“There’s stuff to do,” she protested.
“There’s always stuff to do. You know, you don’t strike me as someone who makes a habit of turning away from things that she truly wants. As you told old Eric out there, the number one reason to be an outlaw is to have choice.”
He slipped a hand around her abdomen and pulled her flush against his body so that his erection was pressed into her back. He spread his fingers until his thumb reached past her breastbone and his little finger delved below her navel. With his chin, he nudged her hair to one side and ran his nose along her neck. The blood in her vein pumped wildly in response.
“You have a lot on your plate, gorgeous,” he whispered into the delicate shell of her ear. “I’m a simple soldier. A weapon. You point me in the direction you need me to go and I’ll execute your mission. I’m not much of a thinker but even I can sense when someone’s head is about to explode. You’re wound so tight right now, I’m worried you won’t be able to breathe.”
“You treat Connor this way?” she accused, her anger betraying some of the agitation that vibrated through her.
“Damn straight I would. I’d haul him off and get him drunk or, if he really wanted it, we’d fuck. If I had the choice, though, I’d pick the soft curves of a woman over the hard planes of a man any day.” Rylan brought his free hand up to curl around her neck, tipping her head to rest against his shoulder.
“You think sex is the answer to everything, don’t you?”
“It’s not?” He dipped his knees, snugged his dick against her ass, and ground his hips against hers.
“Did you ask about Sloan because you need an audience?” she taunted.
“I asked because I want to make sure you’ve got everything you need.” Still holding her neck, he reached up to drag his thumb across her lips, then pushed it through the seams. “Suck,” he whispered.
Her lips closed around him, pulling him inside her mouth. She rubbed the flat of her tongue along the underside of his thumb, and the lick and suck went all the way to his cock. When she bit down, he almost came in his pants.
“Reese,” he groaned as he slid his thumb out of her mouth. “I want you. Don’t know why you’re denying yourself.”
“Because I’m an adult with a shit ton of responsibilities and I can’t be spending all my time in bed with you.”
They both knew that was a hollow excuse, but Rylan released her anyway. When she sagged against the counter, he almost took pity on her. Instead, he kicked one of the chairs out from under the kitchen table and sat down in it. The slow slide of his zipper caused her to turn around.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m hard and horny and since you claim you’re not interested, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
His shaft was engorged and aching. The touch of his rough hand was familiar, but not entirely welcome, because his dick knew there were better, softer, wetter, hotter things in the room. His hand would have to do, though.
It helped a helluva lot that Reese’s eyes were pinned to his crotch. With a slight smile, he palmed himself and used his thumb to spread the pearls of pre-come around the sensitive head.
“You know you want me,” he murmured to her.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she murmured back.
But every second she spent watching him reaffirmed his belief. After all, no one was holding her down while he was jacking off. Sloan wasn’t standing behind her, arms locked around her waist, hand fixed on her chin, forcing her to look. She was there because she wanted him, damn it. Because she wanted to watch him.
“I haven’t done this in front of someone in a long time,” Rylan admitted. “Too many willing people around.”
“Why don’t you find one of those willing people, then?” she tossed back.
“Because you like this too much.” The veins in his forearm rippled as he roughly worked himself. He paused, lifted his hand to spit on it, and then reached down to grip himself again.
Reese didn’t take her eyes off his dick, not even once.
Grinning, he tilted his hips off the chair to shove his cargo pants to his ankles. He kicked one leg free, then spread his legs to give her a better view.
He stroked himself, root to tip and back again. Reese tracked every movement as if she was memorizing how he touched himself so she could either play it back in her head or figure out how he really liked his hand jobs. Maybe both.
“What was your favorite position last night?” he asked in a tone that could’ve been used to inquire about the weather.
“Nothing . . .” Her voice came out raspy. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Nothing I haven’t done before.”
“That wasn’t what I asked,” he said playfully. “It’s all right. I can’t pick a favorite either. It was all too damn good. I’m surprised I was able to get it up so many times, but then I had quite the inspiration.”