No One Like You (23 page)

She couldn’t help but smile and wiggled, assisting him. As he eased the denim down her legs, she stepped out of her jeans. Her underwear wasn’t fancy. A plain white bra and cotton bikini panties. The way he looked at her, she felt Victoria Secret sexy.

“My turn,” she said, her voice catching. She was curious about his body. Her hands shook slightly as she worked the buttons on his shirt. Pushing apart the sides, she flattened her palms to his chest. Ry shrugged off the shirt with a roll of his shoulders. Her fingers fanned over ripped muscle and the light abrasion of his chest hair. The V of his sharply cut oblique muscles pointed blatantly to his package.

His stance was wide, his legs sinewed. She loosened the drawstring on his board shorts, and they drifted off his hips. He wore navy boxer briefs and a significant hard-on.

For a brief moment their eyes locked, and the air between them warmed. Sparked. Sizzled. His body called to hers.

We have something here,
she thought. Something exciting and frightening. Something to be explored. So many possibilities.

He moved closer, and his focus narrowed on her. “I want you. Are you ready for this?”

His words tugged at something deep inside her, and a shiver passed through her. “I’m here.” Right time. Right place. Right man.

He reached for her then, framed her face with his hands. His thumbs lazily stroked her cheeks. He looked so deep into her eyes, he touched her soul.

She slid her arms around his waist and stepped to him. Skin against skin, the heat of his body covered hers. She melted against him.

She barely had time to take a breath before his mouth came down on hers. His kiss was tentative, yet intimate. Wanting, yet waiting. Latent with promise. There was a naturalness to their kiss. A rightness. Her mouth parted beneath his, accepting him, and his tongue swept inside. Her whole body sighed.

All the while they kissed, their hands moved, explored, claimed. Her bra was soon lost to his skillful fingers. He hooked his thumbs over the edge of her bikini panties, and they went missing as well. She stood before him naked and shy. Still wearing her message socks.

“They stay,” she softly said, needing the security of the inspirational message.
Hug Yourself
was the motto of her life at the moment. Rylan had become a big part of her.

He had no problem with her socks. “Fine by me.”

He didn’t wait for her to remove his boxer briefs. He did it himself. “I’m faster,” he said, kicking them aside.

She admired his erection. She carefully traced the tips of her fingers along the straining length of him. He closed his eyes. Sucked air. When she curved her hand around his cock and squeezed, he moaned. A raw, strangled sound from deep in his chest. She loved controlling the moment.

Serious, stable, Rylan had lost his trademark calm. His hunger for her was visible when he opened his eyes. His nostrils flared, and he breathed through his mouth. “Condom,” he rasped.

He walked into the bathroom, returning with a box. Her eyes rounded. The man was ambitious.

He drew her down on his bed, made her comfortable. Then lay beside her. He kissed her again, deeper and more demanding. Her desire matched his own. He broke their kiss long enough to nibble her ear, to whisper sexy words. She nipped the underside of his jaw; placed soft kisses along his neck.

He was bold and attentive. Romantic and passionate. Hot and needy. His hands and lips seemed to touch her everywhere at once. Her own fingers traced and discovered. She couldn’t get enough of him.

Dipping his head, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, licking, suckling, until she felt the draw of his mouth all the way to her toes. They curled.

Each breath became a challenge. Her heart beat faster, and a damp, hot ache settled between her thighs. She felt anxious. Restless. Beside herself.

She twisted. Writhed. Craved.

He rested his palm on her belly, and his fingers stretched low. She was warm and wet when he slipped one finger inside her. She lifted her hips into his touch.

She found him, too. A stroke, a squeeze, a light scoring of her nails. His cock swelled more. His hips jerked. He could only take her handling so long.

“I want you beneath me.” He grabbed a condom off the bedside table, ripped the foil packet open with his teeth, and sheathed himself.

She would’ve liked to do it for him. There was always next time, and the time after that.

Returning to her, he parted her thighs and knelt between them. Leaning forward, he braced himself on his forearms and entered her body in one long, smooth stroke. She gasped, as he stretched and filled her. He was skilled. He knew what she needed. The slow, fluid rock of his hips gave her time to adjust to him. His heat slid over her. Arousal rose inside her. Liquefying her bones.

He held nothing back, drawing her higher until sensation and climax claimed them. She shattered. Her spasms began a breath before his own. Her body clenched around his, holding him tightly to her.

