The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (22 page)

“Sweetie, I owe you big time. Like super-sized big time,” Sam said to Julie in a hushed phone call. “Thank you so much for taking this one for the team.”

“Joe says he likes Jack Daniel’s Gentleman Jack and a case to start would be acceptable.”

“Ouch! That bad?” Sam giggled. “Is Dolores being a right royal—”

“Uh-huh,” Julie whispered. She heard the hollow sound of her next words, a sure sign she’d cupped her hand over the phone. “And a drunk one at that.”

“Well, pour her into bed and run for the hills. She’s on her own now. Andi and Kyle have their phones turned off for the duration, and my job is done!”

She jumped from fright when a hand slid around her ass. The surprise quickly disappeared when a hand moved her hair out of the way, and a warm tongue licked her neck.

“Gotta go!” she barked into the phone. “Have an, uh, yeah. Have a thing to return and some. . .”

Julie’s laugh came through the phone. “Have a good time, girlfriend, and tell Ryan we said thanks for everything.”

Before she could object or deflect Julie’s comment, the other woman laughed and hung up.

“Give me the phone,” he growled. She didn’t hesitate or object when he slipped it into his pocket. “Where’s your bag?” he asked.

Bag?

He did something to her neck that felt like Morse code nips.

Slipping in and out of a pleasure coma, she heard a train go by.

Wait.

There wasn’t a train on the island.

That sound?

It was her grunting and groaning.

“Babe,” he breathed against her skin. “Your bag. Know where it is?”

“T-table,” she stammered.

He licked her neck from ear to shoulder and squeezed her ass.

“Wait here.”

No problem
, she thought when he walked away and she had to grab hold of something.

Returning a minute later with her big satchel dutifully crammed with every possible thing a maid of honor might need, he hoisted it for her inspection but didn’t hand it over.

“Phone. Check. Bag. Check. Sexy hula girl? Double check.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s stop by the bar and relax.”

She glanced at him with surprise clearly evident on her face. She expected him to rush them to privacy and get naked in record-breaking time.

He lifted her fingers to his mouth, smirked, kissed them and said, “Got a drink for you to try. It’s called the Delayed Gratification.”

That box of thirty-six condoms? Might not be enough.

A couple of drinks involving rum and cocktail umbrellas later, they were pleasantly sloshed and playfully uninhibited on their way to Sam’s room. Until tonight, she’d found the idea of indulging in dirty talk somewhat creepy, but with Ryan, it was like discovering a new artist that no one else knew about.

“I think the slave girl foot jewelry will stay on,” he told her with puffed up authority.

“Says you,” she joked as the ambled along.

“Now come on,” he teased. “Think it through first. Get the visual in your head, examine it carefully and then tell me the picture of your ankles on my shoulders with those sexy silver chains twinkling with each thrust doesn’t make you wet.
Mmph
,” he grunted. “Yup. Me likey.”

“You are a kinky fucker, aren’t you?” the alcohol asked with her mouth.

He roared. “Ah, babe. If that qualifies as kink, you’re in for a little surprise.”

“Shh!” she whispered with a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? But I wouldn’t know kink if it knocked on my door with an introduction letter.”

Ryan found this enormously funny and had a hearty chuckle. She wanted to kick him in the shins for laughing at her.

“Ever bought a woman tampons?” she asked with haughty indignation dripping from every word.

“No,” he choked out.

“Well, see?” she crowed triumphantly. “There are some things you don’t know and some things I don’t know.”

He used her hand to pull her close. “Captain Morgan logic. I like how you think.”

“Hey,” she burbled—changing topic in a one-eighty. “Did I hear Steve say he and Barbara were flying out together?”

“Yeah. Apparently. Kismet or something like that.”

“Hmm.”

They walked along.

“When are you headed to the airport?” She had to ask even though she didn’t want to know. Reality was such a bitch.

“Day after tomorrow.”

She hated that movie. Hated that so many people died. Oh, wait. Not a movie. He was answering her question.

“My plans are fluid,” he added. “Easily changed.”

The first dark spot on an otherwise bright and shiny bling of happiness appeared.

“Mine aren’t,” she muttered.

“Second thoughts?”

She shrugged. “No. More like deferred truth.”

They came to a stop outside her room. All the teasing, flirting, and hot make-out sessions had led to this. There’d be no turning back once they were on the other side of the door.

“Samantha,” he murmured.

As casually as she could manage, Sam raised her eyes and waited for Ryan’s next words. Did she nervously nibble on her lip? Yeah.

“I was serious before. I’m not interested in a random hookup. There’s something going on here, and ready or not, my emotions are engaged. Yours too,” he whispered as he soothed her mangled lip with a stroke of his thumb. “If you’re not sure. . .”

“Oh, Ryan,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before and that kind of messes with my head.” She lay her hands flat on his chest and sighed. “And then there’s the whole what happens next thing, and I’m worried you’ll be disappointed. I’m not very good at the bedroom stuff, and I really like you and, shit. Then there’s Andi and Kyle. Your folks. Tara,” she added on reflex.

“Got any more ‘ands’ in your head?”

He moved her against the wall and took her face in his hands.

“And what happens next. And worried you’ll suck in bed. And you really like me. And Andi and Kyle. And my folks. And some shit. Forget Tara. She doesn’t deserve ‘and’ status.”

