Roughing It With Ryan

by Jill Shalvis

  “Suzanne—”

  “And given what’s almost happened between us, twice now, I think you’re also addicted to…sex.” She whispered the last word, horribly embarrassed that her mouth seemed to have run away with her good sense. In fact, forget him leaving, she’d leave.

  He caught her in the kitchen. When he turned her back to face him, he was smiling, damn him.

  “Suzanne.” He bit his lower lip, and she had a bad feeling it was to keep from laughing. She wondered how he’d look wearing a spoonful of ice cream, and gripped her spoon and gallon tight.

  “If I’m addicted to anything,” he said. “It’s you. And don’t take this wrong…” He backed her into a corner. “But I’m not leaving until we have this out.”

  Bullies had never scared her. Without stopping to think—a problem she’d been addled with since childhood—she lifted her spoon, fully loaded with ice cream, and used it like a slingshot, flinging chocolate ice cream.

  It hit him square on the forehead.

  He lifted a hand to the spot, then looked at his chocolate-covered finger with shock. A drop of the stuff plopped from his forehead to his nose, and he shook his head, baffled. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Believe it.” She loaded her spoon again, hit him on the jaw this time. “And there’s more where that came from.”

  “I take it you’re not going to be logical about this.” Putting a hand on the tile’s edge on either side of her, effectively blocking her in, he bent slightly so that they were eye to eye. A drop of the chocolate ice cream fell from his jaw and hit her on the shoulder.

  He looked down at it with gleaming eyes before he bent and licked it off.

  At the feel of his tongue on her skin, her breath caught in her throat. Whatever she’d been about to say or do—and damn it, it had been good, too—flew right out the window.

  “Now.” He lifted sleepy, sexy eyes. “Let’s try this again.” He shifted his big, warm body close without a care for the ice cream dripping over the both of them.

  “Yes, we need to see this through. I realize you’re thrilled as hell at the thought, but—” He grabbed for her wrist when she might have flung more ice cream.

  “Why don’t you let me tell you a few things to see if we can ease your mind.” Almost idly, he set the gallon container on the counter, then took her other wrist as well, leaving her pretty much his captive.

  “First, I do not date obsessively.” Dipping his head again, he took another nibble of ice cream off her shoulder and made a low purring sound in his throat before speaking again. “That would be far too tiring.”

  It was very difficult to follow this conversation with his hands and mouth on her. “But Rafe said—”

  “Rafe was wrong. Tonight was a fluke, he set me up when I wasn’t listening.”

  Suzanne blinked at his flat voice. “He said you go out every night.”

  “Three nights a week.”

  She saw that his jaw had gone tight, and that the humor had left his eyes. Obviously he was more than a little tense, but what had made him so? She was the one picturing him going out three nights a week with a different woman each time. “Fine,” she said slowly, feeling more than a little confused. “But you should know, I still consider three dates a week pretty sick.”

  He stared at her for a heartbeat, then pulled her hands behind her back, holding them there with one of his. This left his right hand free, which he took on a cruise over her shoulder, smearing the ice cream into her skin. “Do you consider three dates a week sick because it’s me?”

  It had become difficult to concentrate on anything but those fingers. “Uh…”

  “Do you?” His fingers traced her collarbone. “Suzanne?”

  What had he asked?

  “I’m thinking you don’t want me dating anyone.” More fingers on her skin. “Except, maybe, you.”

  “Ha!” She meant to sound strong and carefree, but it came out weak and breathy because his finger trailed over her throat with a light touch before he dipped it into the gallon container on the counter.

  With a mischievous light in his eyes, he brought that ice-cream covered finger back to her throat and skimmed it to the wild pulse at the base of her neck.

  Her nipples hardened.

  “I’m leaving the house three nights a week, yes,” he said, tracing her collarbone now. “But not for dates.” Very lightly he stroked that finger straight down to the top button of her sundress, which was right between her breasts. “And as for being addicted to sex…” Now his fingers played with that first button, and before she could draw a breath, it fell open.

