by Gayle Eden
“I was going to comb my hair.” She watched him take slow steps toward her. Looking up, as he was close enough and lookin down at her. “It—tangles.”
His brown eyes went over the damp stuff. “It’s longer than I thought.”
Jordan smelled male soap, leather, and some lime scent on him. She whispered, “I’ll just be a moment.” Turning she hurried up the stairs, knowing her shirt was almost see through, and that he was watching her up the stairs.
In her sitting room, which was done in dark champagne and green, she lit and turned lamps low. Lighting just one in the connected bedroom, wondering if indulging in the large scrolled bed was because she’d thought of long, tall, Ryder Douglas in it?
Her private rooms weren’t frilly. They were sleek and inviting with a fireplace and two chaise lounges, wardrobes, one wall had a bank of windows looking out over the land. She detangled her hair and changed into a similar shirt, glancing at the fancy gown, stockings and heels she’d laid out—thinking dryly of how she’d planned on coming down the stairs in a low cut gown and…
Oh, drat. She got up and padded barefoot back down stairs. Walking to the kitchen, she paused in the doorway.
He had not only served up the food. He had taken off his boots and socks somewhere, and his shirt.
Her heart did a thud thud realizing from his feet that he was that brown toasted color all over. Dear God—should any man’s torso be so chiseled and defined? There was a line of hair from his navel going into those low-slung trousers. His abdomen had ripples of muscle and his shoulders were wide, his pecs and arms muscled and veined.
“I guess we’re undressed for dinner,” she quipped breathlessly.
Ryder held a chair for her and she sat. He took one on her left and they filled plates—though she was too conscious of being bare under that shirt. She was certainly aware that though they ate and drank wine, they looked at each other, at chests and faces, often during it.
Wiping her mouth, she was too tense to eat much. Staring at her fingers on the wineglass while he finished, Jordan’s mind was trying not to dredge up all the reasons this was insane.
When his plate scraped from his pushing it away, she stood and began cleaning up. Ryder helped, placing bowls on the warming shelf. He was there—or his chest was, when she turned from clearing the last item.
His dark eyes skimmed her hair and upturned face, before his work hard hands cupped her cheeks, and slid back into her cinnamon mane. Dipping his head to kiss her, Jordan rose on tiptoe, her hands going to the hard upper arms by the time their lips met.
His mouth was incredible, warm and silken, more malleable than she’d thought it would be. He sought entry and she gave it, groaning when his tongue thrust inside and began rolling over and under her own. He kissed aggressive and hungry, stealing her breath, making her dizzy. But, oh what a kiss. Jordan felt his raw masculine hunger in it, and it summoned her own primitive desires. Like a fire, it raced through her blood, unfamiliar hungers, and heady, too intoxicating pleasures from the taste of him.
Just when her legs were shaking, he pulled back and kissed her softer, hotter, slower. Her heart was doing all sorts of tripping and racing. He overwhelmed her. She was not sure which kind of kissing did it, but it was all—Ryder.
She felt his hand slide down to her back. He turned her, backing her during a hot kiss, until she met the table. Jordan gasped for breath when he raised his head, but soon lost it again. He nudged her to lean back, and stepped between her legs, and started nibbling and suckling her throat.
Breathing winded, she clung to his arms, arching her neck for his delicious feasting. His skin was hot, hard, and those warm breaths that followed a suckle or lave put chills on her skin.
His hands were touching her, smoothing over her hip, her stomach, rubbing there, and sliding up between her breasts. By the time he had her shirt opened she was more than ready to feel his mouth there too.
It came soon enough. Resting on her forearms, too aware of his hard hips between her legs, against her moist and reacting sex, she watched his tongue tease her nipples, his hands cupping breasts that looked creamy white in his dark manly hands. His semi full mouth rimmed the areola. Her mutter and moan came with an arch of her neck. Eyes tightly closed when the suckling began.
