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How would he react if I texted to cancel, and played it off like I did end up deciding to be at work in the ten minutes since we last spoke? Would he roll his eyes, pity the inexperienced, small-town girl, and give up the fight?
A rap on the door echoes in my eerily quiet apartment, pulling me from my thoughts. My footsteps are light as I walk to the entryway, barely balancing my fingertips on the wooden frame to peer through the peephole, as if there is any question about who it is.
Ryan stands tall, hands tucked in the front pockets of his black joggers. Gray, zip-up hoodie over a white tee and hair that is still damp and disheveled from a rushed shower. It never fails that when I see him, I’m taken aback by how shockingly handsome he is. But tonight, there is a look of … something else on his face. Something I’m not used to seeing in someone who walks with such an air of confidence surrounding them.
It looks like nervousness.
Like maybe this thing between us is as out of character for him as it is for me but in a very different way.
With trembling hands, I unlock the door and open it for him, opening my mouth to say ‘hi’ but the words get caughtin my throat. The fluorescent lights of the hall burn brightly behind his head, illuminating him like some sort of patron saint. With how quickly the stress fizzles from my body, how every insecure thought that I was letting ping-pong inside my brain is immediately replaced with hot, electric sparks, he might as well be.
Once he crosses the threshold, he takes the door from my hand and shuts it behind him, locking the deadbolt without needing to turn around. The room hums with anticipation, and I find myself making awkward small talk as he inches toward me, the look on his face going from soft and timid to dark and mischievous in a matter of seconds.
“Is it getting cold out there?” I ask, desperate to fill the void. No response, just another step forward, slipping his sneakers off and unzipping his hoodie, eyes glued to my face.“Did you hear it’s supposed to snow this week?”
His hoodie hits the floor, and he stalks towards me as I shuffle backward further into my apartment until my shoulders press against the dining room wall. I lean my weight against it, begging it to hold me up as I tuck my shaking hands behind my back. He stops once he reaches me, one heaving chest against the other as he raises his hands to place them on the wall at each side of my head. His gaze finally drops down and he takes me in, eyes slowly working their way down my body, leaving a scorched trail as they go.
With one hand against the wall, caging me in against his body, the other comes up to my face, fingers grazing my cheek before drifting down to the hollow of my throat. He pauses there for a moment, and I’m sure he’s counting the beats of my erratic heart, relishing the feel of it pulsating against his palm. His hand continues down my neck, to the valley between my breasts, fingertips dipping underneath the panel of my thread-bare robe.A full-body shudder follows, and I swallow nervously, squeezing my legs together to ease the ache.
“I see you wore my favorite outfit,” he says in that low, gravelly voice as his hand reaches the belt of my robe. He grips it firmly in one hand, tugging my hips to him and I suck in a breath at the connection.
“I wanted to dress up for the occasion,” I tease, rising on my toes to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw.
His hand gives a tug to the belt, letting it come undone and the panels fall open, cool air hitting my most delicate flesh. He’s seen my bare chest before, touched nearly every part of my body, but his gaze immediately falls to my hard nipples and down to my bare pussy.
I pause, waiting for him to push the robe off my shoulders, to leave me completely exposed to him, but he takes a step back. He reaches both hands up to grip the neck of his tee and pulls it off, rolling it in his hands before shucking it to the ground. I’ve seen him shirtless before. I know the feeling of his soft chest hair abrading my nipples as he pulls me to him, but it feels all the more real at this moment.
His hands lower and I follow them, my knees twitching with wild anticipation as he reaches the hem of his pants. Tucking his thumbs in the waistband of his joggers, he pushes them down, casually stepping each foot out and my mouth goes dry. How someone can be such a perfect physical specimen is beyond me. He belongs in one of those cheesy cologne commercials. A Greek god, all shaggy hair and gleaming muscles.
He smirks, and I realize all my attention has been focused on his crotch and his black briefs. He strokes himself slowly over the fabric, teasing me with every grip, making me wish it was my hand, not his, getting to touch him. I reach out, ready to take over but he twists away, a wry smile crossing his lips.
“Lose the robe.”
My eyes flutter shut at his command, and I instantly oblige, removing my arms from their safe zone behind me and shimmying to let my robe fall off my shoulders. The thin fabric gets caught at the cuffs of my wrists, and with a quick twist, I let them fall, leaving me completely naked in the dim lighting of my living room. A deep growl rumbles from his throat, nostrils flaring as eyes graze over me.
He falls to his knees, face pressed to my belly as he places slow, tantalizing kisses over my stomach. I gasp at the touch and my hands jump up to grip his hair, relishing the feeling of his soft lips on my skin. This dichotomy of tender and controlling soothes me, as if, like everything else, he knows what I need. Turned on by the way he commands my body—the tenderness bringing me the level of comfort we both know I need.
“Are you Irish?”
His question floors me. Why in the hell is he thinking of my ethnic background at a time like this?
It isn’t until I realize his kneeled position puts him at face-level with my Celtic star tattoo, that I laugh. The sound echoes off the walls of my apartment, evaporating every last drop of anxiety along with it.
“No, not one bit Irish.” I pull him to my stomach in a hug, still shaking with laughter. “Let’s just say it’s a long story that involves a drunk Jenna.”
“Say no more.” He plants soft kisses on my hip bone, lips brushing from one side to the other.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, voice muffled low against my skin.
I lick my lips, unable to concentrate on anything he is saying when his mouth is on me. “What do you mean?”
His hands slide up, gently squeezing my hips before going around to rest on my ass, pulling my body against him as he nuzzles his face into me.
“I want to hear you say it.” He leans lower, sinful lips hovering over me, puffs of breath hitting my pussy in the most tantalizing way.
What I want ishim, in every way I can get him. I want him to throw me down on the bed and show me things I’ve only heard about from Jenna and Meg. I want him to do things to me that would put every mediocre porn I’ve seen to shame. I want my body to remember the weight of him as he lays on top of me.
“Tell me what you’ve beendreamingI’d do to you.”