  “Before I met you I would have said of course not.”

  “And now?” Good Lord, was that her voice, all light and fluttery and…inviting?

  “Well, if we’re talking about you and me…then it’s quite possible.” Another button popped open, then another, and then the strap of her sundress slid off her shoulder. With a little nudge from Ryan’s mouth, her breast was free. He studied the white cotton of her bra, then stroked the covered nipple with his thumb, watching it pucker all the tighter with a fascination that made Suzanne clench her thighs tight.

  “Have I answered all your questions?”

  She blinked him into focus and tried to remember.

  “If you’re not dating the entire female species, where are you three nights a week?”

  “I’m…” He let out a long breath. “What the hell. I’m going to college at night.”

  “But… That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Why? Because I trim trees?”

  “What you do is more than that,” she said slowly at the unfurling anger in his voice. “You know it’s more than that.”

  “Yes. It’s been a way for my family to stay together. It’s put food on the table and a roof over our heads. It’s been a lifesaver, but it’s not the job of my heart, and I need that. I need the job of my heart, Suzanne. I’m getting my landscape architectural degree this year, after six long years of taking classes whenever I could.”

  He was staring at her with such drive, such intensity. Contrasting sharply was the ice cream dripping off his nose.

  “I’m sorry I smeared ice cream on you,” she whispered.

  “Sorry enough to lick it off?”

  Um…undoubtedly. But there was the little matter of keeping her head, so that afterwards they could walk away from each other. “Licking you,” she said, “would be very nice, I’m sure.”

  “Nice?” He let out a choked laugh. “Nice.”

  “That’s not an insult.”

  “Really.”

  “Look, I’ll admit I feel…a little hot and itchy when I’m near you. But—”

  “I really hate that word but.”

  “But…” She had to smile at his groan. “But…I just have to be careful that we both know where we stand.”

  “Since you’re so determined to keep reminding us, how can we forget?”

  “Yeah.” His chest just barely brushed against her achy nipples. She bit her tongue to hold her moan in.

  “You going out on any more dates? Not that I care—”

  His smile was slow and devastating. “You care. So do you want to know where we went, or what we did?”

  “Neither. I don’t care.”

  “Really? You didn’t care at all? Not one little bit?”

  “No. Yes. Yes, okay?” And I want to know if you touched her like you’ve touched me. He better not have, came her next thought, quickly followed by dismay at the possessive feelings she didn’t want. She lifted a shoulder. “What you did tonight is your own concern.”

  With a surprisingly gentle touch, he smoothed a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear. “I can tell you we didn’t smear ice cream on each other’s bodies.”

  “Neither have we.”

  “Ah, but the night is early.” Eyes once again filled with that hot, challenging, oh-so-sexy glow, he slid his hands—still sticky—into her hair.

  “Y
ou’ve just put ice cream in my hair.”

  “Yes.” His mouth hovered near hers. “I’m planning on putting it everywhere.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You started this.” His lips curved ever so slightly, his expression full of a laughing dare. “I think you wanted this.”

  “I wanted to…”

  “Yes?” he coaxed when she didn’t finish. “You wanted to…what?”

  Okay, she’d wanted to cover his body in ice cream and eat it off. But that had been when she’d been mad and full of all that wild energy. That had been before, when she’d felt the irrational urge to compete with his Barbie doll date.

  But now she didn’t want to compete with anyone.

  “This is such a bad idea,” she whispered, just as he stroked her jaw and lowered his forehead to hers.

  “Probably.”

  “So let’s just walk away,” she said desperately.

  “I’d rather fight for it.”

  Panic filled her at the thought, true and heart-stopping panic, because she instinctively knew, she wouldn’t be able to resist. “No.”

  “You’re scared. I know. I know, Suzanne.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “I’m not like them. I’m not like the other men you’ve let in your life. I’m willing to fight for this, not just walk away when it gets tough.”

