Sway With Me (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) (16 page)

He picked up the home phone sitting behind him and dialed. ”Hi, George. We’re both here for the night. Say ‘goodnight,’ Portia.”

He stuck the phone under her mouth while he kissed her neck.

“Night, George.” She disconnected and tossed the phone beside her. “Now where were we?”

He crushed his mouth against hers once more, making her pulse race and leaving her breathless.

A loud crunching noise distracted her, but she didn’t want to stop kissing him.

Were they tipping?

With a loud crack, the stairs broke beneath their weight and Ryan’s fine ass sunk between the risers.

They stopped kissing, looked at each other, and did the only thing they could.

They laughed.

“Add it to the list,” Ryan said, helping her to her feet. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” There was a hint of worry in his eyes as if he feared she’d change her mind.

She could no more change her mind than stop her heart from beating. All her reservations flew out the newly replaced front door when he declared that she belonged to him. She cupped his cheek and went to speak, but her throat had grown too dry. Words weren’t necessary. She simply nodded. His lips curled into a wide smile and she found herself suddenly airborne, lifted into his arms. Ryan held her as if she weighed as little as a feather and carried her up the stairs.

She dug her nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled. This was really happening. She didn’t dare open her eyes until he gently laid her on the bed and settled his weight on top of her. The hunger etched on his face nearly overwhelmed her, making her squirm underneath him in anticipation.

Finally able to explore, she ran her fingers up and down his back, feeling the expansion of his rib cage as he breathed heavily. She reveled in the fact she could affect him like this. Her. As someone who never held a single moment of power off the stage, to have it over this man emboldened her to release her inhibitions.

She raised her head, nipped his lower lip then soothed it with the tip of her tongue. He groaned and tried to kiss her, but she shifted her attention to the sexy stubble on his chin, nuzzling it with her cheek. She shivered, anticipating feeling the abrasive hair on the inside of her thighs. She ran her teeth down his neck and sucked the flesh into her mouth. God, he tasted so good. Salty and sweet, just like her favorite kettle corn—only better, because it was Ryan. How would he taste . . . lower?

He growled. “Enough, Portia.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t be more aroused, she found her arms above her head, Ryan gripping both her wrists in one of his large hands. Her heart hammered, its beat matching the one between her legs.

“Keep your hands there,” he commanded with a hint of raspiness in his voice. “It’s my turn to taste you.”

As if she’d say no? She pressed her lips together and gave him a quick nod, trying to remember what panties she wore. Not that he could see much in the dark—

He flicked on the Tiffany lamp, his devilish grin coming into full view. “I’ve waited two months for this. I don’t want to miss a damn thing when I make love to you for the first time.”

Oh my . . .

He settled between her legs and pushed against her thighs as if he was planning on staying there awhile. Inch by inch, he raised her dress, baring her to his gaze. Thank the heavens she’d worn her Victoria’s Secret pink lace.

His fingers found their way to her belly button ring. “How did I not know about this?” He seemed mesmerized, flicking the gold hoop between his fingers. “This is so fucking sexy. What other secrets are you keeping from me?” He looked up at her. “Take off your dress. You can use your hands, but you have to put them back when you’re finished.”

The feminist in her wanted to protest against his orders, but her lady parts had hogtied and muzzled her. Sure, she’d had sex before. Fumbling sex in the back of a car. Polite sex where the guy gave her a quick orgasm with his fingers before he thrust inside her for two minutes then took her out to dinner. Sex where she counted how many times the ceiling fan went around before she faked her climax to end her torment so she could get to the part where he held her in his arms. But the kind of sex where the man could get her off with only his thigh?
This kind?

She lifted the dress up and over her head. Ooh, good. Matching pink lace bra with front clasp. Not that she needed to wear a bra.

Trembling, she fell back on the bed and resumed her position. Would Ryan think her breasts were too small?

“Quit thinking so hard,” he murmured, suddenly between her cleavage—well, where her cleavage should be—and with the concentration of a man defusing a bomb, he unclasped her bra and peeled it off. “Perfect,” he said on a sigh.

Thinking? How could she think with his finger stroking the swells of her breasts? Bombarded with need and overwhelming lust, her mind went blissfully blank for the first time in years. Right now, her sole goal in life was to feel Ryan’s mouth on her.

She drew in a ragged breath and marveled at the sight of him lowering his lips to her nipple. When he sucked it into his hot mouth, she involuntarily arched into him and whimpered. He chuckled, obviously pleased by her reaction, and scraped his teeth across the bud as he moved to torment the other breast.

