Roughing It With Ryan

by Jill Shalvis

  “Don’t thank me. You’re paying dearly for it.”

  Had he thought her not strong or self-assured? She was sending him daggers that made him glad she stood across the room. She wore a long-sleeved white cotton shirt with a scooped neck. Though perfectly modest, it outlined her full breasts in a way that made his mouth water. The entire package made his mouth water. He’d seen her ruffled and undressed. He’d seen her casually put together in her loose and flowing sundresses. But he’d never seen her like this. Her hair was artfully piled on top of her head with a pretty beaded clip, though he had a feeling that with one tug of his fingers, the entire glorious mass would fall. Already long wavy tendrils were hanging in her face, which had flushed prettily.

  Because of him? Testing that theory, he pushed away from the wall and moved close, cocking his head when she backed up a step and hit the counter.

  Hmm. Interesting.

  She put her hands behind her to grip the counter, which suited him perfectly because it thrust out her upper body very nicely. Specifically, her breasts.

  “You’re crowding me,” she said.

  “Am I?” Stepping even closer, he put his hands over hers on the tile and promptly got lost in the depths of her shimmering eyes, which displayed…nerves? “You’re…not afraid of me.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I make you nervous.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—” She caught his lifted brow and let out a pent-up breath that blew a piece of hair off her face at the same time. “Okay, maybe just a little nervous, but only when you look at me like…like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re dying of thirst and I’m a long, cold drink of water.”

  He decided he liked that, a lot more than he should. “What, exactly, are you saying?” he asked in a perverted need to hear her spell it out.

  “I’m saying you fry my brain cells at an alarming rate. Clear enough?”

  “Crystal.” And he was quite certain it shouldn’t arouse him.

  He wanted to scoop her up and lose himself in her. How was it she was so completely irresistible to him after only days?

  “I’m busy,” she said, clearly having not decided, as he had, that this attraction was a good thing.

  Oh, yeah, he had a lot of convincing to do. He stroked his hands up her arms and felt her shiver.

  “Go away and let me work,” she said, a little less forcefully. “Before I decide to charge you more for the conversation.”

  “We’re not talking.” It took nothing to dip his head and inhale the scent lingering on the skin just beneath her ear. Shampoo and soap only, he thought breathing in deeply. No fancy perfumes for this woman. He loved that. “I fry your brain cells? Really?”

  With another little shiver, goose bumps appeared on her skin, and proved he wasn’t alone in this attraction.

  Good, because he couldn’t tear himself away.

  “You know you do,” she whispered, gasping when he connected his mouth with the creamy skin of her throat.

  She put her hands to his chest, probably to shove him away, but before she could, he slid his hands over hers, holding them against his chest because he liked the feel of them there.

  “I said you fried my brain cells.” She swallowed hard, staring at her hands on him. “Not that I liked it.”

  “If you don’t, why are you letting me touch you?”

  She stared at him. Then laughed. “I…don’t know.”

  “Are you going to deny you like my touch?”

  “Ryan—”

  He slid one of his hands up her soft throat to cup her jaw. “We never talked about that night, Suzanne. About what happened between us.”

  “We were cold and wet. It was dark, and I was scared. We kissed. The end.”

  “Not the end.”

  “Okay, you’re right. You saved my life. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Now it’s the end.”

  Slowly he shook his head while his thumb stroked her jaw, stopping to outline her full lower lip, which trembled and fell open. “Something happened between us,” he said quietly. “You know it.”

  She licked her lips, and a vision of him exploring her mouth with his tongue entered his head and wouldn’t go away.

  “This is such a bad idea. I’ve given up men, you know.”

  It was his turn to stare at her, then laugh.

  “I have. Hey, it’s for your sake.”

  He thought about that, and the sudden nervous look that appeared in her eyes despite the smile on her lips. “I’m not like him, Suzanne,” he said very softly. “Your ex-fiancé.”

  “Which one?” Holding up a hand when he winced at her, she let out a low laugh. “Yeah. There were three. I ruined them all.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, it’s true. I’m on a roll. You should run. Really.”

  “Sounds like you only tried the idiots of my gender.”

  “I’ve tried more than my fair share,” she admitted.

  “And I’ve failed at keeping anyone happy. Badly. I consider myself an expert at them. Failed relationships, that is. But to be fair, I inherited the gift from my father, who was married and divorced six times before he met my mom. I think he sticks with her because she’d kill him if he divorced her, so really, that marriage doesn’t count—”

  “Suzanne.” He had no idea why she’d gotten to him so hard, so fast, but his entire heart, locked off to others for so long, squeezed for her. “First, I keep my self happy, I don’t rely on a woman to do that, ever.

  No man should. And second—”

  “No. No second,” she said quickly.

  “And second, I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted another woman.”

  He saw in her eyes the wanting in return, before she covered her face. “Oh my God, it’s only been a few days!”

  “Five. A lifetime.”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Why aren’t you running? You should be running. Seriously, I drive men crazy.”

  “Suzanne.” He had to laugh, and pulled her hands from her face. “Believe me, I’d love to run, but it’s too late for me.”

