by Rachel Lacey
* * *
Ryan paced the aisles of the grocery store after work on Monday. This afternoon he’d remembered something Emma had said to him a few weeks ago at Off-the-Grid, about how she wanted to have the kind of sex she’d only read about in romance novels. He had no friggin’ clue what kind of sex people had in those books, and he sure as hell couldn’t ask anyone about it so he was just going to have to wing it. Because he wanted to be the man who gave Emma the kind of mind-blowing sex she’d only read about.
Yeah, he’d lost his mind.
And that was why he found himself at the grocery store after he’d left Off-the-Grid, shopping for “accessories” for his evening with Emma. If Ethan or Mark saw him now, he’d never hear the end of it. He paid for his purchases and left quickly, tucking the bag into one of the saddlebags on his bike before heading toward Emma’s apartment.
He was feeling all sorts of things as he rode toward her building. Desire. Excitement. And a small amount of trepidation that things wouldn’t be the same here on their own home turf. That he’d violated some kind of bro code by sleeping with his best friend’s little sister, the same sister Derek had warned him to keep his hands off of.
All of that faded away when he pulled into her driveway and saw her standing there in the doorway, wearing a white tank top and a striped skirt that sat low enough on her hips to show off her new tattoo.
His. She was his, and she was perfect.
He walked to her and pulled her into his arms. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She twined her hands around his neck, smiling up at him. “What’s in the bag?”
“A few, uh, things.”
“I’m intrigued,” she said, peeking down at the plastic grocery bag in his right hand.
He stepped her backward through her front door and closed it behind them. “That’s better.”
Then he set the bag down and flattened her against him as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips parted, inviting him inside, and damn, he was lost. He kissed her until all the chaos in his brain had stilled, replaced by the fire Emma had ignited inside him. This woman. Would he ever get enough?
“Okay, I’m curious,” Emma said when they’d come up for air. She bent down to pick up the bag, poking through it with a big smile on her face. “Whipped cream. Chocolate syrup. And champagne. Well, well, what did you have in mind tonight, Hot Stuff?”
What he might have gained in intent, he definitely lost in presentation. Dropping a plastic shopping bag of sex foods in her foyer was definitely not how the guys in her romance novels did it. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Um—”
“For the record,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen with the bottle of champagne in her hands, “whatever it is, I am definitely interested.”
He gave himself an internal high five. “That so?”
“Yes.” She wrapped a hand towel around the neck of the champagne bottle and popped the cork. Then she went up on her tiptoes to take two champagne flutes out of a top cabinet and filled them. “To an evening of sugary experimentation,” she said, holding one of the glasses out to him.
“Sounds a bit kinky,” he said with a grin as he clinked his glass against hers.
“Indeed.” She took a drink as a smile played about her lips. “You are always full of surprises, Ryan Blake.”
“You bring it out in me.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Then she walked into his arms. “What the hell are we standing around in the kitchen for?”
“Good question.” He picked up their champagne flutes and waited for her to lead the way to her bedroom. She paused in the hallway to pick up the bag of goodies he’d brought. He followed her through the doorway into a very girly bedroom with a flowery bedspread, lacy curtains, and a pissed-off-looking gray cat sprawled in the middle of the bed, regarding him through icy blue eyes.
“Get lost, Smokey,” she said, shooing the cat with her hands. It glared at her and slunk off into her closet. Emma pulled the bottle of chocolate syrup out of the bag, squirted some onto her finger, and sucked it into her mouth.
His dick surged against his zipper. “Strip.”
Her eyes widened. She set the bottle on the table beside her bed then reached down and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt. With a little smile, she eased it down over her hips, revealing white, lacy panties. It was all he could do not to put his hands on her, but watching her undress herself was its own form of foreplay.
She dropped her skirt to the floor then slowly lifted her top over her head, leaving her in nothing but panties, and, fuck, she was stunning. That tattoo…
She wiggled out of her panties, and then, completely naked, she sat on the edge of her bed, crossing one leg over the other. “Your turn.” She pointed a finger at him. “Strip.”
He shucked his clothes in record time, his dick growing even harder beneath her heated gaze. As he watched, she pushed the comforter off the end of the bed and beckoned for him to join her. He slid onto the bed beside her, his thigh skimming hers, and that contact alone was enough to make his pulse pound.
Emma reached for the bottle of chocolate syrup, a wicked smile on her face. She pushed him down flat on the bed and drizzled sauce across his chest, stopping just short of his dick.
He sucked in a harsh breath. “Fuck. Maybe we should have warmed it up first.”
Her mouth formed a sexy little O. “Cold?”
Yes, but indescribably hot at the same time. “Not anymore.”
“I’ll warm you up,” she said, and bent her head. Her tongue swirled across his chest, licking at the sauce. Holy fucking shit. He fisted his hands in the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut. By the time she’d reached his belly button, he was done for.
He sat up, flipping the tables before she took him past the point of no return.
“My turn.” He reached for the bottle.
Emma lay back, her cheeks already flushed, her breathing rapid. He trailed syrup over her breasts and stomach, making her squirm. “Okay, you’re right. It’s cold.”