He moaned his release. Deep and ragged. His body shook with his satisfaction. Dropping forward, he rested his forehead against hers. Caught his breath.

Their inseparable moment lingered. She felt a part of him.

Rylan was first to move. He rolled onto his side and slid off the bed. He disposed of his condom. Once back, he drew her to him, held her close. “What a day. What a night,” he breathed against her mouth.

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “I’d like more night.”

“You would, huh?”

She heard the humor in his voice. “If you’re able.”

“Able again in fifteen,” he said.

She gave him twenty.

Midnight crossed into morning. The box of condoms grew lighter. Four a.m. they finally slept. Sated and exhausted. Their hearts and limbs entangled beneath a soft cotton sheet.

M
orning came too soon. They were awakened by a low howl from below stairs. Atlas wanted his breakfast. The Dane didn’t have a snooze button.

Beside Rylan on the bed, Beth stirred. She stretched lazily and her naked body brushed his, all warm, soft, and womanly. He liked the feel of her. Her scent. The way her eyelids fluttered when she opened her eyes and focused on him.

She gave him a small, sleepy smile, murmured, “Time for the big boy to eat.” She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

He smiled at her modesty after their long night of sex.
Incredible sex,
he thought. The lady was amazing. She’d lost her shyness and sought to please him. He’d pleasured her, too. They’d made love until they were both thoroughly spent.

He liked everything about her. How her lips parted when she moaned his name. How her breasts rose to his touch. How her hips came off the mattress when he entered her. The way her body clutched his in climax. How she sought him in sleep. Snuggling close. Until Atlas reminded them that he was hungry.

She drew her legs over the side of the bed, tugging the sheet with her. She was covered, and he was fully exposed. His erection invited her back. The look she cast over her shoulder was wistful, telling him she’d love to return. She gave a heart-felt sigh and went in search of her clothes.

“Wear one of my T-shirts,” he offered. “Top dresser drawer.” One of his shirts would clear her knees. She wouldn’t have to wear panties. That appealed to him most.

She chose an old, worn Rogues shirt. The softest in his drawer. She dropped the sheet long enough to slip it over her head. He appreciated her nudity. Her slender shoulders, sleek back, tight little ass, and nice legs. He liked the fact she was toned, but not muscled. Softer did it for him.

She shook out the hem on his shirt and the cotton hung loose. The tips of her nipples remained visible, pointing at him. The shirt rose on her thighs when she moved toward the door. The fabric snuck between her legs like a hand. She had cute knees.

A crawling, scraping sound stopped her at the threshold. Her eyes widened and her lips parted when Atlas appeared in stealth mode. Crouching low, his belly close to the ground, he attempted to sneak up the staircase unnoticed. He was hard to miss. He pushed up to his full height and grumbled, displeased with being kept waiting.

Beth gave the dog a hug, and he buried his nose in her cleavage. Rylan wished he was Atlas at the moment. She quickly collected her discarded clothing. Her bra and panties topped her jeans. Her lace blouse was wrinkle-free.

“Tofurkey breakfast links,” she offered Atlas.

His howl of approval echoed off the walls, sounding like an entire pack of dogs. He accidentally knocked her into the doorjamb on his way out.

Beth pulled a face, rubbed her hip. She picked up daily bruises from the Dane. She needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap or quilted Northern.

“Let me kiss it and make it better,” Ry suggested from bed.

“You can kiss more than my hip later.” She slipped out.

He looked forward to later.

Or much later as it turned out. He had no idea where the day went. He remembered her feeding the dogs, while wearing his T-shirt. The sway of her breasts and hips beneath the shirt had left him bone hard.

But he hadn’t caught a break. She’d gone on to fix his breakfast. Brushing against him—on purpose—when she’d served him.

She’d walked the dogs. A shower, a change of clothes, and she’d left the cottage . . . to visit his grandfather. She’d made those plans at the picnic.

Ry knew Frank would be glad to see her. Their card games would carry over into the afternoon. Ry wouldn’t see her anytime soon.

Unless he went after her.

But he had his own Sunday agenda. Doing absolutely nothing. He so seldom had a day off, he planned to make the most of it, stretching out on the sofa and watching sports until she returned. He figured recaps on basketball and hockey scores would hold his attention until the actual games started later that afternoon.

