Predator's Kiss (12 page)

Lordy. Talk about something … anything
. “The bread looks so fresh.”

She winced.
The bread looks so fresh? I am so lame.

She quickly reached for a slice of baguette and topped it with a nice slice of roast beef. She gave it to Ryland and he accepted it, putting it on the plate in front of him. He took a sizable chunk of bread and smothered it in honey and offered it to her. They each took bites of their creations, eyeing each other, and Lia wasn’t sure which of them was blushing harder.

As she nibbled the sticky baguette, a question burned in her brain. She needed to ask it, even though it might sound impertinent. “Ryland, I really appreciate you shifting for me. I get the sense you don’t make a habit of doing that.”

He stared at her, black eyes brilliant and penetrating. “No. You have to understand, as much as there’s a side of me that’s very human, my other side is animal, with animal tendencies and instincts. In the wild, a bear wouldn’t let you pat him. A shifted bear is much the same. I’ve only done that for one other person.” He looked away. “It didn’t end well.”

So it was a woman. Of course it was a woman. Did she honestly think a man like him was celibate? He probably had any number of honeys chasing after him. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His eyes took on the aspect of glittering coal, rough around the edges. For a moment, she thought she spied the bear again.

“Not really.”

Lia took another small bite of her bread, and tried to hide her disappointment. What did she expect? She barely knew the man. Did she really believe he’d just share all his dirty secrets with her? She knew enough about Ryland Snow to know he wasn’t the sort of man to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Besides, she’d already pushed him away once. It was no wonder he wasn’t willing to open up to her.

Maybe if she opened up a little…

“I understand about things not ending how you’d expect,” she admitted in a small voice. “I never really dated much. I had somewhat of a sheltered life when I was younger. My parents never approved of a lot of the boys I went to school with, and I wasn’t exactly a rebel so I didn’t push it.” She let out a sad giggle. “I guess you could say I grew up repressed. And then I started secretly writing and I got along better with my characters than with real people. I withdrew into make-believe worlds. My folks made it clear they didn’t approve, even after I left home. They figured marriage would fix me, and tried for a couple of years to set me up with sons of their rich friends.”

“I take it those sons didn’t do it for you,” he said with a heated look that totally did it for her.

Trying not to faint, she smiled. “No. I tried dating some men I met through friends. They were nice, I suppose, but—”

“But you’re not looking for nice?”

She contemplated his serious expression. “It’s not that. I don’t know what it was, but none of them were for me. It’s as if a special element was missing. A certain something I can’t define.” She stared at him for a few moments, searching for that certain something in his eyes, and was startled at the possibility of glimpsing it there. “Anyway, I began dating another man a while back. Rick is kind, but he has issues. After a year, I had to break up with him.”

“Rick has issues.” Ryland said it as a statement, rather than as a question.

“You could say that.” She met his frank gaze, and tried once again to determine how things had fallen apart with her ex-boyfriend. “It became clear early on that, well, intimacy was not a priority for Rick. And God knows I tried.” She stared off into the distance, remembering the shameful scene and her dismay. “He wouldn’t touch me. It took us months to get to the bedroom.”

Ryland had been about to snap a couple of beers out of the six-pack plastic, but he put the cans down again. His mouth fell open. “You’re kidding me.”

She tried to smile, even though the mere recollection of the relationship was enough to make her feel sick with self-loathing. “I wish. Rick refused to lay hands on me, aside from the odd tap on my shoulder. And even that seemed to give him the willies. It was as if he was allergic to my touch. It got to the point where I was begging him to have sex with me. After a few months, he finally gave in. The whole transaction took five minutes from start to finish. Neither of us came at all, and by the end of it, Rick seemed revolted.”

Ryland was frozen to his spot, his food seemingly forgotten. “I’m sorry. But why?”

“I don’t know. I wonder sometimes if he’s just asexual. I did get him to go to a doctor one time. Did you know there’s a condition called erotophobia? It’s a fear of sex. Although Rick was never officially diagnosed with it, I think he must have suffered from it.” She considered. “I don’t blame him for being who he is. I just wish he’d told me first.”

