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Retrieving a condom from his bag, he quickly sheathed himself and then, looking back at her, let out a low groan. She was half seated, ready for him. Her arms supported her against the bed, her legs bent, knees wide.
Unable to resist any longer, he edged between her legs. She raised her hips as he positioned his cock at her entrance. He’d wanted women before, lusted for them, longed for them even. But never had he felt so much like a man possessed when he finally touched them. Every part of him demanded that Bethany be his.
“Take me,” came her breathy plea. “Any way you want. I need you inside of me.”
He thrust forward, boring into her with one long, hard stroke that buried him to the hilt. He lost himself in the bliss of her hold, the rhythmic pulse of her body around him, conforming to his presence within her. For an instant, he was blind to anything but the fact that they were one. And then his need to satisfy her overcame everything else.
Bethany could barely breathe. The pleasure was so intense that every part of her body seemed to stop and take note of the velvet glide of Ryan as he pumped in and out of her slick channel. With every stroke, his groin kissed her clit, took her higher, closer to the summit of ecstasy.
“God, yes,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips, her hands gripping his biceps. The man knew how to touch her, how to make her want in a way she’d never experienced before.
Her inner walls hugged with every draw. Pleasure burst at every thrust. From her extremities, the pull of tingly sensation migrated toward her center, building with each pump of his hips and crush of flesh against flesh.
They met stroke for stroke, moved faster, harder, until the threatening waves of her orgasm broke through her core and she seized around him, her channel milking his cock with every contracting wave.
Ryan’s hard body tensed above and within her as he met her peak with his own. Through one final thrust, he growled against her neck and spilled himself into the condom.
They rocked slowly, silently together. For an instant, she lost herself completely and wished they could stay like that for eternity, cradling each other in their sensual embrace. She felt whole.
Then she blinked and, looking into Ryan’s limitless blue eyes, she returned to her senses. It was one night. She’d make the most of it.
Chapter Three
January 22
Bethany awoke with a sense of weightless peace. She remained that way for almost two-tenths of a second, until the shock of what she’d done, and who she’d done it with, came roaring into her consciousness.
She wore a man’s large, white T-shirt that smelled appealingly like...Speedstick? She wanted to be revolted, but the thin, cool fabric against her skin still raw in places from his stubble, made her want to pull her knees up under it and snuggle back into the soft pillows of the bed. Awesomely comfortable shirt aside, she’d spent the night with Ryan. Ryan! As it was, the man dominated nearly seventy percent of her life. Hadn’t she gotten enough of him without having to beg for his cock inside of her?
She didn’t even like him, couldn’t respect him—
No, neither was true. But there was something fundamental about him she didn’t trust. Well, certainly she trusted him enough to let him fuck her senseless last night.
God, he was good.
It was more that she didn’t trust him to...she didn’t know. Didn’t want or need to worry about it. Last night had been spectacular, and she would invariably walk around with some kind of after-sex glow that would make her seem giddy and stupid all day, but what of it? This was an interpersonal retreat. She’d bonded, she rationalized with a mischievous smile.
Hopping out of bed, she hummed, swaying her hips to the chorus of Natural Woman as she walked into the bathroom and checked her reflection. Her hair was a disaster, her makeup almost gone, and her skin did, in fact, look as though someone had taken a sandblaster to it. Holy shit. How would she ever cover up the pink shine across her cheeks and chest? It all but screamed, “fucking for four hours straight!”
Four hours. She leaned back against the towel cabinet in a state of near delirium. It had been so long since she’d had a man, she deserved a four-hour fling. But how would she keep her cool in the office when she knew what Ryan was capable of?
She’d find a way. In the privacy of her bathroom, she could melt on the floor, get all worked up and wet just thinking about him. But in the workplace? There was too much at stake, and if there was one thing she had straight, it was her priorities.
Was there any chance they had enough time for one more go? Nothing fancy like with the shower last night, but, dear Lord, she wanted him buried inside of her again. Stretching her, pulling her leg over his shoulder. Aahhh.... She sank to the floor and took a deep breath. She wasn’t a woman obsessed. Ryan wasn’t her plaything. She needed to get a grip.
And she needed a shower.
By the time she’d finished a thorough scrub and lather, she felt almost back to normal. Ready, at least, to face a return to the mundane details of her life. Stepping out of the glassed-in stall, she grabbed a towel and squeezed the water from her thick tangle of hair. She fumbled through the cabinets and drawers in search of a comb or anything to make herself more presentable. Though the idea of a comb left behind by some stranger, even one successful enough to spend time at this luxurious retreat, was repugnant. But one glance in the mirror, seeing the dense mass of matted curls, confirmed it. The risk of scalp contamination was the lesser evil.
The drawers were filled with creams, scented oils, cleansers and scrubs. Loofahs, natural sponges, candles and more, but no combs. Squinting up at the ceiling, she wondered if Ryan would have a
comb. Even one of those thin black ones like her grandfather used to carry in his back pocket. Given enough time, a fork would suffice, but the idea of using cutlery for her hair was even worse than someone else’s abandoned dandruff.
With a huff, she checked the last cabinet under the sink. A blow dryer and diffuser. It was official; Ryan would be her last resort. She couldn’t very well look like this when the other team members showed up. She slipped into yesterday’s trousers and ruined silk blouse, which she’d retrieved and hung sometime during the early hours of the morning. After a nice shower, she wasn’t interested in the panties of old and went commando instead. Not exactly an immaculate presentation, but she wasn’t about to risk being caught in Ryan’s clothes.
Wrapping the towel around her head like a turban, she took a quick second to compose herself and headed down the hall to the lounge, following the spicy scent of cinnamon and coffee. It was such a perfect way to start the day. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. Heaven was her last thought before stepping into the spacious front room to see Ryan standing in an awkward lunge as he pressed his phone to his ear.
“What do you mean no one else is coming? Until when? Shit, Jared, you know that wasn’t what I meant… Well, how long is it supposed to keep up like this? Jared? Jared?” Ryan straightened and looked at the phone, his brow furrowed as he moved the mobile around in the air.
