FLOWERS ON THE WALL

by Williams, Mary J.

  However, Rudy and the other police officers present did not have to step in and handle an out of control mob. Quinn didn't know if it were partly the shock of seeing Ryder Hart in their little corner of the world or the magic of the moment. Whatever forces were at work, they kept the crowd well-behaved and, for the most part, courteous. Quinn lost track of the times someone jostled her from behind. But there was no ill intent involved. Everyone was into the music. Bouncing, swaying, and dancing was to be expected.

  Ryder looked as though he could have played all night. Sweat dampened his shirt and caused his hair to curl more than usual. He was the epitome of the cool, sexy rocker. Every woman in the room wanted him. Every man wanted to be him. And Quinn had it all captured on her camera. Now and then, she would take her eye away from the viewfinder and enjoy the show. As a fan. And as the woman who—lucky her—would share his bed tonight and for the foreseeable future.

  "One more song and then I have to call it a night."

  Protests were shouted, but there was no heat to them. They had known from the beginning that tonight would have to end. The time had flown, and it was hard to let go.

  "I want to thank the members of Lightning Strikes for letting me jam with them." The crowd let out a loud cheer. "Tonight reminded me of why I do what I do. It isn't the money. Though that isn't bad." His comment got the expected burst of laughter. "What made me fall in love with music is the pleasure it gives. To me, and to you. Thank you. It has been my pleasure."

  Everyone knew Ryder's final song. A sing-along anthem about giving the world the finger when it tried to hold you down. The last words blasted through the bar. Out of nowhere, Rudy and his team formed a wall in front of the stage, blocking anyone from getting to Ryder.

  Rudy pushed Quinn toward him, who grabbed her hand and headed out the back.

  "Aren't you going to stick around and bask in the adulation."

  "That kind of adulation can land a man in the hospital."

  They exited into the rear parking lot. Quinn took a deep breath of the cool, fresh, evening air.

  "How did this get here?" she asked when she spied her father's car.

  "I had Rudy move it before the set started." Ryder had her in the passenger seat and himself behind the wheel in record time. The engine turned over without hesitation. "Damn, that was fun."

  Peeling out, Ryder headed down a side road. He was still burning energy and Quinn could feel the heat radiating from his body. He smelled of clean, sweaty man. It was odd, but all she could think about was licking every inch of his hot, salty skin. Quinn glanced at Ryder. Okay, maybe it wasn't that odd. Damn, he was sexy.

  "You know what I need?" Ryder asked, the street light illuminating his wide grin.

  "Tell me."

  "Sex."

  "Thank God," Quinn groaned.

  Ryder's head whipped around. "You too?"

  "I was afraid you were going to say a hamburger."

  "That too. After."

  Ryder pulled the car into the first dark alley they passed. It was crazy and reckless. And Quinn loved it. She felt like a teenager. Not the good girl who had never put a step wrong. But the bad girl she suppressed because she had been too afraid to let her out.

  "I know you made out in the back of a car. Ever gone all the way?"

  "Never."

  Taking Quinn's camera bag, Ryder set it on the floor. She expected him to get in the backseat the usual way. Out one door and in the other. But Ryder was full of surprises. He flipped the button on the side of her seat, sending them backward.

  "Smooth," Quinn said with a gasping laugh. "Did you learn that in your wild youth or is it new to your repertoire?"

  "That was a first." Ryder pulled Quinn's shirt over her head. "You inspire me."

  "Does this mean no backseat?"

  "We'll get there. Think of this as foreplay."

  Quinn sighed when Ryder's mouth closed over hers. Foreplay, her ass. He wasn't teasing. It was the kiss of a man ready for the final act. To show him that she was on the same page, Quinn slid her fingers through Ryder's hair, tugging him closer.

  "Nope." Panting, Quinn stayed Ryder's hands when he tried to remove her bra. "Shuck the pants. I want this hard and fast, guitar boy."

  "I need bare breasts."

  Before Quinn could blink, Ryder flung her bra behind him. His tongue swiped at her nipple as he magically dealt with his jeans.

  "God, you are good."

  "I want that for my ringtone."

