by Sykes, V. K.
Taylor forced a smile as she sat back down. “You know how it is in spring training. Little fires are always breaking out, and somebody always thinks it’s an emergency.”
He cocked one dark eyebrow. “Some of your guys drink too much and get in trouble with the locals? That’s about as normal down here as sunshine and gators.”
If only. “Nothing quite that dramatic, even,” she said.
Ryan smiled, apparently giving up on pressing her for details. Taylor gave a little mental word of thanks since she’d already fibbed enough tonight. When he grabbed the wine bottle and seemed on his way to pouring the little bit that remained into her glass, she put her hand out to stop him. “No more for me, please, or I won’t be fit to drive back to the hotel.”
He put the bottle back down. “Good thinking.”
She exhaled a sigh, not wanting to leave but knowing she couldn’t sit across from Ryan for one more minute while she continued to hide the truth from him. The truth that would both dramatically change his life and end their chances at a relationship.
“As for me,” he said, giving her a lazy grin, “after knocking off almost this whole bottle, I think I’d better err on the side of caution. I’ll get them to call me a cab when I take care of the bill. I can pick up my car in the morning.”
Taylor liked that Ryan played it smart and safe. Still, she knew that getting from St. Pete Beach to his house on the other side of the bay would involve a monstrously expensive cab ride on a looping route over the Sunshine Skyway Bridge and all the way back up I-75. And then there would be an equally long and expensive cab ride back again in the morning.
Taylor hesitated for only a few seconds. “Forget the cab—it’ll cost you as much as your car is worth. I’ll drive you home.”
She’d told herself the sensible thing to do was say goodnight to him now and make her way straight back to the hotel. But for what? More sleepless hours while she thought about Ryan and fretted about tomorrow? That sounded about as inviting as running a cheese grater over her face. No, it struck her as infinitely preferable to do Ryan a solid by giving him a lift. That way, she’d kill at least ninety minutes cruising to the other side of the bay and back to Clearwater. Maybe she’d even find an all-night diner or coffee shop on the way to the hotel and belt back some caffeine. Why not? It couldn’t make her any more wired than she already was.
Ryan frowned. “That’s real nice of you, but it’s a hell of a long way out of your way.”
But the glint in his eye told her he liked the idea a lot.
Taylor shrugged as if her offer was nothing. “I’d expect a gentleman to do the same for me if I succumbed to inebriation,” she said lightly.
He nodded. “I see. It’s an equality thing, is it? Well, in that case, how can I say no?”
A few moments later, Ryan had taken care of the bill and they headed out to her car. After Taylor popped the Fusion’s locks, Ryan held the door open for her to slide into the driver’s seat. When he got in the passenger side, he had to fold his long body through the door and onto the leather seat and then almost desperately search for the control that would slide his seat back far enough so that he didn’t have to practically kiss his knees. Taylor thought about reaching across his lap to get at the control button herself, but realized that might be the most dangerous thought she’d had in a long while.
She mentally groaned as she started the car. Who was she kidding? This impulsive idea was not just about doing Ryan a favor. It was also about not wanting the evening with him to end. Because it wasn’t just the evening that was going to end, everything between them was going to end. She’d have to throw the cut-off switch and kill the crackling electricity they were both feeling, because starting tomorrow, Ryan Locke the Philadelphia Patriot would effectively be her employee. She’d have input into decisions affecting his life, and messing around with people in that situation was a recipe for a world of pain.
Ryan didn’t say much on the long loop around the bottom of the bay and neither did Taylor. Maybe they were both too tired, but she doubted that. More likely, he was sensitive to her nervousness about what might or might not go on at the end of the ride. When they’d reached the end of the Skyway, Taylor had nervously put on a CD. As Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” boomed out, Ryan had nodded his approval, clearly sensing she didn’t want to force a conversation.
