I turned back to Johnny Cash. “Want to go outside?” I whispered, and he thumped his tail on the floor at the last word.
I slipped out of bed and headed to the sliding glass door. The door was locked with a regular latch and a deadbolt. It took me a few seconds to wiggle them free, but I managed, and then the dog shot out, racing across the grass and lifting his leg on a tree in the far corner of the yard.
Pale-pink fingers of light streaked across the morning sky as the sun rose. Taking a deep breath, savoring the fresh scent of a new day, I soaked up the scene before me. Waking up at Ryan’s house, spending the weekend with him, exploring all that we felt for each other had been a day and night of rapture, of passion, and, most of all, of connection.
Fine, it had only been one night, but I knew with both my heart and my analytical mind that Ryan Sloan was changing. He was opening up. He was sharing.
For me.
I practically giggled at the thought as I watched his dog finish his business then tear across the yard and conduct some morning recon with his snout, checking out the fence, perusing the edge of the pool, and sniffing some bushes. I felt bubbly, effervescent even, because I was close to having that elusive thing I’d craved for so long. For my whole damn life. The very gem I’d hunted for and thought I’d found in Holden was actually a diamond in the rough with Ryan. Led by lust, hormones, and desire, our relationship was a risk that had paid off. I was thrilled by the glimpses of his heart and soul that he’d offered. I felt special, I felt admired, and I felt madly desired. To have this kind of crazy, kinky, dirty sex with a man I was falling for . . . this was my dream, and I was close, closer than I’d ever been, to having it.
It was almost too good to be true, and for a brief moment, my heart seized up. What if it all fell to pieces? What if this was just a bubble? A weekend of bliss and loveliness that would all go away at midnight?
Ryan’s dog raced to my side, and I pushed those thoughts away as we headed back inside. After a quick bathroom trip to freshen my breath, I returned to the kitchen and decided breakfast for my man would be a fine idea. I rolled my eyes at the contents of his fridge—it was pure single guy. Beer. Mustard. A loaf of bread. I scanned the shelves and drawers for bacon, certain I’d find some. Personally, I couldn’t stand it. But what bachelor didn’t like bacon?
I found none.
At least he had a carton of eggs and some butter, so I set to work whipping up some scrambled eggs, and as I turned off the stove, a sleepy, sexy Ryan padded out of the bedroom with rumpled hair and a cute yawn.
“Is this a dream? Or are you really waking me up with a homemade breakfast?”
He walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist as I served the eggs. He planted a sweet kiss on my neck, and his breath was minty fresh. “It’s real,” I said. “If this were a dream, there would surely be bacon. I bet you love bacon.”
He shuddered. “Hate it.”
I turned and stared at him with one eyebrow raised. “I have never met a man who hates bacon.”
“Well, you have now, beautiful. I do not understand the fascination this country has with bacon.”
My heart skipped a silly beat. “I have to tell you something, Ryan.” Turning my voice intensely serious, I whispered, “I hate bacon too.”
He cupped my cheeks and kissed me. A quick morning kiss. “You let my dog out to pee, and you hate bacon. I knew you were my perfect woman.”
“Sit and eat or your eggs will get cold.”
After the meal, he pulled me onto his lap in his chair, and thanked me for breakfast. “And now I have a question for you. You told me yesterday you don’t have pool-boy fantasies,” he said, reminding me of my joke at the pool.
I nodded. “That is true. Nor stable-boy fantasies either, I might add.”
“Good.” He kissed my earlobe. His voice went low and husky, sending a shiver through me as he asked, “What fantasies do you have?”
That was an easy answer. I pulled back to look him in the eyes. “You.”
He grinned wickedly. “You don’t have to fantasize about me. You can have me. I want to know what you fantasized about before you met me so I can do it to you.”
I widened my eyes and stared at him, then gave the same answer. “You.”
He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted someone like you. I fantasized about the things we do. The kind of sex we have is the kind of sex I’ve always wanted to have. Dirty, kinky, rough.”
He groaned sexily. “You told me in your car you’ve never had it like this before. How did you know you wanted it like that?”
“The same way I can code with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back. The same way I can tell which cards are most likely to be played next in a blackjack hand. The same way I know two seconds after I see a dress if I want it. I just know. It’s second nature.”
“And you just knew you wanted to be tied up? You wanted to be spanked? You wanted to be told what to do?”
I nodded eagerly. “If you’re making sure I’m still on board, the answer is yes. I want it this way. But if you want to know why, I think it’s because my mind feels so busy all the time. Like mild OCD. I always make sure I’ve turned off the stove before I leave my home, and I check twice that I’ve locked the door. I’ve always felt like I have all sorts of information and facts and details clanging around in my head, back when I was in school and then when I was running the company. And now, even though I love what I do, I feel like I’m juggling a million things. But when you tie me up, I’m living in the moment. And I’m loving the moment. And that’s why I fantasized for so long about being on my knees, tied up, or bent over the bed for a man like you. And now, just for you.”
