by Fox, Sylvie
His eyes flickered open when she crossed the threshold. She sat on the end of the bed taking in his conservative black silk socks. When had Brooks Brothers become sexy to her? “Please, make yourself at home.”
“I know I didn’t call. I had a beastly day, but I wanted to see you again.” His blue gaze penetrated her.
Her eyes skidded away. “You brought dinner. You hungry?”
He nodded. “I hope you like curry. I picked it up from a place I like on Ventura.”
“I’ll be right back.” She started for the door. “Oh, you might want to take off your suit and hang it in the closet or something if you don’t want short blond dog hairs all over it.”
“You can just admit you want me naked.” His voice was both playful and suggestive. “I’ll strip for you anytime.”
Sophie rolled her eyes heavenward and went to get the food. She loaded up a thick wooden tray with tandoori chicken, lamb korma, bhindi masala, and warm, buttery naan and scooped it all up. When she came back with dinner, he’d stripped. His lightly tanned skin stood out against the stark white undershirt and pale blue boxers he still wore. She was dying to skim her hands along the fine blond hairs that dusted his arms and legs. Thank goodness she had iron control over her impulses. Accepting the tray on his lap, he draped a cloth napkin across his waist and picked up the knife and fork. She sat cross-legged across from him and nibbled at a little bread.
“Today wasn’t the first time you saw my studio.” It was a statement, not a question. Her husky voice quavered with vulnerability.
He paused, dropping his utensils on the tray and wiping his mouth. He took a long drink of water before he answered. “I just happened upon it before we went to brunch with my family.”
Sophie was quiet, too quiet for his taste. He wanted to tell her that she was brilliant and talented and that he would never breach her privacy again. But the last part would be a lie. He wanted to breach the protective shell she wore. He wanted her to be herself, whatever that was, when he was with her. He wanted to be involved in every part of her life.
“Not many people know I paint.” Sophie ducked her head in embarrassment. “I just do it for me. My parents always said it was a silly hobby.”
He felt honored to see a part of her few shared.
“I don’t think it’s silly,” he said. “I think your work is beautiful. It’s emotional and reflects what’s in your heart. You should display it, if not at a gallery, at least in the house.”
“Maybe one day,” she said. “Well, I’d kind of appreciate it if you didn’t go in there again. I need a space that’s just my own.”
The subject closed, they went back to the food. Eventually abandoning good manners, Ryan dropped the knife and ate with gusto. Halfway through the food on the shared plates, he noticed that she hadn’t really eaten anything.
“Aren’t you hungry from all that walking and shouting and sign waving?” he inquired.
Taking another small bite of her bread, she looked at him under heavy lidded eyes. “I had a big lunch.”
She knew right then she should not have mentioned their noontime meal. She’d only wanted to express that trying to bankrupt him at lunch had left her full. But he wasn’t interested in her stomach right now. Desire sparked in his eyes and he abandoned the supper, which had held such interest moments ago.
“Speaking of lunch, I think there’s some unfinished business to attend to…”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed the tray on top of the dresser. Sasha stood on her hind legs and sniffed at the air around the chest of drawers.
Sophie stood too, scooting the dog toward the door. Ryan squeezed her upper arm, closing the door behind the dog with his foot. “The dog can wait. I can’t.”
The scents of old incense, fresh curry, and anticipation swirled around them. His lips brushed across hers and her token resistance to Ryan melted away. He began to kiss her in earnest, walking her over to the bed. They tumbled onto the plush duvet, the feathers enveloping them. Her paint-splattered shirt and old jeans hit the floor first. Even with her eyes closed, she knew Ryan’s swift intake of breath came because she was braless. Clad only in sturdy underwear, Sophie turned inward, ready to submit to the pleasure his kisses promised. But he broke away before she could mindlessly succumb.
Suddenly, she felt bereft. She opened her eyes, surprised to see he was still in his underwear, his erection straining the fly of his boxers.
“I want to try something.”
Her arousal-fogged brain cleared just a little bit. “What?” she asked, uncertain.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She did. Implicitly. It was herself she didn’t trust to not think of him when he was gone, because his leaving was inevitable. Men ran from Sophie. It was just what happened. She didn’t trust herself to keep her heart in check, when he’d put his out there on the line. But there was no question that she trusted him.
He pulled the scarves from her lamps and used one to blindfold her. The other he used to lash her wrists together. When she started to protest, he placed a silencing finger on her lips.
“I don’t want you to tense up thinking so much about what’s going to happen next. I just want you to feel.” He trailed his fingers lightly along her jaw, down the arch of her neck, to her narrow shoulder. She relaxed. This man knew how to play her body like a violin. Not coming was no longer on the forefront of her mind, feeling good was. “If you want to stop, or remove the blindfold, just let me know,” he said, his voice serious. She nodded in acquiescence.
Without her sight, her other senses became infinitely more acute. She smelled the incense Ryan found in a drawer and lit, its pungent scent filling the room. She could hear him rustling around the room doing God knows what. Her skin rose in goose bumps, and her nipples beaded in anticipation.
A warm hand smoothed against her waist and she squeezed her thighs in anticipation.
