“You grow orchids,” he murmured.
“And violets,” she told him for no good reason.
She watched as he massaged the back of his neck while his head went back and forth as he took in her greenhouse wonderland.
Tucking a hanging lock of hair behind her ear, Jen bit her lip and followed his gaze. He stopped on a spotted orchid and murmured something she couldn’t hear.
His compelling blue eyes bored into hers. She felt warmth mixed with tension seep into her bones. This man upset her composure and made her wonder things that would only lead to trouble.
Before she realized what she was doing, Jen inched toward him, stopping when she was an arm’s length away. Her gaze focused on his mouth as he licked his lips.
One of them moved, and the next thing she knew, he buried his hands in her hair and held her head. When she placed her palms on his chest, her intention had been to push back. But then she felt the thump of his heart and heard his passionate grunt. Nothing could save her after that.
“The real Jenna Carlton,” he murmured. “We meet at last.”
First, he kissed her with his eyes ... until she shook and some sort of unholy madness consumed her. When his mouth lowered and his strong, enticing lips brushed hers, she drew in a shaky breath.
Mesmerized by his slow, thoughtful kiss, Jen surrendered to the intensifying feelings. He was like a magnet charged with desire, drawing a response from her body and emotions that shocked and excited at the same time.
Tingling when he murmured her name and she felt it on her lips, Jen melted into his embrace as strong arms banded around her body and pressed them together. A delightful pulse of want shuddered through her.
She’d been kissed plenty of times but never like this. What made Ryan different? Was it him? Or her? Or was it what the two of them generated when they came together?
He exuded a presence, a power that Jen was undeniably attracted to. His touch opened a view into the man, which until now had been kept from view. He wasn’t a boy-man, a Peter Pan who never grew up. The tacky shirts and old soul meets hipster vibe was window dressing.
A lot like her Armani suits and hellaciously expensive shoes.
The man commanding her mouth was a creature of a different sort. Confident, manly, and persuasive, Jen welcomed the sensation of drowning in his masculinity with a deep shudder.
Clinging to his shoulders, she rubbed her body on him and deepened the kiss until it was all tongue and out of control.
When his mouth left hers, they gasped for breath, and then he groaned before falling onto her neck to maul her exposed skin until she clung to her sanity on the strength of a single, fraying thread.
He bit her earlobe. She quivered, and a soft whimper rushed from her mouth.
Jen’s senses went haywire, and her ability to stand vanished when she felt his hot breath against her ear, whispering, “Now I understand what still waters run deep means.”
His beastly growl sealed her fate. Her legs wobbled, and she fought for oxygen. He bit her neck so hard, she cried out and gave up all control. When she crumpled, he caught her and swept Jen into his arms. He kissed her madly, deeply, and passionately. And if he’d walked off the ledge of the building and plunged them both straight to hell in the process, she wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.
Nothing had ever felt like this.
Nothing.
Ever.
Her pulse quickened. His tongue seduced hers and sent shards of ecstasy throughout her body. Hunger and need coalesced inside Jen. It didn’t matter that a sudden insanity consumed them. Not when she felt so at home in his arms.
She kept her arms around his neck as she felt him lowering her body. Their lips separated. A flicker in his deep blue eyes became bold and possessive. She didn’t resist or turn away.
He lowered next to her, and Jen realized they were on the wide chaise lounger that she used for sunbathing. Constructed like a futon, it could be lowered flat, which was how she usually kept it.
An ache started inside her. Unable to stop herself, she raised a thigh and placed it on his hip as he leaned on one arm and did things to her neck and shoulders that made Jen tremble.
They made out like horny teenagers, yet he took his time with everything he did. Kissing. Touching. Licking. Stroking. And they still had all their clothes on.
All but mindlessly humping his leg, she wasn’t amused when he chuckled and drew back.
“Easy, flower girl. What’s the rush?”
Good question. No easy answer. How was she supposed to tell him that orgasms and a man didn’t necessarily go together? Or that when a tingle started, it was best to ride that shit to the end before the fickle response disappeared.
She was breathing hard, and he was looking down at her like she was a rare treasure.
He stroked her face and smiled into her eyes. “Ah.” He chuckled. “I see you’ve never been made love to by a real man.”
She looked away when a heated rush of embarrassment spilled onto her face. He had no idea!
“I’ve always felt that going the distance is more satisfying than a race. Don’t you agree?”
She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well,” he growled as a playful smile tugged at his lips. “It will be my great pleasure to demonstrate how it’s done.”
And what exactly was she supposed to say? ‘Promises, promises,’ came to mind except that she didn’t doubt he had what it took to keep his word.
“First,” he drawled before dropping a kiss on her nose, “the sexy boots have to go. But feel free to wear them anytime you want to be ravished ’cause, lady, they are a definite turn-on.”
He sat up and shifted her legs into a more dignified sprawl before drawing each boot off as though her footwear was made of crystal.
And that was the moment she remembered she was a filthy, grimy mess.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “I’m all sweaty, and I smell awful.”