He lost his concentration in under an hour. His mind wandered to Beth so many times, he finally thumped himself on the forehead. What the hell was the matter with him?

She’d only been gone a short time, yet he was so restless for her that his skin itched. He’d seen his grandfather yesterday, but what would it hurt to see him again today? Nothing at all. Ry nodded. Gin or cribbage, he would challenge the winner. He held his own in dominoes. Once spring training started, his time would be limited. Might as well make the most of his free time now.

As the day progressed, he could toss out the suggestion of furniture shopping. He’d call it a business trip. Beth had suggested that he go online and check out sites. He wasn’t into designer sofas and chairs, but he did require durable. Several local stores were open on the weekends. They’d start there.

If he was smart, he’d take Atlas shopping with him. It would make selecting pieces so much easier. The big boy could stretch out, and Ry could measure the amount of room left for him. On a good day, Atlas left him eighteen inches. If he were lucky.

Rue, Oscar, and Nathan favored their dog beds. They’d never been couch potatoes like Atlas. Maybe he deserved his own sofa.

However, he did like human contact, and might not go it alone.

Ry wanted to discuss his choices with Beth before he finalized any sale. He valued her opinion. Last night, they’d turned the corner from boss and employee to lovers. She was his PA with benefits. But that didn’t come close to how he felt about her. Beth wasn’t his usual date or sex partner. She was quirky and spontaneous, with a guarded past. He wanted her to open up to him. To trust him. To share her secrets. To be a part of his life.

That thought shook him most. Falling for a woman in a few short days wasn’t his style. It took him weeks, sometimes months, to develop a relationship. There was something about this woman that broke his dating rules. She got to him. His heart
knew
her. He played sports on that same gut level. He went with what seemed natural. Intuitive.

He decided to go ahead and feed the dogs lunch before he left the cottage. It was close enough to noon that Atlas and crew wouldn’t mind eating early. He had a recipe for Bow Wow Brunch made with oatmeal, yogurt, cottage cheese, and fruit. Atlas liked bananas. Rue favored mangos. The weenies preferred pears. Afterward he’d take them for a walk before he took off.

He rolled off the couch and found Atlas sitting before the abstract painting. It was bizarre to see. He had no idea what held the dog’s eye. Perhaps it was no more than a new object in the house. Atlas would angle his head left then right as if trying to understand the work’s significance.

Ry patted him on the head as he walked toward the kitchen. “Don’t get lost in the symbolism. We all see the painting differently.”

Atlas barked, stared a moment longer, then trotted after Rylan. The scent of brunch drew the other dogs. They ate and Ry cleaned up. He missed having Beth in the kitchen with him. Thinking about her took his mind off Atlas long enough for the dog to wipe his mouth on Ry’s gym shorts. He left curds of cottage cheese. Ry reached for a paper towel, cleaned himself off.

A walk, a shower, a quick cleaning of his bedroom, and Ry went in search of Beth.

He’d told her she could drive his Range Rover, but it seemed she preferred her PT Cruiser. Today, anyway. The parking lot at the retirement village was nearly full. Families and friends came to visit on the weekends. The place was bursting at the seams with chatter and news.

“Hello, Rylan,” an elderly woman said to him on his arrival. Her spine curved into a wicker rocking chair. She faced the window, watching people come and go.

He remembered her. She had attended his speech. “How are you, Cora?”

She rocked her chair slowly, all prim and proper in a collared cream-colored blouse and a brown skirt. “I’m waiting for my daughter.” She smiled at him. “I don’t get out very often. We’re going shopping today. I can’t wait to see my Anne.”

Time away from the village would be a change in scenery. Those who didn’t drive any longer always appreciated a day out. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

“Frank and your Beth are in the recreational center.” Cora knew their whereabouts.

Ry figured everyone kept track of everyone else.
His Beth
. He liked the sound of it. “Thanks.” He located the main hallway, sought the room where they’d played Bingo.

The area was set up for all kinds of games. From playing cards to boxed board sets of Monopoly, Scrabble, Clue, and Chinese checkers. Activities that kept people busy when conversations lagged. Rylan scanned the room, found his grandfather and Beth at a table in the far corner. He approached them.

Her back was to him. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail. More strands escaped than stayed captured by the band. She wore a tank top and walking shorts. Her red Keds. Her message socks were a dark blue, patterned with white doves. Inspirational script circled each bird.
Fly High
made him smile.

