I swallow. The heat between us is like a current on a circuit, cycling back and forth on a loop, growing hotter and brighter with every breath. My answer comes on the barest of whispers. “Sensual.”
His hand tightens on my thigh, but otherwise, he doesn’t react. Even his voice remains unruffled. “And you say I’m the one with a dirty mind.”
“I can’t help it if you have an abnormally pretty mouth,” I say, staring at the subject in question.
“Pretty?” he repeats, offended.
“Sulky and pretty, like a girl’s.” I manage to make my tone lighter, more in control, but he’s looking at me like his control is quickly unraveling.
“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” he says gruffly.
I touch a finger to the bow of his lips, then follow the curve down to the corner of his full and perfectly sculpted mouth. “No,” I say, my voice faint. “I’m not.”
Our eyes lock. Heat flashes over my body. Goose bumps erupt over my skin.
“Tell me you feel that, too,” Ryan whispers. “Tell me I’m not crazy and you can feel that.”
Seconds tick by in silence as we stare at each other. Ryan’s expression is that of a man trying to solve a fascinating, frustrating puzzle.
He abandons his drink on the back of the sofa and slides both hands into my hair. Then he pulls me closer and buries his nose in it, inhaling deeply, combing his fingers through the strands. I allow it and concentrate on quelling the tremor in my body. I dig my fingers into his shoulders and breathe in and out with my eyes closed, every nerve in my body primed to his touch.
This is unprofessional. And dangerous. You don’t do this. You never do this!
“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” Ryan murmurs against my neck. “You’re in control of this. Tell me to stop, and I will.”
His intuition is preternatural. How does he know what I need to hear right now? Somehow I’ve got to make my mind go blank. Think of Reynard. Think of the necklace. Think of how close you are to being free.
Then I can’t think at all because Ryan slowly pulls my head back, exposing my neck. He skims his lips from my earlobe down to my collarbone, inhaling at the base of my throat.
“Fuck, I love the way you smell.”
His voice is guttural with desire. I bite my lip to stop the groan from escaping.
Using my hair as a tether and the circle of his arms to keep me in place, he trails his nose down my chest and nuzzles it into my cleavage. His breath is hot against my skin. His erection is hard against the back of my thigh. I lose my fight with the tremors, and a shudder runs through me.
I’m strung so tightly that when the tip of his tongue touches my skin, I jerk.
He makes a masculine sound deep in his throat and flexes his hips. I barely resist the instinct to rock against the bulge in his jeans.
Barely.
I sense that he’s smiling, but I can’t look down to check.
Soft kisses press against the swell of my breasts. He’s being so gentle. So slow. It’s maddening.
“You’re panting, Angel,” he says, tightening his arms around me. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Yes. No. Yes. Fuck.”
His laugh is soft and dark. “Hmm. I’d say you need more input before you can make an informed decision.”
Right through the filmy material of my dress, he gently bites my hard nipple.
It feels incredible. I moan like a porn star.
Still in perfect control, he releases one hand from my hair so he can squeeze my breast. He suckles my nipple through the fabric. I whimper helplessly as fire roars through my veins.
He drags the neckline of my dress down. Warm air caresses my breast. Then I feel his hand, rough and strong, cupping my flesh, then his tongue and lips, hot and decadent, draw against my nipple.
Lost to the sensation, I arch into his mouth.
He makes that sound in his throat again and sucks harder.
My shaking fingers slip around the back of his neck. He releases my hair and cups both my breasts in his hands, nosing the fabric away so I’m bared to him. My chest rises and falls rapidly with my labored breathing. Then he goes back and forth between my breasts, licking, sucking, gently biting my nipples and the flesh around them until I’m certain I’ll pass out.
I’ve never felt quite so lavished. So worshipped. The desire to squirm on his lap to find some relief for the ache between my legs is almost irresistible.
“Talk to me, Angel,” he murmurs, circling his thumbs over the rigid nubs of my nipples. “If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say so, because next I’m gonna get you on your back and get my face between your legs and eat your pussy until you scream my name.”