“I’m going to strip your panties now.” His husky voice commanded her to open her thighs and she felt the elastic and cotton scrape down her legs, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. She squirmed, knowing without seeing, that she was under his scrutiny.
The air stirred around her, lifting the fine hairs on her body.
She felt Ryan’s hot, damp kiss on her neck before it registered. His next kiss landed on the arch of her foot, making her toes curl. His lips graced her slim calves, the backs of her knees, and her belly button—untraditional erogenous areas, yet his touch made her thighs slick with her own arousal. And he hadn’t even touched her yet, not really. Not in those places that would send her into the stratosphere.
Then he did. His hot mouth and sexy lips covered her breast, his tongue playing against her nipple. She couldn’t see now, but she could remember how his head had looked pressed against her paler chest. Her hips bucked off the bed when a single finger parted her nether lips and slicked ever so lightly over her clitoris. She cried his name involuntarily.
He laughed softly. “You want me to stop?”
“God, no,” she replied, her breath catching as he used his thumb to stroke her clit again and again, just hard enough to make her sweat, but not hard enough to make her come. She’d never thought so before, but the edge of orgasm was a nice place to be.
His mouth fused with hers. Their tongues mated and retreated. As his weight settled onto her, she hooked a leg around his hip, opening herself to him. His erection nudged her hip and she twisted, trying to get closer to him, if that was possible.
“I want you,” she said, pausing for a much-needed breath. She undulated under him, trying to spark in him the same sense of urgency she felt. “It feels like I’ve wanted you forever,” she blurted out. Damn. Had she just said that? She couldn’t even blame her outburst on alcohol.
“I’ve wanted this from almost the first moment I met you,” he said, stroking her hair away from her face.
“What are you waiting for, Ryan? Make love to me.” Not having to look int
o those piercing ocean blue eyes made it easier to admit that she wanted him as much as he apparently wanted her.
“Condom?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“In the drawer,” she said, then regretted it. She strained against her temporary bonds.
“Wait…” But she knew it was too late. She heard his surprised intake of breath and then listened to the crackle of cellophane as he unsealed the box and tore a packet from what was probably world’s longest single strip of condoms.
“My little Sophie has surprised me yet.” He covered her again, this time they were both naked and his hands and mouth were everywhere. Without sight, she couldn’t follow where one touch ended or another began. A single finger probed her slickness, and then he was there, full and hard, pushing against her opening. She released her breath as he’d taught her, and let a wave of pleasure roll over her as he eased into her, inch by glorious inch. It was so hard to take all this pleasure and give nothing in return. She broke one of his rules and looped her bound wrists behind his neck. Ryan set a slow rocking rhythm that kept her on the edge of orgasm for what seemed like forever.
He grabbed her hips and she reflexively hooked her ankles around his waist, pushing her clit against the root of his cock. Each thrust was like a taste of heaven. He reached behind his head and unknotted and unwound the scarf binding her hands.
“Touch yourself for me,” Ryan demanded. “Make yourself come.”
Sophie was sure she turned as red as her hair. She’d never been an exhibitionist. Not really. Her bravado, her swaggering, and displays of courage were an act, pure and simple. It kept people from getting too close to the real her. First Ryan had seen her at her most vulnerable when she admitted to him that she was bad at sex. Then he’d seen her real hair color. He knew she was self-conscious about her large nipples. No matter how turned on she was, she didn’t think she could be this on display for him.
She gripped his shoulders hard, glad that she couldn’t see. “I don’t think I can do this, Ryan.” Couldn’t he just fuck her hard and fast with no remorse?
She slid a free hand down his chest, across his hard pecs, and tweaked a small male nipple. He groaned, involuntarily distracted, his rhythm broken momentarily.
“Please trust me on this, Sophie.”
Closing her eyes behind the scarf, she released his nipple and took her own between her thumb and finger, squeezing hard. The other hand she used to pinch the hard bud of her clit. The trio of sensations from her hands and his cock brought her to the edge again and again.
His breathing changed. “Are you close?” he asked. She could feel how close he was, how carefully he was holding himself back for her.
“Do it,” he whispered near her ear. “Do this for yourself.” And she did, touching herself in a way that she knew would bring her to climax, no longer self-conscious or worried about how she looked. It was glorious to be able to just feel. He rode her high and hard. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her insides clenching around his cock, milking his orgasm from him. He crushed her mouth again, their tongues dueling, both winning. He shouted his release into her, and she swallowed the breath, taking in the essence of him.
He pulled off her scarf, tossing it carelessly on the nightstand. He kissed each eyelid gently as he cupped her face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, quiet for a long moment. She thought she knew what he wanted to ask, so she blurted out what was on her mind.
“I’ve never used any of those condoms.”
Ryan looked confused for a time, then he smiled. “I know, Sophie.”
“I just bought them because it seemed like something a single girl should do.”
She was babbling to cover her nervousness. She felt very vulnerable to Ryan after what had just happened between them. There was very little about her that he didn’t know. It was both a comforting and scary feeling. It was like a homecoming and bungee jumping at the same time.
He eased from the bed, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, came back to bed, gathered her in his arms, and pulled the duvet over both of them.
