Playing with Danger (Desire Bay Book 2)

by Joya Ryan

  “Yeah, it was.” She grinned. His wife was a little tipsy, and he liked her playful side coming out. “The cruise had the ‘neon drinks and nineties’ night.”

  “Endless booze and all the hits,” Grant laughed. They’d played this song on the fifth night he was with Hannah. He remembered it perfectly, and just hearing it now, being face-to-face with her, made his chest tighten.

  “Remember those strung-up twinkly lights that started to turn red on the deck when this song game on?” Hannah asked with joy in her tone.

  His whole chest tensed, and his blood heated. “I remember.”

  She’d looked so beautiful in her white dress, dark hair down and flowing. The glow of the flickering light on her skin made him want to taste her all over.

  He stood up and held out his hand.

  She frowned at it. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking a stroll down memory lane, and I want my wife to come with me,” he said honestly.

  She looked at him for a long moment, and Grant was getting worried she’d tell him to fuck off, but she finally took his hand and he led them to the dance floor. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her hips sway just like they had six months ago on the ship to this same song.

  He breathed in her hair, closed his eyes for a moment, and felt what he knew to be the same love he’d had that night months ago. Hannah was it for him. Fit him perfectly. And he held tighter. Hoping the rest of life and all the complications would somehow work out.

  She moved with him. Melted into him. Her skin hot, her sweet voice quietly singing along to the song as she danced with him.

  Haiti was hot but overcast, and Hannah was walking through her first country outside the United States. The ship had docked a few hours ago, and she’d run off. Well, she’d stealthily walked and was now somewhere between a forest and a beach and . . . She glanced down at her phone. No service. No GPS. No problem—she’d figure it out. The ocean was where the ship was, and surely she could find her way back. She needed the air. She wasn’t avoiding Grant. Okay, she kind of was. Only because he was so intense. Rather, he made her feel intensely.

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she said to herself. More to her inner thoughts. This man made her feel intensely? What the hell did that even mean?

  She couldn’t pinpoint a single emotion, because her whole body was still humming from last night. Feeling his skin, tasting his tongue, hearing his voice right against her ear when he commanded her to come. He was raw and rough and consuming, and she’d loved every minute. Replayed their time together over and over.

  Which was stupid.

  Because this was only day two on a cruise, and no one could make a connection this fast. She’d come on this trip to get a grip and take control of her life. Because she could only count on herself. She knew better than to fall. In any way. She couldn’t fall for her father’s endless excuses and con jobs. Couldn’t fall for the promises of her boss that one day she could buy the bar she loved. Couldn’t fall for Grant just because they’d had a great night. Falling was stupid, because smashing into the ground hurt. And Hannah knew firsthand there would never be anyone to catch her.

  She blew a lock of hair out of her face and looked around again. Her skin was sticky from the humidity, and the sky was getting grayer. The ship required all people to be back on board by 5:00 p.m. She had an hour . . . but she couldn’t see past the trees.

  “How in the hell did I get this lost?” she breathed to herself. She’d wanted a hike, an adventure, and now she was alone. On an island. Figured. Irony never seemed to miss her.

  Alone.

  And not a soul on earth would know she was missing. Would the boat leave without her? Her breaths came faster, and she started to hustle. In which direction, she didn’t know. She just wound through the forest that had looked beautiful an hour ago and now was a prison. The branches scraping her arms, her steps echoing as if reminding her how alone she was.

  Her eyes stung, and it had nothing to do with the sea air.

  She looked at her phone again. Time was passing, and she had no communication. Not that anyone could help her. What if she didn’t make it home? Would her father notice? Maybe, once he sobered up in jail and no one was there to bail him out.

  Hannah had never counted on a soul in her life, but she’d give anything to know how it felt to be bailed out. To have someone come through for her.

  She hustled faster. She’d be fine. She forced her brain to kick into strength and willpower. Everything is fine. She was capable, and she didn’t need anyone. She didn’t need help. She’d be okay . . .

  That sting flared up behind her eyes again, and when she blinked, a single bead of moisture escaped.

  Her heart raced, but her blood was sluggish, trying to keep up with the beating in her temples. What was this feeling?

  Fear.

  I’m scared . . . and alone . . .

  She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes and moved faster.

  “I’ll be okay . . . I’ll be okay . . .” But the more she tried to assure herself, the more she felt the opposite. She did the only thing she could—she started humming to herself.

  She glanced up and was hit on the forehead with a raindrop. This was bad. Really bad. She shook her head and pressed on. Hoping to God she was going the right way and just praying to break the tree line, where she could hopefully see farther out.

  A loud, deep voice sounded in the distance. “Hannah! Are you out there, Hannah?”

  Hannah’s eyes shot wide. She ran to the voice. “I’m here! Please, don’t leave me.” She didn’t know who was listening, but she begged the voice to help her. To find her.

  The trees rustled, and she ran faster toward it. Toward another person. Hoping she was close to the beach—

  She ran into a hard chest, and arms instantly surrounded her. Warmth and spice engulfed her. She looked up and saw Grant’s eyes burning down on her.

