Against The Wall (8 page)

Hannah’s voice brought him back to the conversation. “And so you’re spending the night with her? You’re going to stay there with her?” They both knew that what she was really saying was you’re going to sleep with her.

“You know, as much as I love you, Hannah, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

There was silence for a moment, and then she said, “Shea’s my best friend, Ry. She’s also not half as jaded as you and so yes, that makes it my business. I don’t want her getting hurt if you’re not willing to offer her more than a quick fuck. She deserves more than that and you know it.”

“Just be glad I’m happy with your scheming tonight,” Ryan drawled, looking to sway the focus away from his plans for Shea and his own uneasiness about them, to Hannah and Derek, “or I might be tempted to stick my nose in your own sex life and lend old Kiely a hand with you.”

She groaned, but ignored the loaded comment, saying instead, “Fine, I’m going to go now, but I’ll call back on Sunday before I head home. I’d call tomorrow, but I’m going to be visiting my grandmother in the hospital all day.”

“Fine. I’ll tell Shea you called and that you’ll call on Sunday.”

More silence, and then, “Okay. But remember what I said, Ry. Hurt her and I’m going to make you sorry. I’ll become the biggest pain in the butt you’ve ever known. It’ll be worse than that time I put fire ants in your bed after you stole my bra and sold it to that snake Peter Gaze in the sixth grade. Godzilla will be like a teddy bear compared to me. You know I love you, Ry, but somebody’s got to keep you in line. Got it?”

The water was off now, and suddenly all he could think about was Shea’s wet, warm, dripping body—his for the taking. He gritted his teeth and muttered, “Yeah. Later, Hannah. And I love you too.”

He hung up the phone, sprawled out on the bed, and tried not to think about how badly he wanted to sink inside of the woman about to walk through the bathroom door. Knowing he needed a distraction, he unclipped his cell phone from his belt and called in to check his voicemail at work.

While he went through his messages, a paperback caught his attention on her bedside table. Without really thinking about it, just acting on his natural curiosity where this woman was concerned, he reached out and grabbed it, flicking through the pages with his thumb until he randomly stopped about midway through.

The first word he saw caught his attention, but the second one nearly made his eyes bug out.

Holy shit! Who would’ve ever thought it? Scholarly little Shea liked to read women’s erotica. How freaking stunning was that? He’d have smiled at the thought of her lying in this bed, snuggled up with her book and sexy little story…if only the thought didn’t make him fucking hard as nails.

What did she do when she read this stuff? Did she get wet? Did she reach between her sweet, slender thighs and stroke her clit? Finger her pussy? His eyes squeezed shut while a painful torrent of erotic images burned through his brain, leaving him shaky and aching and damn near on the verge of ripping out his cock and pumping himself to some sort of peace right there and then.

No matter how well he thought he had this woman pegged, she kept shifting the tables on him. Going to Red’s to try and pick him up. Wearing that little fuck-me dress and sandals, looking like a wet dream on legs. Reading soft-core erotica that would have made even the women at Red’s blush. Jesus, no wonder he was so damn fascinated with her.

Five minutes later, Ryan was still halfway listening to the sound of Derek’s voice giving him an update on Spalding, while his twisted imagination tortured him with image upon image of Shea. He saw her spread-eagled on her bed, knees up, the graceful fingers of one hand holding the lips of her cunt wide while the fingers of the other stroked and dipped into that sweet little hole that his tongue had been shoved up not fifteen minutes ago.

Oh Christ. He was trembling, a trickle of sweat dripping across his brow at the jaw-grinding visual assault, when she finally came through the door, flushed and smelling sweetly of vanilla, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten.

Well, food at least.

“You took long enough,” he muttered, his tone rougher than he’d intended. His eyes devoured her near-naked body while Derek’s voice became a nondescript noise in the background, his complete attention captured by Shea.

She nearly lost her hold on her towel as she jumped a foot in the air at the husky sound of his voice. “You scared the hell out of me!” she yelped, spinning around to pin him with a glare, careful to keep the slipping towel in place. “What are you still doing here?”

