He looks up from the counter where he’d been drilling a hole with his eyes. “Marissa, you’ve been reading up on me.”
“Yeah, yeah don’t let it go to your head. I wanted to see where Beckham lives now.”
“I’ll admit I’m a different person in England. There are so many expectations to meet and besides my teammates, I had no one there except alcohol and women."
With lips pressed together I narrow my eyes at him.
Rather than be contrite he grins. “I’m just saying it’s easy to fall down the rabbit hole. You think I’m bored now, you have no idea. In England my only companion was a bottle of Jack. Here I spend most of my time with one of the guys, or this one tenant and her violent tendencies.”
“Speaking of tenants, I heard one of yours plans to break another rule.”
“Is that so?” he questions with sarcasm. “She needs to exercise caution. I’ve heard her landlord’s a real asshole.”
“Eh, turns out she thinks he’s not as bad as people make him out to be.” I roll with it excited Ryland’s playing along with my banter.
“Probably because she’s so cute and cuddly…” I squint at him, but he continues on down his dangerous path. “Like a… kitten.”
I smack my lips together to accept his challenge, the sound bouncing off the kitchen appliances, but it only causes his grin to widen. “Actually Simone’s the cute and cuddly one. I’m more known for my claws.”
He snorts in answer and then speaks under his breath. “Yeah like a kitten’s claws, maybe.” If I could be one of those sharks with laser eyes, he'd be in trouble. As it is, my death glare only makes him smile, his white teeth on full display. “You don’t frighten me, Marissa.”
I place a hand on my hip and pop it out the best I can while sitting on a stool. “Maybe you don’t know me well enough.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle you.”
My eyes widen at his declaration, but I try to play it smooth and calm in my girly response. “You’re not like Finn and looking for a girl to cuddle with?”
He crosses to stand by my side leaning a hip on the counter edge all sexy and confident. “There is no way Finn’s ever used the word cuddle.”
I poke him in the stomach. “You never know. He might.” Damn Aspen and her girl code of silence not allowing me to tell Ryland what a cuddler Finn can be.
“Is that what you want? A guy to cuddle you.” He leans down, his lips a hair’s breadth away from mine.
“Maybe.” The word passes and in the next second his lips make contact.
Ryland’s hand cups the back of my head as I wrap my arms around his waist signifying I’m in and ready for the experience. Between his frustration over his dad’s phone call and our playful teasing, I’ve had no time to worry about turning into a weirdo in front of him. A moment of panic bubbles up, but I push it back. I want this and I’m going to take it.
On a breath, his tongue pushes past my barrier and flicks against my teeth. I use the chance to suck on it for a few seconds before he pulls back, breathing deeply.
“Fuck, Marissa. Do that again.”
I grin but comply when we resume. His hand streaks down my back landing on my ass where he pulls me closer to the edge of the stool and his body. Not wanting to be left out, I circle my legs around his hips. In one planned and easily choreographed move, he lifts me off the stool. I squeeze my legs harder and throw my arms around his neck holding on for dear life, but not allowing our kiss to stop.
“Are you okay with this?” He walks with me to the couch, our eyes never losing contact as I stare into the depths of his deep blue pools.
I nod my head not able to think of words without giving away the fact I’m enamored with him. Unsure what I’m agreeing to — more kissing, sex, a relationship —— I take a deep breath and promise to let myself go with the moment. I’ll freak out tomorrow about what it means. Tonight there’s just the two of us and whatever happens I’m ready.
I settle on the couch astride him, my legs pushing into the hard and cold leather of the sofa. Little kisses plaster the side of my neck as his lips feather touch their way down to my collarbone in a zigzag fashion leaving me in suspense where each one will fall.
His hands stroke my lower back slowly and make their way higher, pulling my shirt with them, but it’s too slow for me. I need Ryland now. I want to feel the skin of his hard chest as it rubs against mine. Tired of waiting, I reach down and pull my shirt over my head revealing one of the black lacy bras I’ve been wearing around the last week.
In hindsight maybe my subconscious admitted feelings toward Ryland when I went back to matching bras and underwear. The last few months I’ve worn nothing but white granny panties. Why put in effort when no one is going to see them?
His head starts to lower but I pull on the hem of his t-shirt stopping his movements until he takes it off. Once clear of the offending material, he pushes up his knees raising my chest closer to his height and licks my left nipple through the lace of the bra. The scratchy material against the coolness of his mouth sends shivers through my body and I instinctively edge closer.
“I really like this color choice for you,” he says before giving the same treatment to the other hard nipple.
My head falls back, but it’s not my style to not have a comeback. And I can’t stop myself from making one to his comment. “It matches my personality."