  "Now? Really?"

  Ryder took his phone from his pocket, hit a few buttons, then held it near Quinn's mouth.

  "Say it again."

  "Fuck you."

  "Let me inspire you." Ryder bent his head, taking her straining nipple into his mouth.

  "You are crazy." Quinn arched her back, pushing toward Ryder.

  "Say it," Ryder spoke without raising his head. His teeth joined the fun and Quinn caved.

  "God, you are good," she moaned, louder than she had intended. But there was no denying it. Ryder had a talented mouth. And tongue. And what he could do with his teeth? Pure bliss.

  "There you go."

  Ryder removed his jeans, then did the same with Quinn's. He moved between her legs, the tip of his hard penis brushing against her.

  "Condom," Quinn cried out before she lost all reason.

  "I'm on it."

  Fast and efficient, the packet was opened, and the latex applied. Then, with one push, Ryder was inside of her.

  "Hard and fast," he asked, the strain in his voice evident.

  "Yes." Quinn lifted her legs, wrapping them around Ryder's waist. "Please. Now."

  Ryder clasped Quinn's hands with his, raising them over her head. His eyes locked with hers.

  "Do you feel that…" he asked. "The connection?"

  The connection of their bodies or their minds? Quinn felt both. It was wild. Beautiful. Quinn felt the urge to cry.

  "Yes, Ryder. I feel it. I feel everything."

  Ryder moved his hips and Quinn met his every thrust. Again and again. She didn't want it to end, but there was no stopping the burst of pleasure that shot through her body from her center. Out to her toes. Up to the top of her head. Ryder cried out her name, his mouth finding hers. They rode the pleasure together. To the very end.

  "I DON'T WANT to go back to that house."

  "It sounds good. However, blood is just returning to my brain. Give me a moment to process what you said."

  Laughing, Quinn smoothed her hand down Ryder's back. They hadn't moved, nor did she want them to. She would have been happy to stay right there, in his arms. Unfortunately, potential disaster loomed. And the blood flow to her brain was just fine.

  "Cora will try something. If only to get a rise out of my father. I feel loose and wonderful. But when I think of returning to all that drama, I start to tense up."

  Ryder gave her a series of soothing kisses. First on her forehead, then on each eye, the tip of her nose, and finally her mouth. As stress relievers went, it was damn effective.

  "You don't know that Cora will hit on me. And if she did, I wouldn't act on the offer."

  "I trust you completely."

  "You do?" Ryder sounded surprised. And pleased.

  "Yes. But saying no to Cora will only set in motion another problem. She'll be insulted. And my father will be upset because she's upset. And all of it will be my fault because I put temptation—namely you—in Cora's path."

  "That is fucked up reasoning."

  "That is my father."

  "You don't want to go back?"

  "Nope."

  "Not even to say goodbye?"

  Quinn sighed. "I think my father already took care of that."

  "Then we won't go back."

  "But—"

  "Our luggage is in the trunk. I put it there before we left. Just in case."

  As gestures went, it might not have been grand, but it was pretty damn clos
e. Quinn threw her arms around Ryder's neck, peppering his face with kisses.

  Ryder slid down Quinn's body, leaving a warm trail with his lips. He ended up with his knees on the car floor, her legs spread to accommodate him. Leaning close, he blew a puff of air on her sensitive flesh. Smiling, Quinn brushed her fingers through his hair.

  "If that is a thank you," he said, kissing the inside of her thigh. "Here is my you're welcome."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DECIDING WHERE TO spend the next two weeks had been relatively easy. Quinn named three places. Ryder did the same. They put the destinations in a hat and pulled out the winner.

  Ryder and Quinn were on the private jet. One call had set the pre-flight arrangements in motion and by the time they arrived at the airport, the wait for takeoff had been surprisingly short. Now that they were in the air, all that remained was deciding on their final destination.

  "This isn't set in stone." Ryder watched as Quinn reached her for her floppy sun hat. It had been that or a fedora Ryder had acquired a few years ago while in New York. He wore it once before leaving it on the plane. And here it had stayed.

  "Weren't these places you wanted to go?"