Whatever she expected, it was not this—intense—pleasure. Sensations washed over her. The suckling made her want to rub against him. Panting, not even considering she was lying on her new kitchen table, Jordan felt the coolness on those wet nipples. His mouth was now going over her ribs, lingering on her quivering stomach. She moaned again because although he was obviously aroused and an aggressive man, he was certainly laving and kissing her in enough places to arouse her exquisitely.
He backed away some. His palms dragging down her thighs. She felt his hands go under them, and had no idea what he would do next. Jordan opened her eyes and raised her head. Finding him staring at her face, aware that her eyes were glazed and skin flushed.
His own brown eyes were hot. Now the rigid expression on his face seemed completely sensual to her.
“My bedroom is at the top of the stairs,” she managed, raspy.
His hands were under her thighs near her buttocks. “You uncomfortable?”
“No.”
He hooked one of the chairs with bare a foot and dragged it over, sitting down and resting her legs over his arms, spread wide. He dipped his head and let his tongue tease her sex.
Hissing in a breath, her eyes were wide meeting his. He seemed to be waiting for her response. Ryder did it a few more times before easing his fingers over to part her curls and hold her open. He ran the flat of his tongue between the folds.
“Oh—God.”
His warm breath stirred against the sensitive skin. A finger teased her entry while he bit and licked and teased her again. He got down to business, while her moans and hisses, soft cries of pleasure and surprise, filled the warm kitchen. Jordan could feel her body reaching and climbing for something. She knew from his tense breathing and the way he touched her and laved her, he was taking her there.
“Ryder…” she moaned that in the swift rise and squeeze of pleasure. Saying his name a dozen times in the ensuing waves of climax that flowed over her from head to toe.
Having lain flat, her head almost off the table, Jordan lifted her warmed and somewhat heavy torso. Full flushed and languid, she stared at him blinking.
There was almost a grin on that taut face, one behind the hot eyes and obvious sexual hungers. Well, Jordan thought, at least it wasn’t smug.
Her eyes went to his ridged lower stomach as he stood and lowered her legs. Now she noticed the ridge of his sex and when his fingers started undoing ties, she husked, “Is this a good time to mention—I’m a virgin?”
His hand paused.
Jordan’s smile at his face was lame. “I’ve decided not to be by morning, and I’ve decided, I want you. But from what I’ve been told, this part might be more comfortable on a bed.”
“Why?” He rasped.
“Why a bed? Beca—”
“No. Why Me.” His teeth were grit.
She pushed herself to sit up, locking her legs against him, and brushing her calf against him. “Damned if I know,” she whispered and let her hands skim up his chest and lock around his hard neck. “I must have a thing for silent, stone faced, men. Although—what you just did, completely surprised me. In a wonderful way. So, I have no fears the rest will not be handled with sensitivity by yourself. I thought it only fair to warn you.”
His hands were tense on her hips, brown eyes probing hers.
Jordan could smell her scent on him, smell the animal heat in his strong body too. She felt his sex stir and had no doubt she wanted him in her tonight.
“You’re surprised?”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“You’ve had a virgin before?”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. “Once.” He began to pull back.
“Oh, no you don’
t,” she whispered softly and grabbed his hand, helping herself off the table; she began leading him out of the kitchen and to the parlor. There she headed up the stairs, ignoring his reluctance.
In her bedchamber, Jordan turned toward him and took both hands tugging him back on the bed with her. He landed between her legs, weight on his forearms.
Gazing up at his face, she offered, “I’m not her.” Her hands glided up his back, slightly dewed and tightly muscled. “You either loved her, hated her—or both. But I’m Jordan McCabe.” Her thighs brushed his outer legs. “And you want me.”
As she reached for his kiss, he gave it, but with some reserve and caution. Not knowing where his mind was, or why he felt it, she put everything into arousing him, and let her hands roam from his hair, his shoulders, wherever she could touch.
Panting, she drew back and murmured, “I want you.”
He lifted from her slowly, back on his knees between her spread legs. His gaze going over her nude body while he undid the ties. Before fully exposing his sex—though she could see quite a bit between the loose ties, he braced over her, kissing her hot and sensual.