“Don’t make fun,” she grumbled. “All that stuff is real for me.”

“Ah, babe. I’m not making fun. Not at all. You’re right to bring a bit of caution and sense to the table.”

He chuckled and placed a barely there kiss on her lips. “It’s me who’s operating on optimism and. . .what did Barbara call it? Kismet. Yeah, that. Destiny. Fate. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it.”

Was he programmed to always say the perfect thing?

“I forgot something earlier when we shared what we liked and what makes us nutso.”

“And this is something you need to say now?”

She gave him a dry glance that ended with a smirk. “No, Mr. Charming. I’m just making idle conversation because, you know,” she said with a deep shrug, “not much else going on.”

He looked down and drawled, “Feet? Meet Samantha. Get used to being on your toes cause this golden goddess is nobody’s twit.”

“Twit, indeed,” she huffed dramatically as though he’d called her an airhead. “And just for that bit of insolence, Mr. Sommerfield, you can pound sand before I share anything else.”

Ryan immediately started to chuckle. “Oooh,” he quipped. “Think you’re all big and bad, huh?”

She crossed her arms across her chest, rolled her eyes when her boobs threatened to spill out of her top, and pressed her lips together.

“Nothing. That’s what you get from me. Nothing.”

Did she expect him to launch a tickle attack? Hell, no! She could withstand almost anything except tickling.

“Hand over the room key, lady, and no one gets hurt.”

“It’s in your pocket,” she shrieked. Her futile attempts to smack away his hands earned her absolutely nothing but an urgent need to use the bathroom. “Hurry,” she giggled when he finally stopped and tried to open her door.

Inside her room, she shoved him aside—the look of surprise on his face made her bark with laughter—and then took off running. “Gotta pee,” she called out a second before disappearing into the bathroom.

It was quite a challenge to giggle and take care of business at the same time, but she managed somehow. Running her fingers in a stream of warm water, Sam glanced at the mirror and did a double take.

Her face was a mask of blushes that made her eyes appear to shine brighter. The greedy kissing and lip chewing made her mouth seem fuller, and her hair was a windblown mess.

A slow smile crept across her face. She liked it. Liked that she wore a sort of manhandled look.

Are you sure this isn’t a huge mistake?

“Shut up,” she growled to her conscience.

Out in the living room area, she found Ryan in the process of removing and tossing aside the vest she found insanely sexy. He strode through life with such an air of confidence that she was sure he could work nothing but a bra and panties like a bitch.

Pushing hair behind her shoulders, she touched her forehead and was muttering, “Oh, pooh,” as he turned to look at her.

“Pooh? Because the vest is history?” He snickered and wagged his brows. “I can put it back on if you want. But nothing else. Just the vest.”

The visual he intended to plant in her brain struck Sam as terribly funny, especially because her version of Ryan and a vest also involved the badass watch he wore the night they met. The one with the wide leather band. The picture she created was funny and sexy at the same time. A winning combination.

“The pooh,” she told him while crossing the room, “was because I liked the crown of flowers and the orchid lei. This getup doesn’t feel right without them.”

He eyed her critically, and she absolutely did not overlook the sensuous flames in his expression.

“You’re beautiful. With or without floral accessories.”

Hmph. Nice thought but she still missed wearing them. “Andi and one of her Ya Ya moments that was either an island tradition or something she made up.”

“Tossing them off the rocks?”

“Yep. I think the ocean spirits take the flowers and distill the wishes, and then send rain sprinkles or something silly like that.”

“I should draw that,” he said more to himself than to her.

Sam inhaled deeply to clear her head. He’d opened the patio sliders. The aroma of plumeria and bougainvillea wafted in on the ocean breeze.

Crooking his finger, he said, “Come here,” before lowering onto the center of the sofa. His tone was confident, not suggestive, and she followed him like a trained puppy. A puppy who didn’t know where to sit with him man-spread in the middle of the couch.

When he patted a thigh and smiled, her knees nearly gave out. Lap sitting wasn’t on her resume.

“Uh, well,” she sputtered. “Like, what do I do? Where does my butt aim?”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” he barked. “There are no rules, Samantha. Jump, dive, shimmy, slither—do whatever feels right.”

“Oh,” she squeaked.

Muttering something about trying to be a gentleman, he grabbed her wrist and gave a good yank that sent her flying through the air, to land against him with a grunt. There followed a moment or so of jostling, rearranging, and shifting until he was comfortable and Sam didn’t feel like at any moment she’d be sliding to the floor.

“I was going to try and take it slow, but you’re making that impossible.”

Thrilling words that she did not have a problem with.

He didn’t move.

She started to panic until her desires took over. Sliding unsure fingers into his hair, she angled her head and slowly lowered her lips to his mouth. At the last second, she didn’t hesitate to beg, “Kiss me, Ryan. Please.”

T
wo different and distinct things happened when Samantha initiated a kiss that they both understood would lead to them getting naked.

First, he was engulfed—like, totally swamped and bowled over—by a wave of longing so intense he whimpered into her mouth when it slammed into him.

Second was the strange calm mixed with thundering excitement coming from the area around his heart because on some level, for him, everything in his life finally made perfect sense now that he’d found her.

She was. . .the one.

Freed from restraint, they kissed like maniacs. He couldn’t get enough of the way her hair felt in his fist or how with every subtle tug she melted down a little bit more.