Navesink Bank needed the women's shelter.
And Ryan, my sexy as all hell, sweet as could be neighbor made it possible for it to stay in business.
That said something about him.
"What?" he asked, head ducked to the side a little and I realized I had been staring at him.
Caught, I just went ahead and gave him the truth. "You're a pretty phenomenal person, Ryan Mallick," I said, giving him a small smile.
"Don't put me on a pedestal, honey. I'll knock the damn thing over in a fucking minute."
Again, there was that guardedness to his tone and face when he spoke, making me wonder what it was about him that made him feel that way about himself. I had come to the conclusion in his car that he was more than he appeared, more than a mere businessman if the scars were anything to go by, but what? What was he? What did he do?
They weren't exactly things I could ask him either.
As if to temper the comment, his hand squeezed my thigh again, reminding me that it was still there, drawing my gaze down, curious how it wasn't what was at the forefront of all my thoughts, human touch being such a foreign concept to me for so long.
"Want me to move it?" he asked, interpreting my inspection for discomfort.
"No," I said way too fast judging by the way his smile went bemused.
"Good," he said, shifting his attention to the TV.
So then we watched a movie and drank wine and he ate every last one of my chruscikis. And it was just about the most normal of nights, like we did it all the time, like I wasn't some shut-in freak who everyone else but her uncle had given up on because she was too 'difficult'.
It was like we were old friends.
And with good wine swirling around in my head, making my rushing thoughts head in a nicer direction than they usually did, I started to think maybe it could be a regular thing. Maybe we could be actual friends. Maybe we could be more...
"Dusty..." Ryan's voice called, a low, smooth rumble.
My head jerked in his direction a second after I realized I had been staring at the rolling credits on the TV. His wine glass was gone and I wasn't sure when he discarded it. But his hand reached for my empty one and placed it on my coffee table beside his.
"Yeah?" I asked when his eyes went to mine again, looking a little more heavy-lidded than they had a moment ago, though I for some reason wrongly attributed that to the wine and his long day with his family.
Because, in my small little world, attraction was never a factor.
"Say no," he said oddly, turning on the cushion so he was facing me which forced my leg to go up over his slightly.
"Say no to what?" I asked, my voice a choked sound.
"To me."
I was a master at no.
I had needed to say it so many times as the anxiety slowly but surely claimed my life that it stopped even being hard to do.
But no to him?
I wasn't sure I could say that.
Even though I had no idea what he even wanted me to say no to.
I had a gut feeling, though, that I was about to find out.
"I, um, I can't," I admitted, saying it mostly to his chest because his gaze was proving too intense to hold for so long.
"Thank fuck," he said, low, barely audible.
The next thing I knew, his fingers whispered down my jaw and snagged my chin, gently forcing it upward.
It was right about then that I finally understood his intention.
It might have been a hell of a long time, but I'd been kissed enough in my life to know that look when I saw it.
He was going to kiss me.
Also, who the ever loving hell would ever say no to that?
Even me, Dusty Rose Sunshine goddamn McRae, freak-extraordinaire couldn't do such a thing.
His eyes watched mine for a long second looking for, I guessed, second thoughts. And I should have had them. I barely knew the man. I never let anyone touch me anymore. But somehow, none of that mattered to me.
I wanted it more than I wanted to be able to be normal again, to be able to breathe in public again, to not break out into a sweat at the idea of making a phone call.
My eyes dipped to his lips, wondering for a spare second how he kissed- hard and ruthless as his hands claimed he could be or sweet and passionate as his words seemed.
I didn't have to wonder for long though.
His fingers slid out, moving to frame one side of my face as he moved forward, eyes watching mine until I couldn't take it anymore and mine fluttered closed.
My belly was flip-flopping and my heart was pounding and I couldn't draw a proper breath.
But it didn't matter.
Because the next second, his lips pressed down on mine. Tentative, but sure at the same time. Like he was gauging my reaction, but didn't have any hesitance of his own.
And I... melted.
