by Fox, Sylvie
She sighed and pouted like a thirteen-year-old. Her taste in music wasn’t the only thing she had picked up from her teenage charges. She slouched in her seat, propping her perfectly painted purple toenails on the dashboard, and blew air at the few wisps of hair that had escaped the front of her hat. “Just ask me, Ryan.”
“It’s the lawyer thing. Is it all lawyers, or just me?”
Two miles were added to the odometer before she answered. Her husky voice was muted.
“My father, you know, the guy who disappeared Daisy—he was—is a lawyer,” Sophie said, apparently trying for a nonchalance she did not quite achieve. “It’s just that I grew up with someone dictating how my life was going to be. I promised myself when I moved out on my own that I would never be in a relationship where a guy tried to run my life.”
“But why write off a whole profession? Doctors or, I don’t know, accountants, or anyone could treat you like that.”
“You’re one hundred percent right. It’s just that it’s an easy solution. Most people, thank goodness, are not lawyers, so it’s a bright line rule that works for me,” she said, turning around to check on the still sleeping dog.
“I would never treat someone I’m dating like that.”
She sat up straight as they left the Foothill freeway and turned onto the beautifully scenic City Creek Road. The two-lane highway wound up into the mountains and the noise and chaos of the freeway and the city sprawl fell away behind them. Pine studded hills rose and fell as they made their way toward Big Bear Lake.
Sensing the change, Sasha woke up. Ryan opened a rear window and the dog impatiently pushed her wet nose through the crack.
“Well, we’re not really dating, are we?” He barely heard Sophie’s delayed reply over the hum of the radio and air blowing through the window, but he got her message loud and clear, and something pulled uncomfortably tight in his gut. It irked him that he never knew where he stood with her. He certainly thought their relationship constituted dating. Maybe they hadn’t gone about it in the traditional way, but he had a plan to fix that—starting in less than an hour. Would there be anything between them after this weekend? He really hoped so, but he’d let her make that decision for herself, after—well, after he had time to convince her, of course. He was a lawyer and persuasion came naturally.
It was big. Huge, really. That was Sophie’s first thought when Ryan steered the car into a wide stone driveway. The house was large and rambling and beautiful. Like a number of houses she’d seen scattered along roads called Woodside and Stoney Creek and Echo Hill, this one was built from huge logs. Large river rocks adorned the welcoming front stairs.
“This is something else,” she said, slightly awed. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Ryan had done good.
He turned off the car and got out, stretching his long legs. “It’s on about a third of an acre with a fenced in area for the dog,” he said, sounding like a realtor.
“Is it yours?” she asked rather unartfully. Her mother would be horrified at such a rude question.
“No.” He laughed, opening the trunk. He pulled out their bags, unharnessed Sasha, and handed the leash to Sophie. “Lawyering doesn’t pay that well.”
He dropped the house keys into her hand. She walked ahead and opened the front door. The inside did not disappoint. Sophie loved her small and funky artist retreat in Studio City, but she could get used to something as cozy as this. The interior was a marriage of tongue and groove ceilings and exposed beams. Melon-sized, smooth, blue-gray-green river stones covered the fireplace in the main room from floor to ceiling. She quickly located a back door and let Sasha out, then explored the rest of the house.
The open-plan family, dining, and kitchen areas made up the bulk of the house. Up a short flight of stairs, there were two bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Everything was natural—wood, leather, or stone. She couldn’t help laughing out loud when she spied the dining and living room fixtures. They looked like deer antlers and were over the top.
Ryan came in carrying various bags. “What’s so funny?”
She pointed toward the dining area ceiling.
“I didn’t decorate it.” He shrugged, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.
Sasha started barking and they went outside to see what she was up to. She’d flushed all sorts of animals from their hiding places in the yard, and the pines swayed with the weight of their small bodies clinging for dear life. Sophie unceremoniously plopped butt on the porch and took in the scene around her. The views were breathtaking. She could see nothing but trees and hills for miles. Looking down, she could even see the low afternoon sun glinting off the smooth glass sheen of the lake peeking between the trees.