By the time he directed her off I-75 and down Apollo Beach Boulevard to a series of curved streets, Adele was getting near the end of the play list. Taylor and Ryan had exchanged maybe twenty words on the looping drive, but a million volts of electricity had arced between them. Almost every time Taylor took her eyes from the road to flick a glance at him, Ryan had his gaze locked on her—usually on her face, but sometimes lower. That gaze was sexy and utterly predatory, and she couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her. Some part of her mind prompted her to tell him to chill, but her traitorous and sex-starved body revelled in all that sinful-inducing attention.
And who the heck would blame her? What red-blooded young woman would be immune to Ryan’s look—and to the raw, masculine power that rolled off him every inch of the trip, enveloping her in a haze of sensual longing and barely suppressed desire.
Ryan directed her to pull into a driveway at the end of a street that bordered the bay. Though she couldn’t see much of the surrounding area in the darkness, his house was lit by a wash of floodlights that spread a soft yellow glow over the front of the house as well as over the tall palm tree in the center of the front yard. The house—not big by the standards of ballplayers—was a one story home of peach colored stucco walls and a tile roof, fairly typical of the Florida she knew. She parked in front of a three-car garage and left the motor running as she turned to him.
“I enjoyed tonight,” she said. “I hope it helped to be able to talk things out a bit. About Devon,” she added.
Oh, Lord. She sounded as wooden as you could get.
Backlit as Ryan was by the glow of the floodlights, Taylor could only see the outline of his stark features and his broad shoulders but she still felt the intensity of his gaze.
“It did,” he said in a darkly rumbling voice. “But you should come in for a while and have some coffee—you’ll need it for the long drive you’ve still got ahead.”
Coffee sounded really good to her, but the rest of what he obviously had in mind sounded a whole lot better. Taylor had to clench her left hand into a fist to keep from reaching for her door handle.
Be smart, Taylor.
She swallowed hard and stared straight ahead at the garage doors. “Ryan, I think you and I both know exactly what would happen if I set foot outside this car.”
She glanced his way as he leaned in closer over the console. His hooded look and knowing smile brought an answering flush of heat to her body. “And that would be a bad thing?” he said softly.
“That would be a dangerous thing,” she managed to choke out. “And you know why.”
Ryan cocked his head, studying her. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. But, hell, life is dangerous, Taylor. I’ve always figured that if we don’t take risks we end up regretting that we didn’t take our chances. That we didn’t grab hold of the opportunities in front of us.” He reached forward and grasped her gently by the wrist, his big hand circling it easily.
Taylor knew she should shake him off, but he seemed to be sucking the willpower right out of her. His long fingers, hard and calloused from endless swings of the bat, stroked the fragile skin on the inside of her wrist, evoking a shiver of pleasure. Without even fully realizing what she was doing, she planted her hand on top of his and squeezed, closing her eyes. She hated her lack of resolve, but how could something so wrong still feel so right?
And didn’t those clichéd words remind her of some syrupy country ballad?
But that squeeze was the only signal Ryan needed. He leaned in closer and slid his right hand behind her neck and pulled her head forward into a kiss. Taylor stiffened for just an instan
t with surprise, even though she was well aware that she’d practically issued him a permit for use. She started to lean back in a futile attempt to break it off, but his grip was firm and her head didn’t move an inch as his lips covered hers with delicious heat. When his tongue probed between her lips, she let out a little moan and surrendered. She opened fully to him, her hands slipping around his back, her fingers snaking into his hair.
When Ryan gave a low growl in response, wrapping his other arm tightly around her waist, the kiss became more than a kiss. It morphed into a storm—wild, wet, rough and dangerous. Taylor could feel his strong heartbeat as the warmth of his body enveloped her, and her body instinctively softened to meet his unspoken demands. Lost in the shattering kiss, she retained just enough awareness of that hand at her waist moving to her thigh and heading slowly north. She knew she should brush it away, or even push him back into his seat, but her brain had apparently melted into mush under his sensual assault. All she wanted right now was more of him. God, it had been so long since she felt this good.
