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She shuffled across the bed, her overworked muscles protesting, and resentment peaked.
Well, at least she’d learned her lesson. No more wild, wanton, reckless flings, not for a while anyway. Because she was going to be paying the price for this one for days.
She swung her feet to the floor, glanced at the rain splashing against his bedroom window and sighed. And that was without even factoring in the long walk home through a hurricane.
She shifted to get up.
‘Maddy?’ She twisted round at the deep rumble of his voice. He stretched, propped one hand behind his head and reached out to stroke a finger down her arm, the self-satisfied smile still in place. ‘Going somewhere?’
Fabulous. Why couldn’t he have stayed in a coma so she could at least make a clean getaway? Resentment flared.
‘I’m going home,’ she said sharply. Did he even know how disappointing he’d been?
She tried to lift herself off the bed but his fingers circled her wrist.
‘Don’t go. Stay a while.’
What the heck for?
‘I can’t stay. I’ve got to get back,’ she said tightly, trying to keep her resentment out of her voice. Telling him how rubbish he was in bed would only make this more personal.
‘It’s still raining, your clothes are soaking wet and your bike has a puncture,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
His thumb skimmed across her pulse point and she trembled.
‘It’s not that far,’ she lied, snatching her hand away. She didn’t want to be touched. ‘I can always …’
‘You didn’t come,’ he interrupted, shocking her into silence. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Don’t worry; it’s not a problem,’ she said, not all that convinced the apology was sincere. If he felt bad about his abysmal performance, what was with that sheepish smile?
‘Really?’ He chuckled, annoying her even more. ‘What’s with the angry eyes, then?’
She tried to dim the glare. ‘I’m not angry,’ she said with exaggerated patience. This was getting awkward now as well as irritating. She was stark naked under the sheet she had clutched to her bosom and her nerve-endings were still popping and fizzing at the sight of that bare chest and washboard-lean six-pack—when they ought to know better by now. ‘I really have to go.’
She scanned the room for his sweatshirt. Where was the stupid thing?
He took her arm. ‘Why don’t you hear me out before you rush off?’
Oh, for …
‘Fine.’ She straightened, trapped and acutely aware of her nakedness. ‘But can I have the sweatshirt first?’ She didn’t know what he had to say and she didn’t really care. But she wasn’t listening to anything in the nude. ‘I think it’s on your side of the bed.’
His lips curved as he released her. Scooping the sweatshirt off the floor, he lobbed it to her. She heard his heavy sigh as she pulled it on.
‘So what did you want to say?’ she demanded when he remained silent, his gaze heating with lazy approval.
‘That I’m not usually that bad.’ He scraped the hair off his brow, the smile becoming almost boyish. ‘There are reasons for what happened that I won’t bore you with,’ he murmured, his eyes darkening to a rich cobalt. ‘Let me make it up to you.’
Maddy felt the pulse of response—and cursed her idiotic hormones. He might have that sexy, intense look down pat, but talk about false advertising.
‘That really isn’t necessary,’ she said primly. Another round like the last one would probably kill off her libido for good.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Look, Mr King—’ time to stop this stupid charade ‘—I’m not interested.’
‘Mr King?’ He sounded amused. ‘Was I that bad?’
‘Yes, actually you were.’ Why sugar-coat it?
He clasped a hand to his breast in mock horror. ‘You wound me, Maddy.’
‘Well, now you know how it feels,’ she snapped, annoyed by his teasing. What was so flipping hilarious?
He frowned, then bolted upright, the lazy smile gone. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ The colour drained from his face. ‘You were so tight, but I thought you were ready.’
She flushed, a little ashamed of herself. He looked genuinely horrified. ‘No. That’s not what I meant.’
‘Thank God.’ He scrubbed his hands down his face, then pinned her with that sexy, intense look again and her nerve-endings sizzled some more. ‘Look, how about we make a deal, Madeleine?’
She didn’t like the sound of that, and she wished he’d stop saying her name in that low, intimate way. But then he took her wrist again, pressed his thumb to the pulse point—and she lost focus. ‘What deal?’
‘I’ll sling your clothes in the machine—and, when they’re done, I’ll drive you home myself, if you still want to go.’
