Roughing It With Ryan (3 page)

S
UZANNE DOVE INTO
Ryan's long, strong arms, nearly whimpering in gratitude. Despite the fact he was as wet as she, warmth radiated off his body. She felt like a heat-seeking missile, burrowing close, then closer still, not caring at the moment that she didn't know him from Adam.

Later she'd worry what he'd thought of her when she crawled up his big, hard body and pressed her face to his throat. Later she'd worry about her less than half-dressed state, or that she'd arched her body to a perfect stranger's in mindless terror. Later.

But for right now, never more thankful to see another living soul, she just closed her eyes against the storm blasting through the broken window, wrapped her arms around him tight as she could, and held on through the wild tremors that shook her body in uncontrollable waves.

He made a rough sound of wordless comfort and pressed her closer. In spite of the urgency of the situation, she became startlingly aware of him and how
he felt plastered to her. And how he felt was…incredible.

The wind continued to blow, bringing in more cold rain and the tinkling sound of glass scattering over the floor. “The glass from the window,” he murmured in her ear, and slipping an arm beneath her, he lifted and turned her so that she lay in his lap, his body hunched over hers, protecting her from the elements the best he could. As a gesture, it was the sweetest one that anyone had ever made for her. But the sweetness contrasted sharply with the decidedly
not
sweet feelings making themselves known within her.

“Are you cut?” His voice was hoarse with worry, probably because she was staring at him like an idiot—as she sat there realizing her best intentions to stay away from men for their own good were about to fail.

“Suzanne?”

Still shaking—though now she wasn't sure it was all from the cold—she shook her head.

He cuddled her closer, one hand on her still quivering belly, his face only an inch away. His gaze burned into hers, dark and intense. “Are you sure?”

The shivers had really taken over her body now, so she nodded. Weak with relief and fear, it was about all she could do.

Clearly not willing to take any chances in the dark, he reached for the flashlight on the floor at his hip and ran it over her, looking for himself.

She glanced down and saw what he saw… Her wet, clinging, now thoroughly see-through tank and panties, both of which had risen to levels they shouldn't have, both of which revealed her in all her unwieldy glory, and she slammed her eyes shut.

“It's okay,” he whispered roughly, clearly mistaking her movement for fear. Holding her close, he cupped her head in his big hand. “You're okay. Let's get you out of here, how does that sound?”

“I—I'll be f-f-fine.”

“Oh yeah, you will.” Still holding her, he used his free hand to lift a radio to his mouth.

Because her ears seemed to be ringing, she didn't quite catch the conversation. Exhausted, she set her head on his chest, which allowed her to feel the vibration of his deep voice, and for some reason, it was horribly seductive. He smelled good, her sexy hero. And Lord, he felt good, too.

How had this happened? One moment she'd been in a deep slumber, dead to the world. The next she'd been startled right out of that sleep by the loudest crack of thunder she'd ever heard, followed immediately by another crack, not from Mother Nature this time, but from the tree.

She'd leapt off the mat Taylor had let her borrow, just as the tree crashed through the ceiling and window.

Overwhelmed by the near-miss, a little stunned that she was alive, she'd sat there until she'd heard Taylor's frantic voice calling for her.

Now she'd been rescued by the man who'd so mesmerized her earlier, the most amazing, strong, sexy man she'd ever laid eyes on.

But he was
just
a man.

And for better or worse, she'd sworn off the entire species. She'd even vowed so to Taylor. Handy that vow, as without it, her resolve might have been weakened by the feel of his rock solid, incredibly warm body against hers.

A flash of blinding lightning lit the room, and with it came an accompanying boom of thunder that seemed to echo inside her head, making her act impulsively, which meant she tried to crawl up Ryan's body.

He hugged her. “We're getting out of here, I promise.”

She gave a jerky nod, and he rewarded her with a gentle squeeze of his hands. “In the meantime,” he said. “Pretend you're somewhere else, anywhere…like your nice, toasty bed, fast asleep, okay?”

