“No zip lines?”
“We can find some here.”
“No crystal blue Hawaiian waters?”
“Afraid I can’t find those here.”
“You’re that over her.”
“Yeah. But it’s like your rule—” He hikes my dress up my thighs. “Easy to say when I’m about to dive between your legs. I don’t blame you for doubting me. Fuck, I doubt me all the time.”
“You’ll tell me if you realize you still have feelings for her?”
“If you want to talk, I’ll back off.”
No. I need to feel our connection. “I want to not talk.”
He nods. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.” He pushes my dress another inch up my thighs. Drags his fingertips over my skin.
“Ryan—” my breath hitches in my throat. “I… please…”
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
“Close your eyes.”
I do.
He slides one arm around my waist and uses it to hold me in place. His other hand stays between my legs.
His thumb traces a line up and down my inner thigh. Higher, higher, higher, almost—
Then down again.
“You have no idea how much I think of you.” Up, up, up. “How badly I want you.” Almost—“You’re everything.”
“Ryan?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Keep saying sweet things.”
“No.” His voice drops to something low and demanding.
Mine squeaks. “No?”
“No, Leigh. We’re done with sweet today.” He switches to his index finger. Drags it up my inner thigh with the lightest touch in the world. “I have a million dirty thoughts of you. I want you to hear them.” His fingertip skims my skin.
A groan rolls off my lips.
He traces that line with his middle finger. His ring finger. His pinkie. Then he works his way back again. Ring. Middle. Index. Thumb.
My eyelids press together.
My sex clenches.
My toes curl into my sandals.
He does it again—all five digits in both directions.
Every brush of his fingers sends heat right to my sex.
“Look at me, baby.”
His eyes are filled with this intoxicating mix of lust and control.
Ryan is an evil tease.
He’s a fucking sex god.
Fourteen months without and he’s still a fucking sex god.
“You have any fucking idea what it does to me, seeing you here all day?” He plants a hard kiss on my lips.
“You have any idea what it does to me?” My hands dig into his hair. I hold his head against mine and kiss him hard.
I suck on his top lip.
He scrapes his teeth against my bottom lip.
Then his tongue is sliding in my mouth. And all my words are floating away.
Words seem so much less important than this.
Everything seems so much less important than this.
It’s like every single molecule in my body is a neon sign flashing Ryan Ryan Ryan.
He pulls back with a needy sigh.
His fingers curl into my inner thighs. His eyes bore into mine. “You drive me out of my fucking mind, Leigh. I see you flirting with guys and I start thinking about throwing them out of the fucking shop.”
“What else?”
“Fuck. With the way you dress?” He presses his lips to my neck. “I spend half my time trying to get thoughts of stripping you to nothing out of my head.”
“For how long?”
“Too long.”
“When you’re doing a tattoo?”
“Sometimes.” He pushes the strap of my sundress off my shoulder. His hand goes to my chest. He cups my breast over my bra.
Then his thumb is dipping beneath the nylon.
Brushing against my nipple.
“Fuck.” I wrap my legs around his hips and squeeze as tightly as I can. “What else?”
“Your tits in my hands.” He draws circles around my nipple with his thumb. “Or around my cock.” He nips at my neck. “Or those dark lips around my cock.”
My yes isn’t even close to a word.
“But all fucking day there’s only been one thing on my mind.” He rubs me harder.
I dig my fingers into the counter. Squeeze my thighs against his lips. “What?”
“The taste of your cunt.” He presses his lips to my collarbone.
His fingers curl into my bra strap.
I reach around my back to unhook the thing. It’s messy, but I manage to get it off my shoulders.
It falls onto the counter behind me.
Ryan wraps his arms around me. He holds me in place as he brings his lips to my nipple.
He sucks softly. Then harder. Harder. Fuck—
“Ryan—” My fingers curl into his hair.
“You need to come on my face now.” He kisses a line down my torso.
His lips brush my belly button.
Slowly, he lowers himself onto his knees.
His fingers curl into my thighs.
I tug at my dress. Barely manage to get it over my head and on the floor.
I’m naked on the Inked Hearts counter.
He’s completely clothed. Kneeling in front of me. About to dive between my legs.
Fuck.
He stares up at me as he pries my legs apart.
My outer thighs hit the counter.
His lips brush the inside of my knee. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me, Leigh.” He drags his lips higher.
Higher.
Almost—
He nips at the skin of my inner thigh.
He does it again and again.
He gets so, so close, then he moves to my other leg, plants a kiss on my inner knee, and works his way up my thigh.
My body buzzes with anticipation.
Conscious thought flees my brain with every brush of his lips.
He gets higher, higher, higher—
His teeth scrape against my tender flesh.
They do it again and again.
There—
His lips brush my clit. It’s so soft I can barely feel it, but that only makes it more intense.
Then his fingers are curling into my inner thighs, and he’s pinning me to the counter, and he’s licking me from top to bottom.