‘You have a washing machine?’ she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
‘Yeah.’ The lazy smile was back. ‘I know this place looks like a throwback to the Stone Age, but it does have a few mod cons.’
‘I see,’ she said, annoyingly tempted.
His offer would be a lot nicer than having to push the bike three miles down the coast road, in a rain storm, in wet jeans. No question. But she wasn’t sure about that if. Or the way the gentle rub of his thumb was playing havoc with her pulse.
‘You promise you’ll drive me home? No questions asked?’
‘Absolutely,’ he said. But she wasn’t at all sure she could trust him. He had that damn sexy and intense thing going on again.
Or that she could trust herself. Why was her pulse doing the foxtrot?
He released her wrist and lifted her chin with his forefinger. ‘Go run yourself a hot bath—and I’ll put the laundry on.’ Leaning up on his elbow, he gave her a quick kiss. ‘Relax,’ he said as she tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, far too aware of the sizzle where his lips had touched hers. ‘I won’t jump you again. I promise.’
‘All right,’ she said tentatively. Not sure how he had got the upper hand but knowing that somehow he had.
She shot off to the bathroom as he slung the sheet back to get out of the bed. The last thing she needed was a glimpse of that very nice bum naked to make her lose focus completely.
Closing the door behind her, she listened to his foot thump against the polished oak floorboards as he limped out of the room.
It was only when she was neck deep in pine-scented bubbles that she discovered his promise not to jump her left him far too much room to manoeuvre.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHAT are you doing?’
Rye winced at the shriek of alarm as water splashed over the rim of the tub and Maddy dunked down to her chin.
He choked back a chuckle at her horrified expression—and shut the door. The twin spots of colour on her cheeks and the tendrils of damp hair sticking to the graceful line of her neck made it hard for him to breathe as he crossed the room.
‘Do you mind?’ she said, outraged, her angry eyes flashing at him again.
‘Not at all,’ he said, unable to contain a smile as he settled on the wicker seat beside the tub and extended his stiff leg.
She glared at him. ‘You promised you wouldn’t jump me. Remember.’
God, but she was gorgeous. Especially when she was miffed. No wonder she’d been the one to bring him back to life. At last.
‘I’m not going to jump you,’ he said, tucking one of the tendrils behind her ear.
He ran the base of his thumb down her throat, satisfaction coursing through his veins when she swallowed convulsively. He’d lost a lot of things in the last six months, but she’d given him one of the most precious back and he intended to thank her, in the only way he knew how. Unfortunately, it wasn’t just gratitude he was feeling at the moment.
‘What exactly are you planning to do, then?’ she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
He couldn’t see much of her, but imagining all that flushed, rosy flesh naked beneath the water made it hard to stick to the plan he’d worked out while loading her wet clothes into his grandfather’s ancient twin tub.
Of course, if he had been a gentleman, he would have let her finish her bath in peace. But he’d never been a gentleman, and he’d never been all that patient either.
He couldn’t really blame her for wanting to have nothing to do with him. He’d behaved like an utter clod earlier. Why should she believe him when he told her he could do better? He hoped a lot better. She’d hardly had the five-star treatment so far.
‘I plan to seduce you.’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake. Will you just forget it?’
The chuckle popped out despite his best efforts. She really did look miffed. And so damn delicious he wanted to lick her all over.
‘But I can’t forget it, Maddy. You gave me the most spectacular orgasm of my life.’
Her eyes widened and the spots of colour on her cheek bloomed to a vivid red. ‘I did?’ She sounded so astonished he wanted to hug her. A little surprised himself to realise he wasn’t exaggerating. Of course the intensity of his orgasm had probably had more to do with his own situation than her, but it was still the truth.
‘Not only that,’ he continued, keeping his eyes fixed on her flushed face, ‘but you saved my life this afternoon.’ In truth, she may well have saved it twice. ‘I owe you.’ He trailed his finger through the water, touched the pebbled nipple peeking through the foam.
She gasped and her pupils dilated beautifully. ‘You do?’
‘And I’m a man who always insists on paying his debts.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She looked so flummoxed and so turned on, he had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.
