A Wanting Heart

by Christie Adams

  That small act, for Ryan, was a revelation. Serving the woman he loved completed him, filled a space inside him that he’d never even realised existed. Something clicked into place in his soul—he wanted to please her, and he needed to take care of her.

  In front of her again, he took a moment to touch more gentle kisses to her eyes and mouth, before finishing off his task, all the while treating her as if she were the most delicate thing in the universe. When he was done, he remained on his knees, because quite simply, that was where he was meant to be. He discarded the towel and framed her hips with his hands, holding her still so that he could kiss her belly and rest his forehead against her.

  Eyes closed, for the first time in as long as he could remember, Ryan Quinn prayed.

  Please, God, let me keep her this time. Let her want to keep me.

  Her hands were stroking his head, the gesture giving comfort, as if somehow she understood that he was being torn apart by the fear that he might lose her again. She couldn’t possibly know that, but Ryan took reassurance from every tender touch with which she blessed him, and from the finger under his chin that positioned him to receive her kiss. She left him briefly to blow out the candles and switch off the music, then turned back to him and offered him her hand.

  “Ryan, come with me, babe.”

  She’d never called him that before. He let her take his hand in hers, and followed her across the passage to the bedroom.

  Still and quiet, he watched her light the candles and start the soft, romantic music that washed around them like the ebb and flow of the tide. With the light switched off, the bedroom became as intimate as the bathroom had been. Fiona came back to him. Her hands rested on his chest and she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on each cheek.

  “Let me take care of you, Ryan.”

  Emotion blocking his throat, all he could do was nod and obey when she told him to lie face down on the bed.

  From the moment her hands made contact with his body, swirls of pleasure flowed through him. Her touch was firm over the pads of muscle, and gentler where it needed to be. Neither did she baulk at the more intimate parts of his body. As she caressed his sac, a wave of emotion swept over Ryan. He felt as if it were taking him somewhere he’d never been before, to a place he’d never even dreamed of going, but a gentle hand between his shoulder blades and Fiona’s voice softly imploring him to trust her calmed his disquiet.

  “Relax, Ryan. This is just for you.”

  By the time she was cajoling him to turn over—he really didn’t want to move—his limbs had all the structural integrity of a half-baked soufflé. He was dimly aware of quiet, gentle laughter, which stopped abruptly when, judging by the location where her lips replaced her hands, she was distracted by his latest scar.

  “Do you have to do this, Ryan?”

  “What?”

  He was being deliberately obtuse—he knew exactly what she meant. Unfortunately, he only had about three functioning brain cells left, and two of them were working flat out, trying to deal with breathing and talking, which left his ability to think seriously underpowered. He needed a little more thinking time.

  “Work in the field. Put yourself in danger. Do you really need to do it?”

  Most of the time he didn’t—and he hated it. He was used to being at the heart of the action, and if he were honest, he’d grabbed the opportunity to get out there on the flimsiest of pretexts.

  “The job needed specialist knowledge. I was the only one with that knowledge, so I had to go.”

  Which wasn't quite the absolute truth. He could have told the guys what they needed to know, but instead, he’d taken the first flight out there.

  Oh fuck. Now she was sitting on him. His cock stirred into life, completely unaware of the enervated condition of the body to which it was attached. He tried to think of buckets of ice-cold water as her hands moved with deliberation over his pectorals—he didn’t have an ounce of energy left in his body, thanks to his delinquent dick. His little head seemed to have cornered the market.

  It didn’t help when her fingers gravitated towards his nipples, rolling over the hard nubs.

  The way she was playing made him think of her nipples. He loved Fiona’s nipples. He could even imagine the flavour of them. But it wasn’t just that they tasted of Fiona—it was their size and texture. Damn it, he just fucking loved her breasts, and right now, he was feasting his eyes on them, enjoying the way those soft curves swayed while she rocked back and forth, doing wonderful things that made him feel…hell, she just made him feel.

  He reached up, aiming to touch her cheek, but she ducked out of the way and caught his hand with hers, sliding her fingers between his.

  “Rest,” she whispered. “I want you –”

  “I want you, too.”

  “I want you,” she repeated tenaciously, “so relaxed that you can’t even think.”

  He smiled. This was a lady who achieved her objectives. He hadn’t been this spacey since his final bender following the dissolution of their relationship. “I’m there, ma’am.”

  From her vantage point, Fiona was in an ideal position to appreciate the masculine perfection of the man whose cock was stirring to life in front of the apex of her thighs.

  Her hands were on his pecs, first one side, then the other, easing the tension away. The feathering of chest hair, gleaming with oil, looked darker and would draw any appreciative eye straight down, to the smudge of slightly thicker hair round his navel and the much more luxuriant triangular patch that pointed straight at his dick.

  If she hadn’t known better, she might have been inclined to think he was drunk—she couldn’t recall him ever looking quite this chilled before, as she applied a gentle pressure to his external oblique muscles, first on one side of his body then the other. Fiona had known she’d enjoy this, but what delighted her even more than touching Ryan was seeing how much the experience was giving him in terms of pleasure and relaxation. It would be so tempting to start making love to him.