She wanted to touch him, tug at that brown hair and pull him up for a kiss. Or even better, push him lower down her body to soothe the ache between her legs. Teetering on the edge of climax, all it would take was one nibble on her clit to make her soar. But he seemed content to taunt and tease her, continuing to mold his hands and mouth to her breasts. If he wouldn’t take her there, she’d have to do it herself. Hooking her naked calves around his thighs, she bowed her back and ground her pelvis against his solid chest.

“
Tsk. Tsk.
” He tilted his chin up to chastise her, his caramel eyes boring into hers. “Don’t you trust me?”

She didn’t understand what he was asking. What did trust have to do with trying to get herself off? “Yes, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you.”

“Then trust that I’ll get you where you need to go. Trust me to see to your pleasure.”

Her pelvic muscles clenched in response to his request. She didn’t doubt he’d bring her the ultimate pleasure over and over if he put his mind—and body—to it. Swallowing hard, she answered, “I trust you,” her voice cracking from arousal.

He trailed small kisses down her abdomen. “I want you to hand over the reins to your orgasm to me, which means no trying to get yourself off. Can you do that, baby?”

Her heart galloped at the endearment. “I’ll try.”

She felt him smile against her belly. “Good enough. You might want to grab onto the headboard.” He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her thighs. When they caught on her heels, she toed them off, leaving her completely naked for him. And he still hadn’t taken off one stitch of clothing.

He mumbled something as he lowered his head and began to explore her with his mouth. She gasped and concentrated on keeping her body still, ignoring its demands to force him to the one spot which would push her over the edge.

The eroticism of this whole experience wasn’t lost on her. There was no question, he was in charge and surprisingly, she didn’t mind. With her mind always racing and worrying about the future, it was a relief to relax and live in the moment. The last time she’d felt this high was three months ago during her final performance of
Swan Lake
.

After teasing her for what felt like hours, the tip of his tongue finally pressed hard on her clit with the clear purpose of making her come. She didn’t dare disappoint him, crying out his name as her entire body tensed in erotic anticipation, then released in waves of hot bliss. He kissed his way up her torso ending at her mouth, his clothes rubbing abrasively against her sensitive nipples, rekindling the fire which should have burnt out with her climax.

Ripping away from his lips, she brought her hands down to his waist and began to raise his shirt. “I can’t take it. I need to feel your skin against mine.”

He didn’t protest, but instead aided her in the endeavor. “I knew it would be like this. You belong to me, Portia.”

She trembled from both his declaration and the possessiveness in his eyes. At the same time, she understood he wasn’t talking about forever. But right now, she did belong to him.

He tore his shirt over his head and quickly yanked down his pants, revealing his long, thick erection. He was even more beautiful than she had dreamed. She reached to take him in her hand, but he stopped her.

“No. I’m already too close.” He rolled off her, opened his nightstand drawer, and pulled out a condom packet.

“You have condoms in our room?” She folded her arms over her breasts. “Did you plan this?”

With a glint of steel in his eyes, he uncrossed her arms and gently kissed her lips. “I’ve wanted you since the elevator. No way would I sleep next to you night after night and not be prepared in case something happened between us. Did I plan this? Hell, no. I’d hoped, imagined, even stroked off to it, but, no, I didn’t plan this.”

She softened and relaxed into his touch, excited by his words. “Thank you for caring about my safety.”

He ripped the package open with his teeth and unrolled it over his length. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I . . . care about you. You know that, right?”

She cared about him, too, so much it scared her. Her legs wrapped around his waist. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t.”

Staring into her eyes, he positioned himself at her entrance and slowly moved inside until he completely filled her.

And she knew in that moment, for good or for bad, her life would never be the same.

Chapter 16

If you really love me, you’ll find me.

William Shakespeare,
Merchant of Venice,
act 3, scene 2

Ryan sanded the wood, pleased with its progress. He couldn’t wait to surprise Portia with his gift.

He smiled, thinking about their morning in the kitchen. Each time they made love was better than the last. How had he ever thought her inhibited? Nightly—and several times daily—she’d proven his assumption wrong. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. In the two weeks since they’d first had sex, they’d christened every room in the house. He was particularly fond of her walk-in closet.

Tomorrow, they will have officially meet the conditions of the Will. Since their fight on the dance floor, they hadn’t discussed the future of the house, but tonight after the fundraiser, he’d convince her that no matter where they lived, they belonged together.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Quickly, he tossed the wood behind one of the speakers and greeted her at the door before she could see his gift. “I thought you were still out donating all the boxes to Goodwill.” Kissing her soft lips, he backed her into the hallway and shut the door behind him.