“Hold on,” Ryan drawled. His sexy chuckle gave her goose bumps. “Here I am doing the whole charming prince thing and you’re worried about B.O.?”
Did he just say Prince Charming? Was he reading her thoughts, or were they just on the same wavelength?
He could not have shocked or turned her on any more than when he stuck his face into her crotch and inhaled.
“If you’re interested in my opinion”—he smirked—“you smell delicious as fuck.”
The giggle shot out of her throat so fast she nearly got whiplash. His responding expression was so hot it scorched her skin.
Propping herself up onto her forearms, she watched in helpless fascination while his fingers worked the buttons on his shirt. He had nice hands. They were big and sturdy—more familiar with a camping hatchet than a fancy pen. The imagery made her insides tighten. Ryan Lloyd was a man, not a boy pretending.
When he removed the shirt, she understood what erotic vapor lock was all about. He was rocking the sort of muscled abs and well-defined chest that Hollywood action stars dreamed about. She wanted to taste his skin and then rub all over his naked body.
He pushed his hair away from his face and stared down into Jen’s eyes. He removed a leather cord around his neck with a quartz crystal. She studied the scruff on his face and wondered what it would feel like against the soft skin of her breasts.
Towering over her, she felt his raking gaze. He stared at her neck for a long moment and then lower, at her heaving chest.
“Ohio State.” He smiled appreciatively. “Beautiful countryside in Ohio. What was your major?”
“Economics and Finance.”
He chuckled. “How did you survive?”
Jen smiled. “Tequila and nachos.”
“Grrr,” he playfully growled. “Aphrodisiac city.”
Smiling at his easy responses, she squeaked and flopped back like a ragdoll when he ripped her flimsy tank t-shirt off with no problem.
Rearing back with his hands over his mouth, he gasped dramatically, th
en pointed at her chest.
“What?” She looked down, trying to figure out what got such a reaction.
“You DO have boobs!”
Oh, hell yeah, she had boobs. Nice ones too, if Cosmo was the judge. But men were far too easily distracted, so boobs were not on her professional playlist. Her power wardrobe, even the sexiest and most feminine suits, kept the girls on lockdown.
Until he broke out a fall down funny comic portrayal of a horny ape—all because of her c-cups—Jen had no idea that humor and playing around had any place whatsoever in the bedroom.
Or the terrace lounge chair.
She might actually like this guy more than a little. Which had to explain why she was getting naked on her terrace with him as if they had sex together—outside—all the damn time.
“I’ve never had sex out here before,” she told him with a smirk.
He looked at her strangely for a second and then came back with a reply that changed everything.
“And your record will remain intact, flower girl.”
She tilted her head and looked at him with a pensive frown. “Then what are we doing? Is this just …” She shrugged.
A sensation of melting into the cushion beneath her seized Jen when he shifted to loom over her with his hands planted on either side of her head.
He smelled like something her mind grappled to interpret. His blue eyes bored into her, and his dirty blond hair with the golden streaks framed his face.
“I’m not interested in having sex with you, Jenna Carlton. To be perfectly blunt,” he rasped, “if that’s what I was about, I could have sex with just about anyone.”
Whispering, “Oh,” she swallowed and melted some more.
“We’re going to make love, and if that’s a foreign concept to you, relax. I’ll show you how.”
She locked onto his eyes and held her breath. Whaaat?
He stroked the side of her face. The gentleness of his touch felt reverent.
“We don’t rush, and it’s okay to laugh.”
His sly, teasing smirk melted her some more and made a smile quiver on her lips.
“And,” he said as he leaned close to her ear. Close enough that she shivered as his hot breath hit her neck. “You’re not to worry. I’ll take care of you.” He licked her ear. “How many times would you like to come?”
Surely, he was joking, so she squirmed at the uncomfortable question and felt a blush ignite on her neck and spread upward. There just wasn’t any way to say she’d never equated a roll in the hay with an orgasm. Sad but true—she’d never been with anyone who could pull off the elusive screaming O.
Trying for worldly nonchalance, she thought she gave off just the right amount of sexual bravado when she answered. “One would be a treat, thanks.”
Ryan chuckled. The sexy growl left her ready to self-combust.
Tsk’ing, he smiled and said, “Does a rose only have but one bloom?” The arched brow and mocking smirk gave him a roguish air that she found very appealing.
“Your pleasure should always come first.”
She didn’t know how to react to such a bold statement.
“Ah, I see you doubt me still. Jen,” he drawled huskily, “something bigger than our sniping at each other is going on here. I know you feel it too. Do you need me to tell you I’m sure I’m falling for you? Because it’s true, I am. Or maybe I always have been. I don’t know.”
Afraid to ask but unable to zip her mouth, she risked the possible humiliation and spoke.
“Did I have anything to do with you staying put? Here?”
He didn’t hesitate and answered forcefully. “Yes. I came back as a test run to mollify my mom and shut John up. But I realized that day in John’s office when he forced you to lunch babysit me that I had a reason to stay.”