  Not on the agenda tonight, Pearce.

  “A chuisle.” His eyes opened to lazy slits. “I can’t move a muscle.”

  She made a point of looking straight down her body at his growing erection. “I beg to differ.”

  He chuckled. “That’s blood, not muscle.”

  Fiona gave a delicate snort. “Stop tempting me.”

  “Tempting you? Me?”

  He was good at playing the innocent, she had to give him that. “Shut up and take it easy. You’re thinking too much.”

  He grinned. “I’ll try not to.”

  “Shh. Or I’ll tie you to the damn bed and keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

  Electricity flashed between them as their eyes met. Fiona’s even strokes faltered; she swallowed hard, trying to banish the picture of Ryan in restraints, wondering where the hell the ideas were coming from…

  “Language, Miss Pearce.”

  The comically stern tone helped to shatter the erotically charged image. Fiona stuck her tongue out at the man beneath her and resumed her task.

  Ryan’s arousal became more intense; Fiona couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were grasping the sheet beneath him and trying to twist it. While she longed to have that cock inside her, that wasn’t the plan. She was supposed to be pampering him, and that was all. However, with the way things were developing, it looked like her intentions were going to be thwarted.

  “Fiona.”

  This time, her name was a groan of need. His erection lay thick and hard on his belly, his hips undulating slightly beneath her.

  “It’s all right, Ryan,” she said softly. “Do you want to come?”

  His back arched off the bed as he let loose a guttural growl. He was getting lost, she realised, all tangled up in what she was doing to him. She slipped her fingers under his cock and closed her hand around the rigid shaft.

  The first time they’d made love, she’d wondered how she could possibly take all of him. Skilled and considerat
e lover that he was, she’d been so wet by the time he entered her that all she was aware of was how it felt to have a real cock inside her, and a man who knew how to use it giving her orgasms that threatened to tear her apart.

  Fiona gripped his shaft a little more firmly, and felt him buck in her hand. A pearl of precum formed at the crown, tempting her to lick the drop from him, but she liked seeing the results of what she was doing even more.

  His ragged panting became interspersed with whimpers and moans. She’d learned a lot in the time they’d been apart, including how not to make this easy for him. He’d have to earn his release by pleasing her. She squeezed the sensitive area below the glans, and when she heard Ryan’s pained, frustrated response, the full extent of her power and how much control she had slid over her like a second skin.

  That Ryan had given her that power—freely, willingly—was overwhelming. She had his implicit permission to do whatever pleased her with his body, a privilege she could not, would not abuse. She leaned down, her mouth a whisper away from his.

  “This time is for you, Ryan,” she told him. “Your pleasure.”

  “Let me fuck you, a chuisle. Let me be inside you—please.”

  Oh, she would, and to hell with the plan. He’d never told her much about his work, due to its secretive nature, but one thing he’d emphasised was the necessity to be adaptable. Hostile situations tended to be volatile, and could render the most thorough strategy redundant in seconds.

  Clearly, it was time to be adaptable.

  Fiona lowered herself slowly onto his shaft, unable to prevent her own low moan of satisfaction as her body tightened around him. Hands braced on his chest for support, she threw her head back, giving herself up to the infinite sensuality of having Ryan just where he belonged—between her thighs.

  His hand on her cheek made her look down at him—in that moment, her breath caught in her throat.

  “I can’t let you go again, Fiona,” he said, his voice ragged, burning with intensity. “You’re mine.”

  “I know.”

  His fingers bit into her hips, holding her in place while he drove into her with a power she’d never felt from him before. Every stroke stretched her and filled her as she rode him hard, made her feel more and more that, as much as he belonged to her, so she belonged to Ryan—mind, body, heart and soul. She was his woman—she always had been, and she always would be, no matter what happened. The connection that formed on the night they met was too strong to be denied.

  “Oh God.”

  The pleasure was rising, waves of it roaring inside her; Ryan’s fierce hold on her meant that she couldn’t get away from it. Tears streaming down her face, she screamed, trying to raise herself away from the source but Ryan wouldn’t let her, holding her down as he thrust into her, until his orgasm crashed into hers and she collapsed against him.

  The universe was spinning around her, but Ryan’s arms held her tightly, anchoring her securely while they weathered the storm that had ripped through both of them.

  “That was all your fault,” Fiona murmured, once she had the breath to speak again.”

  A chuckle vibrated through Ryan’s chest. “You can blame me for that any time, kitty-cat,” he said.

  “That’s a very generous offer, and I might just take you up on it.” Fiona attempted to move, only to give an involuntary groan as muscles protested. “This wasn’t in the plan.”

  His mouth acquired a sexy grin. “Is that ‘plan’ with a capital P, darlin’? I think I need to teach you how to go with the flow. Hey!”

  Fiona had hit him with a stray cushion.

  “You mean you weren’t going to fuck my brains out, a chuisle?”

  “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, Quinn!”

  After a quick trip to the bathroom to take care of her own needs, she brought a washcloth back for Ryan. As she wiped away the sticky evidence of what had happened, Fiona tried hard to ignore how much she still wanted him. She could gorge herself on him every day and still never get enough.