  Is that what had happened to her? Had no one, including herself, ever fought hard enough to make it work?

  “I’m going to fight,” he warned her. “Fight for you.”

  “Very bad idea.” Her voice shook, because she knew he’d fought for his family, his life. And he’d fight for her. Oh, God.

  He put his mouth to hers, and with nothing more than a light, gentle, soulful touch of their lips, her entire body came alive. So did her heart.

  “No,” she whispered, putting her hands on his wrists to pull him away, but somehow she ended up just holding on. “I don’t want you to fight for this.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you have a will of steel. I know you do, after all you’ve been through.”

  “This is a different kind of fight altogether.”

  It was, and she knew it. This was a fight of the heart and soul. One she was in no way ready or able to resist. Slowly she shook her head. Reached behind her. Grabbed the ice cream and clutched it to her chest. “You should go.”

  “I want you, Suzanne. I want to hold you, touch you. Bury myself in you. I want to be with you, see you smile, laugh. Live.”

  “That’s fighting dirty,” she whispered, voice thick. “But I can fight dirty, too.” Reaching out, she grabbed a very cold fistful of the now slightly melted ice cream, pulled up his shirt and slapped the ice cream low on his belly, just above his jeans. And though she went a bit wobbly at the feel of his warm, hard stomach, she locked her knees together and lifted her chin to nosebleed height.

  He sucked in a harsh breath and his jeans gaped, allowing the ice cream to slide down, down, down and out of view. A strangled sound escaped him.

  She clapped her hand to her mouth.

  Eyes hot, he politely took the spoon from her. Dipped it into the ice cream.

  And smiled the smile of the very devil.

  “Ryan.” She laughed and backed up. Right into the counter. “Ryan.”

  “Yes, that would be my name.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Yes?” he cocked his head. “You don’t…what?”

  “Well…” She smiled a bit nervously. “I don’t think there’s any cause to act like children here—” The words ended with an abrupt gasp as he let the ice cream fall off the spoon and down her half unbuttoned, half off her shoulders dress.

  Still smiling, he then put his hand over the center of her chest, fingers spread wide, and pressed, smashing it into her skin.

  Shocked by the cold, she panted. “Okay, maybe an ice-cream fight is a bad idea.”

  “I’ll agree. So here’s a different kind of fight for you.” Hauling her against him, ice-creamed chest to ice-creamed chest, he let out a slow smile that started her heart pumping. “Fight back if you dare,” he whispered before putting his mouth to hers.

  10

  “REMEMBER. This…is…just sex,” Suzanne panted when they both broke free from the kiss for air. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d been running uphill for an hour, the pulse beat wildly at the base of her neck. “Just sex,” she said again. “Right?”

  Ryan could feel her vulnerability as his own. “You want me to be honest?”

  Her eyes clouded. Clearly she wasn’t sure if she wanted honesty or not, and in the face of her confusion, he felt the most overwhelming, most unexpected tenderness.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t talk,” she said.

  Disappointment tasted like the bitter chocolate ice cream on his bottom lip. “You want me to go?”

  “Yes.”

  Good. Because while his body throbbed, his mind actually agreed. He took a large step back.

  “You’re…walking away.”

  “Walking away,” he agreed.

  “Good.”

  “Great.”

  He had no idea who made the first move, they simply, suddenly, lunged at each other. Ripped at clothing. Sank fingers into hair. Kissed so deeply he had no idea where her mouth ended and his began. “Ryan, my God…” Her voice was ragged and filled with hunger.

  “I know. We have to—”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted her up, set her on the counter and stepped between her thighs in one motion, then groaned when she arched to him, sliding against his erection so that his eyes crossed.

  “Here?” She practically mewled it. “Now?”

  “Here. Now.” He tugged the bodice of her dress down, catching it on her arms, pinning them to her side. Oh yeah, that worked for him. Opening her bra, spilling her breasts free, his knees nearly buckled at the sight of them, full and creamy, with rose nipples budded tight, begging for his attention.