  "Yes." Ryder laughed when Quinn flashed the paper at him, too fast for him to read. "However, this was a fun way to choose. If deep down you are disappointed, pick again."

  "I want to go someplace where we can play, and you can relax. Private but not too isolated." Quinn looked at the scrap in her hand. "Aruba."

  "Look at this."

  Taking out his phone, Ryder pulled up a website. The resort had plenty of options for the budget conscious or those looking for a place to hide away from crowds—and fans.

  "Is that bungalow over the water?"

  Instead of taking the phone, Quinn snuggled under his arm to get a better view. She smelled so good Ryder briefly lost his train of thought.

  "Ryder? The bungalow?"

  "Meals are delivered. Or we can go to one of four restaurants. If you feel like sightseeing, there are plenty of options. We can scuba dive, deep sea fish, laze on our own private beach. There is a dance club. And—"

  "Sold." Quinn covered his mouth with hers. "Are you part owner of the resort? Or simply a fan?"

  "I took the band there two years ago for Christmas. We had a great time."

  "Is that the only time you've been there?"

  "If you are asking me if I've taken another woman there, the answer is no."

  "I didn't ask." Quinn poked her tongue out at him.

  "Not in so many words." Ryder teased.

  "I…" Quinn sighed. "Fine. I was curious. Now I know. Please shelve the subject permanently."

  "I don't mind a touch of jealousy, Quinn."

  In fact, Ryder liked finding out that Quinn's feelings for him ran deeper than a few good fucks and some laughs. It had always been enough. Plenty. Ryder had never wanted more. However, Quinn was different. She made him think of where they would be beyond the next two weeks. Beyond Aruba.

  Did Ryder want a relationship with Quinn? Yes. No. Maybe. He chuckled to himself. That was clear—as mud.

  "I wouldn't say jealous," Quinn said.

  "No?"

  "A touch."

  "A touch is just the right amount. Anything more gets sticky."

  "Tell me about it." She took a drink from the bottle of water the air hostess had given her before takeoff. "My mother was jealous of my father. My father is jealous of my mother's happy marriage. Cora is jealous of everybody. I try not to follow in my family's footsteps. And yet, here I am."

  "If I thought you were anything like Cora—or your father—we wouldn't be here."

  Ryder could tell that his words pleased Quinn. Unable to resist, he placed a kiss on her smiling lips.

  "Where would we be?" she asked.

  "You? San Francisco, I imagine. Me?" Ryder shrugged.

  "Trolling for a new bed partner?

  Ryder caught the teasing light in Quinn's eyes.

  "Hey, I haven't trolled since I was a teenager."

  "No need when you're a certified rock god. The groupies fall from the trees."

  "I don't sleep with groupies." Ryder started the familiar refrain, Quinn finished it. "Smartass," he growled, pulling her onto his lap.

  Ryder's lips were magic, leaving a trail of electricity in the wake as he kissed Quinn's neck. "I don't believe sleep was the word you used."

  "But accurate. I used to fuck groupies—in my misspent youth. But I never slept with them. I rarely sleep with anyone."

  He slept with her. Quinn didn't let herself linger on the dangerous thought. However, this time, the shiver that coursed through her body was caused by more than Ryder's expert touch. Whether he knew it or not, he had placed Quinn in rare company. She let herself believe she was special. What woman didn't want that—no matter how temporary the relationship.

  Thank you, Quinn whispered to Ryder. Though she said it in her head—and never planned to raise the subject aloud—it was no less sincere. She would hold this time with him dear for the rest of her life. A precious memory. A vignette. Bittersweet. Beautiful.

  Not because of his fame. Quinn and the rock star? She didn't care about that. It was the man she was slowly growing to know. The man she admired as well as desired. He could be a plumber. A lawyer. A ditch digger. Or a deep sea diver. Those were jobs. Quinn knew without a doubt that she would have been drawn to Ryder—the kind, caring man—no matter his profession.

  Quinn could hear the advice her mother had given her years ago. Outside trappings are nice, but it's a man's character that counts.

