All Of You (Only You) (2 page)

Not yet.

Soon he'd make his move. He just had to get himself together and make a plan. There was no way in hell he was letting her get away. The chemistry couldn't be one-sided, and after the way she'd eyed his chest when her tirade had stuttered to a halt, Ryan was convinced it wasn't. It just required the right moment, the right place, and the right actions, and he'd bet his big screen TV on their attraction turning explosive.

First, he needed a shower, and maybe he could give himself a little relief before he ventured over to Claire's with some excuse to spend time with her. Ryan shouldered the front door open and stepped inside. He took in the mess he'd left behind when he'd come in from work. His mud-caked boots sat by the door, a flannel shirt splattered in the same mud hung over the railing for the stairs, and a pile of jeans, socks, and T-shirt lay in a dirty heap at the bottom of the first step.

Sighing, Ryan reached down and scooped up his work gear, snagging the shirt as he passed on his way to the laundry. He only hoped the damn washer worked. The last load he'd done had come out as dirty as it had gone in, and he'd ended up taking it to his brother's and running the clothes through Brett's machine. If his washer was on the fritz, he could make it through the rest of the week, but come the weekend he'd need to do something about it.

Then again, I might have just found the perfect excuse to head next door and see Claire.

Ryan turned around and walked back to where he started, dumping the pile by the door. Oh yeah, a shower, a little light relief from the arousal gnawing on his insides, a change of clothes, and he'd head next door to get some washing done. He grinned, toed off his running shoes, and took the stairs two at a time on his way to the bathroom. He stripped out of his shorts and tossed them over the railing to the foyer below before entering the bathroom.

Soft music echoed off the tile surface, and Ryan spun around looking for the source. It took him a minute, but the second Ryan worked out where the music was coming from he groaned.
Claire. Jesus.
She was in her bathroom. He knew what that meant. Torture. Absolute. Complete. Torture.

The faint sounds of splashing water could be heard through the thin common wall that separated their homes, it mixed with whatever music she'd put on. Some sort of classical crap that he wasn't into but Claire seemed to love playing whenever she took a bath. And he should know—she took a lot of them.

He imagined her lying back in the porcelain tub, stretched out with scented water and frothy bubbles swirling around her lush curves. Her breasts would play peek-a-boo, bobbing beneath the white foam before peeking out to tease him. She'd grab a sponge, lather it with soap, and glide the slick cloth over her shoulder, down her arm. In a slow, even stroke, she'd bring it back up her smooth skin and across her collarbone. Neck arched, she'd drag the sponge up her throat, leaving a trail of bubbles that would drip south, down into the line of foam hiding her generous breasts from view.

"Fuck!"

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and tried the clamp down on the lust roaring through him. His cock lengthened, engorged with blood boiling with white-hot arousal. Giving in, he wrapped a hand around his shaft and stroked from root to tip in a punishing grip. Pre-come beaded in the slit on the bulbous head, and his balls pulled up tightly into his body. Fire burned in the pit of his stomach, urgent need raced up his spine, and his knees went weak when he thought he heard a moan from next door.

He leaned back against the cool tile wall and pumped his hand in fast, firm motions that had him on the brink of coming in seconds. Ryan imagined Claire's fingers were milking his flesh, bringing him pleasure and relief from the raging desire he'd lived with for months. Her creamy skin would contrast with his darker coloring, her feminine curves balancing his masculine angles, and her softness would cushion his hardness. With a groan, he worked his erection harder. Flesh slapped together, the sound echoed around the room and drove his arousal higher.

His sac drew up into his groin and his balls tingled as they prepared to blast a load of come through his dick. Ryan reached down with his other hand and squeezed the two ultrasensitive orbs tucked in close to his body. Fire burst free, licking along his cock and shooting up his spine. White arcs of liquid shot from him with what felt like the speed and force of a bullet. The wall at his back was the only thing stopping him from toppling over. His knees wobbled, and he lowered to the floor before he fell on his ass. Cold tile met hot skin and his testicles recoiled, pain darting up into his belly.

The sting of cold did more to diminish his hard-on than his orgasm had. He was still hard and in need of relief. Relief he wouldn't find alone in his bathroom wanking off to the mental image of the woman he wanted with razor-edged hunger. Ryan let his head drop back on the wall and closed his eyes. His breathing was still labored, and he was covered in sweat and come. The room smelled like a brothel late on a Friday night. Not that he'd know what one smelled like.

Okay, so there was one time way back when he
was
a randy schoolboy but he'd matured since then. Not that his body's behavior around Claire was any indication of that, but she was an anomaly. Ryan didn't understand his reactions to her, and he certainly couldn't explain them. He did, however, know exactly what to do with them. He'd grab that shower and some clean clothes, go next door holding his bundle of dirty laundry, and beg to use her washer.

If he combed his house from top to bottom he could probably come up with two loads of washing. That had to be good for a couple hours hanging out at her place. He could get to know Claire better. Spend some time talking, finding out what she liked and disliked. What her favorite food is, her favorite color, what type of movies she watched. He might even suggest they catch one together sometime.

With a plan in mind, Ryan pushed off the floor. His legs still felt like jelly, but he stayed upright long enough to get clean and head to his room for clothes. His cock still stood at attention, raring to go and eager to get there. Going commando as he usually did at home was out, or he'd be advertising his state of arousal, and she'd never let him in the door. Briefs, sweats, and a shirt that fell to below groin level hid his hard-on well enough to get him in her door.

Now he just had to collect two loads of washing and think of a good opening line. By the end of the night he'd know whether there was any hope of getting in Claire's pants. Grinning, he pulled the sheet from his bed to add to the wash. If his plan worked he might get a taste of her by the end of the week. If he was really lucky he might score an entrée this evening. He laughed. It
didn’t hurt a guy to dream big.

