid her hand along the taut skin of his stomach to the front of his jeans. Then his lips broke from hers with a groan. He didn’t ease back, but kept his mouth millimeters from hers. His breath came out in a rush.
“Christ, Sailor…”
He dropped a final lingering kiss on her lips and then pulled back until he was kneeling above her. The metal of the zipper echoed loud in the room, and she kept her eyes focused on the broad structure of his shoulders as he fidgeted with his clothes. He stood for a few seconds, and she ran her gaze up and down his mostly naked body, over the tattoo on his side that she could now tell was the silhouette of an airplane.
She wanted this. Badly.
She was about to tell him so when his hands and his lips returned to her—frantic, almost as if he was at the end of his tether. Pressure built low in her core, and every muscle in her body tightened as she waited for what was coming.
He tugged her panties down her legs, and settled his body into the crook of her thighs, and it was like being plunged into a hot, steamy bath. Heat caressed her. Or maybe that was his hands?
He dug the blunt ends of his fingertips into her skin.
Yes, very much his hands. Moving to the outsides of her legs, drawing them up to bare her to him. He gazed down at her, focusing his intense eyes on the pulse point on her neck.
She giggled. “Is this the point where you tell me you’re a vampire in need of sucking some blood?”
He laughed, like a genuine laugh, which had her body singing, but it was gone as fast as it’d come, and his face returned to the business Ryan, eyes burning into hers. “It’s not blood I’m looking to suck…” He licked his lips for effect and her body unconsciously arched toward him.
Goner… Had she mentioned she was a goner?
He leaned away from her body once again, and something like a whimper of disappointment trickled out of her mouth. From the wallet in his pants, he retrieved a foil packet. Conveniently, this placed his mouth beside her right boob. He grinned deviously before taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking until it popped back out with a smacking noise.
Although she’d been with other men, this was new. The playfulness. The feeling like she didn’t have to be self-conscious about her body. Not once had she wondered if she looked fat or if her position was stretching ugly pudges across her stomach. She just felt him. And her. And knowing that was like breathing in air after a rainstorm.
“You might want to reconsider the whole vampire thing. I heard it was a thrill to be…sucked.” Oh God, what kind of crap was coming out of her mouth now? Was she trying to talk dirty to him? Abandon that train wreck before he abandons you, Sail. “I mean…um, yeah, don’t listen to me. Your almost-naked body is kind of making me lose my mind. Like, literally lose my mind. Not figuratively. Apparently, my mouth, too. I honestly can’t guarantee what’s going to come out of it.”
And now she was rambling. About his naked body. What was wrong with her? Zip those lips and throw away the dang key.
“Sailor?” Her name on his lips… Now that was something worth searing into her memories.
“Yep?” She mashed her lips together before more absurdity came out.
A smile push
ed at the corners of his mouth. “Can you please stop talking so I can fuck you properly?”
The hard words and dangerous sound to them sent a rush of sexual energy through her. Slowly, she nodded. “Right.” Her gaze lingered over his form as he unwrapped the condom and slid it into place, that swarm of fireflies burning hot inside her at the sight.
There was a shift here and a shift there and then their bodies first made contact. Sailor doubted the logistical possibility of this whole thing working. He was so big—too big—and she was too swollen from what he’d done to arouse her already. But when he pushed into her, logistics went down the toilet. Down, down, down. He fit, just barely. She grabbed his perfectly shaped backside and pulled him into her, groaning the whole way as she was stretched to the max.
Oh.
My.
God.
“Christ, you feel amazing,” he growled into her ear, pushing even deeper. He held in place for one breath, two, and just when she was getting used to the feel of him inside her, he slowly pulled out and thrust in again. With her hands on his back, she could feel the muscles move beneath the skin. Considerable muscles, tense and corded, rippled with the in-and-out strokes that gradually built a tension so strong it begged to be released.
Her muscles spasmed and gripped him from the inside, and his eyes widened when he felt it. At the same time, she slid her hands down to his hips where she could pull him harder against her. He read her signal perfectly, slowing at the deepest part, rubbing, drawing away only to bury himself again.
The deliberate movement was sweet torture, but soon she needed to move faster. Needed more. Her body demanded it. Sweat beaded along the back of her neck as she tilted her pelvis up toward him. With that tiny shift in position, a sharp but amazing sensation hit her core.
It also made a ragged, dying-cat sound tear out of her mouth.
“That’s it, gorgeous.”
She didn’t need his encouragement, but when he spoke to her while grating up against her, the feeling that she was wild and feral overtook her body. Urgency stole her movements as she answered to the demands coming from her more primal self. With every drive up toward him, she swallowed him more fully, until the most sensitive part of her was rubbing on his body while he stretched her to the fullest.
“Oh, yeah. Come on, beautiful. Come on.” He pushed hard against her when her body lifted to him once again. Together, they met in the middle, and she could feel him grow even larger inside her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and thrust forward so hard that her whole body shifted and pleasure poured through her so fast that her vision went spotty. His rhythm stuttered for a moment, his eyes closed, and then he dropped his head to her neck, breath hot against her skin.
“That was”—warm lips gently pressed against her skin, his body caging hers—“not what I was expecting when I left my house tonight. You are amazing.”
Her cheeks pushed up into a smile she couldn’t stop. He was pretty amazing himself, and just what she’d needed to help quiet her mind the night before she was to go to her father’s bar and claim what was hers.