Her mind again foggy with pleasure, and body aroused by him, Jordan was only half-aware he’d raised his lower half and was skimming out of his trousers. That done, Ryder broke the kiss, his breathing heavy and dark, big hands fitting under her backside.
She kissed and laved his neck and across his chest, her legs wide and welcome at the first nudge of his smooth sex.
Above her he husked, “Hold to me.
She did. Closing her eyes, her nose full of his delicious scent and her softer body reveling in the strength of his. She barely registered the stretch when the head of him entered, before he flexed his hips inward, and sank fully into her.
Her teeth sank into her lip, her moan—one of pain and burning—but Jordan could sense his care and tension hear his tight and rigid breaths.
Ryder’s legs were trembling. He went in and out of her, finally pulling out all the way, lowering himself to kiss her, soft and sexually sweet. He sounded unlike the usual Ryder when he expressed gruffly, “Now’s the time to stop, if it’s too much?”
Her gaze on his tense face, the darker eyes, Jordan rasped, “I don’t want to stop.” Her hands fit on the side of his neck, thumbs stroking his skin. “It hurts like bloody hell, but I want to get to the part where it’s going to feel wonderful next time.”
He shook his head, a grunted laugh escaping, before he extended over her again, and eased inside her body. Jordan knew he enjoyed it at the same time he was aware she was simply enduring. She tried to relax, but couldn’t. The pain and burn was easing though, just before he pulled back, his forehead next to hers. He climaxed. His seed bathing her stomach.
Rubbing his upper arms, she held him a moment he allowed, and when he rolled to the side, sighed and murmured, “I’ve heard most first times aren’t smooth going.” Patting his flank, she sat up and went to the bathing room. Jordan was still cleaning up when he came in, fully nude and washed himself too.
She was high, intoxicated, and just from sharing that intimacy with him. She could look at him all day sun browned, firm buttocks and muscled legs. Sinewy all over. She studied his profile and noted how relaxed and younger he looked after coming. He was still her lone wolf. And, he was still everything she wanted.
Ryder glanced at where she sat on the edge of the tub before tucking a towel around his hips. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She smiled.
He sighed, nodded and turned, leaving.
When she entered the bedroom, he was sitting on the window seat, the shutters wide as he smoked. He had left the towel on his hips.
She drew on a short green silk robe. “Coffee or whiskey?”
“Coffee.”
Jordan went to fetch them a cup, bringing it over to him, seating herself facing him on the same bench.
“What am I doing here?” He turned his gaze to her from having stared out at the night.
She knew what he meant. Jordan set the cup on the ledge and drew her feet up, locking her arms around her legs. “I didn’t want anyone else. I tried to. Heaven knows, you are not a man easy to like. But that had nothing to do with attraction.”
Half grinning she murmured, “Maybe I’m drawn to enigmatic and plays hard to get, men. I don't know. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I figured, sooner or later I would end up in your bed—or you in mine. I cannot explain more than that. I want you. There is no reason for me to, beyond the physical attraction. “
“Is this it, just tonight?” His gaze skimmed her.
“No. Not for my part. I already know from you laying me on that kitchen table that a sexual relationship with you will be satisfying, and passionate. Unless you do something to end it—I want to be intimate with you.”
Ryder flicked an ash out the window and turned his profile to her for long tense moments.
“Who was she?”
He didn’t answer for a long time, and then said tightly, “My foreman’s daughter. Back east.”
“You loved her?”
He nodded and tossed the cheroot out. Shoving a hand through his hair. He didn’t look at her still. “I worked three jobs trying to save up, give her the things she was used to. Her father wanted her to marry his partner. A man I was best friends with.”
“You were her first?”
“I was—but—” His jaw flexed and his tone lowered. “I’d finally saved enough, had a ring, a house picked out. She married him instead.”
“God. I’m sorry.”
He said, “She was sleeping with us both. Pregnant.”