Fuck.
My knees buckle as he does it again.
He pulls back to groan against my inner thigh. Looks up at me a mess of wavy hair and control and need.
There’s a promise in his eyes. That he’ll satisfy me as long as I trust him with my body.
And I do.
Fuck, how I do.
But can I trust him with my heart?
Does it matter if I can? It’s already his. I’m crazy fucking in love with him and there’s no coming back from that.
He pins me to the counter as he dives between my legs. He licks me with long, soft strokes. Then long, hard ones. Then short, fast ones. He goes harder, softer, left, right, up, down, there—
I tug at his hair. “Don’t stop.”
He groans against my sex.
Then he licks me just how I need him, just where I need him.
My back arches. My sweaty hand slips, but I catch myself.
I stay upright, my thighs pressed against his cheeks, my heels digging into his back.
These are heavy shoes. It must hurt. But I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about anything but his soft, wet tongue against me.
His nails dig into my thighs.
My hand knots in his hair.
“Fuck. Ryan.” A groan rolls off my lips. I squeeze my thighs against him.
Every flick of his tongue winds me up.
It takes me higher, higher, higher.
With his next lick, I unwind. All that tension unfurls in a wave of bliss. My sex pulses. Pleasure spreads through my pelvis, down my legs, up my torso, all the way to my fingers and toes.
Eve
ry part of me feels good.
Spent.
Alive.
He pulls back to nip at my thigh. “So much better than I imagined.”
“Ryan—”
“Come here.” He drags his lips up my thigh. My pelvis. My stomach. His hands go to my hips.
I tug his t-shirt over his head.
He unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans, pushes the damn things off his hips.
And there’s Ryan. All of him. And it’s mine.
I wrap my hand around his cock. Bring my lips to his.
He tastes like me. There’s something intoxicating about it. I need more of him. All of him.
My thumb brushes his tip.
He groans against my mouth.
“Leg’s around me.” His fingers dig into my hips.
I hold onto his shoulders for balance as I wrap my legs around his waist.
He guides me into position, tilting my pelvis until my sex brushes his cock.
Fuck.
He teases me with his tip.
Again.
Again.
Again.
There—
Once inch at a time, he fills me.
I arch my hips to take him deeper.
My nails dig into his skin.
He brings his hand to my ass to guide my body over his.
I stare into his eyes as he drives into me.
He stares back.
The intimacy is almost too much to take. But it’s not. It’s Ryan.
He holds me in place as he shifts his hips. He pulls back, until I’ve only got his tip, then he thrusts into me full force.
His eyelids press together.
His nails dig into my skin.
He fills me with long, slow thrusts.
I arch my back to meet him. I claw at his skin. Nip at his shoulder. His neck. His ear.
He groans as my lips close around his earlobe.
His head turns to the other side. His nails sink into my skin.
I suck on his lobe until his groans fill the room.
He wraps an arm around my waist. Guides my body over his as he fill me with hard thrusts.
Pleasure pools in my sex.
My body buzzes. I need to come, yeah, but I need his bliss more. I need his everything.
My nails dig into his skin. I try to fight my orgasm, but I can’t. It feels too good.
“Fuck. Ryan. Don’t stop.” I let go of my breath.
My hips move of their own accord. They drive him deeper again and again and again—
There.
I groan his name as I come. The world goes white, nothing but pure, blinding light.
Then he’s there, groaning my name into my neck. His cock pulses as he comes. He thrusts through his orgasm, spilling inside me.
When he’s finished, he wraps his arms around me.
I collapse against his chest.
Slowly, my thoughts find their way into my brain.
But my head is still blinking Ryan Ryan Ryan.
I still need every fucking drop of him.
Chapter 32
Ryan
The sun falls over the tiny apartment.
The breeze blows between the windows. It ruffles her hair. Raises goose bumps on her skin.
She rolls onto her back. Stretches her arms over her head as she stirs.
Her eyes blink open. Fix on mine. “You were watching me sleep.”
“A little.”
“How creepy.”
“I prefer romantic.”
Her lips curl into a smile. “You would.”
“You never watch me?”
She makes a show of crossing her fingers. “Never.”
“Believable.”
She laughs. “Thanks.” She pushes herself onto her elbows. Turns to check the time on the microwave. “It’s not really ten. Tell me it isn’t ten.”
I slide off the bed. Grab my cell from the dining table. “It is.”
She lets out one of those I want to sleep forever groans.
“You’re off today. Go back to bed.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m working later.”
“How much later?”
“One.”
“That’s only three hours.”
“Still plenty of time.” I offer my hand. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”
She smooths her loose tank top. Adjusts her cotton panties. Both are white. Sheer. Inviting as fuck. “I’m not going anywhere until I take care of this travesty.” She twirls a silver-purple strand around her finger.
“Travesty?”