The Alibi. God, what a stupid name. What normal person would name an establishment related to adultery? First thing she was going to do was change the name. Something like Sailor’s. Her father had opened the bar when Sailor was in middle school—easy to remember the exact year because, by no coincidence, it was also the year she started in with the wrong crowd. The first domino tipped in the chain of failures and eff-ups. Back then, with the bar being so new, her dad had been too busy trying to build the business to notice the change in her clothing, then attitude, then school attendance. And with her mother gone, killed in a boating accident when she was just a baby, that domino train had sped faster and faster toward Sailor the High School Dropout.
She shook off the thought. How many times was she going to fall into that murky pit of regret? She’d messed up. She’d already owned up to it. Now it was time to reckon. Well, tomorrow was. Because right now, a gorgeous, naked man was kissing her neck.
Dragging her nails lightly up and down his back, she said, “Much better than the dog-shaming videos I would’ve likely ended up watching tonight. I guess we can thank my cousin for drinking too many mojitos.”
His mouth stilled and he lifted his head, eyes still dark but focused on her. “You watch dog-shaming videos?”
Nodding, she watched his mouth. He hadn’t even cleaned up from their first round and she was already wondering if there was going to be a second. “When I’m not filming them myself,” she responded. “My little man—he’s a Morkie Poo—is really bad. Adorable as heck but can’t resist the urge to get into things.”
His eyes lit with an inner glow. “Like?”
“Last night, he toilet papered my entire apartment, and the day before that, he Houdinied himself up onto my kitchen counter and devoured a bunch of bananas.” She was still waiting for the effects of that one to subside. Doggy constipation was no picnic. Her gaze met Ryan’s, and she pointed to where a flat screen TV hung on the wall. “Do you want to stay and, um, watch some?” And maybe, while we’re at it, have another romp on the couch?
Possibly he could teach her another word for “romp,” too, because she was fairly certain people her age didn’t call it that.
A moment passed, his gaze ticking around her face, his fingers at the sides of her head, twisting her hair. She thought he might agree, but then his lips hardened into a thin line, and he shook his head. “I have to get back to the bar. I’ve got some unfinished business there.”
“Sounds revengeful.”
“More like research for work.” Slowly, he pulled out of her, grabbed his pants, and stood. “Can I walk you back to your car?”
Cold air washed over her, and a ping of disappointment shot through her. She sat up. “Thanks, but I’d better stay and check on Marissa. I can have her take me to it in the morning.”
He dressed with ease, watching as she tried to straighten out the tangle her thong had become. Right, this wasn’t awkward at all. Side or bottom? Front or back? Since when did underwear become so confusing?
He was still watching her, and obviously waiting for her. Right. “Heh-heh. It’s a new thing called puzzle underwear. Supposed to train your brain…or, uh…something like that.”
Did they make a pill to cure Stupid-Mouth Syndrome?
Stepping forward with a grin ticking at the sides of his mouth, he took the thong from her hands. Deft fingers worked to untangle the fabric, and he crouched down and stretched out the leg holes. “Step in.”
The deep growl in his voice and his face…right there…at her front sent a tingle radiating out from her center. Resting her hand on his shoulder for balance, she did as he instructed. One foot, then the other, watching as he slowly scraped the material—and his warm hands—up her legs. He positioned it in place and tapped her bare butt cheeks.
And…that was, beyond any doubt, the hottest thing any man had ever done.
She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
Without a word, he bracketed her face with his hands, leaned down, and pressed a single kiss to her lips. “It was nice to meet you, Sailor.”
Chapter Three
Truth #21: Regret hurts like a b-word.
Truth #22: That rule about no cussing really stinks right now, because I really want to use the b-word.
Afternoon sunlight streaked across the Alibi’s wooden floors, highlighting the utter lack of grime between the boards’ seams. Compared to the crowds Ryan had seen at the Dirty Bird last night, especially once he’d returned after leaving Sailor and her gorgeous body standing naked in Barf Girl’s apartment, it was no wonder his floors stayed so damn clean.
What he needed was a way to pack his bar full of people like the other bars in town. Sure, he had the night where he transformed the pub-like bar into a nightclub-like environment. He and his ex-partner, Micah, had come up with the idea. Profit from it had gotten them out of a hole a few months ago, but to the masses, t
he novelty of the nightclub experience had worn off after several weeks and the gains from the once-a-week event had stopped outweighing the expenses. Since then, Micah had sold his share of the bar back to Ryan and moved to the suburbs with his new wife, Laurel. Because of the cost, Ryan had since reduced the weekly nightclub events to once a month.
Ryan’s phone buzzed against his leg. About damn time Vinny texted him back. The punk was already twenty minutes late.
Vinny: Bro, not going to make it in tonight.
Ryan shook his head at his phone screen. This kid, though he had some mad counter-bussing skills, had been a pain in Ryan’s ass since taking over the night shift—calling in sick, not showing up at all. Did the mere presence of reliable workers not exist anymore? He smoothed a hand down his beard and sighed.
Ryan: I’m your boss, not your bro. And why the hell not?
Vinny: Got the shits.
Ryan: Which you had a few days ago. Maybe you need to lay off the bullshit.
Vinny: Nah, man. That was just gas.
Ryan: That apparently seeped into your brain cells. You can’t bail on me two days in a week.
Vinny: No choice, bro.
Heat crept up Ryan’s neck, and he leaned on the bar counter, head in his hands. Was he too nice? Was that why Vinny was doing this? He’d let him off a few days ago with a that sucks and a go pick up a pack of Charmin and I’ll see you tomorrow. But now a second day? If he let Vinny get away with cutting out on his shift at the last minute, the punk ass would surely start taking advantage of it. And that was one thing Ryan didn’t need right now.
He cringed and typed out his response.
Ryan: Then I have no choice but to tell you to never step foot inside my bar again. Your final check will be in your mailbox tomorrow.
A Moment of Madness (Boston Alibi) Page 4