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“Ryland?”
He leaned over the sink, looking outside, saying nothing.
“I saw a few bottles left outside. I’ll just go clean those up and…” I felt awkward and uncertain why he wasn’t speaking to me.
“Don’t.” Ryland hadn’t moved, but he didn’t say anything else. He stood with his shoulders tensed and his large hands gripping the counter.
Anxiously, I rubbed the bare spot above my breastbone where my grandmother’s necklace usually rested. “But…”
“Summer…”
We spoke at the same time, and then silence became a pregnant pause as seconds ticked by without additional sound or affirmation.
“It’ll just take a moment…”
“Come here…”
Again, our voices collided with no resolution met, but Ryland turned and propped his crutches against the cabinets before holding his hand out to me. “Please,” he asked, and I was helpless to turn him down. Gulping back my last vestiges of hesitation, I took a shaking step forward and put my hand into his.
“Tell me you want me to drive you home, and I will.” He pulled me into his embrace, one hand cupping my cheek, his thumb slowly rubbing over the bone from the corner of my eye down to my lip. Each breath felt like a tumble further down the rabbit hole, and my body molded itself to his embrace. Any alcohol I’d consumed earlier had already left my body, so there were no excuses.
I ignored his question—two could volley in this game. “Did you like the cookies I made?” Nerves made me reach for the most obvious of questions. I’d made the vegan recipe especially for him, uncertain of how they would turn out without having sampled them first. Nursing shifts didn’t leave me much time to experiment in my kitchen.
Ryland lifted his face, looking up at the ceiling fan as it slowly rotated in the stifling heat of the kitchen, and laughed. My body stiffened with rejection, and I tried to step back. His hands slipped over my shoulders to settle on my hips, drawing me in closer to him. I was surrounded by his thick, muscled body, and the only thing between us was pressed tightly—long and hard—against my center. Excitement, shock, and a crazy desire to run and lock the front door shot through me. I felt jittery like I had this intense sugar rush from eating my favorite strawberry ice cream when he touched me because it was a sweet combination of chills and heat.
Ryland’s lips rubbed against my ear, and his hot breath made a bead of perspiration slide between my breasts. “I loved them, Summer.” His teeth grazed my lobe before he spoke again. “I ate every single one. Thank you.” He ended by kissing my neck, sucking a little at the end before releasing me with a pop that I’m positive resulted in a mark I wouldn’t be able to hide tomorrow. As far as second kisses went I wanted a whole lot more and didn’t think I could wait a respectable amount of time courting between each one.
“I’m happy you liked them.” I licked my dry lips.
The room felt pressurized—between the hot kitchen and Ryland sucking all the air from the space, but that could have been my imagination.
“I did, and I don’t like sharing.” Ryland seemed to be talking about other things, but I let that go and focused on filling my lungs with enough air to keep me conscious.
“I can make you more if you’d like.”
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“Mmm.” A guttural humming between his lips was the only response he gave me as I felt fingers inching my summer dress up my legs. I’d worn a bikini, knowing Ryland had a hot tub, but now I found he was using that to his advantage and tugging on the strings, letting my perfect little bows unravel. If this made me a hussy, because I wasn’t about to stop him, I could live with that.
“Ryland.”
“Summer.”
Our mouths met in a joining of tongues and lips seeking out their mates. We stroked each other in a dance of twirling tongues, coaxing more each turn. I ran my hands over his massive shoulders, which were honed by years of training for his dangerous job, and ended up with my fingers tangled in his short but tuggable hair.
Ryland’s fingers managed to untie the knots of my bottoms, and I felt the fabric sliding against my inner thighs and dropping to the floor. I was wetter than a flash flood from my arousal which never in my limited experiences happened before. Ryland’s left hand abandoned its grip on the curve of my hip to cup my sex gently and trace a finger along my slit. He played at my entrance, circling my wet center with agonizing slowness before pushing his finger inside me. Everything below my waist shuddered and clenched around him tightly, drawing a groan from Ryland’s lips.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” It slipped from my mouth, and I dropped my head against Ryland’s rumbling chest in embarrassment.
“Should I look for those car keys?” He taunted me.
He pumped within me, and rational thought fled. I didn’t care if it felt like an inferno inside the kitchen. Satan could have my soul if he gave me one night of this with Ryland—consequences be damned.
“You do that, and I’ll throw them over the fence.” I was dead serious.
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Ryland
