Against The Wall (17 page)

She could feel the hot color burning in her cheeks, whether from coming or being watched by strangers while she did, she couldn’t say. Probably a bit of both. The woman’s wide eyes darted back and forth between her shocked, pleasure-filled expression and Ryan’s fierce, possessive scowl, but the guy’s hot gaze stayed glued right on her crotch. Time moved slowly, sluggishly, weighted with tension, making it difficult to breathe. Just when she was certain they’d turn around and run to find the nearest manager to lodge a complaint—or better yet, race home for a fast, furious quickie—the guy let out an audible groan and licked his lips.

She had about a second to think, “Oh…hell,” and then Ryan’s fingers slipped from between her legs with a soft, yet audibly wet suction. Caught between dizzying shock at their display of exhibitionism and the uncomfortable realization that it had aroused the hell out of her to be so publicly claimed, Shea wrenched her eyes away from the young stud to see Ryan lift his cum-soaked fingers to his mouth. A small, strangled yelp stuck in her throat as his tongue snaked out to take a long, sexy, clearly enjoyable lick of the glistening juice shimmering on his skin.

“Fuck me,” the guy groaned, grabbing his cock through his jeans while his wife or girlfriend or whoever the hell she was stared at Ryan with equal parts distress and dazed desire.

He took another long, sensuous lick of creamy cum, and then said in a low, rough voice. “Show’s over, asshole. Now get lost.”

The woman jumped, startled by the undisguised threat of violence in his tone, and quickly pushed the still stunned man back around the corner.

Suddenly they were alone, and Shea didn’t have a clue what to say.

Ryan shifted, helping her to remove her death grip on his cock, and then they were staring helplessly at each other. She stared down at her hand with a surprised look of recollection, as if she’d only just realized she’d had it in his pants the entire time the voyeuristic couple had been looking on.

“Ah…shit,” he sighed, raking one hand through his hair in a boyish gesture that tugged at her heart every damn time he did it. “I’m…ah,” he stumbled awkwardly, looking almost sheepish as a slow flush worked its way into his gold-stubbled cheeks. “Ah hell,” he drawled. “I didn’t mean to do that like…that…in this place. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, doing that to you.”

Shea shifted restlessly from foot to foot, not a clue how to react or what to say. Finally, she managed to mumble out a, “Do you think we need to, um, worry about the police? I don’t want to end up on one of those When Good Girls Go Bad videos or anything.”

The sensual line of his mouth cocked up at one corner in a teasing grin, blue eyes sparkling with mischief…and an underlying, undeniable satisfaction that he couldn’t hide. He’d thrown her headfirst into a mind-shattering orgasm that had left his hand feeling bruised and his heart aching from the need to claim her for good…for his own…forever.

He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger, relieved she wasn’t ripping into him for his crazy-assed caveman routine, but not about to blame her if she did. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about any of that. Take a look around. There aren’t any cameras on this aisle.”

Instead of checking out their surroundings, she stared fixedly at his chin. “And the police?” she asked with a sick feeling churning in the pit of her stomach, suddenly wondering about how she’d manage to explain to the university about being arrested for lewd public conduct. Talk about freaking embarrassing.

“Ah sugar, I am the police, remember?”

“Oh, yeah…okay.”

His hand hooked under her chin, lifting her face, and their gazes reconnected with an exhilaratingly, tingling burst of emotion. Before they even knew it was happening, or could explain why, they were smiling at one another, eyes shining with mischievous delight. Then smiles quickly turned to grins, grins to soft chuckles, and within moments, they were laughing so hard tears were streaming down their cheeks, their sides aching with stitches.

Shea was still giggling like crazy when Ryan ushered her through the front of the store, thankfully without running into any outraged managers or law enforcement officers. They climbed up into his truck, wiping their eyes as they tried to get their laughter under control, only to crack up again every time they looked at each other.

Leaning over the console, Ryan planted a soft, lingering kiss against her smiling lips. “Thanks for not getting pissed at me.”