Spontaneously, she grabbed the warm hand Ryan had dropped on her shoulder. “I just want to say thanks for bringing me here. If I forget to tell you later, this is a really nice thing you did.” He caught her hand in a firm grip and pulled her up to stand next to him.
The kiss that came was unexpected. It wasn’t a fire-stoking kiss like the previous ones that had started conflagrations. It was far more tender and sweet, laced with something more than lust, and it scared the hell out of her.
Ryan wanted everything to be perfect. So far, so good. He called the dog and she ran in happily. Sophie broke away from their embrace to fill a bowl with water. The grateful dog lapped noisily, her nametag jingling and clinking against the bowl’s rim. Sophie leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen area from the dining room table, looking at him expectantly.
“If you’re the man with the plan, you had better get cracking.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. When she shook her head negatively, he continued. “Well, later when you do get hungry, we can eat in. I could make something for dinner. Or we could go out. Either way, we should probably stock up on a few groceries.” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.
They decided to take the dog and picked up some food and wine at a couple of the markets on Big Bear Boulevard. Back in the cabin, Sophie sat behind the counter while Ryan put everything away in the cabinets and fridge.
Self-satisfied, he turned back to her and leaned against the counter. “Your choice.” He shrugged, trying for a nonchalant air. “Dinner out or in?”
“Tell me what’s on your menu, then I’ll decide.”
Me, he almost said, and then thought better of it. “Pasta, or—” He sorted through menus the real estate agent had thoughtfully left on the counter. “Chinese, Japanese, American, French bistro. Apparently, the whole gamut.”
She took a long time to consider her options.
“You,” she said, pointing in his direction.
His eyes widened; he must have misheard. You, in that husky voice of hers, almost gave him a stroke, it had heightened his blood pressure that quickly. He hadn’t voiced his thoughts aloud, had he?
“I’ll have whatever you’re making,” she clarified when he didn’t respond. It was going to take everything in his arsenal to make it through an entire meal without jumping her bones. So much for the considerate lover.
“If it’s okay with you,” she said, standing and stretching lazily, “I’m going to shower.”
Okay with him? He would be her washcloth if she asked. When he imagined where that small scrap of towel would touch, he almost cut himself with a knife. Sharp cutlery and lustful thoughts did not go together. He focused, and prepped the ingredients for dinner. When she didn’t come back after a few minutes, he lit kindling in the fireplace, and dimmed the lights everywhere except the kitchen.
Ryan padded in his stocking feet to the nearest guest bathroom and looked at himself in the harsh light. Turning away from the mirror, he unzipped his pants and released his semi-erect penis from his boxer shorts. This had better work. The last thing he wanted was to come up soft when Sophie was ready to consummate their union. The book had promised that relieving himself early would make it easier to focus on Sophie’s pleasure w
ithout rushing things to satisfy his own. It only took a few moments for Ryan to be fully hard.
He envisioned Sophie’s full lips; the small breasts unfettered, and imagined her throaty voice whispering in his ear, hoarse with satisfaction. His hand slicked with lotion, he was quick to bring himself to gratification. While cleaning himself up, Ryan looked at his reflection. Now that he’d worked off the edge of anticipation, he had to admit that he certainly appeared and felt a lot calmer.
Sophie still hadn’t returned, so he gave Sasha some kibble and let her out to do her business. When he came in from the backyard, Sophie was sitting at the counter, her back to him, as cool as a cucumber, sipping at a glass of wine. It was only when he got closer, and she turned around to face him, did he realize what she had done.