She could imagine the bed part, if he was in it.

No. Bad girl. Bad, bad.

“Anywhere,” he repeated, his voice like silk in her ear. “Name it.”

“Well…” She cleared her rough throat. “When I'm stressed, I…”

“You what?”

“I…eat ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah. I could really use a gallon about now.”

He let out a bark of laughter. “An entire gallon, huh? That's good, that's real good. Make it chocolate and I'll join you. Deal?”

She lifted her head and blinked into the dark until she could almost see his expression. A man who'd eat chocolate ice cream out of the gallon with her? He had to be saying that just to fool her, no man was that astute. “You like chocolate ice cream out of the container?”

His hands on her had been nothing but light. Comforting. But now, while their gazes were locked, his hands seemed more than just protective, they seemed…hungry. “A beautiful woman asks me to share a delicious dessert with her?” He smiled a smile that made her hormones stand up and beg. “I'd eat bugs on a stick.”

Her last fiancé would have scrunched up his face and “how unsanitary.” Her first fiancé would have
known exactly how many calories and fat grams that would have equaled. Not this man, her hero. He'd do anything to make her feel safe.

A flash of lightning fully illuminated Ryan's face an instant before a crack of thunder hit. At the sound her body jerked. Ryan slid his hands up her arms to cup her face. “Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip. “We're getting out of here. Right now, okay?”

She stared at the tree stuffed into what had been her new bedroom. The tree that blocked her door. Knowing she was three stories up, and that he hadn't flown to get here, she swallowed hard and tried not to panic. “We're going to go the way you came in, I suppose.”

“Yep.” He lifted some branches, illuminating with his flashlight the way he'd come in. “If we go through here about eight feet, we'll come to the window.”

Or what used to be her window.

Up on his knees now, he unbuttoned his long-sleeved chambray shirt and stripped it off, leaving him in a dark colored T-shirt. “I'm sorry it's wet, but it's better than nothing.”

While she shoved her arms in the sleeves—grateful the hem came down to her thighs and more grateful for the body heat still in it—he said, “I'm going first so I can sweep away glass shards as we go. Stay
close.” Even though it was dark she could still see his intense gaze and the worry in it as he looked at her.

That concern cloaked her in strength, and fueled her own. She could do this. And yet she wished he'd touch her again, for comfort, for… She could still feel his fingers on her jaw. Could imagine them sinking into her hair—

“Suzanne?”

“Ready,” she said quickly before he thought she was having a meltdown. If she was in danger of a meltdown, it was one of the senses, not of fear.

But how could she explain to herself the panic she suddenly felt wasn't due to the storm at all, but in stead was due to the fact that she could feel her heart thumping painfully at the touch of this incredibly appealing stranger? She didn't want this adrenaline rush that signified awareness of him as a man. She didn't!

He tugged her hand until she was on her knees facing him, and at the reassuring look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. She knew he would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe. It made her knees weak. It made her yearn, when she'd promised her self no more yearning.

“We'll be out of here before you know it.” Another harsh crack of thunder reverberated through their
small space, and Suzanne just about plowed him over in her haste to follow him.

“That's it,” he murmured. “Stay close.”

Stay close? She'd be on top of him if she could. On her hands and knees, she crawled after him, under the fallen tree, squinting against the howling wind, thinking her life was literally in the hands of this man in front of her.

Which really explained her odd reaction to him, she decided. Fear and adrenaline were powerful emotions. No doubt, in the light of day things would be back to normal. She'd go to work, balance her checking account, figure out if she had any money this week to start buying furniture—

Boom.

The thunder startled the breath right out of her, but Ryan was right there, helping her out from under the branches, slipping an arm around her waist. “Hey, just Mother Nature moaning and bitching. We're okay.”

They were okay. Good. Okay was good. She lifted her head and found his mouth only an inch from hers.

He had a wide, firm mouth, and she suddenly, inanely wondered…did it know how to pleasure a woman?