  “No. Oh, Ryan, no, don’t say it. It’s never too late.” She opened those green, green eyes, and in them was a pleading he couldn’t resist. “I’m already so nervous about the food that I can barely function. Please, you have to go.”

  “The food is going to be a huge hit.” Hell, she could have served chips and dip and they’d all be thrilled, but he figured she didn’t need to hear that right now. “Let me help you get ready.”

  “Okay, yes.” She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved him toward the door. “Help me by getting out.”

  RYAN WAS RIGHT, the food was a huge hit. Suzanne marveled over that a few hours later when all but a few bites of it had vanished.

  The crowd was a young one, and given the decibel level of voices and music in the place, they were having a great time.

  She was having a great time. Ryan’s brothers were so cute, it was hard not to. They clearly worshipped Ryan, regaling her with stories about the way he’d kept them together, his job, his…what had they called it? His “chick magnetism.”

  A magnetism she could resist, she told herself.

  Yeah, maybe if she was dead.

  Russ and Rafe worked the rooms, keeping everyone in smiles, especially the women, which made Suzanne think they just might be more like Ryan than they knew.

  And when they turned down the lights and shoved the furniture back to open the place up for dancing, Suzanne whirled back to vanish into the kitchen.

  And came face-to-face with Ryan. He wore khakis tonight, and a plain soft-looking white shirt that showed off his sun-bronzed skin and crooked smile. “Where’s the fire?” he asked.

  “Um…”

  Before she could come up with a suitable excuse, he took her hand and led her onto the hardwood floor of his darkened living room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a pan
icked whisper, pulling back uselessly against his unyielding grip.

  “Dancing.” Right in the middle of everyone, he pulled her into his arms.

  No one paid them the slightest bit of attention, so unless she wanted to create a scene, she didn’t seem to have a choice but to—ohmigod—dance.

  “Relax,” he whispered into her ear when she held herself stiffly to minimize their body contact. He ran his big hands down her spine. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  “I don’t really consider dancing fun.”

  “Don’t you know how to dance?”

  She looked up into his eyes. “I used to dance on top of tables. My second fiancé got me the job.”

  “Yes, well, we’ve already established what I think of the men in your past.”

  “It…doesn’t bother you?”

  “That you danced on tables for what probably was damn good money? Not if you enjoyed it.”

  “No, that I’ve been engaged so many times and ruined so many good men.”

  “I doubt you ruined anyone, Suzanne.”

  She stared at him. “That’s not how the story goes.”

  “Did you really fail anyone?” he asked softly. “And before you answer, think about it. Did you lie, steal or cheat anyone? Did you do anything other than be who you are, which is a smart, funny, beautiful, compassionate, amazing woman?”

  She swallowed. “You…scare me.”

  “Good. You scare me back. Now you’ve stopped dancing. Can’t have that. Here, ease up against me a bit, that’s right, like that.”

  Oh God. Their bodies brushed together, hers doing just as he said, easing up against him. Pleasure suffused her entire being, blooming from all the contact points, of which there were many.

  She was well aware of how easy it would be to take that pleasure. To give some back. They could spend the night together. Pressed against him as she was, she could feel he was more than ready and able and willing.

  But at what cost? She couldn’t do this again. She just couldn’t. Plus, to add to her growing fears, this didn’t feel like any of the other relationships she’d had, this felt…deeper. In less than a week, it felt like more. Oh, God.

  The music slowed, and so did Ryan. “Nice, huh?” His low voice was soft by her ear, his hands holding her close, but she had the feeling she’d be this close even without his encouragement, as her body seemed to have a mind of its own.

  When he swayed, she swayed, when he turned, she turned. For a man who worked outside with his hands all day long, he was amazingly sensual. Extraordinarily erotic. And being held against him, swaying, dipping, she became those things, too. She was surrounded by him—by his touch, his voice—and nothing in her experience had ever felt so good, so very good. In his arms, her resolve to resist him at all costs faded away to nothing. Less than nothing. In fact, if he scooped her up against him and carried her off to his bed, she’d probably beg him to hurry.

  Then they shifted even closer so that the tips of her breasts slid against his chest. Her hips pressed to his, allowing her to feel his hard belly, his hard thighs and the most interesting hard bulge between them. Lifting her gaze, she saw the heat and desire smoldering in his, just waiting for her to acknowledge it.

  “You do that to me,” he murmured.

  She trembled and forgot why she was holding back.

  “Do I do that to you, too, Suzanne? Make you hot? Make you feel like you could just…spontaneously combust?”

  “I…” The words backed up in her throat when his gaze dipped to the scooped neckline of her shirt. The plump curves of her breasts just barely showed. Modest. She’d meant for it to be so. But he pulled back an inch, just enough so that she could see the clear, defined outline of her nipples pressing so desperately against the material of her shirt.

  “Yes,” she whispered, admitting the truth he could see. “You…do that to me.”

  “Are you wet, too?” he asked, very softly near her ear. “Are you wet for me?”

  A helpless whimper escaped her when he pulled her close again, swaying lightly to the music.

