Sway With Me(53)

“Do you?” he asked flatly.

How could he ask her that? It was the one thing keeping them apart.



“Of course.” She crossed to the stairs and grabbed the banister. “The house. The money.”

His eyes darkened. Her core pulsed and her nipples beaded, visceral reminders of what had occurred the last time his eyes had darkened like that.

“You’re nervous. I can tell because you’re dancing and you’re blushing.”

Sure enough, she was using the banister as a barre and pointing her foot. Well, what did he expect when he looked at her like that? She sighed and released her grip. “I’m really tired, Ryan. Can you move so I can get by?”

“No.” He dared her with his eyes. “Did you kiss him?”

She couldn’t think when he stared at her as though he was a starving man and she was a feast laid out especially for him. “Kiss?” It finally dawned on her. He was referring to Dillon. “It’s none of your business. Now let me go.” Hands on her hips, she waited. And waited. And waited.

He didn’t move. “Did. You. Kiss. Him?”

She should lie. Dillon would probably back her up if she asked him to, and Ryan would never have to know. He’d think her blush was due to nerves rather than a lie. Staring at his commanding presence, she discovered she was powerless to speak anything but the truth. Her best chance was to answer and get the heck away.

“No.” With her hands clenched, she decided to take a shot at maneuvering around him and stepped up the first two steps.

He exhaled and wrapped his hand around her calf. “Why not?” he asked huskily.

Damn that velvet voice of his, and damn the man for asking that question. “Ryan . . .”

His hand slowly glided up her leg. She didn’t stop him. Not when he caressed the back of her knee and her head fell back. Not when his hand smoothed over the back of her thigh and her eyes closed. Not when he slid his hand under the hem of her dress and she gasped. And definitely not when his fingers caressed the skin at the top of her thigh and she moaned.



“Why not?” he whispered.

The word ripped from her lungs. “You.”

He tightened his grip and pulled her down to sit on his knee. “What about me, Portia?” His free hand plunged into her hair, urging her closer, so that his warm breath fanned her face. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

She couldn’t resist, taking a ragged breath as she followed his demand. “I couldn’t kiss Dillon because the only man I want to kiss is you.”

“Thank God,” he mumbled. The sides of his mouth tugged up in a victorious smile. “From now on, your lips belong to me.” His fingers traveled over the top of her thigh, only inches from her core. “You belong to me.”

“And do you belong to me?” she managed to ask between pants.

His lips slanted over hers as he breathed, “Yes,” into her mouth.

She surrendered, her hands winding around his neck, her fingers delving into his damp hair. He tasted of black licorice—sweet, rich, and smooth—and she wanted to consume it all. Hot desire in its purest form rushed wildly through her veins.

All her doubts disappeared, giving way to acceptance. From their burning attraction the moment they’d met, to the circumstances which forced them to live in the mansion, to their shared dreams, fate had weaved its web connecting their two souls together. Why fight it?

She swiveled her body, straddling him and placing his erection against the juncture between her legs. He moaned and pressed her closer.



He picked up the home phone sitting behind him and dialed. ”Hi, George. We’re both here for the night. Say ‘goodnight,’ Portia.”

He stuck the phone under her mouth while he kissed her neck.

“Night, George.” She disconnected and tossed the phone beside her. “Now where were we?”

He crushed his mouth against hers once more, making her pulse race and leaving her breathless.

A loud crunching noise distracted her, but she didn’t want to stop kissing him.

Were they tipping?

With a loud crack, the stairs broke beneath their weight and Ryan’s fine ass sunk between the risers.

They stopped kissing, looked at each other, and did the only thing they could.

They laughed.

“Add it to the list,” Ryan said, helping her to her feet. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” There was a hint of worry in his eyes as if he feared she’d change her mind.

She could no more change her mind than stop her heart from beating. All her reservations flew out the newly replaced front door when he declared that she belonged to him. She cupped his cheek and went to speak, but her throat had grown too dry. Words weren’t necessary. She simply nodded. His lips curled into a wide smile and she found herself suddenly airborne, lifted into his arms. Ryan held her as if she weighed as little as a feather and carried her up the stairs.