His eyes were dark, gazed locked on to hers. Oh yeah, she thought shakily. He knew.

Oh, God, where were these inappropriate thoughts coming from? They were coming from her own desire, a desire she didn't understand. As she realized it, in the dim glow of the night, she saw the dangerous flare of a mirroring desire in his eyes.

And for a long heartbeat, neither of them moved.

“You ready?” he finally asked.

“Yeah. I'm…ready.”

His gaze shifted to her mouth, he slowly nodded. “We're just going to climb through the opening and get onto the ladder.”

Right. Climb through the opening and onto the ladder. “Got it.”

The next flash of lightning, immediately followed by a bone-rattling boom of thunder came so suddenly after the stillness, they both jerked.

“Oh, God,” she whispered a little tearfully, her heart in her throat. “I really could use that ice cream.”

“I wish I had some.” The thunder continued to echo around them. “But as far as distraction goes,” he murmured. “I do have this.” Lifting her against him, he surrounded her with his heat, his strength, before closing his mouth over hers.

Her hands fisted in his hair, looking for balance in a world where there was suddenly none to be had.
His kiss was glorious, made more so by the dark of the night, by the wet of the storm, by the lingering fear and adrenaline.

But then he slowly pulled back. Suzanne just barely managed not to cry out her protest. Through the darkness she could hear his ragged breathing—a ragged breathing that matched her own—as he stared at her and it was all she could do not to yank him back to her. Just as that thought formed in her mind, he lowered his head again, brushing his mouth over hers, almost in a question. She answered by slanting her mouth to better fit his, and then with a grateful, mutual groan, they sank into another wet, hot, long kiss.

With all that had happened to her already that night, a mere kiss shouldn't have been able to send more sensation rocketing through her, but that's exactly what it did. And then he was looking down at her, his breath coming hard and fast, a sort of stunned wonder on his face that she knew matched her own.

While she stood there, dizzy and weak-kneed and hot-blooded all at the same time, he ran a finger over her jaw, then turned back to the chore of getting them out.

 

S
UZANNE FIGURED
going down the ladder in Ryan's flapping shirt and little else, being greeted by his
crew, a freaked out Taylor and the fire truck that had come to help, would headline her nightmares for some time to come.

But when it was over, less than an hour had passed since she'd been awakened by the tree hitting her bedroom.

A horrified Taylor insisted Suzanne share her own second story apartment, which had not been touched by the storm. There was no electricity, but with the flashlight Ryan had given her, she had no trouble seeing Taylor's bedroom, and the finery in it. The bed was a four poster king that even she, in all her antique ignorance, knew had to be worth a hefty fortune.

“I know,” Taylor said, her voice husky with exhaustion. “I'm cash poor and asset rich. Stupid, huh? I could sell this stuff and get rid of the nation's debt.” She looked around, a sadness in her eyes that said there was far more to her story than she'd let on. “After spending so much time searching and buying it all…I just can't. I love the pieces too much.” She shrugged off the melancholy and shoved what looked like very expensive, very silk pajamas into Suzanne's hands. “Here, take these things and help yourself to a hot shower. Or I could draw you a bubble bath, if you'd rather.”

“Oh, no, I—”

“And while you're soaking, I'll fix you a snack—”

“Taylor—”

“Do you like cheese and crackers? I have some wine—”

“Taylor.” She smiled into Taylor's pensive features. “I'm okay. Really. I'm not going to sue you or anything.”

Surprising her, Taylor suddenly sagged a little, then grabbed Suzanne close in a fierce bear hug that sucked the oxygen right out of her. “Do you think I care about money?” she asked in a horrified whisper. “My God, you're my friend and my attempts at cost-cutting nearly got you killed tonight.”

A little flustered, Suzanne pulled back. “Friend?”

“We bonded over our singlehood together, didn't we? Do you think I do that with just anyone?” Abruptly, Taylor turned away. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared out into the dark, stormy night. “I'm so sorry, Suzanne. I'll never forgive myself for what happened tonight, for what could have happened.”