*****

Claire pulled the sash on her robe tighter as she made her way downstairs to refill her wine glass. The long soak in a scented bubble bath and two glasses of wine had done wonders for her frazzled nerves. Her muscles were relaxed, and she was planning on a light dinner before crawling into bed to finish her book. There was ironing to do, but it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight was about pampering herself. Something she did very rarely these days.

Humming along to the Bond album still playing upstairs, Claire entered the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge and the open wine bottle. She didn't often drink, and certainly not on a weekday, but today had proven just a little too much. After months of lusting over the young hunk next door, she hadn't been prepared for her best friend to call her on it. And now that Jane had put the suggestion in her mind, Claire couldn't stop thinking about Ryan or the fantasies he provoked.

She unscrewed the bottle cap, thanking whomever it was that decided screw caps were better than corks. A whole bottle would be too much, and the cap meant she could indulge in a couple of glasses and save the rest for later. Not that there'd be much left at the rate she was drinking.

Until her friend suggested she fuck Ryan, Claire hadn't seriously thought about it. Sure she'd had some fantasies and wet dreams with him in the starring role, but she'd never contemplated going after him. Now it was as if her brain was on a continuous loop, replaying the same thoughts—her and Ryan in every way possible. But she didn't have a clue where to start to make those fantasies a reality. The idea of touching him—being touched by him—sent a shiver down her spine as her mind began to weave possible scenarios for seduction.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her daydreams. She finished topping off her drink and recapped the bottle, placing it on the counter as she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the front door. Leaning forward, she peeked through the peephole to see who had come calling. The last person she expected to see was Ryan, but there he stood with an armload of what looked like dirty clothes. What the hell was he doing on her doorstep with washing?

She slipped the safety chain free, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door. A cool summer breeze blew through the opening and under the light material of her robe, lifting it and giving Ryan a good view of naked thighs before she could
push the silk back down again.
Shit!
She’d forgotten she was naked underneath. His gaze dropped to where her hand groped with the edges of the fabric. The wind had separated the two sides, and she was struggling to cover herself with one hand.

There was no mistaking the look of desire in his eyes. Claire's body tightened in response. Arousal, already on a low burn, turned up a few degrees. Her flesh swelled and mo
istened, grew heavy with want.
Damn.
Her body's reactions to him had gone up ten-fold.

Straightening what little covering she had on, she ushered him inside before anyone walking past saw her state of undress. She waited for him to speak, but he just continued to stare at her with hungry eyes, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. It did nothing to help her control her wayward hormones.

Needing to break the silence, Claire licked her lips and tried to talk. The croak that came out was pitiful. She took a quick sip of wine and tried again.

"W-what can I do for you, Ryan?" Better, but not by much.

His gaze traveled up her body, a slow tour stopping at all the highlights along the way. Claire shivered as if he'd caressed her with his fingertips. The gold flecks in his eyes sparkled with desire, and she swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat.

"I, um
…that is, my washer's broken, and I wondered if I could use yours." He shrugged his shoulders, raising the bundle in his arms as if it wasn't obvious what he held. With a sheepish look he said, "I brought my own detergent."

Claire couldn't help the giggle that slipped out of her mouth. She'd never pictured Ryan as anything but naked and sexy as hell. The very idea he did mundane things like laundry and was well versed in the chore enough to bring his own detergent struck her as funny.

"Sorry, didn't mean to laugh at you." She stepped around him. "No problem, it's back here."

Leading the way, Claire realized she probably could have sent him on his own. His townhouse was the reverse layout of hers, so he'd know where to find the laundry. She stopped in the kitchen and pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar.

"It's all yours. I'm not using it tonight." Perched on the seat, Claire watched his very fine ass walk past her and into the room off the kitchen.

"Thanks." Ryan looked over his shoulder and caught her perving on him.

In that moment, Claire decided to make her interest clear. Instead of looking away in embarrassment she held her gaze steady on his. She raised her glass in a toast and took a sip. The grin he flashed her had her toes curling, her stomach clenching, and her pussy throbbing. God, the man was lethal. She downed the rest of her wine in one gulp, but it didn't douse the fire raging inside her.

When he entered the laundry she had to lean over to see him as he loade
d his clothes into the washer.
Thank god for front loaders.
Getting to see that gorgeous butt beneath those stretched tight shorts was heavenly. Claire's imagination ran wild; she could see her hands smoothing all over those tight cheeks and diving between them to cup his balls. The warmth in her belly grew hotter, and she almost toppled off the stool when he turned in her direction.

Ryan was quick on his feet, up and over to her before she blinked. He steadied the stool and waited for her to get her balance. As he let go, his arm brushed her erect nipple. The slippery material of her negligee dragged across the engorged tip, sending darts of electricity shooting out and causing the bud to pucker tighter. Claire sucked in a breath, the action thrusting her chest closer to him.

Sitting on the stool put her eye-level with his throat. The bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed tantalized her.
What would he taste like if I licked him there?
Her body swayed forward, and her tongue slipped out to run over her bottom lip.

Ryan groaned, and Claire's world tilted.

His lips slammed onto hers. There were no gentle, getting to know you sweeps of his tongue. He thrust into her mouth, meeting no resistance as she gladly opened for him. Urgent need filled her. She wanted him. Their mouths devoured one another. Each taking and giving in a kiss so out of control Claire lost her breath. Tongues dueled, teeth scraped and bit. Desperate for more, she wove her fingers into his short hair and pulled him closer.