She gave him a wicked grin, twirling him around so that his back slammed against the wall. “It didn’t take long and I wanted to get back to get ready for tonight.” She sunk to her knees and started to unbuckle his belt.

He groaned, his head knocking back against the wall with a loud
thunk
. “The party isn’t for another four hours.”

“I know.” She pulled down his zipper and released his cock from the confines of his boxers. “I figured we’d need some stress relief before seeing your family.”

Tonight was his parents’ annual fundraiser for Alzheimer’s and his attendance was mandatory. Even Braden was making an appearance, although he primarily came to provide moral support for Ryan. Neither one of them related to, nor cared for, the members of the obscenely wealthy community, but they both agreed the charity was worth a few hours of discomfort, especially since this year’s benefit was in Uncle Alexander’s memory.

He could only grunt in agreement as Portia took his shaft into her mouth, her tongue sliding along the bottom, driving him crazy in a way only she could manage. Her slick heat forced all thoughts of family from his mind, and for a few minutes, he didn’t think of anything other than how good she felt wrapped around his cock.

“Baby, you’ve got to stop or I’m going to come,” he warned, his hands sliding into her hair with the intention of pulling her off. But when she did a swirly thing with her tongue, he temporarily forgot everything, including his name. “Oh, God, Portia.”

She sucked even harder, the pull of her mouth too irresistible to resist. A tingling in his lower spine wrapped around to his balls, signaling his imminent orgasm. His legs quaked and with a growl, he let go, releasing his essence into Portia’s eager mouth. Her gaze remained on his as she swallowed every drop and then licked her lips.

She smirked as she stood. “How’re you feeling now?”

He tucked himself back in and zipped his pants. “Like I ate a delicious appetizer, but I’m still hungry for the main meal.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “Let’s go kill a couple of hours. There’s a scarf and a bar in your closet that are calling your name.”

She gasped and stumbled, her cheeks pink. “Race you there.”

Looking in the mirror, Ryan buttoned his tuxedo jacket and straightened his black bow tie. Not too shabby.

He slid the jewelry box into his pants’ pocket and rounded the corner of the bedroom, checking the clock on the nightstand to make sure they weren’t running late. He smiled. Even if they were, it was worth it.

After spending two hours in the closet . . . bed . . . and shower . . . he and Portia had reluctantly decided to get ready for the benefit. This was the first time he’d ever watched a woman other than his mother prepare for one of these events, and frankly, he hadn’t paid much attention as a kid. Men had it easy: They shaved, maybe slapped on some cologne, and dressed up in a penguin suit. Women apparently had to exfoliate, shave, pluck, and moisturize before they even started to apply their makeup. Then they had to choose the right dress, shoes, accessories, and purse, not to mention throw on all sorts of bindings which sucked in their so-called problem areas. Didn’t they realize men didn’t care and would rather women go braless rather than add another three layers for them to peel away at the end of the night?

“How do I look?” Portia asked, sneaking up behind him. “I only had one appropriate dress in my closet for a black-tie event.”

He turned around and had to grip the wall for support. The hallway lights shined behind her, giving her an ethereal glow. For the first time, he could really believe she was a Muse. She wore her hair up, not tight like the first time they’d met, but in a twist with soft tendrils falling from the top. Her dress was sleeveless, a rich, deep shade of eggplant. It wrapped tightly around her bust, accentuating her beautifully regal nape and then flared at her waist. She shifted slightly, showing off the slit in the side, revealing her long, toned leg.

He stalked toward her and palmed the back of her neck. “I really wish we didn’t have to go to this thing. I wanted to show you off, but in this dress, I’ll have to bring my baseball bat to keep the men away from you.” He nipped her earlobe and whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to her rather than go to the benefit.

She pushed back with her hand on his chest, her face flushed. “You play baseball?”

“Seriously? I tell you how I plan to ravish you and that’s what you want to discuss?” He ran his fingers up the slit of the dress until she stayed his hand.

Smiling, she removed his hand from her thigh and kissed his palm. “No, but if I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear, we’d never get out of here.”

His pants grew unbearably tight and he hissed out a breath. “You are so in for it tonight.” He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Turn around.”

“Why? Are you gonna spank me?” she teased, giggling, as she did as he asked.

“Don’t give me any ideas.” He unclasped her gold locket, pulled out the blue velvet jewelry box from his pocket, and flipped it open.