Have I ever felt this good?
“You taste so good,” he murmured against her lips as he allowed a fraction of space between them. “So damn hot.”
He tasted good, too, and masculine as hell. But after a kiss like that one, her senses were so overloaded that she probably couldn’t tell cherries from chewing tobacco. Taylor leaned into his brawny body and panted against his shoulder, flushed and out of breath.
“Let’s go inside,” Ryan urged in possibly the huskiest voice she’d ever heard. His hand moved a little higher up her thigh.
It was a good thing he’d broken the kiss before her body overruled her brain. But the break allowed her good sense to push back against the waves of sensual longing sinking her into a deep well of need. “Can’t,” she forced out in a breathless whisper, and gently pushed his hand away. “I just can’t. I’m so sorry.”
She wriggled back into her seat, swamped with guilt and frustrated desire. “Under other circumstances, Ryan...but right now, it would just be too...too...complicated.”
More than I can even tell you.
Ryan turned his head away. The play of light and shadows highlighted a hard jaw tense enough to crack walnuts. “I don’t get it, Taylor. You know you want this. Hell, your body’s telling me that loud and clear. Am I wrong?” He flicked her an assessing glance. “I don’t think so.”
No, you’re so damn right.
But Taylor couldn’t admit that dangerous truth.
After a few moments of painful silence, Ryan let out a weary, almost defeated sigh that made her feel sick to her stomach. Turning slightly, he gave her cheek the gentlest imaginable stroke, lingering for a few seconds as if saying a tender goodbye. “Well, okay, then.”
He opened the door and got out without another word.
Taylor exhaled her sigh, one that sounded just as weary and defeated. It came from an overwhelming sense of lost opportunity, rather than from relief.
Holding onto the open door, Ryan ducked down to look at her. “I don’t know whether we’ll ever see each other again.” He paused. She felt rather than saw his grimace. “But whatever happens, Taylor, I just want you to know that this felt real.”
Taylor couldn’t speak, could only give him a slow nod in response. If she opened her stupid mouth, she’d probably start crying. Even worse, she might tell him not to give up on her.
He gave her a wistful smile as he drew back. “Thanks for the ride—drive safe, okay?”
“I will,” she finally managed in a thin voice.
God, her diaphragm felt so tight she could hardly breathe. She threw the car into reverse and focused on the rear view mirror as she backed out of the wide driveway. As she braked at the road, she risked a glance.
Caught in the headlights, Ryan stood in front of the garage, feet braced wide apart, staring at her relentlessly, as if by sheer force of will he could make her come back. Taylor’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might jump right through her ribcage and the tight band of muscles encircling her chest.
This felt real.
God, it felt real to her, too. More real than anything she’d felt in a very long time.
With no more conscious thought than that, Taylor gave in to instinct. She shoved the shift lever down into drive and wheeled back into the driveway. As Ryan came to meet her in a long-legged stride, she abandoned her last futile attempt at resistance. Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring, and she would once more devote every shred of her being to the brutally analytical path of the career she’d chosen for herself.
But tonight…tonight would be for the woman she’d submerged for so long, the one who needed more than just cold, hard numbers.
10
WITH HER EYES closed as she kissed him, Taylor knew she was inside Ryan’s house only by the blast of cold from the air conditioning that shivered across her already over-heated skin. The only other thing she knew for sure was that Ryan was all over her and that she wanted him more than she’d believed she could ever want a man.
She’d gone boneless in his arms when pulled her up out of her car and into his hot embrace, their lips fusing together as he growled his approval. He’d then slammed her door shut and hauled her against him, practically carrying her from the driveway to his house. She’d had a vague thought of the show they must be putting on for the neighbors, but any lingering embarrassment died when he stalked into his foyer and kicked the door shut with his foot, all while devouring her mouth with a hunger that turned her bones to water.