“I don’t have a stronger word.” She slides off the bed. Tugs at the drawstrings of my pajama pants. “Can I destroy these?”
“I have more.”
“And those too?”
“You want me naked, ask.”
She bites her lip as she gives me a long, slow once-over. When other women look at me like this, I get irritated. But there’s something about the delight in Leighton’s eyes.
It’s intoxicating.
“Tempting.” She drags her fingertips over my stomach. “But something tells me I won’t get my hair done if you’re naked.”
“Something?”
“Experience.” She rises to her toes to press her lips to my forehead. “I’m going to get ready. We can have breakfast here. Hang until you need to leave.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
She blows me a kiss, spins on her heels, moves into the bathroom.
There’s actual food in her fridge—I dragged her to Trader Joe’s last night. She deserves all of it. She deserves a feast. I settle on scrambled eggs.
I scoop coffee into the French press, set the electric kettle to boil, gather the ingredients for breakfast.
Steam fills the air.
I pour hot water over coffee.
The smell of java fills the room as I chop. Then it’s tomatoes and bell peppers. Eggs.
Leighton’s footsteps move closer. “I’m going to have to kidnap you at this rate.”
I shoot her my best don’t fuck with me look. “You want to throw down?”
“No. But you can throw me down. On the bed.” She laughs. “That was bad. I must be caffeine deprived.”
“You got your point across.”
She brushes against me as she moves to the coffee maker. Fills two mugs. Fixes mine light on the cream and sugar, hers heavy on it. “Mmm. You’re too good at this.” She slides onto the counter behind me. “It’s too bad my place is so small. I can’t bribe you to move in.”
“You can’t?”
“Well… I’m sure I can think of something. But with the lack of air conditioning—it’s really hot, huh?”
“A little.” The ocean breeze is enough to cool us off. With her sitting there smiling, it’s hard to complain about a room a few degrees too hot. “I can ice that coffee.”
“It won’t be strong enough.” She takes a long sip. Lets out a low moan.
My cock stirs.
I love that sound.
I know what buttons to push to get her naked. Fuck, the thought of pinning her to the counter and driving into her—
I will.
But not yet.
Not until she’s panting.
I turn the pan off. Scoop eggs onto ceramic plates. Bring them to the dining table.
Leighton joins me with the coffees. “Would you want that?”
I arch a brow.
“To live together?”
“One day.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” But it’s still hard to believe this is real. That she wants me that badly. That she’ll stick around.
She’s beautiful, smart, charming.
She could have her pick of any of the guys who come into the shop.
I know I’m a catch in all the superficial ways. In others too. But it’s not like I take care of her to win points. It’s what I want.
I want her happy, healthy, well fed.
I want her coming until sh
e can’t take it anymore.
I want her fucking beaming.
Yeah, I’m letting go of Penny’s hold on me, but the baggage is there.
It’s hard for me to believe I’ll be enough for someone.
That I’ll be able to trust someone.
That they’ll trust me.
It's fucking everything knowing Leighton wants me like this.
But there’s still that voice in the back of my head, nagging at me, asking me if I can believe this is real.
I will get over it.
But it’s not gonna be fast. Not if my history of getting over shit is any indication.
“You sure you can handle an all black apartment?” I tease.
She laughs. “We’ll have to compromise.”
“Fuck. This might be a deal breaker.”
Her smile spreads over her cheeks. “What’s with the black sheets? I’ve only ever seen black sheets on guy’s beds when they’re goth.”
“You’ve seen that many?”
“Shut the fuck up.” She blushes. “I was never a Dean, but I… I had fun.”
“Was it fun?”
She stares into my eyes, assessing my intentions. She must decide I’m worth trusting, because she nods. “When I was bartending, yeah. That was a solid four years, I guess, of being careful with guys. I only dated guys who seemed like a good time. I made it clear I wasn’t interested in anything serious. I didn’t get invested.”
“Didn’t that get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But that was better than the alternative.” She stabs a red pepper and brings it to her mouth.
“Getting hurt?”
“Yeah.” She scoops eggs into her mouth, chews, swallows. “I did enough of that in high school. Fell for the whole I love you, honey. Let’s make love bullshit. Let guys treat me like crap because I believed they’d change. Before I gave up on my mom, I still believed people could change.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know. You’ve changed.”
“You have too.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re starting your own business.”
“Eventually.” She finishes her last sip of coffee. “In a long, long time.”
“It will come up fast.”
She sets her mug down. Traces its rim. “I know. But I don’t want to talk about leaving.”
Fair enough. I nod. Inhale my food. She worked me hard last night. I’m starving.
“I guess I gave up on guys long before I gave up on my mom. There wasn’t really anything notable. Just a long string of shitty boyfriends. One day, I was at work, crying in the bathroom because I’d just gotten dumped via text, again, and I decided I was done. I was done choosing the wrong men.”
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