Maybe it’s the lingering effect of The Plan. Residual guilt. Pre-justification. My subconscious telling me that if he pursues me, then a California fuck is okay. But me going after him is totally against the rules.
All of which is a load of twisted and convoluted bullshit, but I never said my subconscious was a linear thinker.
Just go for it.
Holy crap, this shouldn’t be that difficult. I mean, honestly. When I decided to bang Kevin in 2H, I cornered him in the laundry room, put my hand on his crotch, and asked him if he wanted to fuck. So why the hell am I all sixth-grade girl with a crush where Ryan Hunter is concerned?
Right. Okay. Diving in now...
I clear my throat. “So here’s the thing,” I say, and I don’t get any further. Maybe, I think, he’ll pick up the thread.
He doesn’t. He just looks at me, all innocent interest and calm curiosity. His expression is bland, and yet I have the distinct impression that he’s amused.
“It’s just that I can’t figure you out,” I blurt.
“Can’t you?”
“We’ve had some good times, right? And I’ve seen you look at me.” I lick my lips, hating how nervous I feel. “And I know I’ve looked at you. So what’s the deal?”
“The deal?”
I tilt my head a little and give him my best seductive smile. “You’ve never made a pass at me,” I say in the kind of voice that makes clear I would be very receptive to one right now.
“No,” he says, “I haven’t.”
“Oh.” I mentally backpedal. That wasn’t the response I was expecting. “Okay. So, why not? You’re just not interested?”
“On the contrary. Maybe I assumed you weren’t interested.”
“Seriously?”
“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, Ms. Archer. And as far as I’ve seen, you’re not the least bit shy about making a move on a man you want.”
I hear the raw heat in his voice, but I can’t tell if he is serious or if he’s playing me. All I know is that the more he looks at me with those fathomless blue eyes and the more he speaks to me in that musically sexy voice, the more I melt, until I fear that I’ll dissolve right there and be washed away when the tide comes in.
“Oh,” I say stupidly. Dear god I want him to touch me. I’ve slept with a lot of guys, but right now, I don’t think I’ve ever been more desperate for a man’s touch.
I think about The Plan. I think about my loophole.
I think about the fact that the loophole calls for him to make a move on me.
And then I think, what the hell. Just go for it.
“All right,” I say as I quash those damn nerves, then fist my hand in his shirt and move in close. He smells like musk and desire and I breathe deep, letting the scent of him fill me, warm me. We’re not even inches apart, and the air between us seems to shimmer, thick with passion.
I press my other hand to his thigh and stroke slowly up, up, up, until I brush against the hard length of his erection. My thighs quiver, and my sex tightens with need. I’m aware of every inch of my body, as if I’m a live wire, sparking and popping.
We’re well-matched in height, and I only have to rise up a little on my toes in order to claim his mouth with mine. I close my hand over the steel of his cock and feel it twitch under my touch. I hear his moan, and it only makes me wetter.
His hands twine in my hair, pulling me closer as he deepens the kiss, fucking me with his mouth, going deep, making me wet, so incredibly wet, so that all I want is to slide my hand into his trousers and free him, then fall onto the sand, yank my dress up, and scream as he fucks me harder than I’ve ever been fucked in my life.
I am gasping when he breaks the kiss. I’m alive with need, my breasts aching for his touch, my cunt throbbing with demand. I’m wild, desperate, and when I see the matching wildness in his eyes, I know that this is going to be one hell of an amazing morning.
“All right,” I say again, my voice breathless and heavy with longing. “That was me, making a move.”
“And this,” he says gently as he takes a single step away from me, “is me, saying no.”
Chapter Two
“No,” I say into the phone. “The bastard actually said no.”
I’m in the guest suite that has become my temporary home. I have my headphones in, and am spread out on the bed, idly petting Lady Meow Meow as I stare out through the French doors toward the pristine beach upon which I was so soundly spurned. “I mean, can you believe it? He turned me down flat.”
From somewhere in Mexico, Nikki’s voice filters over the line. “Actually, I can’t believe it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and there is some serious lust happening. But, James, what the hell were you doing coming on to him in the first place? I thought you were doing a moratorium on sex.”
Since I really don’t want to get in to my convoluted logic with my best friend, I fall back on reason and rationality. “You know what? I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I dumped all that on you. And what the hell are you doing calling me anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be banging Damien’s brains out?”
“Did that,” she says with the kind of sigh that makes me jealous. “And I expect a repeat performance very soon. But right now he’s on the phone, too. We’re flying to Paris tonight and he’s checking in with the pilot. And since I didn’t have the chance to tell you good-bye before the honeymoon, I wanted to call. I love you, you know. And I’m so glad you were my maid of honor. Also, Damien wanted me to remind you that the gas gauge on the Ferrari isn’t working. He’s going to e-mail you where to take it when you get to Dallas, but in the meantime, pay attention to the odometer and get gas when you’ve burned about half a tank, okay?”
“I know. He already told me at least a dozen times.” The car that Damien and Nikki gave me is the same sleek, sexy Ferrari that I accidentally totaled in San Bernardino. At least, I’d thought I’d totaled it. Apparently Damien called in the best car surgeons in the world and got her up and running again. And then—to my shock and amazement—he and Nikki gave the Ferrari to me. “I still can’t believe that you guys—”
“Will you shut up about it, already? You love the car. We love you. End of story.”
“Right. Thanks.” I can practically hear Nikki rolling her eyes, and the thought makes me grin. “Right,” I say again, then clear my throat. “So what should I do about Ryan?”