Chapter Eight
Ryan’s hand shot out of its own volition and he touched her hair. It was all natural, and it was beautiful. The flickering firelight danced off her reddish gold hair, which hung just past her chin in delicate waves. That was not the only change. She was no longer covered from top to bottom in black. Instead of the turtleneck and jeans from earlier, she was perched on the stool dressed only in a gray silk kimono. Her slim legs and perfectly formed feet draped over the edge of the stool. The red and gold of the dragon elaborately embroidered on the robe complimented her hair perfectly. He suddenly lost his appetite…for food.
He got down on one knee before her, the symbolism of the gesture lost on neither one of them, and took her small hand in his. “Can you promise me something?”
She hesitated a long moment, apprehension apparent in her soft gray eyes. “Sure. What?”
God, he was scaring her when he meant to do just the opposite. He changed his approach. “Have you ever done yoga?”
She nodded, obviously perplexed now. “I’ve gone with Holly a couple of times…Why?”
He shook his head. This wasn’t working. He was having a hard time finding the right words to prepare her for what was to come. “Are you hungry?”
She looked even more confused. “I’m not following you. Do you want me to promise to go to yoga with you? This weekend?”
He shook his head again. Actions were better than words. “Come here,” he said, his voice already roughened by desire. He grabbed her hand and they made their way over to the faux bearskin rug before the hearth. The now roaring fire dispelled some of the chill in the cool night air. In spite of the warmth, she stood, arms and legs crossed awkwardly as if she were freezing to death. He got their wine glasses and shut off the kitchen light. There was no moon and the room was thrown into near darkness. The only illumination of the room came from the flickering fire and the stars twinkling through the uncovered floor to ceiling windows.
“I can’t cook or think about eating right now.”
“Oh,” she said and sat down gracefully, crossing her legs, and arranging her kimono primly across her lap.
“Are you wearing anything under that robe?”
Sophie looked into Ryan’s eyes and shook her head oh-so-slowly. “No.”
He sat down facing her, his long legs stretched before him. They were hip to hip. She grabbed her wineglass from the hearth, ready to take a big gulp. At this point, she needed all the alcohol-induced courage she could muster. He looked as if he wanted to eat her up in a single bite.
“No more,” he insisted. Ryan grabbed her hand before she could raise the wine to her lips again. “I want you as sober as a judge tonight.”
During the very long rinse in the shower, it had seemed like a good idea to get rid of the Goth black hair. If Ryan really wanted her, or even if he was going to reject her, she wanted his decision to be based on the real her. Now, she was second guessing that decision. Despite the cool silk robe covering her fire-warmed body, she felt naked before him. Without the artifice of carefully applied makeup or temporary hair dye, or even the bravado of intoxication, she had run out of barriers to erect between Ryan and herself.
She set her untouched wine down, and he lifted her effortlessly onto his lap. Instinctively, she straddled his hips with her thighs and looped her arms around his neck for support.
“Ryan, I’m too heavy,” she said self-consciously. “I don’t think—”
He brought a single finger to her lips. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
When his lips met hers, she closed her eyes and tried to do exactly what he said. It did feel good, really good. Her body thrummed with nervousness and excitement and, slowly, arousal. He didn’t push her or do anything that made her uncomfortable. All he did was kiss her like he couldn’t get enough of her. He brushed his lips against her forehead, anointed her closed eyes, each cheek, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, and again settled on her mouth. He kissed her from every angle imaginable, but nothing more. And by degrees, Sophie relaxed.
She opened for him when his tongue tentatively skated across the seam of her lips. She was ready for more. He tasted like wine and desire. Her skin pulled taught with arousal. She started to feel like she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. She was seated in the most intimate way imaginable, but she wanted, somehow, to be closer to him. Unconsciously, she ground her hips against the hard ridge of his erection trapped in his corduroys, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled his mouth from hers, and Sophie looked down at the instrument of so much pleasure. God, it was a sexy mouth. A man should not be allowed to walk the earth with a mouth that sensuous.
Heavy lidded, he looked her in the eyes again, and slowly unknotted the belt of her silken robe. He looked down at her nude body as he pulled the robe apart. He stared at her for a long, seemingly interminable moment.