“Is the babe—”
“A son. He would be 11 or 12 now. I don’t know. I’m not sure she did. Nevertheless, James knew I loved her. He knew I was killing myself for her… and they were both—”
Jordan unhooked her hands, lowering her legs so she could reach over and rub his tense thigh. Waiting. When he finally looked at her, his eyes full of bitter shadows, she murmured, “You and Sara were dealt much the same betrayal.”
“Yes.”
‘That’s likely why you’re so close.” She soothed his skin and tilted her head slightly, her dried hair now flowing against the silk covering her. “I’m not asking, nor expecting, more than you offer.”
Jordan arose and held her hand out to him, her gaze holding his. “I don’t lie, Ryder. I do not play games. My own past and problems taught me that. I don’t expect to change you. I am a strong woman with rather intense emotions, yes, driven, prideful, and passionate. I need to feel pleasure that way, the same as I want to express it.”
He stood and let her guide him back to bed. She discarded the robe and leaned up on her elbow, slightly over him. “Maybe I sensed you’re a man who can take it—and give it.”
His hand cupped her nape, and brought her down for a hard kiss. Before he pulled the towel free and rolled her under him. “I knew you’d be trouble.”
She smiled despite the fire in his eyes. “You can handle me.”
His growl came seconds before he was kissing and stroking her, bathing her body in hot kisses and sexual nibbles, sensual laves.
Ryder rolled her to her stomach, pushed her hair aside, and then scored his mouth from neck to feet and back up, hands molding her—until she was sighing, moaning, and moving into his touch.
On her back again, his masculine thigh between hers, Jordan shared his wild, hungry, kiss while his fingers found her, hot, wet, wanting. He played there, rubbing and teasing until a climax shuddered through her. Slick and ready this time when he moved between her legs, her nails bit into his back, her hips lifting, taking him into her. Demanding, he give himself to her.
Hissing at the bite of her nails, he raised her legs higher on his sides and thrust in hard, gliding out. This time his tight breathing told her he was not so in control.
She whispered and laved his chest, found his nipple to worry. Jordan knew by his thrusts and flex of muscle, he was riding
her for his pleasure, to pleasure her. It aroused her so that she undulated and moved with him, murmuring hot and silken things that drifted through a heady and sexually intoxicated mind.
When he stiffened and shuddered, she was too lost in the bliss to notice he had cursed, and muttered. He had lost control. Later, she would realize the risk. Although that didn’t dampen her hunger for him.
Afterwards they lay, cleaned and half-dozing while the breeze wafted into her bedchamber. Stirring an hour or so past that, she sat up and glanced down at his lamp lit face, feeling no regrets.
His lashes lifted to half-mast, the brown eyes lighter from his dozing. His hand lifted so that he lightly fisted her long hair and let it slide through. “I’ll be coming back—often.”
Her palm skimmed over the tender skin of his lower stomach. Jordan lightly teased the hair around his sex. “Hopefully, we’ll both be coming—often.” With that provocative tease, she leaned down, planting kisses where her hand had been, watching his skin quiver and feeling his hands in her hair.
She tasted that flesh and bit playfully at the base of each thigh. Rising for a moment, she groaned sexily, “Show me how to please you, Ryder.”
His lashes closed for a second, body shuddering, before he sat up and brought her to kneel between his legs. Gliding her hand over his hardening sex, he rasped deep, “Like this…” and helped her work him to thick hardness. Jordan of course, took over. The mouth and tongue play she began—was her own instinct, her own longing, to touch and taste and drive that man of few words a bit wild.
He was.
Although Ryder tried to maintain and control himself, her hunger for him broke down that wall. Hands tangled in her hair, he groaned deeply and called her name more than once. In the end, he let go and gave himself up to her. Jordan reveled in every shudder and muttered sound of surrender. It was erotic and sexual. She knew, he knew—exactly who pleasured him so well.
Deep in the night, she watched Ryder dress. His hair wet from a bath, as was hers again. Jordan had pulled on her robe and padded down the shadowed stairs beside him, feeling too light and relaxed from being intimate to worry about anything else.