Chapter 29 #2
Not that he listened. Or if he did, he wasn’t taking requests.
His gaze darkened as he took me in. I knew my hair had for sure rioted, but I hoped the sundress clinging to my body maybe offset that a bit.
Given the deep growl that escaped him, he most definitely enjoyed the view as he finally leaned into me, hands flat on the wall at either side of my face now, mouth inches from mine.
“We are not going to hurry.”
At the implication that he intended to draw this out, I couldn’t seem to draw a breath. But who needed air? Not me, not when he kissed me again, slow and deep, like he was trying to convince me of something.
It was a very compelling argument. I had one hand under his shirt, the other on his face, enjoying the scratch of his dangerously alluring stubble as he teased kisses along my jaw, beneath my ear, down my throat, making me break out in goose bumps from head to toe.
By the time his mouth found mine again, his teeth gently tugging at my lower lip, I was nothing but a puddle of desperate need and hunger.
“But hurrying can be fun, right?” I panted, reaching for the button on his jeans.
His hands caught mine. “I’ve been fantasizing about all the things I want to do to you,” he said. “There’s a list, Penny. A long list.”
Could one get goose bumps on top of goose bumps? Could one have an orgasm from simply thinking about what might be on his list?
“You’ve given this a lot of thought then,” I managed.
“You’ve got no idea.” His hands let mine go to slide past my hips, down the sides of my legs, and then began the return trek, taking the hem of my sundress with them, the material pooling on his forearms.
“I started the list the day I got hurt at work. You were so fiercely determined to take care of me.” His smile was filthy. “Bossy, too. I liked it. Playing doctor made the list, but next time it’s my turn.”
I snorted.
He shook his head, getting serious. “That morning, on the floor in the kitchen… No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. I think I knew right then what yo u’d mean to me.”
My head reeled from that as he ran a hand down my body, his fingers catching on the scrap of lace masquerading as panties, tipping his head to the side to better see what he was doing.
“I like this dress, especially wet.” Lowering his head, he kissed his way along my collarbone, letting his tongue slip beneath the bodice, heating my skin.
“Mmmm. You’re still so wet. Where else, I wonder…
” He took his mouth on a tour, seemingly a personal mission to sip the rain from my body, urging the spaghetti straps off my shoulders with his teeth, groaning when the bodice slipped to my waist. He palmed one breast while his tongue rasped over the other.
Then he took a nibble, and I swore that my knees vanished into thin air.
Luckily he had a good hold on me, so I didn’t hit the floor.
“Is this on your list?” I asked breathlessly.
“You being all drenched and revved up for me? Oh, yeah. I dream about it.”
“Do you talk this much in your dream?”
His warm breath danced over my skin as he laughed, the sound wicked and naughty as he turned us, switching our places before pinning me against the wall, lifting me up by the backs of my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist. Hands freed, he fisted them in the fabric of my dress, rucking it up to my waist. Holding my gaze captive, those talented, deliciously calloused fingers scraped my panties aside and glided over me.
“Fuck, Penny…” His voice was so low it almost didn’t register. “You’re drenched.”
“This is a shock.”
His wicked laugh danced over my skin as his fingers worked me into a desperate wreck while I whispered, “Please, oh, please,” on repeat, which made him smile against my neck.
“Now who’s talking?” he murmured as he kept up the torture, teasing me with diabolical glee.
Pressed to the wall, I could do nothing but writhe and beg, utterly beyond the ability to joke.
I was rocking into him rhythmically, moaning his name, my hands fisted tightly in his hair as he slowly, purposely drove me wild.
When he nibbled at the spot between my shoulder and neck at the same time his fingers finally gave me the pressure I needed, I came so hard I saw stars.
Sweaty, panting, marveled , it took me days and months and years to catch my breath.
When I finally did, I peeled the wet Henley over his head.
“Still in a hurry?” he asked mildly, mouth gliding up and down my throat.
“Yes.” I tilted my head back to give him more to work with. “Join me, won’t you?”
He was laughing when I tugged open his jeans and slipped a hand inside, seeking treasure—and I found it.
He abruptly stopped laughing and groaned.
I’d learned his body too, and I stroked him just how I knew he liked, smiling in triumph when he swore and rocked his hips into me.
I started to taunt him, saying, “Turnabout’s fair play—” Only to break off on a ragged moan when he entered me in one smooth motion, burying himself as far as he could go.