Taylor clung to him, her arms circling his brawny shoulders, her heart pounding wildly. Her muscles trembled with a heady combination of excitement, lust, and nerves. With her breasts pressed against the hard-cut musculature of his chest, her nipples hardened into points that ached for the wet play of his mouth and tongue. His erection was rock hard against her belly, shooting delicious ripples of heat down between her thighs. Her feet might or might not have been touching the floor—her brain was that fuzzy by this point—but Ryan would take care of her, of that she had no doubt.
His head came up for a moment as he reached behind her to throw the bolt on the door, giving Taylor a chance to catch her breath. But when he looked down at her, his dark eyes blazing with a reckless passion she’d not expected from a controlled man like him, she lost her breath all over again.
His head came down and he took her mouth again, and the kiss was that of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and intended to take it. He claimed her, his tongue thrusting hot and insistent between her lips. Taylor welcomed the invasion, just as she knew she’d welcome him into her body when he stripped off her clothes and parted her thighs, opening her wide. And even though some hazy part of her didn’t want to rush, wanted to feel the slow burn building inside of her, she found herself shaking with need. She could barely remember the last time she’d had sex, but she’d never been more ready in her life.
Even if Ryan took her now, jamming her up against the wall, ripping away her panties and thrusting hard into her, her skirt shoved up around her waist, she’d be ready. In fact, she welcomed the idea since her soft inner muscles were already clenching with the need to feel him inside her. Slow and gentle foreplay wasn’t on her agenda tonight—at least not right now—and so far it didn’t look like it was on Ryan’s, either.
Her eyes closed tight again and, reveling in the overwhelming sensation of him surrounding her, Taylor gave a little shudder as his hand yanked open the top two buttons of her silk shirt and slipped in, nudging aside her bra. For a few moments he rested his palm over the stiff nipple and the contrasting plumpness of her breast. The fractured draw of his breath in her ear told her how much he liked it, as did the feel of his thick erection against her belly. Her stomach jumped from imagining that thick, rock-hard length pushing into her soft flesh.
Ryan’s skin was hot and his calloused palm a little rough—okay, quite a lot rough—but right now rough was just fine with her. She’d worn her only push
-up bra—a little red lace number from Victoria’s Secret—obviously wanting, on some level, to look sexy for him despite her initial reluctance to meet him tonight. Later, she might chastise herself for trying to fool herself, but not now.
Then Ryan’s fingers began to move, and from the sound of the rumbling murmur deep in his throat he definitely approved of what he was feeling. The tips of his fingers captured her nipple. Taylor’s eyes flew open and her gaze jumped to his face.
He was focused on her body, his gaze narrow and utterly intent. A flush glazed his sharp cheekbones as he played with her, gently rubbing his fingertips across her aching peak. Then he tugged on the tight, throbbing point and she moaned, beginning to lose whatever shreds of self-control she’d been clinging to. A moment later, when he shifted his body, sliding one jeans-clad thigh up high between her legs and right onto her sensitive clit, she did lose it. Maybe she didn’t want to think too much about what was happening between them, but right now she felt almost frantic to have him inside her. And for that to happen, it meant getting him out of his clothes.
Clumsily, she pushed back a bit and grasped a handful of his tee shirt and yanked it up out of his jeans. Her hands shook, greedily tracing the cut outlines of his abs and the vaulting of his ribs before drifting up to his chest and the light thatch of wiry hair.
When her other hand went for his belt, Ryan stopped her.
“Listen, babe, I’m gonna fuck you right here against the wall if you don’t stop it,” he said with a husky laugh. “I think we can do better than that.”
“Walls are good.” She tried to wriggle free, but that only served to jam her groin down hard on his muscled thigh, almost tipping her over the edge. She squeaked and grabbed his biceps, pulling back on the throbbing little contractions that threatened to overwhelm her right then and there.
“Bedroom,” he rasped. “Now.”
He eased back with a grimace, letting her feet touch the floor. She couldn’t help glancing down at the massive bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans as he ripped his tee shirt over his head.