The water stopped.
She stood and squeezed out the excess water from her shirt. A pounding of feet on the stairs indicated Ryan was on his way. He ran in the kitchen and before she could warn him, he slid on the trail of water and knocked into her, backing her into the counter, effectively pinning her against him. His body heat seeped through her wet clothes as his chest rubbed against her hardened nipples. As if she wasn’t wet enough, her pussy prepared itself for a party with the hard bulge currently a few inches above it. Without her consent, her traitorous hips canted upward, searching for relief. His arms banded around her waist and he yanked her closer, lowering his hips and grinding against her core.
His right hand snaked up her arm, creating goose bumps in its wake, and she shuddered as he wound her hair around his fist. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to give up that last bit of control. Only her intellect kept her from giving in to what her body and soul desperately craved. She kept her gaze on his chest, entranced by how quickly he breathed, amazed she could invoke such a reaction in him. Her hands wandered up to rest on his heart as she automatically matched the rhythm of her breaths to his. Why was it a bad idea to make love with Ryan?
He gently but firmly tugged her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “Portia?” He searched her face for permission, his brown eyes dark with arousal.
She sucked in a shaky breath, intending to gather the courage to stop the inevitable. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t say the words. Didn’t want to.
“Portia,” he repeated breathlessly. He slanted his lips over hers, stealing all the denials and doubts from her mouth.
His tongue tentatively teased, his slow easy kiss tasting of mocha and cream. She felt intoxicated, like she was spinning, and she looped her arms around his neck for an anchor, afraid she might fall. The hand around her waist was now under her shirt, his fingertips caressing her lower back and she suddenly wanted his naked skin against hers.
And she heard music . . .
The sound of a violin and another instrument she couldn’t identify played softly in the background. When had Ryan turned on music? Had he planned to seduce her all along?
She pushed against his chest and pulled back from his kiss. “Stop.”
A hint of confusion collided with the lingering heat in his gaze. He lowered his lips and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t stop, but instead of kissing her, he buried his face between her neck and shoulder, continuing to breathe heavily. After taking a few deep breaths, he dragged his gaze up to her face. He stared at her then swept a piece of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Why did you want to stop?”
She didn’t. She would have loved to strip him bare and make love to him on the wet, dirty floor of the kitchen with the scent of rotten food and mildew in the air. With one kiss, he’d knocked almost all the common sense out of her, but losing herself completely to a man she barely knew scared her even more than rodents. She forced herself from his embrace. “We can’t do this. As much as we’re attracted to each other, we’re going to have to live together for another eighty-nine days and I don’t think sex would be a good idea. It would complicate things.”
His eyes narrowed. “I disagree, but I won’t try to convince you with all the reasons I believe sex would be an excellent idea. At least not today,” he added with a smile. His brows wrinkled in confusion. “Do you hear music?”
She was also confused. “Yes. Didn’t you put it on?” The violin seemed to play louder now that they acknowledged it. Was someone else in the house?
“No. That isn’t exactly the type of music I listen to.” He linked his fingers with hers, and together, they followed the sound of the music past the laundry room and bathroom, walking down the hall to the ballroom. The door was closed, which was odd because she could have sworn they’d left it open. As they approached, the music’s volume increased, confirming it was coming from inside.
Ryan stopped in front of the door, dropped her hand, and maneuvered his body to stand in front of her. “I want you to stay out in the hall while I check this out.”
“No way. I’ve seen those horror films where the girl gets butchered out in the hallway because her boyfriend was trying to protect her. I’m coming with you.”
He peered over his shoulder and smiled. “Are you calling me your boyfriend?”
“No!” she said way too vehemently to be cool. “It was an example. I highly doubt a serial killer is going to announce his presence by playing the violin. Open the door already.”
He grabbed her hand with his left and opened the door with his right. They walked into the room and both spun in circles. Except for them, the room was empty. The windows were shut and there were no other means of egress. The violin continued playing, but grew fainter as they stood there pondering a rational explanation for the music. Then it stopped.