She offered her own admission. “I wanted to smack Connie and Grace when they started with their crazy marrying you off scheme. At first, I tried to pretend my reaction was just a case of feminist outrage.” She bit her lip and looked away. “When those two started rhapsodizing about grandchildren, I think something inside me snapped.”
He lifted her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She chuckled. “Wanting to start shit with your mom?”
“You know why,” he replied.
Several minutes ticked by. He settled comfortably on his side as she lay still and silently enjoyed his presence. It was hard to relax, but when she finally allowed what remained of her tension to melt away, she experienced an erotic shift that pulsed to life deep inside her.
He touched her hair and combed his fingers through the curls. Lifting a ringlet to his face, he trailed the soft lock up and down his neck.
“Have you ever let your hair down at work?”
The double meaning of his question had just one answer.
“No.”
“I’m the only one to see you like this?” he murmured. Jen heard a slight tinge that sounded like awe in his voice.
“You snuck in. Got around all my careful defenses.”
His smile was brighter than the sun that was moving lower and lower in the sky.
“Then on that perfectly expressed note, let’s get naked. Taking our time is one thing, but let’s make the anticipation more interesting.”
Struggling to sit up, he joined her and had one leg on the floor when she started to babble.
“Well, okay, I guess. Is there a protocol for this? Do we stand? Am I on my own? Is this a strip tease or clothes dumped in a hurried pile?”
He grabbed her face with his hands and laughed before kissing her senseless.
Semi-boneless, she was like a ragdoll when he turned her this way and that, muttering the whole time.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Looking for your switch.”
“My what?”
“Your switch,” he replied with zero irony or snark. “The on-off for your brain. We need to shut that shit down right away.”
The fact that he read her so perfectly and with such ease filled Jen with joy.
“Good luck with that.” It was the most honest answer she had.
“Okay, challenge accepted. Now. Tell me quick. No overthinking. How do you want to do this? Undress each other or go solo? I’m good either way.”
She knew without any critical oversight whatsoever that she lacked the bluster to take charge of removing his jeans. Not this time. Maybe she could once she knew what lurked behind the denim, but until then, she was a devout coward.
Swinging her legs off the lounger, she stood on one side and gestured for him to stand on the other.
With her fingers on the snap of her cutoffs, she teased, “On the count of three.”
“Wait!” he cut in. “I have questions.”
He was kidding, right? “What kind of questions?”
“Well, for starters. Tell me now if this is a commando situation because if it is, I need to be prepared.”
“What?”
He was having a good laugh at her expense. That much was obvious by his smirking delight in her confusion.
“Are there panties involved, or when you shimmy those bad boys off, am I getting the full reveal? A guy needs to know these things.”
Making a skeptical face, she grunted, “Pfft. You’re more likely to be commando than I am.”
Another face-splitting grin appeared on his face. “Now that we’ve established underwear is involved, here’s my second question. Pants and undies in one swoop or one garment at a time?”
Jen stopped to consider what she was wearing and decided one at a time was good. They weren’t the sexiest things of all time, but the silky lavender bikini panties with the side bows left no doubt about her femininity.
With a wicked smile, she drawled, “You’d be great fun to play strip poker with.”
“Thanks for the date idea!”
Her smirk was playful. “One peel away at a time. There. Anything else?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he answered. “Go ahead with your countdown, darlin’.”
She was about to start the count when he interrupted again, and she huffed out a deep breath of exasperation.
“Wait! Sorry,” he growled. “But could you turn around when the shorts come off? Now that I’m reassured you do in fact have tits, a little preview of the ass would go a long way.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Lloyd? Maybe some jumping jacks when the bra comes off? How about some toe touches?”
His eyes lit up, and he laughed. “You’re the best!”
“Those weren’t offers, you asshole,” she snapped.
“Okay, okay,” he answered with a long-suffering eye roll. “We’ll leave the strip gymnastics for a future negotiation. But I’m dead serious about you turning around.” He twirled his finger and cocked his head. “Come on now, darlin’. Be a good girl and show me the ass.”
Her first impulse was to rip his arrogant, sexist pig head off. Then she saw the glimmer in his eyes, and for the first time in her life, she played along.
In the best drawl she could manage on short notice, Jen flipped the hair back over her shoulders and simpered like a true Southern belle. “Why, it’d be my absolute pleasure, sir,” she cooed. He expressed the appropriate amount of surprise when she turned like a runway model, unsnapped her cutoffs, and pushed them down her hips with a great deal of wiggling shimmies thrown in for effect.
Making it up as she went along, Jen bent completely over and slowly stepped out of the tiny shorts. She had no idea what she looked like while doing this, but Ryan’s growling grunt and murmured, “Mmm,” made her instantly wet.
Shockingly wet.
When she turned around to face him wearing just a bra and panties, she found him staring at her body with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
By habit, she ran her fingers along the elastic of her panties to adjust the brief silken scrap and drew his attention.
“Is that a tattoo?” He gasped.
She startled ever so slightly. A tattoo? She often forgot all about the hieroglyphics inked on her side between her waist and bra line.
“No judgments.” She laughed. “I got it during senior week in high school.”
Enduring (Family Justice Book 8) Page 58