He kissed her breast, then tugged her nipple between his teeth and gave it a slight nip. Emma lurched beneath him, her hips arching up to meet his. He took his time sucking all the chocolate from her breasts. At some point, he dipped his hand between her legs, stroking her as he followed the chocolate trail across her body.
Emma writhed beneath him, her hips pushing against his hand. He gave her the pressure that she needed, sliding two fingers inside her as he went.
He kissed his way down her belly, and she arched up off the bed. “Ryan—”
“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured. “Come for me.”
And she did. Her hips bucked against his hand, and the expression on her face as she came was so fucking gorgeous. He pressed himself against her, letting her pleasure fuel the need already pounding in his dick.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“That was hot.”
She rolled over, squirted chocolate syrup onto her palms, and wrapped her hands around his dick. “You know? I think I’m a fan of chocolate sauce.”
He groaned. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
* * *
Emma lay in bed, a little bit chocolatey and a whole lot satisfied. “That was amazing.”
“As good as what you read about in romance novels?” Ryan asked, an oddly serious look on his face.
“What?” Where in the world did that question come from?
“You told me that day at Off-the-Grid,” he said. “You wanted the kind of sex you’d read about in romance novels.”
Ooh. Yes, she did remember saying that. At the time, she’d mainly been trying to push his buttons, but it was true, too. She’d wanted the kind of toe-curling, mind-blowing sex she’d read about and hadn’t been sure was possible in real life. Was this why he’d shown up with champagne and gooey accessories? If so, that was…well, it was adorable. And also maybe the most romantic and thoughtful thing a man had ever done for her. Oh, her heart…“Actually, I thi
nk we crossed that one off in Charlotte. You’ve got nothing to worry about in that department.”
He smiled, his expression softening. “Good to know. Shower?”
“That’s a definite yes.” She was a sticky mess, and he probably was, too. She slid out of bed and led the way into the bathroom. “How long do I have to take these quickie, lukewarm showers?”
“Another week or so,” he said. “So as much as I’d like to utilize this shower for a different kind of quickie, better not.”
She pouted. “That’s a tragedy.”
“Indeed.” He was smiling, but his cock was already hard again, jutting toward her in silent invitation.
“Maybe we should wash each other? You know, to be speedy.” She hopped in, crooking a finger in his direction.
“I like the way you think.” He stepped in behind her and grabbed the bar of soap.
She gasped as his hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts. The lukewarm water was a definite turnoff, but his hands were hot enough to make up for it. She helped herself to some suds and took him in her hands.
He was rock hard beneath her touch, but equally intent on keeping his word to get them in and out of the shower quickly. So they lathered up—while working themselves into a lather—rinsed off, and dashed back to her bed, where Ryan took her right outside herself with pleasure all over again.
“That was amazing,” she murmured against his neck as they lay tangled in each other’s arms.
“It’s the craziest thing,” he said, stroking her hair. “You and me, together like this.”
“Maybe that’s part of what makes it so great. We’ve known each other so long, there’s none of that awkward getting to know you stuff.”
“Maybe.” He sounded thoughtful. “I’ve never slept with a friend before. Hell, you’re my only female friend, Em. I guess we just proved that saying about men and women not being able to be friends without wanting to sleep together.”
“Yes.” She giggled. “Although, I have to admit, I’ve never had sexy thoughts about Ethan or Mark.”
His arm tightened around her. “Good.”
They were quiet for a minute, just lying in each other’s arms.
“We’re kind of alike, I guess,” he said finally. “No real family to call our own. Just our own little makeshift family of fellow misfits.”
“Yeah.” Her throat felt tight. She’d been lucky; she hadn’t ended up in foster care, but she’d always felt out of place in the Mackenzies’ home. They’d been wonderful, but they weren’t family. Ryan understood. “The misfits of Haven. That’s us.”
“It made it bearable…having you guys,” he said.
“Even if you treated me like I was a pesky little gnat?” She nudged him playfully.
“You were a pesky little gnat in high school.” There was humor in his voice. “But you turned out okay.”
“That’s good to know.” She giggled, glad they could find humor in such a serious topic. Then she sobered. “Do you think about your mom a lot?”
He was silent for a few seconds. “Yeah. You?”
She nodded, as tears burned in her eyes. “Every day. I could have used her advice a time or three when you were making me crazy last month, trying to keep us in the friend zone.”
Ryan frowned. “I think she’d have told you I was right.”
“In high school? Yes. But not now.” No, she had a feeling her mom would approve of Emma dating modern-day Ryan very much.
“She’d have kicked my ass if she didn’t approve,” he said with a smile.
“This is true.” Her mom had been feisty, and opinionated, and fiercely protective of Emma and Derek.
“You know, there weren’t many parents who liked me back then, and let’s face it, they weren’t wrong. I was bad news. But your mom…she was all right. She wasn’t crazy about Derek hanging out with me, but she didn’t write me off either. In fact, she had my back a few times, tried to point me in the right direction. I’ll never forget that.”