He groaned and crushed my lips in a bruising, demanding kiss, giving me exactly what I wanted and erasing anything else in my mind. Just like I asked for. Just like I dreamed about for years. When he broke the kiss, he spoke firmly to me. “I need you to do something right now.”
I recognized that tone instantly—he was going to give me an order. “Go to my bedroom. Strip down to nothing. Go into my closet and pick out a tie. Put it around your neck. Then wait for me, bent over the bed, ass raised high in the air, wearing only my tie.”
46
Ryan
I found my beautiful woman standing at the end of my bed, my green tie nestled between her breasts, the very tie I’d been wearing the day I met her. The fact that she’d chosen that one made me even harder.
I unknotted the tie from her neck and used it to bind her wrists together tightly, then ran my hand down her spine, watching her back bow as I mapped her body, as if I were an explorer and she was the territory I planned to claim.
When I reached her round and luscious cheeks, I bent down to bite the soft flesh, and soon I was sinking into her as I clasped her ass in my hands.
“Did you fantasize about me fucking you like this?”
“Yes.”
I squeezed her ass cheeks roughly as I slammed into her. “You want it harder, right?”
“Please.”
I took her savagely, both of us needing more, so I reached down to dip a finger between her slick folds before I returned to her rear, rubbing against her entrance there, gently at first, then insistently as I kept fucking her.
Her high-pitched pants were my permission to slide my finger inside all the way. “And this too? Tell me. Did you fantasize about this too?”
“With you, yes,” she whispered, unearthing deeper and darker fantasies that I intended to fulfill, today and beyond. The promise of that was enough to send us both over the edge, and we came together with her shuddering beneath me.
Later, when evening rolled around, I asked her if she’d consider spending the night again. She said yes.
It was all I wanted her to say.
Once upon a time, I’d wanted that yes for the sex. And I still wanted that from her, over and over.
But I wanted more. I wanted everything else
. I wanted the woman, inside and out, body and mind, heart and soul.
For the first time ever, I was falling.
47
Ryan
The game moved too quickly for me to talk to Marshall about anything more than our strategy on the ice. The opposing team demolished us for the first two periods, rattling my teammates with penalty after penalty. The last period wasn’t much better, and the game ended with a loss for my team.
I hardly cared today. Marshall had texted me earlier that he had an update, so when the other guys headed to the showers, Marshall pulled me aside. We took off our skates, and then trudged up a few rows, removing our bulky gloves before parking ourselves on the blue plastic seats.
The ice rink was mercifully empty.
“Got some news for you.”
“Tell me,” I said, and a mix of both desperation and anticipation gripped me. I wanted facts. I prayed Marshall was dealing in that currency.
“Seems that Stefano had a broker,” he began, and I furrowed my brow in question. Marshall made a rolling gesture with his hand to explain. “Like, a guy who set up his hits.”
The ice in the rink had nothing on me right now. I was chilled to the bone. My body temperature plunged subzero just hearing how this killer operated. “This guy set up murders for hire?”
Marshall nodded. “He brokered them. The Sinners were all about drugs then, and stealing. Fencing stolen goods, some territory battles—the usual gang stuff, to be honest. But sadly there’s money in murder too, so the broker started working that angle for Stefano.” Marshall shook his head in disgust. I gritted my teeth, trying to tamp down the treacherous ball of rage that reared up inside me. “Sounds like he’s one of the guys the detectives are looking for.”
“TJ and K,” I said in a hiss, the initials slithering out of my mouth. “That has to be them. His friends. His fucking accomplices. Who the hell are they? Do you know their full names?”
“That’s the problem. They’re slippery. They’re smarter than you’d expect a bunch of street thugs to be. The Sinners were quiet for a while, sort of fell apart, but now they’re rising up again, and the word is this broker played a role in some serious shit that went down. But we don’t have a name yet. Not a real one, at least. The detective would probably sell an arm for a name.”
I probably would too.
48
Sophie
The week flew by, hurtling toward the benefit in a heady blur of emails and texts, of days and nights, of sex and sleepovers, of dinners and drinks, and time together that I craved more of . . .
Tonight was the next big step. I’d be meeting his brothers and his sister.
And I was ready.
After I gave myself more pep talks than I had ever needed when pitching to investors or proposing media companies use my compression services. And after taking more deep breaths than I’d ever required before walking into a billionaire’s office with my head held high and asking him or her to generously support a cause.
I’d handled those situations without batting an eyelash.
But meeting the people who Ryan cared about most was new to me. I had no clue what to expect as I headed into The Chandelier bar in the middle of The Cosmopolitan hotel.
I was decked out in a simple red linen dress with a hip-hugging pencil skirt and a strappy bodice. White piping lined the neck and the hem, giving the dress the retro look I embraced. My earrings matched, and my lipstick was red and neat.
I’d only checked twenty times on the way from my building to the nearby hotel.
As I waited nervously with Ryan, Shannon arrived first with her husband, and immediately wrapped me in a big hug.
After the embrace and hellos, I placed my palms together, as if in prayer, and pleaded, “Will you please tell me everything you have in store for the Dance All Night reunion special? I promise I’ll be your best friend forever if you do.”