  “Rest now, while I go and get you something to eat and drink.”

  He caught hold of her hand. “Stay with me a while.”

  She leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Even if you aren’t hungry, you need to drink something.”

  In the kitchen, Fiona quickly put together the selection of finger food that she’d prepared earlier—savoury nibbles and a selection of bite-sized pieces of fruit and squares of chocolate. She also poured two glasses of wine and two tumblers of water, and with everything arranged on a tray, she returned to the bedroom.

  Chapter 6

  Ryan was sitting up, resting against the heap of pillows, slightly turned towards her. He looked tired but contented, and thoroughly cossetted, just the way she meant him to be. Fiona set the tray down in the middle of the bed, and after she’d relocated the glasses to the safety of the nightstand, she joined him, slapping his hand away when he would have picked up one of the tasty treats.

  “Drink first,” she said, handing over one of the tumblers of water. “I want to make sure you’re not dehydrated.”

  The water was cool but not ice-cold. The sensation of small sips refreshing her mouth and cooling her throat gave Fiona something else to focus on other than her lover’s determined forays to persuade her loose robe to divorce itself from her shoulders.

  “Ryan Quinn, don’t you go starting something you can’t finish,” she warned him, one eyebrow raised as she gave him a stern look.

  “Who says I can’t?” he challenged, carrying on with his efforts.

  “I say. It’s not that long since you were as limp as a dishrag. All over.”

  “I recover quickly.” He grinned lasciviously before he finished the water. “My cock’s hard and ready to make you scream again.”

  “Ryan!” The bluntness of his statement was both shocking and exciting, and she could see that her reaction was exactly what he’d been aiming for. She was so tempted to hit him again.

  “Are you going to let me eat something now? I’m starving.”

  Fiona reached behind her to put the two glasses back on the table. Ryan wasted no time in taking advantage; he scooped her breast from beneath the flimsy protection of her robe, cradling the soft globe in his palm, so that he could draw the taut nipple into his mouth. The sensation sent a ripple of arousal straight to her womb. “Ryan!”

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  Prepared, Fiona crammed a prawn wrapped in filo pastry into his mouth and both of them dissolved into helpless laughter. The laughter faded as Ryan swallowed the morsel. Looking into his eyes, Fiona struggled to breathe for a moment. She picked up another titbit, this time offering it to him, a raised eyebrow enough to stop him taking it from her. Instead, he simply took a bite, his eyes never leaving hers as he chewed and swallowed again.

  What followed was a feast more erotic than anything Fiona could have imagined. Satisfying the most basic needs of the man she loved allowed her to acknowledge exactly what he meant to her. Passion didn’t just mean hot, sweaty sex.

  She held the glass while Ryan sipped his wine, in between feeding him a selection of the savoury nibbles. One of the hors d’oeuvres had a creamy topping and when a smear found itself at the corner of Ryan’s mouth, Fiona leaned forward and very delicately licked it away with the tip of her tongue. His head turned slightly to engage her mouth in a lingering kiss.

  “God, Fiona, I want to fuck you,” he murmured against her mouth, playing with the fullness of her lower lip.

  “Insatiable, aren’t you?” For which I am exceedingly grateful.

  He was nibbling at her skin with just his lips, the soft tugging subtly arousing, leading her to a place where pure sensuality annihilated everything else. “By the way, Commander Quinn never used to speak to me like that.”

  “Commander Quinn had the reputation of the Royal Navy to consider,” Ryan countered. “This is Ryan Quinn’s bed, and I have three years of making love to you to catch up on. I pl
an to make love to you until you melt.”

  She wasn’t the only thing that was liable to melt. Fiona picked up one of the squares of chocolate that were softening in the warmth, and smeared the sweet treat over his lips. Before he could lick them clean for himself, she leaned forward, and with the tip of her tongue, did the job for him.

  Ryan and chocolate together made a deliciously heady combination.

  “Don’t tell me you’re really ready to start again?”

  “I told you. And you wouldn’t say that if you checked under the sheet,” he told her, his voice husky with suggestion. “Every damn thing you’ve done tonight has just made me want you more, darlin’. I want to keep you in this bed, and fuck you till you can’t move.”

  His hand cradled the back of her head, drawing her closer to him, so that he could claim her mouth. “I know I bring out the animal in you, kitty-cat—do you know how much I want to feel your nails on my back again? When you do that, I know I belong to you and only you. Mark me, Fiona. Tell the world I’m yours.”

  Ryan’s words stirred a deep longing in her. Her intention for the evening had been to give her nurturing side full rein and pamper him, but what he’d said served only to continue what his actions had started. He made her feel sexy and powerful. Confident.

  And in control.

  She let her fingertips trail lightly down his side, over the ridges of hard muscle that held her so spellbound whenever she had the privilege to see him naked. Her hand wandered lower, ventured beneath the sheet to explore the V-shaped cut that drew an appreciative female eye straight to his cock and balls.

  “You really know how to screw up a girl’s plans, don’t you, Quinn?”

  He chuckled. “You don’t want to know what just went through my mind.”

  “Oh, I think I can guess.” She took a deep breath. “And I guess I’d better move this out of the way.”