  “Are you all right?” he said with an edge in his voice. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

  “You . . . you have?” She met his eyes and gripped his biceps.

  “Of course. I was getting worried.”

  “But the ship . . . we have to be back in twenty minutes.”

  “So we’ll run. I wasn’t leaving without knowing you were safe.” His voice was steady, his arms refusing to loosen. He held her. There in the middle of an island.

  She wasn’t alone.

  When Grant leaned in and placed his lips on hers, she realized that for the first time, someone had come for her.

  Hannah was falling. Falling in a way she recognized. Because she’d felt the same way when she’d met Grant and in the entire two weeks that followed.

  He held her close as they swayed to the music, surrounded by people in a bar pretending to be strangers. But nothing felt strange about being with Grant. It felt right.

  His big hands on her drew her closer. One at the small of her back, the other splayed wide in between her shoulder blades. She hugged him back, letting the music move them. Getting lost in him.

  His spicy smell and crisp white shirt against her cheek felt familiar.

  She wasn’t just falling—she was ready to jump.

  Off the cliff of reason and right into everything she felt for Grant.

  “I’m getting swept up,” she said against his chest.

  He hugged her closer just as the song ended. “That’s not a bad thing,” he said.

  She looked up at him and was hit with those dark eyes staring back at her. “Isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “Not when it feels like this.”

  He gently lowered his lips to hers, and the kiss was so soft, so perfect, she felt like she could stay right there against this mouth, his body, forever.

  “Take me,” she breathed against his mouth.

  “Take you home?” he asked.

  She smiled and bit his lower lip, “Take me anywhere. Just take me now.”

  Und
erstanding clearly hit Grant, and he didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed her hand and led her straight out of the bar and toward the parking lot. Hannah had her car. She wasn’t worried about Laura. That girl could obviously get a ride home with her husband. Seemed like the boys showed up together, the girls showed up together, and at the end of the night, they paired off.

  The crisp sea air cooled her warm cheeks, and she tugged him along the walkway behind the bar toward the ocean.

  Once they were several yards away from the bar and down the path, she pinned him against the smooth wood railing and kissed him hard.

  She wasn’t in charge for long. Grant grabbed her ass and hoisted her up. She instantly wrapped her legs around his waist. He set her down on the top rail, his hard cock still pressing between her thighs. This railing seemed to have been made for them because he hit her perfectly.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he said, rucking her dress up to her waist. The air hit her bare thighs, and her high heels scratched the bottom rung of the railing.

  “You keep saying that, but I haven’t seen the Grant I remember come out to play yet . . .” She nipped his throat, then kissed him hard.

  He drew back just enough to look her in the eyes. The raw ferocity behind those dark pools made her wet and excited.

  “You are forgetting last night,” he said with a low warning in his tone.

  “Last night was nice,” she said with an exaggerated shrug. “But I’m talking about how you like it rough.”

  With him wedged between her thighs, his deep breath made his strong chest graze up, then down, her breasts.

  “I thought that was you screaming into the couch,” he challenged.

  She smiled and kissed his chin. “Yeah, that was me, but I was disappointed. I thought you’d smack my ass and really take me hard. Like you did on the ship. Over, and over, and over . . .” She trailed her tongue around the seam of his lips. She could feel the hum of his ferocity and knew she was playing a dangerous game. Dangerously sexy. Because Grant loved his control. Loved his dominance. But he was calm and treated her well at the same time. His aggressive side came out when tapped in the right spot, and Hannah was desperate to see that side of him.

  “Careful when you use the word disappoint with me, Hannah.” His tone was low and serious. “Because I’d never disappoint you on purpose.”

  She knew that. “I loved everything about last night, but I miss the way you used to take me without holding back.”

  “What makes you think I was holding back?”

  She shifted her hips, and he hissed when she rocked against his hard shaft. “Because your hands on me were softer. I miss you clutching me here . . .” She took his hand and had him cup her throat. “And I miss you smacking me here . . .” She took his other hand and lifted herself up just enough to place his palm on her ass. “I mean it when I ask you to take me. Hard. Completely.”

  “Okay,” he said. “First tell me why.”

  Damn. She was hoping she’d get away with not having to admit that. But clearly Grant wanted to hear it . . . even though he obviously already knew.

  “Because I like it,” she said softly.

  He raised a brow. “Tell me the entire reason.”

  “You’re the only one I want . . . the only one I enjoy.”

  A sexy, sinister grin split his face.

  “The only one,” he repeated. Not a question. An affirmation.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He crashed his mouth down on hers, and Hannah instantly clutched his shoulders. She felt all his hot, wild need engulf her like a fog. This was her man. All of him. The only one who ever made her feel alive. The only one she’d ever let take her over.

  Because sometimes it felt good to be dominated. Taken care of. Left in the capable hands of another. Grant did all those things for her. That’s why she’d fallen for him the way she did. She trusted he could take all of her and not break her in the process. He was the only one she’d ever been able to give up control to. Not because she was a control freak, but because she’d never trusted another person to come through for her before.