“Thank you for trusting me. I only want to do what makes you feel good. I would never do anything to hurt you, ever,” he said fiercely.
“I know, Ryan. You’re just an honorable guy that way.” Her tone was light, but she was serious. He was turning out to be an honorable guy who was coincidentally giving her the best orgasms of her life. With Ryan warm and sexy and tucked in under the covers, her mind drifted to the other big issue in her life—the strike.
“Can I ask your advice on something?”
“Hmmm,” he said, getting more comfortable. Then he yawned. “Anything.”
Sophie started talking about the strike and Gregg’s request. When she didn’t get an answer on whether she should join the NegCom at the table in the morning, she looked over only to see his eyes were closed and his chest slowly moving up and down with deep, even breaths. She really liked Ryan, but sometimes he was just a typical man. Naked and satisfied, he was snoring lightly in her bed, oblivious to everything around him.
Good thing she didn’t need hours of cuddling. She was learning that trusting a man didn’t have to mean giving over all her power. She knew that she needed to trust herself more too. She’d gone with her gut with Ryan against her better judgment, and that was working out fine. A sex buddy without commitment was just what she had needed to boost her confidence in the bedroom.
She needed that boost in her professional life as well. If she were more assertive, maybe she could have it all. She just needed to go after what she wanted. And what she wanted now, what she believed in with all her heart, was that the union was at a crucial turning point in history. They needed to win all the concessions they could from the studios at whatever cost. As long as what they went about it in a fair way.
Intellectually, she knew that she would not become a carbon copy of her money and image-obsessed parents if she admitted she was related to them. It was time to get her emotions on board. The union’s goals were important to her, and if she had to trade on her good name to get her friends and colleagues what they deserved, then so be it. She tiptoed out of the room, careful not to disturb Ryan, and grabbed her cell. Watching Sasha chase a chipmunk across the backyard, she dialed Gregg’s number.
Ryan was bone weary. Working from dawn to dusk then slipping over to Sophie’s for a not-so-quick romp had been a bad idea for his health. His unshaven face, wrinkled shirt, and bloodshot eyes were not a pretty sight. Co-workers who had never seen him less than impeccable were taking the opportunity to poke fun at the obvious addition of a woman, or a really bad recreational drug habit, to his life.
They were back at the same mile-long conference table. The studio lawyers and producers’ representatives sat along the window side making last minute decisions. The other side of the table was empty save for thick negotiation packets placed on the leather placemats before each chair. Negotiating postures set, they took a ten-minute break. It was nine fifty and the union negotiating committee was scheduled to be here promptly at ten a.m.
Ryan was staring out at the ocean when Mitchell Riley sauntered up to him. He groaned inwardly.
“Hey, man, you must be gettin’ some the way you rolled in here this morning,” Mitch said, waggling his eyebrows.
Ryan smiled slightly, but didn’t answer. His relationship with Sophie was not for public consumption.
Mitchell punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Is she a sexy brunette like that last girl you went out with? Josie something…” he said, snapping his fingers trying to remember.
“No, she’s a redhead, actually.” Ryan could have kicked himself for rising to the bait. Mitch was like a terrier, though, and wouldn’t let go until you gave him a little something.
“Feisty, huh? That’s a change. You bringing her to happy hour next week?” Every month or so, the lawyers in his department, and sometimes their significant others, got together for wine and tapas at a local bar. Practicing la
w, even in a place as big as this, was a solitary activity. The get-togethers gave them an off-the-clock opportunity to socialize and relax together. Their department head, the assistant general counsel, was always there. The parties weren’t exactly mandatory, but no one missed more than one or two a year.
“Maybe. I’ll be sure to ask Sophie.”
“Sophie, huh? That’s gotta be a pretty unique name.”
“I guess…” Ryan said, not following Mitch.
“I’m just sayin’, man. I was looking at the list of NegCom members and there was a Sophie Reid on there. I hear she’s connected—father and uncle are judges. Uncle’s on the NLRB. She may wipe the floor—”
Ryan was back at his chair in a shot, flipping through the thick stack. Finding the right page, he ran his finger down the names until he saw it in black and white. Sophie Reid. He didn’t have time to think or figure out what to do because as soon as he dropped the papers back on the table with a resounding thunk, the union negotiators entered. He saw her red-gold hair, pulled into a severe ponytail, before she saw him. Life slowed like it did on television before the inevitable collision scene. He knew the moment she looked up and saw him. She lost her composure for just a moment, her eyes distrustful, where last night there had been faith.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan’s input at the meeting was negligible. Mitch might have been a lot of things—a loudmouth, annoying, nosy, pushy jerk—but he was an excellent lawyer. Once Mitch realized that Ryan was down for the count, he picked up the slack for the both of them.
Instead of taking notes, he spent much of the first two hours staring at Sophie. Who could have tricked her into coming here? She was an honest person and a straight shooter. She, of all people, would never trade on her family name for gain. More than any other woman he had ever met, she understood the value of standing on her own and earning everything she had the old fashioned way, with hard work and perseverance. She’d proven that a person could do well even in the face of adversity, and he was immensely proud of her, loved her for those qualities he held so dear.