Mierda santa. My body wants that so much, a riot breaks out inside me. My brain is battered with lust hormones wielding hammers until rational thought is all but impossible.
“I…I want…please…”
My voice is the husky tenor of a phone-sex operator. I don’t recognize it at all.
“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one,” mutters Ryan. In one lightning-fast motion, he flips me onto my back on the sofa and kneels between my spread legs.
My dress slides languidly down my bare thighs and pools around my waist. Ryan stares down at me like he’s been electrocuted.
“Sweet Jesus, woman,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.”
Out in the dark night sky, thunder booms. The breeze picks up, fluttering the pages of a magazine on the coffee table. And my heart aches like it might be dying.
No one has ever looked at me like this. Like I’m a wild, endangered animal that needs to be treasured and protected if it’s going to survive. He might as well be a penitent kneeling in front of a cross for all the reverence in his eyes. The fervor in his gaze is religious.
He slowly slides his hands down my spread thighs. When he reaches my waist, he circles it and squeezes, learning my shape. Then he pushes the dress up past my hips, exposing my stomach all the way to my ribs, the entire time staring down with intense concentration.
He traces his index finger lightly around the tattoo near my left hip. His questioning gaze flashes up to mine.
“Dragonflies live a short life,” I whisper, mesmerized by the ardor in his eyes. “They know they have to make every moment matter.”
His eyes are piercing. “I’ve heard that a dragonfly landing on you is a dead loved one coming to visit.”
My heart twists so violently, I suck in a breath. I turn my head away and close my eyes to hide.
Ryan lowers himself onto me, resting his weight on his elbows. He murmurs into my ear, “Okay. Sore spot. We won’t go there tonight.”
The way he says “tonight” lets me know he has every intention of getting it out of me in the future, however.
But there’s no future here. This is one of those unexpected things that pops up randomly in life. A fleeting spark between two strangers, a moment in time that’s special exactly because it’s so short.
Things like this aren’t meant to last. A few hours of pleasure in a lifetime of pain is the best we can hope for.
It dawns on me that I’m being offered an incredible gift.
It doesn’t really matter that I’m here on a job and my initial intention was only to use him as a pawn to make my play. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never crossed this line before, or that I’ll never see this man again after tonight.
What matters is that this connection—this strange and beautiful thing—is real. Ryan makes me feel alive. He makes me feel special. He makes me feel seen, something I never truly am.
I’m a fool if I let him slip through my fingers when I could have a memory that could sustain me through all the dark times to come.
The decision made, I relax on multiple levels. I exhale my final resistance, take his face in my hands, and look into his beautiful eyes, the blue of opals and clear summer skies.
“No, we won’t go there tonight. But let’s go everywhere else, Ryan. Let’s go all the places we need to go. Let’s do it all.”
There’s a long, tense moment where he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, searching my face. Then a smile curves his lips, dangerous in its intensity.
“There you are,” he says softly.
“You only have a few hours until I turn into a pumpkin,” I warn him. “Make them count.”
He chuckles. “Goddamn, I love a bossy woman.”
“Then you’re in luck, cowboy.” I pull his face toward mine. “Now shut up.”
When I kiss him, he’s still smiling.
Six
Mariana
There are kisses, and there are kisses. Slow, deep, and incredibly hot, this one wins best in show. Only seconds in, and I’m helplessly squirming.
I wonder briefly how many women it must’ve taken for him to perfect his technique, then decide I don’t care. For tonight, his talented mouth is all mine.
It’s so good, I bite his lower lip and sink my fingernails into his back, desperate for more.
He laughs softly against my greedy lips. “Easy, killer. What’s your rush?”
“It’s been too long. And you’re delicious.” I’m panting. Close to begging. Long-dormant nerve endings are waking up, ravenous with hunger, like vampires at dusk.
“Right back atcha, Angel. But we’re not rushing anything.” His eyes are dark, so dark they’re almost black. His voice drops to a growl. “I’m gonna savor you, inch by inch.”