  Outside, Ryder Hart was gorgeous. Top to bottom perfection. Quinn should know, she had explored every inch with unrestrained delight. However, impossibly, he was more beautiful on the inside. The protective brother. The fiercely loyal friend. A man of integrity with a shadowed past. She wept for the little boy he had been and cheered the man he had made of himself.

  Yes, Ryder Hart was the real deal. And if Quinn weren't careful, she could lose her heart to a man who had no use for it.

  "Are we off to Aruba?" Ryder asked, blessedly unaware of Quinn's guarded thoughts.

  Aruba. Ryder. And their moment out of time. Quinn could live with that. She couldn't protect herself from him. If she declared their affair over—here and now—what good would it do? The feelings were already there. She had a choice. Leave and make herself miserable for ending things before she had to. Or embrace the moment—the hell with tomorrow. Or next week. Or a month from now.

  Quinn wanted to be with Ryder. If that meant dealing with the eventual emotional fallout, so be it. A chance like this didn't come along every day. In fact, it might never come again. They were young, free, and they wanted each other. Desperately. It was enough. It had to be.

  Wrapping her arms around Ryder's neck, Quinn brushed her lips against his and smiled.

  "Aruba sounds like heaven."

  ARUBA TURNED OUT to be a dream. No, that wasn't right. A dream had a hazy quality to it. No matter how real it seemed, there was always the feeling that everything that was happening was just out of reach. Frustratingly unreal. This was happening. Every beautiful, memorable moment.

  Fun in the sun didn't begin to describe the week. Quinn enjoyed every second, not letting herself feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Yes, it was Ryder's money that paid for everything. From the elegant, richly appointed room, the scrumptious meals that looked like little works of art. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Not her world even when her father paid for everything. This was uncharted territory for Quinn, and she found it was not a hardship to fall into its seductive lure.

  A perfect example was the bathing suit she donned that morning. The tiny scraps of bright red material had been waiting on the king-sized bed when they arrived. When Quinn sent Ryder an enquiring look, he had merely shrugged, stating that it was his vacation. He had the right to look at her in the swimwear of his choice. As arguments went
, that one was thinner than tissue paper. However, Quinn didn't make a fuss. It was his vacation.

  There was nothing to the suit, but Quinn would have laid even odds it cost more than a month's rent on her apartment. Checking the label, she let out a silent whistle. Okay, make that two months. Her lofty principles said that she should protest. Still, it was her vacation too. If he wanted her in the beautiful bikini, and if she wanted to wear it, she couldn't think of a single reason not to.

  "Red looks good on you." Ryder swam up to where Quinn floated aimlessly in the impossibly blue water. "You should wear it more often."

  "Are you saying that red suits me?"

  Admittedly, it was a lame pun. However, Quinn's brain, like the rest of her, was in sand-and-surf mode. Lame was the best she could manage.

  "I will excuse your groan-worthy comment, just this once because you look so incredible, the water is in danger of turning to steam. But watch it. Next time I won't be as lenient."

  "Please." Deliberately, Quinn used her hands as paddles, pushing herself through the water. Away from Ryder. "What are you going to do, you big pussycat?"

  "You're right," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm all talk and no action."

  Quinn quickly discovered that Ryder was a dual threat. Talk and action—he made it a wonderfully sexy mix. She was particularly fond of his action. They had drifted toward the shore, making it easy for him to stand, grab Quinn, and hoist her over his tanned, powerful shoulder. Rather than fight the pleasure-filled inevitable, Quinn relaxed and enjoyed the view of Ryder's fine, firm trunks-covered ass.

  What happened when they reached the beach left them gasping for air—with big grins on their faces.

  "This is why I love a private beach." Ryder took a deep, calming breath.

  "Sex in the open air?"

  Naked and fantastically satiated, Quinn rolled onto her back. Her brand new—outrageously expensive—bathing suit was somewhere in their general vicinity. The top had gone in one direction, the bottoms in another. She had been so distracted by what his hands and mouth were up to, Quinn had no idea when Ryder had shucked his trunks. Or where they ended up. Nor had she cared. And she was fine with that. In her opinion, Ryder could stay naked for the duration of their time in Aruba. Who in their right mind would argue?