“Really?” Hot tears splashed over her cheeks. “She never told me.”
“She was one of the good ones,” Ryan said softly, reaching up to wipe her tears away.
“Yeah, she was. Not many people know what it feels like, losing your mom when you’re still a kid.” She’d been fifteen. Ryan had been eleven. Maybe the hardest time to lose a parent, in that delicate age between childhood and adolescence.
“Hell of a thing to have in common, but there it is.” He tugged her in closer.
“Well, it’s nice somehow…to be able to talk about it with someone who understands. I don’t know, that doesn’t really make any sense, does it?”
“Makes perfect sense to me,” he said.
“I’m glad,” she whispered, holding on to him. She smiled against his chest. “Another advantage of this ‘friends with benefits’ thing…deep conversations we’d never have with someone we’d only been dating a few days.”
“Yeah.”
They lay there for a while, naked and entwined, talking about everything from her brother to his future plans at Off-the-Grid. It was nice, and comfortable, and…intimate.
“Hungry?” he asked as the sky outside her bedroom window glowed with the golden tones of sunset.
“Starved. Want to go to Rowdy’s?”
“Yeah.” Something in his expression loosened, as if it were a relief for him, too, that they could maintain the casual aspects of their friendship even while they were burning up the sheets together.
They dressed, and she tamed her sex-rumpled hair before they walked outside. “Um.” She eyed his bike, then looked down at her skirt. “How about I drive this time?”
“Deal,” he agreed. They chatted easily on the short drive into town, and she parked in the public lot beside the Town Square. “Any new ideas for the memorial?” he asked as they walked past its future site.
“I’m working on a new design that I’m kind of excited about.” Really excited about, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, which made her doubly nervous to show it to the Town Planning Committee.
“That’s great,” Ryan said, giving her hand a squeeze.
“Your little detour yesterday really worked. Thank you.”
“Any time.” They walked hand-in-hand through the door into Rowdy’s, passing Ethan on his way out, carrying a to-go box.
He broke into a wide grin, his gaze passing between them. “So the rumors are true then.”
“Fuck you,” Ryan said, flipping him off.
“Nah. I’ll stick with Gabby. You two lovebirds enjoy yourselves.” With a wave, he was gone.
Emma shook her head with a smile as the hostess showed them to a table. Not their group’s usual table, but a smaller one, near the back. It felt…odd. Like this table for two made the shift in their relationship real in a way all the sex somehow hadn’t.
Ryan looked shaken by it, too. “Huh,” he said as he sat across from her.
Okay, so there was definitely going to be an adjustment phase for them. “At least we know each other well enough to just say, hey, it’s weird sitting at a different table?” She tilted her head with a smile.
“Yeah.” He looked relieved. “That is good.”
“And you don’t have to ask me what I want, because you already know I want to share a platter of wings. And I don’t have to worry about getting wing sauce on my face and looking like a slob in front of my date because, well…you’re you.” She winked at him.
“Good to know.”
Their waitress approached, a girl named Tina, who often served them. She glanced between them, one eyebrow raised, as she took their order. Small town like this, they were certain to get plenty of raised eyebrows, but Emma didn’t mind.
“How’s Trent?” she asked once Tina had left. “I haven’t seen him around much lately.”
Ryan frowned. “He’s spending too much time at that damn club, if you ask me.”
“It’s not the best use of his free time, but really, there are
so many worse things he could be doing.”
“Believe me, I know. I guess I just want him to be more mature than I was at his age. I want him to realize he’s making a dumb-ass mistake by not sticking with college.”
“College isn’t everything.”
Ryan looked down at his hands. “Hell, I know that. I never went, and I turned out okay. But Trent had a four-year education at a great school just dumped in his lap, and he’s throwing it away.”
“I know.” She knew because, at Trent’s age, she would have given anything for the opportunity to attend college. “I get it. But he has to decide for himself, and if you push too hard, it’s going to backfire on you.”
Ryan scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Know that, too.”
She laid her palm over his. “You love him. You want what’s best for him. But you guys just found each other. Try to enjoy having him here and let his parents worry about kicking his butt when he’s stupid, okay?”
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Emma and Ryan had finished their meal, they’d bumped into no fewer than three people they knew. This was par for the course in a town like Haven, but it also meant word of their relationship was going to spread far and fast. She didn’t necessarily mind, but how did Ryan feel about it?
“You want to swing by the bakery for something sweet?” he asked after he’d paid the check (and no, she wasn’t used to that yet either).
“The answer to that question will always be yes,” she answered with a smile.
“Thought so, but I know better than to make assumptions where women are concerned.”
She stood and shrugged into her denim jacket. It had been in the eighties earlier today, but here in the mountains, the temperature always dropped after dark. Ryan slid his hand into hers, and together they strolled down the sidewalk from Rowdy’s to A Piece of Cake.
Inside the bakery, Carly greeted them with a friendly wave.
“You’re here late tonight,” Emma commented. Usually her friend opened the store, arriving at some ungodly hour to bake then went home by midafternoon.