by Erika Rhys
When my mouth touched down on hers, electricity crackled between us. Her lips parted beneath mine, and the little moan that escaped her brought my cock to full attention. I kissed her slowly, deeply, letting my tongue trace leisurely circles around hers, before moving my hands to cup her breasts, tracing their contours before seeking out her hardened nipples, which I flicked lightly with my thumbs.
She gasped in pleasure, and her hands reached for me, exploring my chest and traveling downward before gripping my hips and tugging me closer, as my erection hardened against her body.
The moment I’d caught Ava checking me out flashed through my mind. What did this kiss mean? Was she hot for me, too? Had we both been fighting attraction to each other?
As her body molded against mine, I drank in her delicate, floral scent and tasted the subtle tang of champagne in her mouth. Her tongue thrust against mine, sparring in a heated, sensual dance that inflamed my lust for her and erased any remaining doubt. Regardless of our arrangement, regardless of what had prompted Ava to ask for this kiss, she was every bit as into it as I was.
A door closed, heels clicked, and my stepmother’s voice spoke behind me.
“Spare me,” she said. “What will you two get up to next? First hiding in the kitchens and now rutting like teenagers?” Reluctantly, I released Ava, and we both turned toward Veronica’s scowling face.
“I apologize,” Ava said, shooting me a look that told me she had this. “The two of us got carried away, which I hope you can understand. We didn’t intend any disrespect—surely you remember what it’s like to be in love and to find your lover irresistible.”
Veronica’s lips tightened. “This is an engagement party, not a bordello. Is it really too much to ask that you act your age for a few hours? Or, if that proves impossible, at least have the decency to lock yourselves in a bathroom? There are only fourteen to choose from.”
As my stepmother continued her rant, I pretended to listen while watching Ava out of the corner of my eye. Flushed with arousal and embarrassment, she was hotter than ever, and two thoughts formed in my mind.
The first was wonderment that I had managed to keep my hands off her since she’d moved in with me.
The second was that I no longer had any intention of doing so.
After the party ended, the drive back to Manhattan seemed endless, and from the expression on Ava’s face, I knew that she wanted to talk about what had happened earlier—the kiss that had unraveled any pretense that we didn’t want to fuck each other’s brains out.
That pretense was dead.
But during the party’s final hour, we hadn’t had an opportunity to speak in private, and we couldn’t risk an open conversation in front of my father’s driver. So, throughout the ride home, I stared out the window, watching the night-darkened landscape flash by, while Ava did the same at the window opposite mine.
When we finally reached my building, it was just after eleven. Under the glow of the streetlights, I helped Ava out of the car and walked her inside. During the elevator ride to my floor, our eyes met. What I saw in her gaze was a desire equal to my own, but knowing Ava, she’d probably try to talk us both out of it. She’d insist that given our fake-marriage arrangement, having sex wasn’t a good idea.
But that conversation wasn’t on my agenda.
What was on my agenda was a new arrangement. One that recognized the sizzling chemistry between us. One that acknowledged our attraction and allowed us to enjoy it. Our life together might not be what either of us would have chosen, but it didn’t have to be sexless. Not if I could persuade Ava to see things as they actually were. Until tonight’s kiss, I’d held myself back because sex was all I had to offer, and nothing in her behavior had hinted at any attraction to me. But tonight’s kiss had changed everything, revealing a chemistry that was off the charts.
As soon as the apartment door closed behind us, Ava faced me. “We need to talk.”
“We do, and we will,” I said. “But first, we need to do this.”
And with that, I swept her into my arms and kissed her with all the heat that was pent up inside me. Her lips parted, and her body melted against mine, surrendering to me in ways that reaffirmed everything I already knew. She wanted this every bit as much as I did—she just wasn’t quite as ready to admit it.
Fortunately, I was the man to take her there. It was one thing to say no to possibility, but after I fucked her the way I intended to, she’d have to say no to reality—which wouldn’t be so easy. Not after I rocked her world the way I knew I could.
“We shouldn’t,” she gasped when we came up for air. “Not that I don’t want to—you know I do—but it’s a bad idea.”
I kissed her again, before lifting her in my arms and carrying her toward the bedroom. The couch was closer, but for what I had in mind, we needed my king-sized bed.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she said as she raised her head to kiss me again.
“No,” I said. “This is the best idea either of us has had since you moved in.”
24
AVA
In a haze of desire, Ronan and I kissed our way to the master suite, where he turned the lights to a low setting, before resting me on my feet and smoothly unzipping my dress, which fell to my feet in a shimmering pile of red fabric, leaving me standing in my lacy black underthings and four-inch heels.
“Fuck, Ava,” he said as his heated gaze swept over my body, consuming me with its single-minded intensity, before he took me in his arms and kissed me within an inch of my life. His strong hands roved over my body, teasing and exploring, and when he delved a hand into my panties and ran a finger over my swollen folds, I shuddered with arousal, wet with need for him and what we were about to do.