‘The only thing is, I’m not sure I …’ She hesitated. ‘I want you to …’ Her eyes flicked to his lap and she went redder still.
He knew what the problem was.
He had already guessed Maddy’s brash seduction in the kitchen had been out of character. And that she wasn’t usually that sexually demanding. The women he’d bedded in the past would have called him on his atrocious performance immediately, demanding to know what the hell had happened, but she hadn’t, not at first, even though she had every right to.
While inexperience had never turned him on before, he found that enchanting mix of bravado and naivety nothing short of intoxicating. And unbearably arousing.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said, knowing she had to have spotted the erection. ‘This is all about you.’ He’d already vowed to keep the granite slab in his pants for the rest of the night. ‘And your pleasure.’ He cupped the back of her head, nipped her bottom lip. ‘I’ve had mine.’
After six solid months of enforced abstinence, it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but his sexual potency wasn’t the only thing he’d lost six months ago. He’d learned as a fumbling teenager that great sex wasn’t just about getting it up and then getting off. But, during his pity party, he’d lost sight of that too.
He wanted his sex life back. All of it.
Feasting on this beautiful woman, showing her what he was capable of … And, he suspected, what she was capable of too, would be more than enough pleasure for both of them.
Stretching past her, he lifted the sponge from its dish next to the tub, dipped it into the water. ‘How about I help you bathe?’ he said as he stroked the waterlogged sponge across her collarbone.
Her eyelids drifted shut and a little sigh issued from her lips. ‘I suppose that would be all right,’ she said, her voice thick. ‘If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.’
His groin tightened as he watched those ripe strawberry nipples play peek-a-boo with the bubbles. He gave a strained laugh. ‘No trouble at all.’
Maddy’s pulse hammered against her throat, her mind racing and her skin tingling as if she had been plugged into an electric socket. The slow strokes of the sponge, under her chin, down her neck, over the top of her breasts, took all of her attention.
What was she doing? How had he talked her into this?
She was naked in a bath tub, allowing herself to be stroked into a frenzy—and she wasn’t sure why. He’d seemed sincere when he said he wouldn’t expect anything. But wasn’t she being a bit too much of a tease, expecting him to do this and get nothing in return? Only problem was, the offer had been so tantalising.
No man had ever offered to pleasure her without expecting anything in return. It had always been the other way round. She had planned to use him for sex originally and he had definitely used her, so maybe she was entitled to all this attention and she shouldn’t feel guilty about …
‘Maddy, relax.’ She opened her eyes to find him watching her, a rueful smile on his face. ‘Stop thinking so much.’
‘How can you tell I’m thinking too much?’ she asked. Could those penetrating blue eyes see right into her soul? She didn’t even know this guy.
He chuckled, discarded the sponge. His large hands settled on her shoulders, strong fingers massaging tight muscles.
‘You’re tensing up. Relax. Enjoy. We’ve got all night.’ His thumbs traced her collarbone then drifted under the water to circle her nipples.
She let the little moan out before she could stop herself.
‘That’s better,’ he said, like a teacher with a particularly bright pupil. ‘Are your breasts very sensitive, then?’
‘Yes.’ She gulped the word out, not sure she could breathe as he played with the swollen peaks. ‘Aren’t everyone’s?’
He laughed. ‘Not necessarily. Some women can come like this. Others can hardly feel it.’
Exactly how many women had he slept with? From the way his clever caresses were making her breasts ache and throb and fire shimmer down to her core, she suspected quite a few. Maddy pushed the thought away. It would only make her feel inadequate.
Her brow furrowed. And she wasn’t the one who should feel inadequate.
Tender lips touched her brow as his fingers stilled on her breasts. ‘You’re thinking again, Maddy.’
She opened her eyes. ‘I know; I can’t help it.’ She angled her head, took in the long fingers cradling her bobbing breasts, felt the aching response at her core. ‘I’m not used to this much attention. I feel a bit awkward.’
The minute she’d said it, she wished she could take it back.
Way to go, Mads. Why not make yourself sound like a charity case?
And, anyway, she didn’t feel awkward; she felt hot and achy and dangerously out of control. But what he was doing made her feel oddly exposed too.
