Igasp, bolting upright on the bed to see a wide-eyed Ryan standing in my open doorway, leaning on one crutch.
“Jesus—fuck—” I cry, slipping off the side of my bed, vibrator still buzzing in my hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh my god.” Yep, he’s just realized what I was doing. The poor boy blushes red as a tomato as he backs into the doorknob with his hip and hisses. “Fuck—Tess, I’m sorry—”
Indignation surges through me. “What, it’s not enough that you barge into houses unannounced to catch women naked, now you’re just walking right into their bedrooms?”
“I didn’t know you were home,” he counters, looking anywhere but at my naked, flushed body. Again. “Why didn’t you announce yourself when you got in?”
“I thought you were asleep,” I cry, clicking off the bullet and tossing it on the bed.
Big mistake. That draws his eye down and now he’s looking at my open treasure trove. The puppy’s eyes go, if possible, even wider as he feasts upon my colorful sex toy collection.
“Oh…fuck.”
I flip the bag shut. “Eyes up here, Ryan,” I say, pointing to my face.
He groans, his gaze going from my face to the abstract painting on the wall. “Tess, could you—”
“Nuh-uh,” I cry, hands on my naked hips. “No way. If you’re about to ask me to cover up in my own damn bedroom, I’m gonna have to insist that you go fuck yourself with your hockey stick. Just because you think I’m not home, you think it’s okay to waltz in here? What were you looking for?”
“Nothing—”
“Then why barge in—”
“I heard a noise! And then I saw a strange car in the driveway. You weren’t answering your phone, so I didn’t know what the fuck to think. I thought maybe someone broke in.”
“That’s my car,” I explain. “It’s a rental. And I don’t have my phone anymore. I threw it in the ocean today.”
“You—what?” That gets his eyes back on me. “You threw your phone in the ocean?”
“Well, it was whatever that stretch of water is just before you hit the beach,” I reply.
“The Intracoastal?”
“Yeah. I threw my phone out the window of Ilmari’s truck.”
Ryan holds my gaze. “Why?”
“Because it wouldn’t stop ringing.”
There’s so much left unsaid in that statement. I’m almost convinced he means to ask me about it. He’s going to push me. He’s finally going to ask about Troy. It looks like the words are right on the tip of his tongue. But then his gaze softens.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were home?”
“I thought you were asleep,” I repeat.
His eyes narrow. “No, you didn’t. You saw the light on. You were hiding out in here. Why?”
“You don’t need me mothering you, Ryan. You’ve got a line of WAGs and rookies ready to take care of you—making all your meals, driving you around. You don’t need me in the way. Especially after…you know, after how I behaved this morning,” I finish lamely.
Hobbling further into my room, he leans his hip against the dresser. “Something with Shelby had you spooked. I was hugging her when you came in. Was that…did it upset you?”
“No,” I reply.
“Because she’s married,” he goes on. “I’m not—I mean, we’re not—I’m not into Shelby.”
I smile softly. “I know that, Ryan.”
“Well then what was it? Can you please tell me?” He looks so damn earnest. He genuinely wants to know. And damn it, but I feel like telling him.
I cross my arms over my bare tits. “She looks like my ex-husband’s mistress.”
His pretty green eyes go wide. “She—what?”
I drop down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Shelby bears a shocking resemblance to the secretary who used to pleasure my husband under his desk at work…and on the desk…and in my house in my bed,” I reply darkly. “In fact, I know on at least one occasion he was trying to slip her out the back door while I was in the house.”
“Jeez.”
“Today was just a lot for me, okay? I signed my divorce papers, and Troy got them this morning. He was the one calling me nonstop, looking for a fight. The marriage has been over for years, but I never bothered with all the legal drama, and this is why. My ex is a grade-A narcissist with a god complex. Pepper in a dash of crippling incompetence and a pinch of toxic male privilege, and it makes him vindictive…and dangerous.”
Ryan goes still, his breath tight in his chest. “Tess, does he know where you are?”
“No.”
He steps closer, leaving the support of the dresser. “But can he track your phone to Jacksonville? Because if he can track your phone to Jax, the Prices will be the first place he looks for you. He knows about your friendship with Doc, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, he knows.”
He lets out a breath, glancing around the trappings of Ilmari’s minimalist bedroom. “You shouldn’t stay here. We need to get you situated somewhere else. Somewhere he wouldn’t think to look. You could go stay at my house,” he offers quickly. “I can give you the keys.”
I blink back the sharp sting in my eyes, trying to flash Ryan an unconcerned look. “So, what, are you secretly a cop or something?”