His head slanted and his lips pressed harder into mine and my arms moved out and up, closing around the back of his neck and pulling him toward me. His free hand left my thigh and moved around my lower back, putting firm pressure there, hard enough to pull me toward him until I did the absolute unthinkable. I climbed onto his lap and he held me tightly to him as his tongue traced the seam of my lips until they opened for him and he moved inside, lavishing over me until I let out a low whimper against his lips.
My legs tightened around his sides, trying to pull him closer though it wasn't possible, begging for things I hadn't let myself want in longer than I cared to admit to even myself.
My breasts swelled; my nipples tightened against the soft fabric of my shirt; my panties started sticking to my skin with desire.
His body twisted as his hand slid from my jaw and up into my hair, sliding in and curling, but not pulling, as he sat back against the couch, taking me fully onto his lap.
The hand that wasn't in my hair moved to the side of my hip and sank in, an impossible to ignore firm pressure. My hips sank down and I felt his hardness press against my cleft, making me let out a surprised gasp as I pulled back, my eyes opening.
His opened more slowly, heavy, as his hand loosened in my hair.
"You okay?" he asked, barely more than a rumble.
I didn't answer.
Because I was.
I was more okay than I had been in an impossibly long time.
So instead of responding, my lips crashed back down on his, feeling them curve into a smile before they started kissing me back- harder, hungrier, as needy as I felt.
Without me being conscious of telling my body to do so, my hips rocked against him, making his hardness press against where I needed him most, making me let out a moan as he made a growling noise in response, his fingers tightening hard enough to bruise.
And it was right then that I felt an unmistakable vibrating against my inner thigh where his pocket was situated.
"Fuck it," he mumbled against my lips.
I had to agree.
Fuck it.
It stopped, but as my hips did another delicious swipe, it started again, making him make an angry sound as I pulled back. My eyes opened slowly, feeling weighted, finding his equally heavy-lidded.
"It might be important," I heard myself mumble, my voice low with desire, a little breathless.
Then like to prove my point, there was a short pause before it started up again.
"Fuck," he snapped as I slid off his lap and to the side, pressing my thighs tightly together to try to stem the desire there. He reached for his pocket, slamming his finger against the screen and bringing it up to his ear while barking out, "What?"
He listened for a long moment as I tried desperately to get myself together.
It wasn't that I didn't have a normal sex drive. I did. In fact, back in the day, it might have been considered high. But when you are shut-in your apartment all by yourself for long enough, it slowly ebbed away. Because, quite frankly, your own fingers and vibrators, well, just didn't cut it. It wasn't the same. It was lacking. And eventually, I lost interest in it.
So to have it come roaring back to life after so long it was almost completely overwhelming- the racing heart, the tingling skin, the heaviness in my breasts and lower stomach, the aching need between my legs.
"Honey," Ryan's voice called, making my head jerk up to find him watching me, the phone already tucked away.
"Yeah?"
"That was work," he offered, sounding sorry already.
I knew what that meant.
"You have to go."
"Unfortunately," he agreed, nodding. His hand reached out to touch my knee, his thumb rubbing across it reassuringly.
Unsure what I was supposed to say, I tried for casual and shrugged a shoulder. "Okay."
"Hey," he said, ducking his head a little to catch my eyes that had fallen slightly, wanting to not show how disappointed I was. "What are you doing New Years Eve?" he asked oddly, making my head snap up, my brows drawing together.
"New Years Eve?" I parroted.
New Years Eve was five days away.
Five.
Work was going to take him away for five days?
"Yeah, with the champagne and the big ball falling from the sky and that song that is supposed to cheer people up but always sounds sad..."
I smiled a little at that. "Um, I don't exactly have a wild social life here, Ryan," I said, waving a hand out. "I'll be watching the TV with Rocky," I added, looking around and realizing he hadn't come charging in to scratch the ever-loving hell out of Ryan. It was completely unlike him. I even had to lock him in the bedroom when my uncle visited.
"How about you think about coming over to my place?" he offered.