The last time he gave a girl jewelry was in the eighth grade when he’d given Tori Stevens a five-dollar ring from the drugstore. She wore it for two weeks before it turned her finger green then she broke up with him. Hopefully, Portia wouldn’t throw the necklace out the window like Tori.

“I thought you might want to wear something different than your locket for the evening.” He dropped the necklace around her neck. His hands sweaty, it took a couple tries to get it clasped. With a hand on her lower back, he steered her over to the mirror. “What do you think?”

She toyed with the sparkling jewels. “Were you worried I wouldn’t fit in without wearing diamonds?” she asked quietly.

He twirled her around. “Why would you ask that?”

“Maybe because you removed my plain gold necklace and replaced it with a diamond one?”

It killed him to see the hurt in her eyes. “You think I care about that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You tell me you need money but you buy me a diamond necklace. You tell me you don’t care where I came from but you’re embarrassed by my simple jewelry.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You lost millions of dollars and you won’t tell me how it happened. What am I supposed to think?”

For two years, he’d carried around his secret, pissed off at everyone for assuming the worst. But she was right. When had he ever given them a reason to believe otherwise? He may have given away his money for selfish reasons, yet he couldn’t regret the end result. How many children were granted their wishes because of him? It wasn’t until he’d gotten to know Portia that he realized he hadn’t lost a damned thing. But hopefully, later tonight, when he gave her the other box, he’d gain her.

He cupped her cheek. “Portia, you’re right. It’s time for me to explain where all my money went. But not now. I promise when we get home tonight I’ll tell you everything.”

She nuzzled her cheek against his hand. “Okay.”

“By the way, as much as I wish I could give you real diamonds, those are crystal. I bought it because I wanted you to wear something that came from me, but if you’d rather wear your locket, I completely understand.”

A huge smile graced her face. “No, I love it. And when we get home tonight, I’ll show you exactly how much when I wear the necklace and nothing else.”

He groaned, the image forming in his brain. “Come on. We’d better get to the party before I rip that dress of you.”

He kept one hand on her thigh for the entire ride to the benefit, his thoughts on seeing his family. The last time he’d spent time with them was a few months ago at Uncle Alexander’s funeral. They’d acted civil, but he read the disappointment on his parents’ faces. Caught in the middle, his brothers still didn’t know what to make of the situation, so they kept their conversations to mundane topics like sports rather than anything personal.

Ryan realized it was time to rebuild his relationship with his family. Like Portia, they deserved to know the truth about how he’d spent the money. He couldn’t blame them for not knowing him because he’d never exposed his secret side to them. They knew the Ryan who planned on becoming a lawyer for the family’s businesses. That Ryan was studious, slightly shallow, and impulsive. They didn’t know the artist. Sure, they knew he took a few art classes here and there, but he’d never sat them down and explained how art wasn’t a hobby to him. It was his identity.

Portia covered his hand with hers. “Are you nervous about seeing your family?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, turning into the hotel parking lot. “I guess that sounds kind of odd. It’s not as if they beat me, or like Braden’s parents, neglected me. My parents are good people, which was why it was so hard for me to admit my mistakes. I didn’t want to disappoint them. Somehow it was easier to accept their disappointment for something I didn’t do rather than something I did.” He squeezed her hand. “You understand?”

She paused then shook her head. “Not at all. But I’m hoping you’ll trust me enough to tell me.” She laughed. “I’m confused, but Ryan, I know whatever you did, you had your reasons.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you.” With her by his side, he could accomplish anything. If she didn’t walk away from him after learning the truth about him tonight, he’d come clean about his feelings for her and celebrate by making love to her the whole night long.

They pulled up to the valet in front of the hotel. A few formally dressed people spilled out of the cars in front of them and he immediately recognized one of the women—Samantha Bennington.

When had she gotten back?

She didn’t look much different then the last time he saw her . . . when she dumped him. Still not a blond hair out of place. Flawless tan skin. Emerald eyes. His throat grew tight, but surprisingly, he didn’t feel the anxiety he would’ve expected, and he knew it had everything to do with Portia.

Oblivious to his presence, Samantha sauntered into the lobby.

The valet took the keys, and with a possessive hand on the small of her back, Ryan led Portia inside. She wasn’t used to this scene and if he didn’t protect her, the vultures would peck at her until there was nothing left. Samantha was tame compared to some of the women he’d encountered over the years.

Sometime tonight he’d have to face his past. He just didn’t want his past to catch up with him before he was ready. He tightened his hold on Portia.

It was more than his pride at stake now.