Our gazes met, his hooded, dark, erotic. Just looking at him sent another tremor through my body, little aftershocks I couldn’t control. He filled me completely, until I thought I’d shatter from the sheer joy of it. Every nerve in my body was on edge, sensitive to every sound, every touch.
When he began to move, I gripped him tightly, whimpering, panting, trembling…barely holding on as he relentlessly took me apart again, piece by aching piece. It took me a moment to realize he was gripping my hips, shaking. He was close, I knew he was, but…holding back. No.
Needing him as wild and out of control as he’d made me, I kissed my way to his ear, nibbled the lobe and whispered, “Let go.”
My name rumbled from deep in his throat as he came unglued, unmoored, wild, taking me right along with him.
When I found my senses again, he’d sunk to his knees, still holding onto me, head bowed, forehead pressed to my shoulder. We stayed like that for long moments, gulping air.
“I need to get you off the floor,” he finally said, voice hoarse. “Give me a minute.” He didn’t move a muscle. “Maybe an hour.”
I tried to snort but didn’t have the breath for even that.
Somehow, we made it to his bedroom. He wrapped a fuzzy throw blanket around me, then pulled a battery-operated lantern from somewhere, casting everything in a low glow.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at his bedroom last time I was here, having been utterly consumed by the man it belonged to, but the room was large, mostly dark woods, cream walls lined with a massive bookshelf.
On his dresser was a series of pictures.
A teen shirtless Ryder and his siblings, all knee-deep in a river fishing, looking like wild savage hooligans.
Another of a much younger Ryder, holding hands with a young woman who had his smile—his mom.
But the photo that melted my heart was the Ryder I knew, stretched out on a couch, arms curled protectively around two babies on his chest, all three of them fast asleep, looking utterly relaxed, contented, at peace.
I sat on his bed and listened to the rain drumming the roof, feeling far more relaxed than I could’ve thought possible. Ryder came back from the kitchen with two waters, handing me one. He drank his in one go, then plopped to the bed, propping his head up with a hand, utterly, perfectly naked.
I wanted him again.
As if I’d said it out loud, an arm snaked out and pulled me down to the mattress.
A smile flashed and he rolled, tucking me beneath him, one hand braced by my head, the other at my hip, his knees between mine, nudging them apart.
His movements were so sensuous and purposeful that I didn’t even track what he was up to until his weight settled over me, both calming and revving me up at the same time.
His broad shoulders blocked out the glow of the lantern. Not being able to see much left me to feel everything a hundred times over.
The weight of his body pinning me down on the mattress.
The pull of his fingers tangling into mine above my head.
The hard heat of him pressed between my legs.
And the sure but deliberately unhurried movement of his lips against mine, one lush kiss sliding into another.
When he groaned softly against my mouth, I felt the sound all the way down my spine.
The first touch of his tongue had me arching up off the pillow, unable to reach for him because his hands still held mine.
“Again?” I whispered.
He simply lowered his head and demonstrated his answer. With his body.
A long time later, he cuddled me into him. Conversation flowed between us with shocking ease. He told about his family, and how they still needed to tell Kiera that Hank was living with Ryder.
I told him how I still missed my dad but was selfishly glad my mom kept herself busy and mostly out of our lives.
He talked about the complicated balance it took for him to keep both Bill and Hazel in his life, the worry he’d alienate one and lose them both.
I shared my concerns about Wyatt and raising him when I had no idea how to raise a teenage boy.
We talked about the wild adventures he used to take and how many international hospitals he’d seen as a result of those adventures. I mapped the scars on his body with my fingers.
And then my mouth.
We were serious and flippant, then back to serious, balancing the scale, always respectful of the delicate trust we’d handed each other.
“You wear a lot of hats,” I murmured. “Ryder Colburn, restorer and protector of historic things, caretaker, badass boss, and newly minted baker of cookies…”
Pulling me over the top of him, his hands went to my hips as he smiled, clearly enjoying his view. “ And lover of a certain smart—and smart -ass —woman named Penny.” He smiled when I rolled my eyes, then kissed the tip of my nose. “I like the way you say my name,” he whispered.
“You mean with sarcasm and attitude?”
This time he kissed one corner of my mouth, then the other corner. “With feeling. Say it again.”
“Ryder,” I said in the tone I used when annoyed. “Ryder,” I repeated, but this time with humor. And finally, “ Ryder ,” I whispered breathlessly, with hunger and need. With a groan, he kissed me again, and I lost myself.
And then, like always when I was with him like this, I found myself again.