“He never told you what he was feeling?”

“No. When we dated, I’d try to kiss him or put a hand on his leg, but he always pulled away. He said he was old-fashioned and wanted to wait. In a way, I thought it was sweet. I mean, no one ever waits for marriage anymore. I figured it showed strength of character. In reality, he just didn’t want to touch me.”

Ryland stared. “Why did he even date you?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I think he was pretending to himself that everything was normal for him. We all want to be normal. We all want to go through our days feeling like the next guy. Unfortunately, not all of us can be the next guy.”

The sad curve to Ryland’s smile told her he understood exactly what she meant. And it broke her heart that he seemed to comprehend her meaning so succinctly. “What did you do?”

“I kept trying to be physical with him, hoping one day he’d return the favor. That he might actually enjoy it. But after a while, he only seemed to resent me for trying to be a good girlfriend to him. By the end, he hated being in my presence.”

Ryland paused, as if testing the air to see if he could ask what was on his mind. “Are you saying that, through your whole relationship, you didn’t have a single orgasm with your boyfriend?”

She didn’t need time to calculate the answer. She’d already spent months mulling over the sad implications. “Not one.”

“Lia,” Ryland murmured, his voice deep and sorrowful. “That’s the most tragic thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Her eyes fluttered as his words found their way into her heart, making it break all over again. She struggled to remain bright. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess there have been moments when it’s felt disastrous, but hey, I have all my fingers and all my toes. It could be worse, right?”

“Uh, Lia, no. This is tragic.” He paused, looking her up and down with a delicious slowness that almost stilled her heart. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long has it been since you’ve come with a man?”

Her heart seemed to want to stop beating in that second. She forced air into her lungs as she spoke. “A while.”

His breath seemed to catch just like hers as he grew more and more stunned with her every admission. “You must be dying inside.”

She let out a pathetic laugh. “I guess that’s why I poured myself into my writing. People think
Love in Chains
is a sexy book. Wait until they read the next one!” She bit her lip and sighed. “It’s not so bad.” She averted her eyes. “But it got worse recently.”

Ryland seized on her words. “Recently, when?”

Lia gulped, sure she was on fire, hoping her saliva would douse the flames inside her. “When I got to this lodge.” She took a breath. “And it ain’t easy right now in this room.”

Ryland got up from his spot on the bed and walked around the table, coming to stand in front of her. His face was twisted by what looked suspiciously like desire. “Did you like being kissed … by me?”

She blinked at him. “More than you know.”

“Oh, I know, Lia,” he said. “It was the same for me.”

She felt the heat of a red rose blush spring into her cheeks, and grew delirious as its sinful warmth trailed down toward the top of her chest. The same chest now rising and falling with her very labored breaths. “If only…”

Ryland stepped closer, too close for comfort, but she didn’t dare push him away this time. Didn’t want to push him away. “What do you need? I’ll do it for you.”

“I just … you’re so…” Her head fell back and she groaned. “Dammit! I just want to come! Just once! It’s been so long.” She exhaled. “I just want to feel like a regular woman.”

Ryland set his jaw, determined. Clearly, her passionate plea was all he’d needed to hear. He pulled Lia to him and she didn’t resist. From somewhere deep in his chest, she heard a low reverberating growl. Gently, slowly, he pulled the T-shirt over her head and then eased her silky boxers over her hips and ass. He watched her eyes widen as he let the clothing fall to the floor. And then he pulled her to the floor with him. He remained on his knees and moved her into a kneeling position. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the neck.

Just that tiny kiss started her trembling. What would happen if…?

Not if. When.

He positioned her so that she was facing away from him. “Relax, baby,” he whispered over her shoulder. “Let me take care of you.”

And then Lia did her best not to collapse on the floor in a great, wet puddle of desire.

Chapter 9

Lia shuddered. What was she doing, letting Ryland touch her like this? But as that thought pierced her consciousness, another took its place, affirming she’d wanted nothing else since she first saw him. She abandoned whatever common sense she possessed, and just gave in.