“And thanks—” she stuttered, eyes bright with devilish humor as she suddenly began hiccupping. “Thanks for making me come.”

“My pleasure,” he growled, nipping at her lip just as she hiccupped again. Then they were dissolving into another helpless round of laughter, arms clutched around their aching stomachs as they tried to hold it in.

“Ah shit,” he finally drawled, resting his forehead against her still shaking shoulder. “We must be crazy.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” she hiccupped, unable to resist the temptation to run her fingers through his silk-textured scrub of hair, his warm, masculine scent filling her lungs, “I’ve never had so much fun shopping for books in my entire life.”

His head lifted, a lopsided grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither,” he laughed softly, but the look in his dark blue eyes was once again tender, shooting straight through her, like an invisible claw spearing into her chest, squeezing her heart. She stared at him, knowing that everything she felt was right there for him to see—and no longer giving a damn.

His gaze moved over every feature, every detail of her face, with an intense look of longing, and then settled back on her eyes. “Since I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you again until tonight—”

“Why?” she interrupted, lost in her own exploration, mesmerized by the rugged growth of golden-stubble on his cheeks, the strong line of his cheekbones and the sexy, slightly crooked line of his nose, as if it’d been broken and reset at some point in his life.

He caught a curl and tucked it gently behind her ear, then trailed his fingers along the delicate curve of her jaw, marveling at the softness of her skin. She didn’t normally wear makeup, other than the slick rub of gloss on her lips, and he loved the bare, natural feel of her flesh beneath his fingertips. “’Cause you need some rest for what I’ve got planned for you later on.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. A lot of rest. So you wanna go catch the flick?”

Was it suddenly warmer in the truck, or was she on the verge of spontaneous combustion just from the searing look of heat and sexual promise burning in his beautiful blue eyes? She swallowed thickly, trying not to pant. “Uh, yeah, sure. The movie sounds great.”

So after books, coffee, and their mild stint at exhibitionism, they hit the theater, and Shea found the Ritchie movie as fun as his other crazy London mob-scene tales. Ryan hadn’t caught his previous films, but he laughed right along with her and casually suggested they rent his earlier stuff to watch together. Once again, her heart went into overdrive, and she figured at this rate she was going to have to either distract herself with more mind-blowing sex, which made thinking a near impossibility, or simply cave in.

Since breaking down and pouring her heart out would probably be a surefire way to get rid of him for good—when all she really wanted to do was keep him forever—it was an enormous relief when the next opportunity for sex finally presented itself.

Their dinner at Vesuvio’s was as mouthwatering as the Lifestyle review had claimed it would be, and the atmosphere proved to be a perfect ending to their day. They talked about his work, her thesis, and her student teaching at the university. He shared funny stories about growing up with Hannah and how he’d met Derek on a stakeout turned disaster. They laughed, talked, and learned, to their mutual surprise, that they had a hell of a lot more in common than they’d ever imagined.

She’d been determined not to worry about all those things she couldn’t control—from her heart and his intentions, to the nightmare last night with Spalding—and had ended up having the best damn day of her life.

Throughout the afternoon, Ryan had been off and on the phone with Derek, learning some surprising information. It’d turned out that Spalding had several outstanding warrants from three different states, so his bastard ass was going to be put away for a good long while, and she wasn’t going to waste her time with Ryan worrying about the jerk.

In fact, the only thing she was starting to worry about was how much longer she was going to have to wait to feel Ryan inside of her again. She needed him to ease the ache that had been steadily gaining intensity since she’d last held him buried deep within her body—and she needed him now.

Looking at him over the rim of her wineglass, the rich merlot slipping smoothly down her throat, Shea felt her empty pussy grow warm and wet at the delicious sight he made sitting across from her. His short, golden hair tossed from the wind, his blue eyes dark in the candlelight, and his mouth twisted into the kind of smile that said he knew she was watching him, and that she more than liked what she saw.

Setting down his fork, he leaned back in his chair and gave her a very direct stare—one that said he more than liked her looks as well. Her nipples tightened beneath her soft camisole top, pressing against the light cotton, and he stared at them until she began to shiver, before raising his hot gaze back to hers.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked in a low, rough rumble.