“No,” he replies. “But my dad was until he had to medically retire. Some of his buddies were always around when I was growing up to…you know…be around,” he finishes with a shrug.
I don’t miss his use of the word was. A father’s friends forced to step in and help raise a young man? I’m sure there’s a sad story there.
He turns away like he’s about to leave.
“Ryan—wait,” I call, getting to my feet.
He stops at the door and glances over his shoulder.
I cross the room over to him. “Where are you going?”
“To get you my keys,” he replies.
I reach for his arm. “Don’t,” I say. “It’s late already. And I don’t want to go to some strange house and stay there all alone,” I admit. “I want to stay here…I want to stay with you.” I lower my gaze to where my hand is touching his bicep. The muscle underneath his T-shirt is corded and strong. I brush my hand down his arm to his elbow. Now I’m touching skin, my fingers grazing along the soft hairs of his forearm.
“Tess,” he groans, eyes shut as he holds still. “Please…”
“Am I safe with you, Ryan?” I step in closer until my peaked nipple grazes his elbow. I watch goosebumps shoot down his arm.
“Yes,” he says, voice tight.
I brush my lips against his shoulder in a featherlight touch as my fingers trail down his arm to his wrist. “Will you protect me, Ryan? Will you make me feel good?”
“Tess…”
“Tell me you don’t need it too,” I say, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. “Tell me, after the stress of the last few days, that you aren’t aching for some relief. Tell me you don’t want to feel something right now…just for a moment. Tell me—”
I don’t finish the words as he turns in my arms, our lips colliding in a fevered kiss. He claims all my air, opening my mouth and plunging in with his tongue. I nearly forgot how good he was at this. I want to savor him this time. I want to brand the memory of his kisses against my lips.
His crutch clatters to the floor. When we kissed before, I made him keep his hands behind his back. Now he’s got his hands on my shoulders, brushing up my neck to cup my face.
I arch into him. “Touch me. Please, God, finish what I started.”
My plea unleashes him. With a desperate groan, he digs one hand into my hair, tipping my neck back as he devours my mouth with kisses. His other hand follows the curve of my breast. He curses softly against my lips as he palms me, barely getting a handful.
“If I had to see you naked one more fucking time and not touch you, I was gonna die,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Touch me,” I order. “Ryan, please—touch me anywhere. Everywhere—”
I’m left panting for air as he drops his head down, sucking my nipple into his mouth.
“Oh god—” I cry, both my hands digging into his hair. I hold on as he flicks and teases with his tongue, driving me crazy. Meanwhile his left hand works my other breast, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger.
My pussy is soaked. I can feel the heat growing between my legs. I’m desperate for more. I need friction. I need his warm tongue and fingers and the rub of his stubbled cheeks on my thighs. Fuck, I need him.
“Ryan,” I whimper. “I need…”
“Say it,” he says, his mouth still on my breast.
“I need it,” I beg, feeling incoherent as he winds me up tight. My whole body is shaking with anticipation and the aching desire to feel this release.
“Tell me.” He bites down on my nipple.
“Ahh—fuck—I need to come,” I cry out, my hands tightening in his hair. “Please, Ryan—please, baby, I need to come. I need to come so fucking bad,” I whine, pulling his face up and pressing his lips back to mine.
His right hand wraps around my nape, holding me secure, as he drops his left hand down. With no preamble or teasing whatsoever, he works two fingers right through my slick pussy and shoves them up inside me.
“Fuck—god—” I practically scream, clenching around his fingers.
He works his fingers in and out, his thumb joining the effort on my clit, eagerly trying to bring forth the soul-shattering orgasm I’m so desperately craving. I hold his shoulders as we kiss, sucking and biting each other’s lips like crazed animals.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Tess, I’m dying—”
I squeeze my thighs around his hand. “Get the toy,” I say breathlessly. “The bullet, the green one—”
“I don’t need a fucking toy. I can make you see stars all on my own.”
“Sharing is caring,” I tease. “There is no “I” in team—ahh—”
He nips my neck right over my hammering pulse point, which shuts me up.
I drop my hands back to his shoulders. “Ryan, please.”
He pulls his fingers from my cunt, leaving me clenching on nothing. Both his hands cup my face, the fingers of his left hand slick with my arousal. I feel it against my cheek.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says with a smirk, those apple green eyes blown black with hunger. “I have no problem with toys. But I’m not giving away my first shot with Tess Owens. I’m not taking the assist. This orgasm is mine. Now, get on the fucking bed.”