He put his hands on her naked body. It was just one pair of hands touching her, but it felt like fifty, it was so good. So sensual. Leagues better than even the most realistic of her very many sex dreams.

Years of sex-filled dreams that never reached any sort of culmination because of her failed relationships, and she’d never had as good a moment as Ryland’s hands upon her flesh. And he’d barely touched her.

Ryland turned her face toward his, brushing his fingers along her jawline, and swept his tongue into her open mouth. He kissed her harder than before. His fingers danced toward her breast, moving, moving, stopping only to tweak her nipple here and there, bringing her to a painful stiffness. And the whole time, he massaged her shoulders with his free hand. When she grabbed at an elusive breath, he moved his mouth to the back of her neck and licked at the top of her spine.

“You like that?” he whispered into her ear.

She groaned in response. Her power of speech had long since disappeared.

She heard him chuckle behind her, and the deep timbre of his voice got her more excited than the day, years ago, when one of her friends had smuggled naked pictures of the Red Hot Chili Peppers into Lia’s bedroom.

“I can think of other things you might like, Lia,” Ryland said, turning her head so he could kiss her lips again.

“I have no doubt,” she murmured against his full lips, almost afraid of the intense pleasure she’d already experienced at his hands.

Surely this was too much for one woman to handle? Everywhere she looked, she saw Ryland Snow. His lips and hands, and eyes that reflected back her own raw desire. He kneaded her skin, rolled her nipples between his fingers and took turns feasting on her mouth and neck.

She now understood fully this man was a predator, and she’d never been so happy to be someone’s prey.

Because each time Ryland touched her, each time his lips passed over her heated skin, she felt the bond between them grow. The bond she’d felt immediately upon seeing him the first time. It had come out of nowhere, and stymied her with its intensity. It felt so real and true. As if the two of them had spent years in each other’s company rather than days. As if they’d fought battles together, climbed mountains together, shared histories. As if they’d always known each other.

She was thunderstruck. She felt indescribably cherished and alive.

Ryland’s hands slid down to cup her bottom. He squeezed. Then, ever so slowly, she felt his finger slide down between her cheeks. Seeking. Burrowing between her folds. His breath caught. “Oh, fuck.”

He’d felt her moisture. How could he not? It was practically dripping down her legs.

And then, as she began to lose all reason, Ryland moved his hand toward her clit. He played with the little pearl, circling it slowly. Over and over he ran his fingers over her wet seam. Exploring her, savoring the feel of her femininity. His other arm came around her front and reached for her pussy as well, joining his other hand. And then they began to move as one delicious unit. Sliding, back and forth, front to back, over and over. Giving her no respite from the mounting, inevitable pleasure.

On and on, Ryland tortured her until she was digging her nails into his arms, just trying to stay up on her knees.

Back and forth. Front to back. Sliding, slipping, excruciating beauty.

Her heart raced. Her temperature soared. There was a foreign pounding somewhere deep in her body, demanding release. Begging for mercy. She was sure it might kill her, it was so violent. It had been so long since a man touched her this way, maybe it would end her life.

And still Ryland did not stop.

Then, one of his marauding fingers slipped inside her. Penetrating her core. And as swiftly as it was in, it was out again. Making her want to beg for more.

But as soon as one finger slid out, another sneaked in.

Once again, he built up his pattern of exquisite torment. Ryland would dip the finger from one hand in, and as soon as it was out, a finger from his other hand plunged in. Over and over until Lia was dripping her juices all over his wonderful hands.

She held her breath. Her body seized.

Ryland suddenly slid two fingers inside her, curling them against her while he tugged on her swollen clit with his other hand. There was an explosion inside her head. She screamed as he fingered her, feeling her pussy contract all around his hand. She couldn’t make out his face, could barely hear his labored breathing for the pounding in her brain.

Her entire frame felt like a balloon fast running out of helium. She shot into the sky as stars burst from behind her eyes and then fizzled. And even as she sank back down to the ground like that dropping balloon, Ryland held her and continued to touch her with the intimacy she’d craved for so long. Even as her body stilled, he ran a gentle finger over her seam as if his hand belonged there for all time, and it hurt him to pull away.