Shannon eyed Ryan approvingly and squeezed my shoulder. “I like her. Keep her around.”
“The big secret is . . . she’s bringing me on the show. I have all the moves,” Brent said, adding a gyration of his hips like a stripper.
Shannon rolled her eyes. “You wish.”
“Hey! I know you!” I said excitedly, pointing at Brent. He was tall, sturdy, and had sparkling brown eyes. “Your late-night show was the best. And King Schmuck cracked me up on many occasions.”
Brent nodded at Shannon. “What she said. I second it. I like you too.”
Soon, Michael and Colin joined us, and I understood what Ryan had meant about Michael’s intensity. He was like a sheepdog guarding the flock, even in the middle of a chichi Vegas bar. He had that “my eyes are everywhere” watchfulness in his cool blue gaze. His eyes were lighter than Ryan’s, but his hair was darker, making for an interesting contrast. Colin was the laid-back one, easygoing, quick with a joke, and even able to hold his own among Brent, the former comedian, as well as two super-protective older brothers. He had an infinity symbol tattoo on his wrist, with four interlocking circles in black ink, nearly the same shade as his hair.
Colin was also a kindred spirit, and as a venture capitalist, he inhabited some of the same worlds I had trafficked in. “I had my eye on your second round of funding for InCode several years ago,” he said. “I tried to get in on it, but it was too late.”
“Oh no! Shame on me, then,” I said, lightly smacking my own hand, admonishing myself.
“Yeah, it’s one of my greatest regrets in business. That was a hell of a sale you made.”
“Thank you,” I said with a wide smile.
“I’m looking at some start-ups that are playing in the same space. I’d love to get your thoughts sometime,” he added, taking a drink of what looked to be iced tea.
“I’d be delighted to talk shop. I haven’t had the chance to in ages.”
“Then we’ll make it a date,” Colin said with a wink.
“Date?” Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow as he draped an arm around me.
I turned to look at him, and couldn’t resist planting a kiss on his cheek. “Just to talk numbers and other geeky things.”
Michael whistled under his breath. “And Ryan Sloan gets a kiss in public from the first girl he ever introduces us to,” he said, holding up his palm to high-five Shannon, then Colin. “I knew he liked her for real.”
Ryan made a pshaw sound, then must have decided to say screw it, because he grabbed me, dipped me, and kissed me deeply in front of them all. The hooting and hollering intensified. The clapping grew sonic. When he pulled me up, I felt woozy and stunned, and I was sure my lipstick was smeared.
“And we have a winner,” Colin declared, smacking his glass lightly on the counter.
Winner. I felt like one tonight.
“I told you they’d adore you. Every single one of them already texted to tell me how awesome you are. I’m going to keep you around,” he said, raining kisses on my cheeks, my shoulders, and my lips as we walked through The Cosmopolitan, his arm wrapped around me.
“You better,” I said with a murmur as he ran a finger through my hair.
When the first blast of hot summer night air pelted us, I turned to him. “Where do you want to go now?”
“You’re five minutes away. I’m twenty minutes away. I took the initiative and already asked Colin to go let my dog out,” he answered with a wry smile.
“Ah, so you’re assuming I want you to come over?”
“I’m not assuming anything,” he said, gripping my shoulder. “It’s a fact. You want me to come over because you want what I’m going to give you.”
“What’s that?”
He stopped in his tracks there on the Strip. I stopped too. Summer crowds of tourists thronged past us, cameras around their necks.
“My thank-you for being so amazing with my family,” he said.
“It was easy. They’re wonderful.”
“You were nervous, but you did great. I want to show you how much it means to me that you met them.”
“You have a gift for me?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I have something I think you’ll like.”
I could hardly wait.
49
Sophie
A glass of white wine later, along with some soft music and Ryan’s hands all over my back, shoulders, and neck, and I was wholly relaxed. His touch made me moan softly, as he rubbed the oil on my shoulders, down my spine, and along my arms.
“I want your ass tonight, Sophie.”
I looked up, surprised, but immediately warming to his command. “I’ve been hoping you would,” I said, as if it was a naughty admission, and I shivered, goosebumps rising on my skin.
“You beautiful, dirty woman,” he said in awe.
“But I’ve never done it,” I said. “I don’t want it to hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either. It doesn’t have to hurt. I’ll make it good for you, Sophie. We’ve already got the wine and massage oil,” he said with a smile.
“What if I’m too slippery now?”
He laughed softly and leaned in closer to my ear. “I promise I won’t let you escape.”
I laughed too, and he continued to work his way down my body. He massaged the top of my ass cheeks, and I wriggled as the pressure sent sparks of anticipation through my body, settling between my legs, beating a pulse in my very wet, very hot center. He parted my legs more, widening the space between them and working his fingers lower on my bottom.
I tensed briefly, unsure how this would feel. But then I remembered last weekend at his house when he’d slid a finger inside my ass and I’d wanted to sing hallelujah.
I raised my ass for him.
“Yeah,” he said, all slow and sexy. “Like that, gorgeous. Give yourself to me.”
My Sinful Desire (Sinful Men Book 2) Page 20