Ryan steps closer, slicing the distance between us in half. “It sounds like only one of us should be standing.” His eyes go from the papers in my hand to the bed.
Having no idea what I just said, I look down and reread the last line.Charlotte stretched and arched her supple body across his bed, gripping the satin sheets in unbridled anticipation.
I had to writeunbridled anticipation, right?
Okay. It is officially game on.
I take the couple of steps needed to reach my bed and sit down on the mattress. I can’t let him win. I won’t. I slide back and lie back, holding the pages above me as I pick up where I left off.
“‘Robert moved towards her...’”
Ryan clears his throat.
“What?” I ask, lowering the pages.
“Aren’t you supposed to be arching and gripping sheets?”
“How can I do that when I’m holding a stack of papers in my hand?”
Ryan actually thinks about it. “You can arch a little bit and still hold the pages. Or you could at least grab the sheet with your other hand.”
“What’s the difference?” I ask.
“The difference is, we said we would see if you could live out what’s in your books, and that’s what’s in the book. Our findings will only be accurate if you fully commit.”
I send him a challenging glance. “Oh, and you’re going to fully commit?”
“Hell yeah,” he says.
I roll my eyes and wrap part of the sheet in my left hand. I give my attention back to the manuscript and find my place. “‘Robert moved towards her at an agonizing pace, using every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking her that very second. Charlotte was equally tortured, and a frustrated moan slipped from her kiss-swollen lips.’”
I look up from the manuscript. Ryan steps forward and raises an eyebrow. He’s daring me.
Saddle up, cowboy.
I close my eyes and unleash the best come-hither moan I’ve ever attempted. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I can see Ryan’s shoulder muscles tense up in the aftermath.
I’m encouraged enough to continue, “‘That was his undoing. Robert could wait no longer. His heart pounded in his chest as desire burst through his veins like liquid fire. He tore at his shirt, ripping it open in his haste to remove the unwanted garment.’”
I haven’t even finished the last sentence when Ryan pulls his T-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. My eyes lock with his, as they always do, and in that moment, I’m struck with a sudden sense of clarity. This isn’t some fantasy and it’s not my overactive imagination. Ryan is here. He’s here and he’s smiling and why shouldn’t we do this if we want to? My nerves begin to fall away as I close my eyes for a brief second.
“Is me without a shirt on that scary to look at?” Ryan asks. “Or is it just too arousing for you? That, I’m willing to accept.”
I open my eyes and glower at his smirking, half-clad form. Afraid that I’ll stare, I move the pages close to my face—so close that the top paper folds down and bumps against my nose.
I straighten it out and read on, “‘He needed her skin on his with nothing between them. Needed it more than he needed anything in his life. Without pause, Robert lowered himself onto the bed to lean over the perfect beauty writhing beneath him.’”
I move the pages away from my face, and Ryan pauses as he looks at me.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
His question hangs in the air for what feels like forever until I shake my head no. I then concentrate on even breathing as he carefully lowers himself onto the bed. He braces his hands on the mattress, framing my face and pushing up so he’s hovering above me. With the manuscript still in my right hand, I extend my arm to the side and continue reading.
“‘Charlotte’s excited breaths caressed Robert’s cheek as he kissed her throat...’” My voice cracks as Ryan’s warm mouth moves along the side of my neck. “‘He worshiped all of her, every inch. He didn’t stop until...’” My words are smothered as Ryan brings his lips down to mine, tender at first and then urging them open. My body feels close to igniting as our tongues touch and slide. I can’t believe we ever bothered using them to talk when we could have been doing this instead. He breathes into me and takes it back. A moan from me. A growl from him.
It feels like I’m kissing him again for the first time—a stranger I’ve kissed a hundred times before. It doesn’t take long until we both need more. Still holding the pages, I wrap my arms around his neck, desperately trying to pull him down to press his body where I want it the most. He doesn’t give in. He stays positioned over me, his weight supported by his arms as he slants his mouth over mine, kissing me over and over. Deeper and longer.
He pulls back just enough that our noses are still touching. He’s taking quiet but labored breaths as he slowly nudges his knee into the space between my thighs. “Keep reading,” he says.