  “Ryan, free my arms. I want…”

  But he wanted, too, and taking advantage, he lifted the spoon and dribbled the soft melting ice cream over her bared breasts.

  She sucked in a hard breath, and the chocolate-covered curves jiggled for him, making his mouth water. He had to unhook her ankles from behind his back to work her panties down, but then was able to dribble more ice cream over her quivering belly. Her inner thighs.

  “Ryan…” She jerked when a drop hit at the vee of those thighs. “That’s…going to be…sticky.”

  He liked that she could barely talk, that she was out of breath already. “Not if I lick it off first.”

  Her eyes went huge. “You’re going to—”

  “Watch.” Bending, he put his hands on the tops of her legs, spread them even wider, groaning at the view that presented. “God, you’re beautiful.” And she was, all hot and wet for him, dotted with chocolate topping he couldn’t wait to eat off.

  She gasped when he lowered his head. “Wait.”

  He lifted his gaze. “Problem?”

  “It’s just that…I…no one’s ever…” Closing her eyes, her cheeks went bright red.

  “No one’s ever put his mouth on you before?”

  Eyes still closed, she shook her head.

  He felt a flash of anger at the other men in her life, which was quickly replaced by a surge of satisfaction. He’d be the one to show her what it should be like. “Open your eyes, Suzanne.”

  When she did, he slid his hands up her thighs until his thumbs met.

  She let out a helpless little hum.

  With the pad of his finger he smeared the chocolate right over the center of her. “Now.”

  “N-now?”

  “Now I’m going to lick you, just as I promised.”

  “Oh. Well…”

  He licked her.

  “Oh!”

  “Mmm. Chocolate-covered woman.” He licked his lips. “My favorite flavor.”

  “Ryan, I—” The words t
urned into a little whimper when he licked her again. He liked the rough, needy sound she let out so much he just kept at it.

  “Ohmigod. Ohmigod.”

  When he switched to a nibble, then sucked her into his mouth, she nearly bucked right off the counter. He simply slid his hands beneath her, cupping her delectable butt in his hands and held on. Licking. Sucking. More licking. In a minute, she was on the edge. Then her every muscle tightened, trembled, and he waited for her explosion.

  Instead, she tried to close her thighs. “Stop!”

  Damn, the magic word. He lifted his head. Her arms were still pinned at her sides, her fists clenched, her every panting breath making her bared breasts shimmer and shake.

  Then he looked into her wild, glazed eyes. Her wild, stressed out eyes. “Ryan…I’m going to…”

  “Come?” he asked gently. “You’re going to come?”

  Her hair flew into her face when she let out a jerky nod, and his heart constricted with such affection he could hardly breath. “But that’s good.” He stroked a finger right over the plump, turgid flesh he’d just been sucking on. “Really good.”

  Her entire body twitched upward, seeking more of that touch. “But—”

  “I want you to.” Lowering his head so that his breath brushed against her hot, hot body, he whispered, “Come in my mouth, Suzanne.”

  And with the next stroke of his tongue, she did exactly that with thrilling abandon.

  WHEN SUZANNE could open her eyes, she stared at Ryan, shocked. She’d come. In his mouth. She’d come in his mouth.

  “Good?” he asked with a smile that might have been smug if it hadn’t been filled with so much tight need.

  She opened her arms, and straightening, he stepped right into them, but she needed more, too. She tugged at his shirt, sucking in a breath when he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside.

  He was beautiful. Beautiful. She already knew that, but seeing him up close and personal, touching him, gliding her fingers over his hot, hard flesh…

  “Tell me you have a condom,” she said in a low voice she didn’t even recognize as her own. She’d never in her life made the first move, but she was shameless now, and he’d made her that way.

  “I have a condom.”

  Shocking herself, she undid the button of his pants. Reached for the zipper. The rasp of metal on metal seemed loud in the room where the only other sound was their ragged breathing.