She squirmed under his silent scrutiny. “What are you looking at?”
“You. I’m looking at you,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence. “You’re so very beautiful.” When she shook her head disbelievingly, he tipped her chin up, blue eyes meeting gray.
“Trust me on this,” he said pressing her hand over his erection. She could feel how hard he was even through layers of cotton and corduroy. “You have the most lovely eyes. The sexiest lips I’ve ever tasted. Everything about you is perfect for me.”
He traced the delicate column of her throat with a single finger and smoothed his large hands along her collarbone. Openmouthed, he kissed her. It was searing, hot, and passionate. Their breathing quickened. The only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and their mingled breaths. Her pulse sped up, beating in time with the sudden heavy throbbing of her sex. The urge to squeeze her thighs together and relieve the building pressure was thwarted by the large man between them. She pulled back, breathless. “Ryan, I want, oh God, I don’t know, more,” she panted. “This is killing me.”
He silently followed her cue, dragging a throw pillow from the leather couch, and gently easing her down on the rug. The silk robe fanned out on both sides of her slim body, laying her bare before him. Her need for fulfillment and her desire to pleasure him outweighed the urge to cover what she could with her arms. He lay next to her, propped on one elbow, gazing down at her. The other free hand he smoothed down her torso, stopping to whisper against her beaded nipples, sweeping lightly across her concave belly, only dusting the curls that hid her sex from his view.
She shivered in the warm heat. He lightly pinched one hard nipple between his fingers, while he swooped down and pulled the other deeply into his warm mouth. The combination of sensations took her by surprise and her hips bucked of their own accord. Every touch from Ryan felt divine, but she still felt incomplete somehow. She slid her hand down, and parted her nether lips seeking her own clitoris. Ryan, sensing her movement, stopped his ministrations.
“Let me,” he said, easing her hand away slowly. He kissed his way down her stomach, tickling her navel with his tongue. He kissed her inner thighs and she held her breath in silent anticipation. Positioning her legs on his shoulders, he kissed her core as passionately as he had made love to her mouth. His hands snaked up, each gently squeezing a breast, then took
both nipples between his fingers, squeezing gently. The myriad sensations coalesced, and almost sent Sophie over the edge. Almost. She couldn’t quite make it to the finish line. Her toes curled in anticipation, and her breath caught in her chest, then nothing.
Ryan pulled his mouth away, inching up until he was lying next to her. “Sophie, hon, can you try something for me?”
Sophie nodded, not looking at him, trying not to cry. She let out her breath in a muted hiss, her arousal dying slowly, by degrees. She had wanted so much for this to work.
She looked beautiful; her breasts gleamed as if anointed by the firelight. Sophie was truly an enigma. He was having trouble reconciling her evocative manner with her conservative panties and her obvious inexperience. He gathered what was left of his wits. “I wouldn’t normally ask this question, but have you had this issue with other lovers?”
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, and threw her slim arm across her face, like a child playing hide-and-go-seek in plain view. “There aren’t a score of other ‘lovers,’ Ryan, just a couple of boyfriends.”
“By a couple, you mean just two?”
“Just two, Ryan. Evidently, I’m not a desirable woman.”
He ignored the last part of her statement. The bulge in his pants said otherwise. At her age, he’d expected her to have more experience. Though he would never admit it, he was thrilled that she’d chosen him. He decided to probe further because he needed all the knowledge he could get to muster an assault on her defenses.
“And they weren’t able to bring you to, uh, fulfillment?” he asked tentatively.
She shook her head. “My first was my high school boyfriend,” she started, her voice unusually timid. “We dated most of my junior year, but we were just high school kids, you know? And my expectations were pretty low. So I wasn’t disappointed that the earth didn’t move or anything. My last boyfriend, Andy, was…is an actor who’s more interested in recreational drugs than in sex. When he was high, he was always horny. That’s when I started drinking a lot of wine to try to…catch up to him.”