  Good thing he could still dance. Her pulse had long ago skyrocketed. Everywhere they touched sent an electrical current through her body, pooling at the spot between her legs. Breathing unevenly, she swallowed hard, but her heart still threatened to burst right out of her chest.

  If Ryan noticed, he gave no sign, merely dipped his head a little and gently slid his jaw to hers. The unexpected tenderness of that and the way he guided her around the living room with such ease made her feel almost sorry she was never going to try again, that she’d never experience love the way she knew it must exist.

  Then the music ended, and he slowly pulled back, releasing her. She nearly cried. More, please more, she wanted to plead, and bit her tongue instead. A little pain now would save her later, she told herself.

  But there, in the dark, they stood. She could feel him looking at her. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Then the music started back up and she felt his fingers once again entwine with hers. They were warm and slightly rough from all the hard work he did every day. “One more,” he said, and when she hesitated a heartbeat too long, he drew her back against him.

  A small sound of pure pleasure escaped her at the feel of his long, hard body once again against hers. Who would have believed a dance could be so sensual, so…overwhelming?

  Dipping his head so that he could see into her eyes, he held her gaze, holding her to him as if maybe he didn’t want to let her go either.

  Tim had never held her like this, as if she was a beautiful creature, as if he’d die if she moved away.

  No one had.

  It was terribly seductive, and terribly revealing. She was going to cave if she wasn’t careful! God, what could she do? Calculate complicated recipes in her head? Remember she was essentially jobless?

  She still wanted him with a desperation that scared her spitless. This time when the music ended, she pulled back. “I…have to clean up.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “Have to,” she whispered, and at his expression—so completely frustrated and ardent at the same time—she ran into the kitchen, where she went straight to the sink, turned on the cold water, and splashed her face until reason returned.

  Then, and only then, did she clean up the kitchen. As soon as she finished, she let herself out the back door into the dark night. She raced home and fell into bed, reaching beneath her pillow for the book of jokes her father had given her when her heart had first been broken. She’d been twelve, and Steven MacKenzie had publicly dumped her at second recess. It had been her first lesson at laughing in the face of pain and ever since, when she’d been down, she’d read the book to put herself to sleep.

  But tonight, no jokes, no matter how familiar and comforting, helped.

  7

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON Suzanne and Taylor sat on Taylor’s big bed, eating ice cream right out of the container. “It was horrible,” Suzanne said.

  “I don’t know how you can say that. I’ve tried it myself.”

  “Really? Did you feel like your heart was going to just leap right out of your chest?”

  “No, Chinese food doesn’t do that to me. But Mexican does.”

  “Not the food!” Suzanne shook her head and laughed. “I’m talking about the slow dancing!”

  “Well.” Even Taylor’s eyes smiled. “Well, well.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “It means I find it very interesting that a man you claim to feel nothing for can make your heart go all pitter-pattery when he holds you against him.”

  Obviously Taylor had never been held against the likes of Ryan Alondo. And until last night, Suzanne hadn’t either. She’d never experienced such a true, desperate need for a man in her life. She’d been so frantic she would have given up breathing to have him.

  “And yet you kept slow dancing,” Taylor pointed out.

  “Well…” Remembering how heavenly it had felt being held tight
to his hard, warm body, Suzanne sighed. “Yeah.”

  “But in the end, you somehow managed to walk away without jumping his bones.”

  “Not walk,” Suzanne corrected. “Run. I ran like hell was nipping at my heels.”

  “I don’t know about hell, honey, but I’d certainly call him sin personified.”

  They both looked out the window—where Sin Personified was working a story below. Ryan stood on a large round of wood, balanced on the balls of his feet. His shirt clung to him, damp with exertion, which only further defined a body she knew could made a grown woman cry, but that’s not what caught her attention now. He was wielding a huge ax with the rhythm of a machine, his arms, his chest, his legs all working in perfect unison.

  Suzanne had tried to pick up one of those axes the other day. She’d barely been able to get it off the ground, much less fling it with deadly precision over her head time and time again.

  “God, he’s gorgeous.” Taylor slid another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “Mmm. Sort of rugged and earthy, you know? With just the slightest bit of edge and danger mixed in. I mean, look at him.” She sucked on her spoon with a dreamy look on her exquisite face. “I bet he’s an exceptional lover.”

  Oh yeah, he would be. With those hands? Long and lean and work-roughened. They were dark from the sun, warm, and Suzanne could almost feel them stroking over her much paler skin… Her legs tightened, halfway to orgasm just thinking about it, and she had to laugh. “I’m sure he’s far too experienced for me.”

  Taylor lifted a worldly brow. “Are you saying our tree guy gets around?”

  “His brothers told me he’s a chick magnet.” She rolled her eyes. “Their words, not mine.”

  Her landlord pursed her lips and fanned herself. “A man who knows what he’s doing. Yummy.”

  Yummy was right, and Suzanne was starting to perspire with all the images running wild in her head. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure. How about this?” Sitting Indian-style on her bed, Taylor spread out a set of blue prints and a thick file. “Bids. I need an architect, an engineer and a contractor, and that’s just to start. I’ve seen three of each so far. My God, do you have any idea how much these people charge?”