He raised his hand to his lips, licked the taste of me off his finger, and looked into my eyes. “You taste like heaven, Ava. Even sweeter than I’d imagined. I can’t wait to sink my mouth between your legs.”
I’d never wanted anything as badly as I wanted him right now, and as my last shred of resistance evaporated into lust-fueled oblivion, we quickly shed the remainder of our clothing. Nothing existed but the two of us and our overwhelming need to satisfy our desire for each other.
Naked, we fell onto the bed together and kissed deeply. When we came up for air, Ronan pulled back and gave me a scorching look, before nibbling his way down my torso, dipping his dark head between my thighs and tracing my throbbing sex with his tongue.
I released a little moan, my breath coming in gasps, as my universe went electric. Under Ronan’s mouth, every nerve in my body was on fire, every inch of my body charged with need. As his tongue alternated between long, lazy strokes and delicate, teasing flicks against my clit, waves of arousal built within me, rising toward orgasm with the inevitability of an approaching tsunami.
When my release washed over me, its force shattered me. Pleasure ripped through my body, and I cried out as whiteness filled my vision, blinding me. At twenty-seven, I was hardly new to sex, but I’d never come so hard in my life. I hadn’t known it was possible.
“Oh my God,” I said, clutching Ronan’s shoulders against my still-trembling body. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, with a hint of satisfaction in his deep voice. “That was just an appetizer.”
He kissed me, and when I tasted myself on his lips, a fresh hunger ignited within me. I wanted to touch him, to taste him, to explore every flavor of his body as he had mine.
But Ronan had other ideas. He moved to my side, and I heard the sound of a foil packet tearing. When he turned back to me, his thick erection was encased in a condom.
“Ready for the next course?” he said, quirking an eyebrow at me.
I ran my hand over his broad chest, exploring his defined muscles. “Mmmm. I can’t wait.”
“That makes two of us,” he said. “I’ve been fantasizing about this for days.”
I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Really?”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking about exactly what I want to do to you,” he said with a mischievous grin. “It’s been keeping me up at night.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he said. “But tonight, that kiss made me realize we both wanted the same thing.”
I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair. “So here we are—keeping you up at night again.”
“Sleep can wait,” he said, dipping his head to bite my left nipple and then my right, before brushing his cock against my folds, teasing my sensitive, dampened flesh with its tip. Then his fingers filled me, sliding in and out, as he circled my clit with his thumb, reigniting my desire.
Shivering with want, I met his intense blue gaze, now darkened by a lust equal to my own. “I need you now. I need you inside me.”
I was so wet, so ready, that when he slid into me, I nearly came again. For a long moment, he didn’t move—he just looked at me, with an unmistakable hunger that erased any lingering doubts about my desirability to him. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
But when Ronan began to move, there was nothing tentative about it. He was as commanding, as masterful with my body as he was with everything else in his life. With slow, deliberate thrusts, he drove waves of sensation through me, and I joined his rhythm with thrusts of my own, my blood thrumming in my ears and my skin tingling, supercharged, as my arousal built.
When his thrusts quickened, I was already close. My world shrank to a pinpoint and then exploded as fireworks of sensation laced through me. My body bowed against his as we came together, screaming our pleasure into the dimly lit bedroom.
My heart pounding in my ears, I collapsed back onto the bed and released a sigh as my world slowly tilted back into focus.
Ronan turned away briefly to dispose of his condom, before stretching out beside me and reaching for my hand.
It was the first time I’d taken a long look at him unclothed, but I hadn’t guessed wrong about the body beneath his expensive suits. His shoulders were broad, his arms corded with thick muscle. His powerful chest was dusted with dark hair that trailed down to firm six-pack abs. His torso tapered into narrow hips and long, beautifully muscled thighs. His cock, now at half-mast, was thick and as beautifully formed as the rest of him.
And his ass? If I’d been the poetry-writing type—which I wasn’t—I could have written a poem on that subject. Many guys just worked on their upper bodies, but Ronan clearly wasn’t one of those guys. He had the kind of tight, rounded butt that was worthy of a porn calendar.
“You have the most gorgeous ass,” I said, running my hand over it appreciatively.
He gazed into my eyes. “And you’ve been hiding a banging body behind the loose blouses and jeans you usually wear.”
“Work clothes aren’t supposed to be sexy,” I said. “Although I’ve always had a weakness for a man in a well-fitted suit.”
He gave me a humorous look. “Want me to put mine back on? I will, if you ask nicely, and offer up an appropriate bribe.”
I laughed. “As it turns out, I like you naked even better—although I’m still not sure it’s wise for us to be doing this. As much as I enjoyed being with you just now, it’s way outside our arrangement.”
“Let’s table that discussion until tomorrow morning,” he said. “Right now, I’d much rather make love to you again.”
And when I smiled my agreement, he did.
25
AVA
When I awoke the next morning in Ronan’s king-sized bed, it took me several seconds to remember where I was—and how I had ended up there. After having our way with each other deep into the night, we had finally collapsed in a tangle of twisted sheets and intertwined limbs and drifted into sleep together.