  From day one, Grant had made her feel like she was worth chasing.

  His hand stayed cupped on her throat, and his thumb pressed against her bottom lip. She bent enough to suck it, and he groaned. The grip on her ass tightened, and when she released his thumb from her lips with a pop, he tugged her low-cut dress down in one hard yank, freeing her breasts instantly.

  The cool night air hit her skin, and goose bumps pricked so intensely she could feel each individual chill get heated by Grant’s nearness.

  With one strong arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her closer and fused his mouth to her nipple.

  “Oh God, yes,” she said. She ran her fingers through his hair and held him tight. He sucked hard, his whole face pressed against her breast. She felt his five o’clock shadow scrape against her cleavage as his jaw moved over her skin.

  “You want it rough, baby?” he said against her, gently biting her nipple until she hissed and threw her hips out to grind against him.

  “Yes!”

  “You want all I can give you?” he asked, paying attention to the other nipple. She dug her nails into his scalp and threw her head back. Loving the sting of his bite and the soothing, warm swipe of his tongue to follow.

  “Then tell me what I want to hear,” he growled. In one swift move, he was back to cupping her throat while his other hand gripped the back of her hair. He yanked, direct but soft. Not hurting her, but enough to show her she was under his control. And she loved it.

  Her mouth was open and a millimeter from his. She could taste him. So close, but not close enough.

  “What do you want to hear?” she challenged. “What . . . that I missed you?” she scoffed.

  He growled, his grip tightening on her hair.

  She smiled.

  She was goading him on purpose. Loving that every remark brought out more of his power. And she needed to be taken over.

  “Oh, you don’t like that? You know, I didn’t cry once,” she said. “I didn’t sit around in a depression longing for you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Of course you didn’t. That’s not your style, baby.” With his hand still on her throat, he slowly skimmed his thumb along her jaw. “You might not have cried and swooned, but I bet you cursed and raged.”

  She gasped. All the endless nights over the past six months hitting her at once. The day after she left him, she cussed every time she looked in the mirror. She kicked the door open every day when she came home from work. She threw her sheets off her bed because she couldn’t stand them against her skin. They were cold. Too cold.

  He was right.

  She was in a rage.

  Sad rage.

  His mouth against her, he whispered, “Tell me how you dealt with it.”

  She swallowed hard, thinking about just that . . .

  How had she dealt with the separation? With missing him. With the rage of needing him.

  “You told me last night,” he pushed. “Told me you touched yourself thinking of me. Told you haven’t been with anyone but me. Because they just aren’t good enough for you, are they, baby?”

  He slid his hand from her throat to her mouth, trailing his fingers over her lips.

  “You thought of me like this . . .” He gave her hair a playful yet curt pull.

  She moaned.

  “You thought of me taking over . . . owning you . . .” He dipped his first two fingers inside her mouth, and she sucked them. “You know how I know that?”

  She shook her head.

  He withdrew his fingers from her lips and then put them between her legs, right at her opening. “Because I remember you begging me for it. Loving how you submitted to me. And I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. His fingers teasing her opening. She shifted her hips, trying to get him to put them inside.

  “Greedy girl,” he said. “Befo
re you get what you want, tell me what I want to hear.”

  She met his eyes. “I did want it. I still do. You’re the only one . . .”

  “The only one what?” he said through clenched teeth. She knew what he wanted to hear. Knew they’d been dancing around this, and she had to admit it. Would implode from need or heat if she couldn’t have him.

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

  The moment the last word slipped out of her mouth, Grant slid those two wet fingers inside her all the way to the hilt.

  “Oh God, Grant,” she muttered; her head fell forward, and she bit down on his shoulder.

  His entire body shifted, or maybe it was his mood. Or both. Because while he still held that power she loved so much, there was that deep care in him that she trusted. Grant wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t let her fall. Wouldn’t deny her. She knew that. Bone-deep, she truly believed that.

  With his free hand, he grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on the top of his head, tangling her fingers into his hair.

  “Do not let go,” he said.

  She nodded and held tight to his hair as he slid down to his knees. With his fingers still deep inside her, he opened her legs wider and buried his face between her thighs.

  She gasped and gripped his hair tighter. She used her free hand to grip the rail she sat on to steady herself. Fire lit up her body as Grant’s skilled tongue snaked over her center.

  She clamped her legs against his face, then spread them wider, then clamped. She needed more. But it was too much. The pleasure was like flecks of hot light pricking her, and she was coming out of her skin with lust.

  “Grant, oh please, please . . .” She was begging him. Just like he said she had. Just like she was currently doing. But he kept her right on the edge. Literally.

  He thrust his fingers in and out, faster and deeper each time. Her core slickened. His tongue flicked fast over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she arched and moved, gripping him so tight when she thought she’d fall.

  But she didn’t.

  Grant was right there.

  A strong arm around her, steadying her while he drove her to a lust-crazed frenzy.