He flashed a hungry smile, holding up the book she’d last laid on her bedside table.

Oh crap.

Not that one.

It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by her reading choices. No, she was woman enough to know that there was nothing wrong with indulging her sexual fantasies with the help of some well-written erotica. Nonetheless, there was something decidedly awkward about being caught in nothing but a towel, while her dream man—who had just given her head—lay there on her bed as if he were a pasha waiting for her to come and grant his sexual wishes. Desire and lust hit her hard and high, and her pussy flooded while her face and breasts flushed a deep, aroused shade of red.

Ryan’s smile widened. “Interesting reading, honey. I never would’ve pegged you as a ‘cock’ and ‘cunt’ kind of girl, but I gotta admit I like it. I guess there are all kinds of fun things we get to learn about each other, huh?”

She stared at him in utter frustration, torn between making a cutting comment about his snooping habits and shamelessly throwing herself at him, begging him to take her every which way he could, twenty times this side of Sunday. No—damn it, she had more pride than that! But it wasn’t easy to hold back, especially with him propped up on her pillows, his muscles bulging beneath his T-shirt and jeans in all the right places. And she really, really wanted to get her hands on that beautiful cock of his again.

Oh, man…the things she would do with it if given half a chance. The thought was almost too tempting for her self-control, so she padded on bare feet to her dresser, determined to ignore the long, sexy body draped across her bed, apparently once again listening to someone on his cell phone. She grabbed her favorite pair of jammies and went back into the bathroom to change, thankful that he’d at least put his shirt back on and refastened his fly. The less of that magnificent, muscle-honed flesh she saw, the better—that is, if she was expected not to jump and drool all over it.

And despite the fact that he’d been a total jerk, a part of her couldn’t help but love the sight of him in her bed. It was strange how he looked like he belonged there. While she’d brushed her teeth, she’d wondered how many times she’d lain in that bed and listened to him screwing some other woman through the connecting bedroom wall of their apartments. Since she’d moved in, how many nights had she gone to switch off her CD player with one hand while crossing the fingers of her other, praying that she wasn’t going to be treated to yet another resounding performance of ooh-ahh-mmm, bang-bang-bang?

It’d been over a week since the last time she’d been awakened by his wall-thumping entertainment, and she was still hearing the disturbing noises in her sleep. Disturbing because of the way they affected her. Disturbing because she’d never in her life really believed a man could make a woman utter the kind of carnal sounds that no amount of drywall could contain. Disturbing because she wanted, more than anything in the world, to be the woman making those oohs and ahhs and mmms—all of which led up to the most erotic, raw sounding cries she had ever imagined.

Of course, she’d done a fair bit of screaming tonight herself, she mused, applying a thin layer of lightly scented moisturizer to her freshly scrubbed face. She almost smiled at the thought of how she’d wailed like a banshee when he’d finally pushed her over the edge with that wicked tongue of his and she’d come all over him. Knowing her cheeks were probably crimson at the delicious memory, she carefully avoided looking in the mirror while she went about the rest of her nightly routine, rubbing moisturizer into her skin and attempting to detangle the riot of black curls she called hair.

She didn’t want to face her ridiculous embarrassment, and she really didn’t want to be reminded of all the differences between her and the women who usually caught Ryan McCall’s eye. They always tended to be tall, where she was not, and tended to be on the somewhat top-heavy side of things, which she could only dream about. And, like the gorgeous stud, they took a casual attitude toward sex that she simply couldn’t comprehend. Hell, it wasn’t that she judged it, she just couldn’t get her head around how something so personal could be approached with so little meaning.

Then again, she was one to talk. Look at her and Jimmy Prescott. When she’d begun to agonize over the fact that she was the only admitted virgin left in her acquaintance, she’d slept with Jimmy—given her virginity to the jerk—when she really didn’t know him at all. Geez, as if the night weren’t already screwed up enough as it was, she had to go and think about that nightmare. Could this get any crappier?

When she came back out and Ryan was still there, minus the phone now, she paused in the doorway, crossed her arms, and said, “Why are you still here?”