Careful not to wake him, I disentangled myself from him, got up, and returned to my bedroom, where I made a beeline for the shower in the adjoining bathroom. My head felt fuzzy, muddled by sleep and sex, and I needed to wake the hell up.
I’d had sex with my fake husband-to-be, and it had been earth shattering. Mind blowing. And when he woke up, I had a feeling he’d want to do it all over again.
Hell, I wanted to do it all over again.
What should I do? Or not do?
I didn’t even begin to know—but hopefully, a shower and a vat of coffee would kick my brain into gear. It had to, because before I faced Ronan, I had some serious thinking to do—and I didn’t have much time before he woke up.
As I lathered and rinsed my body beneath the shower’s hot spray, moments from last night flashed through my mind. Our unexpected kiss and the pent-up desire it had unleashed. Ronan’s eyes, veiled with lust, gazing into mine. My body arching against his as I screamed my release. The memory of his strong hands on my skin and the pleasant ache that still reverberated throughout my body.
I’d had a boyfriend in college and a fiancé in my midtwenties, and I’d enjoyed an active sex life with each of them. But what I’d experienced last night was on a whole different level.
Until last night, I hadn’t had sex for two years. Could I explain my desire for Ronan—and my body’s response to his touch—as sheer sexual deprivation?
As I turned the shower off, stepped out, and began drying myself, I knew that I couldn’t. I’d gone even longer between breaking up with my college boyfriend and getting together with my ex-fiancé Brian, and while Brian and I had fucked like bunnies when we first started sleeping together, it had never been like last night.
Over the past weeks, Ronan and I had become friends, and at this point, what attracted me to him went far beyond his looks. His intelligence, his thoughtfulness, his ability to make me laugh—in so many ways, he was a man I could seriously fall for.
And there was my dilemma.
Should I turn my back on the hottest sex of my life in an attempt to put the brakes on my deepening feelings for Ronan—or should I risk heartbreak and allow myself to do what every cell in my body craved? Beyond that, would sleeping together strengthen our fake-marriage arrangement or create conflicts that I didn’t know how to anticipate?
As I put on jeans, a T-shirt, and a lightweight sweater, I felt certain of what Ronan would say. He’d tell me how much he wanted me and insist that sleeping together wouldn’t affect our arrangement in any negative way.
It wasn’t difficult to imagine what my two closest friends would say, either. Mimi would tell me to go for it. She’d say that if our relationship began to feel too unbalanced, that I could always end the sex and revert to the original fake-marriage arrangement. She’d say that as long as Ronan and I were open and honest with each other, that everything would work out just fine.
Cara’s attitude would be different. She’d be torn between warning me that her brother was a confirmed man-whore and hoping against hope that he and I would fall in love.
Not that there was any danger of that happening—at least not on Ronan’s side. He’d been with hundreds of women and hadn’t fallen in love with any of them. His life had a pattern, and there was no reason to expect him to change.
But my life had a pattern too. For me, sex had always been deeply intertwined with love, and ultimately, I hoped to find a man who wanted the same things that I did—lifelong commitment and creating a family together.
On the other hand, no matter what I decided, finding love wasn’t in the cards for me anytime in the next two years. I’d signed an agreement, and I meant to keep it. Since finding Mr. Right wasn’t an option, what would be the harm in continuing to have sex with Ronan—or at least allowing myself a few more nights of pleasure before calling it off?
Was I fooling myself? Could I break my own pattern and have a friends-with-benefits relationship, without falling head-over-heels in love? Could I enjoy our sizzling sexual chemistry without craving more? Could I maintain enough emotional distance from Ronan to safeguard my heart?
And then I stopped myself. I was a strong, smart woman, and my eyes were wide open. Ronan was never going to fall
in love with me, but I didn’t have to let myself fall in love with him, either. Instead of fighting reality, I could choose to accept it, set a few reasonable boundaries, and enjoy our electric sexual connection for what it was.
Which was exactly what I planned to do.
26
RONAN
When I woke up, Ava was gone. As I got up and headed for the shower, a sense of disappointment hung over me. Despite how great last night had been for both of us, she’d probably shut things down between us because of the goddamned marriage arrangement.
The arrangement I still needed to save my ass.
But as I went through my morning rituals, my mood rebounded. Although Ava’s temperament was more cautious than my own, she was also a woman who went after what she wanted. And last night had made it clear that she wanted me.
We just needed to negotiate a new arrangement—one that included sex.
And I intended to win that negotiation.
As I put on a T-shirt and jeans, I focused on my strategy. I would listen to Ava, figure out what she wanted, and propose a new arrangement that satisfied both of our needs.
With that in mind, I headed for the kitchen and a cup of the coffee that Ava had no doubt made already, since she’d awakened before me.
When I reached the kitchen, Ava was sitting on the couch in the living area, sipping coffee, and watching the morning news.
“Good morning,” I called as I reached for the coffee pot. “How did you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” she said. “But once you’ve had your coffee and woken up, we need to talk.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee, added a splash of half-and-half, headed for the living room, and sat down in my armchair.