He took his hands off her breasts, which immediately felt the loss, and brushed her hair back from her brow. ‘You know something, Maddy, I’ve never met a woman like you.’
He levered himself off the seat beside the tub before she could reply.
Was that a compliment or a criticism?
He took a fluffy white towel out of the cabinet and unfolded it.
Maddy’s heart sank. He’d got tired of her. She’d ruined her sexual adventure already—with her stupid overthinking. She’d had her chance to be seduced and she’d blown it.
But, when he turned towards her, she could see humour and seduction smiling in his eyes. ‘Out of the water, Madeleine.’ He held the towel up in front of him like a bullfighter. ‘I want to taste you and I can’t do that while you’re in the bath. Not without a snorkel.’
Fire rocketed to her core and she had to clasp her arms across her chest to stop the insistent throbbing.
He wanted to what?
The grin split his handsome features, those damn dimples winking again. ‘Damn, Maddy. Don’t tell me no guy’s ever tasted you before? What kind of morons have you been dating?’
She was beginning to wonder the same thing herself. Just the thought of those firm, sensual lips on certain very sensitive parts of her anatomy was making her feel dizzy.
‘I …’ she began.
His lips tilted some more. And she realised he was looking ever so slightly smug.
‘Of course they have,’ she lied smoothly, stepping out of the tub and shielding herself with her arms.
The man already had the upper hand. It was way past time she wrestled back a little control here. After all, she was supposed to be the one in charge, not him.
She dropped her arms to her sides as she let him wrap the bath sheet around her shoulders.
Stop behaving like a shy virgin. You’re not. You’re a strong, sexually powerful woman who is about to have the most thrilling night of her life.
He pulled the pins out of her hair, then drew the damp locks to one side and nipped the cord in her neck. She shuddered.
‘Great, so you like oral sex?’ The low murmured question shivered over her nape.
‘I love it,’ she said boldly, feeling like a lamb pretending to be a lion. And started as his arousal butted her bottom through the layers of denim and towelling.
He felt huge, bigger than she remembered.
She knew her sex life had always been fairly pedestrian. She’d only had two proper boyfriends and neither of them had been very inventive in bed—and she was beginning to realise they hadn’t been particularly well-endowed either. Which was why she’d wanted a wild, reckless, wanton fling in the first place. But why did she suddenly feel like a total novice? And why was heat flooding between her thighs like lava?
He swung her round to face him, rubbed his hands down her arms and placed them on her hips to draw her close. ‘Good,’ he said, touching her nose. ‘Because I love it too. And if you taste as delicious as you smell, we’re both in for a real treat.’
Oh, dear, Maddy thought as he guided her into the bedroom.
Exactly how wild and wanton and reckless was this fling going to get?
‘Please … Rye.’ The strangled moan finished with a long, slow groan. ‘I can’t. Not again. I’ll die.’
Maddy fisted her fingers into his shaggy hair as his head drifted lower. She wanted to haul him back to maintain her sanity, but instead her legs opened and her back bowed, arching her into his mouth instinctively.
Her breath panted out as he licked her belly button and probed at her core with knowing fingers to expose her to his gaze.
‘You’re beautiful.’ The whisper of hot breath across impossibly sensitized flesh made her jump as the heat pounded remorselessly back to life.
He swirled his tongue over the inside of her thighs.
‘Please.’ She gasped, not sure what she was begging for any more.
She couldn’t come. Not again. Surely it was a physical impossibility?
He hadn’t just tasted her. He’d devoured her. Feasted on every last naked inch of her skin. He’d discovered erogeneous zones she didn’t even know she had. Hell, she’d discovered ones she didn’t even know existed.
She’d come so many times she’d lost count. He would let her rest for a while, the lazy stroking never stopping, and then he’d start all over again.
Her body had become one raw, pulsating nerve that had surrendered totally to his will. Her flesh a slave to the rough, insistent strokes of his tongue, the knowing caress of callused, clever fingers.
‘Once more, Madeleine.’ He chuckled. ‘I insist.’
Then he found the hard, wet, swollen nub of her clitoris with his mouth and suckled.