“Gin,” he heard his granddad say. Frank laid down his cards.

Beth gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re breaking my bank.” She slipped her hand into the side pocket on her shorts and passed him a quarter, which Frank added to his growing stack of coins.

Ry stepped forward, curved his hand over her shoulder. “I’m good for a loan, if you need one.”

Beth started, surprised to see him. “What happened to your alone-time? Your TV day?”

The older man saw right through Rylan. “Two is better than one,” he said, his expression amused. He collected the cards. “We’re wrapping up here. I promised Morton Potter a game of chess.”

Rylan hadn’t seen Morton when he entered the room. He raised a questioning eyebrow at his grandfather, and the older man winked at him. Silent communication spoke the loudest. His gramps understood. Ry had just been given permission to spend the afternoon with Beth. He was grateful.

“What are your plans for the day?” his granddad asked.

Beth shrugged, and Rylan responded, “Furniture shopping, if she’s willing.”

Frank gave him a thoughtful nod. “Settling in, are we?”

“My living room consists of a tilted sofa.”

“And a great piece of artwork,” Beth chimed in.

“Evelyn Wells, the Gallery Walk,” Ry said, explaining the purchase of the painting.

Frank reminisced. “The only paintings Emma and I had in the house were those you kids did in art class in elementary school. I still have several of Shaye’s finger paintings in a box in my closet. There’s a water color picture of a big yellow car from you in there, too.”

“It was a school bus, Gramps.”

“That explains all the circles in the windows.”

“Those were my classmates.”

Frank chuckled. “I should’ve recognized little Larry Canton. The kid had carrot orange hair.”

“He still does,” Ry informed him. “He owns a used car dealership. I’ve seen his TV ads.”

“So have I,” said Frank. “The guy’s hair clashed with a red Mustang he had for sale last week.”

“Did you save any of Zane’s nudes?” Rylan had to know.

His older brother was the first of the four boys to appreciate the female body. Breasts in particular. Every girl he drew had enormous boobs. Including a likeness of his teacher. Two months into the fourth grade, and Mrs. Watkins requested a schedule change. Zane left Art for Shop. He’d carved a great set of knockers in his woodworking class.

“I kept his charcoal drawing of a tornado. The boy was always interested in storms. Hurricanes in particular.” Frank stood then, waved them on. “Furniture Barn is east of town. George Roberts, a third cousin on your mother’s side of the family, converted the old barn into a modern showroom. It’s good to keep business in the family.”

Rylan agreed. “We’ll make that our first stop.”

His granddad put his hand on Ry’s shoulder. “If I don’t see you before, we’ll meet up after your first game. Beth has agreed to be my guest. She doesn’t mind sitting in center field.” He had chosen a two-deck section of seats in the outfield. The rest of the Cateses would be seated along the first base line. There was always room for Frank and a guest, if he so chose.

“You could come in closer,” Ry reminded him.

“I’ve got your back, boy.”

Yes, he did, Rylan mused. His granddad would be in the first row of the first level behind the center field fence. Ry could glance up and see him. Beth, too. At least the second deck would provide shade for the lower one. “Need binoculars for my at-bat?” he jokingly asked.

“Hit me a homer and I’ll see the ball just fine.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Frank hugged them both, then strolled off.

Beth rose from her chair, facing Ry. “Furniture shopping? Are you sure?”

As sure as he was about anything at the moment. He’d be spending time with her. That’s what mattered most. He took her hand, tugged her to his side. He kept her close as they crossed the room, then headed down the hallway. None of the retirees tried to detain him. They were too busy chatting with family and friends.

Rylan noticed Cora Salvo was still sitting in the same chair as when he’d arrived.

Beth spied her, too. She’d apparently spoken to Cora earlier and was aware of her long wait. “Any sign of Anne?” she gently asked the older woman.

Cora stared straight ahead, as if by doing so, her daughter would magically appear. “Not yet, but soon.” She sounded hopeful.

A flicker of sadness appeared in Beth’s eyes before she blinked it away. “Would you like us to sit with you awhile?”

Cora sighed. “Maybe a few minutes, but only until my Anne arrives.”

Beth gave him a helpless look. She wasn’t sure what to do, but he did. Releasing her hand, he pulled up two additional guest chairs, angled them next to Cora, and they both sat down.