Shea set her glass back on the table, running her finger thoughtfully around the rim, wondering where this was all going to lead to tonight, and not really caring so long as he fucked her before she went out of her mind. More heat gathered down low, making her swell in preparation, going warm and slick. The need was so sharp—it was a struggle not to wiggle around in her chair. “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes moved casually over the restaurant, and Ryan leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin of anticipation spreading across his ruggedly chiseled features, waiting for her gaze to meet his again. When it did, he smiled. “I’m thinking that if you keep looking at me like you’re thinking about having this hard-on I’m sporting under the table for dessert, you’ll find yourself laid out over it with your skirt over your head, and I’ll be fucking that tight little cunt of yours before you know what hit you.”

Oh, um, yes please!

She trailed her fingers across the gleaming wooden surface, touching her tongue to the sensual curve of her upper lip. “You know, I’ve got a table almost like this at home.”

His gaze narrowed, smoldering blue eyes full of desire. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let’s go break it in.”

As they waited for the valet to bring his truck around, Ryan kept her within the possessive circle of his arm, snuggled up against his side, uncomfortably aware of the attention she drew. She’d caught the eye of nearly every man in the restaurant as they made their way out, and the two young valets huddled behind their podium had been damn near drooling over her ever since they walked out into the sweet, balmy air of the early evening.

It wasn’t that she was the most beautiful woman there—though in his eyes, no other woman could compare to her. No, it was the way she glowed. Shea sparkled with life—like a bubbling current of energy that flowed through her, intoxicating everyone who came into contact with it. It was there in the mischievous gleam in her gray eyes, the alluring lift of her lips, the sensuous lines of her body. It was in the touch of her fingertips against his skin, as if he could feel the current pulsing through her. It was visible in the playful bounce of her rich, satiny curls, so soft and luxurious, and in the sexy lilt of her husky voice.

And, damn it, he wanted to claim it all as his own.

All of it.

All of her.

He wasn’t used to the odd, prickling burn in his stomach, the unpleasant taste of jealousy burning on his tongue, and he sure as hell didn’t care for it. He’d never felt this incessant, insane need for possession over another human being—the need to hold her close and keep her there, battling against anyone or anything that threatened to take her away. Derek had jokingly called him a caveman and that’s what he felt like. As immature as it was, he was ready to beat his chest and swing his club, challenging all to accept his ownership.

Hell, where had the laid back, easygoing, fuck-for-fuck’s sake guy gone? The one who’d inhabited his body for as long as he could remember. Who had been burned once and now kept women at a comfortable distance—like the dog who’d been struck by a car and now knew better than to get too close to one again.

Whatever feelings he’d had as a young man in the throes of his first serious love—or lust, as it were—shit, that was nothing compared to this. It was like comparing the morning sun and the midnight sky, as different as night and day. One had been about pride and immature ego, while the other was about necessity.

Yeah, necessity. Hunger. Need. And beneath it all, something deeper.

And no way in hell was he going there to find out what it was.

Christ, he was having a hard enough time dealing with the emotions he could already put a name to.

They made the drive home in record time, with Shea gripping her door handle until her knuckles turned white as Ryan sped through the maze of surface streets. Obviously she’d provoked him, and now she couldn’t help but feel she had a tiger by the tail. Of course, she was looking forward to letting him go, wondering how she could keep finding the idea of sleeping with him more exciting each and every time. Apparently this kind of need didn’t diminish with experience—or maybe it was just that Ryan was all the provocation she’d ever need.

When he cut the engine on his big four-wheel drive GMC, she opened her door and stepped down on shaky legs before he could get around to her, so he wasted no time, simply grabbing hold of her small hand and dragging her along behind him. Together they made the short walk down the narrow sidewalk, past his apartment and on around the corner to hers. Her keys were taken from her hand, her now repaired door opened, closed, and then she was being pressed against the solid wooden surface, Ryan’s rigid body at her front.