Maddy sobbed, the sound elemental, desperate, as the coil of heat that had been building for an eternity ignited and burst into flames. The raging inferno seared through her body and she screamed, bucking under him, the raw pulsating nerve detonating into a mass of silvery shards that rocketed her over the edge and into the abyss.
‘Madeleine, are you okay?’
Maddy drifted back to consciousness, the warm fuzzy feeling of afterglow making it difficult for her to get annoyed by the wry humour in his tone.
She gave a long, slow sigh, her limbs finally reviving. ‘I’m dead,’ she murmured. ‘Of course I’m not okay.’
Her eyelids fluttered open and a satisfied smile curved her lips to match his. Wow, she’d never had a clue foreplay could be this amazing. And Rye King was a master at it. After the hour she’d spent in his arms she was beginning to realise her past sex life had been nothing short of pathetic.
He kissed her, the taste of her own essence on his lips unbearably erotic. ‘I think you’ll survive,’ he said as he banded his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace.
Resting her cheek against his naked chest, she could hear the pistoning beat of his heart, smell the musty scent of fresh male sweat—and feel the bulge of his erection still pulsing through faded denim. He’d refused point-blank to get completely naked with her, insisting that the rest of the evening was for her, not him. But the guilty flush crept up her neck again anyway.
That had to be painful. He’d been hard for close to an hour. As wonderful as it had been to be the focus of his attention, and on the receiving end of all his hard work, she couldn’t help feeling guilty and unbelievably selfish that he’d had no release.
Placing her palm on his chest, she moved back to peer into his face. ‘Rye, are you sure you don’t want me to …’ the silly blush got worse’ … do something for you? You’ve given me so much.’
He covered her hand, his pensive smile making her heart punch her chest. ‘Maddy, you’ve given me more. Believe me.’
Tenderness blind-sided her at the enigmatic comment. What could she possibly have given him that he hadn’t given her back ten-fold?
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, suddenly desperate to probe beneath the surface. ‘How could I have?’
He stiffened, drew his arm away as he sat up. ‘Forget it. It’s not important,’ he said, his expression shutting her out.
She understood instantly, she’d been dismissed. And struggled to ignore the silly little dart of pain.
She mustn’t start acting like a girl now. This was a purely sexual fling and absolutely nothing more. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for this man. Nothing outside the physical. And he clearly felt nothing for her. That had been understood when they’d jumped into bed together without a thing between them except sexual attraction.
Pulling the sheet back, he got out of bed. ‘I’ll go stick your stuff in the dryer,’ he said, his back to her as he grabbed his T-shirt off the floor and put it on. ‘How about I cook us dinner before I drive you home?’
‘That would be nice. Thanks,’ Maddy said, disorientated by the abrupt change in his manner despite all her careful justifications. She clutched the sheet to her chest as he left the room.
The door closed behind him—and she slumped down into the pillows.
The problem was she had absolutely no experience with this kind of relationship and she didn’t know the rules. While they’d been making love … or, rather, having sex … it had been easy to concentrate on the physical and nothing else. But somehow the intimacy had crept up on her while she wasn’t looking. She absolutely mustn’t start reading things into this that weren’t there.
Ryan King was a handsome, exciting, superbly sexy enigma. And he had to stay that way. Tonight had been about sex. Incredible sex. And nothing else. The man was clearly a veteran of one-night flings. His comprehensive knowledge of female anatomy was proof of that.
She’d just have to take her cue from him. And not let her tendency to over-emotionalise and over-think every little nuance of a relationship get in the way. Clearly, personal, probing questions were not the way to go in this situation.
But, as Maddy walked into the bathroom to wash and then scouted the bedroom for her discarded clothing, all the questions she yearned to ask Rye King about his strangely barren home, about his past, about his present—and the reasons why he’d given her so much and taken so little—crowded into her head like corn kernels popping on a hot stove.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘COULD I ask you a question?’ Maddy kept her eyes on the simple meal of scrambled eggs on toast Rye had rustled up.
She heard the clink of his knife and fork and looked up to find him watching her. She tried not to fidget or feel intimidated. She’d waited a decent amount of time before giving in to her curiosity. But she simply wasn’t enough of a guy to let this one go.