Lounging back on her pillows, one leg lying atop her bed while the other hung off the side, foot on the floor and knee swinging, he looked like an ad for why good girls should always take at least one turn being bad. Shea licked her lips and tried real hard not to do that drooling thing, while reminding herself that, though she liked the thought of playing the wicked little sex kitten, she obviously didn’t do it very well.

Otherwise, she’d be having fun getting dirty, instead of having just gotten clean.

Everything about the man made her think of hot, sweaty, mind-shattering sex. There was just something about his sinful looks and the way he held himself, the constant blaze of heat firing his gaze, which reduced to her a quivering, pulsing mass of need every damn time she set eyes on him.

He lay there against her pillows, looking good enough to eat—and she’d love the chance to get that huge, hard, hot cock of his in her mouth for a long, lingering taste. His strong jaw was covered with the beginnings of sexy stubble, and she’d love to run her tongue along there as well, until she reached his ear and could taunt the sensitive hollow with her teasing breath. She wanted to run her tongue over his silky skin, savoring his rich, earthy flavor, filling her head with his warm, erotic scent. Actually, she’d like the chance to taste and breathe in every inch of him, from the top of his tawny head down to his two big feet.

The muted light from her lamp played across his rugged features and golden scrub of hair, the short strands rakishly disheveled from where he continually ran his hands through them. At the moment, one hand rested on his hard abdomen, fingers idly stroking, making her wish they were her own, the other propped behind his head, causing the hard muscles in his arm to bulge, stretching the seams of his T-shirt.

It seemed that everywhere she looked, he bulged with long, lean muscles, his body a mesmerizing work of art in the soft light and shadows. What would it feel like to be at the mercy of all that magnificent power and strength? To feel the delicious weight of his body against her own, those hard muscles pressing her down, holding her at his mercy as he pounded into her, losing control and giving her everything he could? His powerful physique intoxicated her with its masculine beauty, and the bastard knew it. His high cheekbones were hot with the flush of arousal, and the telling expression on his handsome face said he was only too aware of how he affected her, the cocky lift at the corner of his silky lips a testament to his arrogance.

God, he wasn’t even doing anything, was just lying there, for crying out loud, and she still couldn’t tear her eyes away. Everything about him was a seduction and a sin, from the thick ridge of his cock beneath the worn denim of his jeans, to the look in his eyes that once again said he wanted to take her hard and rough and deep.

He scooted down, making himself more comfortable, his blue eyes traveling over her, the heated look in them telling her he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It also said he liked what he saw.

Well, at least that much had changed, she thought with a wry groan. He no longer looked right through her, but seemed to take notice of the fact she was a woman. The knowledge of just how much evidence he had of that fact made her want to start blushing again, but she managed to fight back the telling action and repeated her question. “Why are you still here, Ry?”

Instead of answering her, he smiled and said, “You sure as hell took enough time to clean up.” He hated the unfamiliar thread of need in his voice, but there was no help for it. Just looking at her made his pulse race—his heart pump like a son-of-a-bitch. Damn it, he was needy, because he sure as hell needed her, and that should have had him running like hell, instead of planting his ass in her bed as if he never planned on getting back out of it. “You know, you can scrub all you want, Shea—but I don’t wash away that easily.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she drawled too sweetly, clearly still pissed with him. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

His stomach growled at him, reminding him he was hungry, but she didn’t look as if she were going to offer up the use of her kitchen for a midnight snack. A midnight fuck would be even better, but he didn’t think that was going to be an option either. He’d pissed her off, but good, with his weird little moment of panic back there, and she sure as hell didn’t look like she was in the mood to be forgiving. Not that he could blame her.

Christ, she’d had one hell of a night, and he sure as shit hadn’t helped the situation.

And he couldn’t help but smile at her spunk, finding her too adorable for words standing there in her threadbare shorts and shirt, glaring at him as if he were a bug she was getting ready to squash. “Hannah called while you were in the shower. Said she’d call back on Sunday.”

Shea’s answering smile felt tight, as if her face might crack with tension any second now. “Great. Thanks for the message. Now you can go.”