He laughs. “Lilia is vocal about wanting kids, so she’s not annoyed by it. My mother gave them her blessing to get married on their third date when Lilia mentioned she was one of three girls and wanted at least that many kids herself. My mom loves babies.”
I shake my head, smiling, and I let Ryan guide me to the bed. We perch on it. “They’re a great fit for each other,” I say. “I love watching them together. It’s adorable, but, I don’t know, it doesn’t make me gag like some couples. Know what I mean?”
He nods. “She’s great for him. He’s really lucky to have her.”
“It takes two to make a great couple,” I say. “She’s lucky too.”
“In some odd way, I guess you’re right,” he says grudgingly. “But I’m still pissed at Lawrence, so I’m not feeling as generous as you.”
“You need to let it go!” I lick my lips playfully, resting a hand on his chest. It’s firm and solid; the beat of his heart is strong underneath his shirt. “Maybe I can help distract you?”
He falls back at my feather-light touch, as if I have the strength of the Hulk, and collapses on the bed. “Ravish me.”
I swing one leg over his waist, so I’m straddling him. He’s got on jeans and a button-down shirt that’s open at the neck may be the sexiest thing I’ve seen him in yet. My fingers reach for the buttons and flick them open.
When his t-shirt is revealed, I pause for a moment and admire.
“Like what you see?” he asks, teasing.
“Shut up! I’m ogling you.”
His eyes crinkle with a smile, those chocolate eyes lined with devilish thoughts, his hair playfully mussed, hanging just a little too far over his eyes. “Ogle away, but first, let me do this.”
This turns out to be a pretty great surprise.
His fingernails dig into my skin and pull me toward him. I’m situated on his lap, and I can feel every inch of him beneath me. It’s erotic, even though our jeans are a barrier between us. I grip his arms hard enough to leave a mark, a gasp hissing from my lips as I adjust so that we’re fitted perfectly through the fabric, but it’s not enough.
“I need you,” he says. “I can’t wait any longer, Andi.”
“Okay, I’m done ogling,” I say. “Take your pants off.”
“Your wish is my command.”
I rest a hand against his chest, pushing him back. “On second thought, you can wait for me this time.”
He closes his eyes as my hands go to the button on his jeans. I pop it open, my hands itching to touch him. He’s wearing black boxer briefs, and I rest my hand against the impressive bulge.
It’s his turn to sizzle a breath between his lips, his head rolling back against the pillow. “Shit.”
“Shit bad or shit good?”
“Shit don’t you dare stop, sweetheart,” he says. “Take off your shirt.”
“I’m not done—”
“I didn’t ask if you were done.” He moves into a sitting position faster than I can blink, corralling me as he links my arms behind my back. “I asked you to take your shirt off. Please, I want to see you…all of you.”
My chest rises and falls. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. All at once he’s commanding, decisive, and then playful again. I’m realizing I have never known good sex—not yet.
Suddenly, I’m worried that nobody will ever live up to Ryan. He’s worked more magic with his fingers than any man has done with my entire body combined. It’ll be impossible to date again after Ryan.
Then again, I haven’t even had Ryan yet. I focus on him now, pushing thoughts of what’s next into oblivion. The way he’s looking at me feels a bit like a lion watching its prey, and if I don’t get moving soon, I bet he’ll take my shirt off with his teeth.
I reach down, wiggling out of his grasp, and pull my shirt over my head. I’m wearing a simple, black bra—I hadn’t expected to go out after my show tonight, so I was dressed for practicality.
Ryan, God bless his soul, doesn’t seem to care about the bra at all. It hits the floor one second later, and then his mouth is on my collarbone. Hot and tender, he leads a trail of kisses down my chest, brushing his lips over the tops of my breasts.
I’m on fire. The touch of his lips against my skin is enough to set me off, but I refuse. This time, I’m bringing him with me. Then, his lips clamp around my nipple, and I forget about everything else. His mouth moves in ways that have me writhing, pulling him closer and pushing away all at once.
Ryan reaches out, grasps me, holds me to his chest. His arm guides my back onto the soft comforter as he lays me down, exposing every inch of me. It’s his turn to fumble with my jeans, and he struggles. I don’t blame him—they’re from high school and thus a little too tight around the waist.
“Shit,” he says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Damn jeans.”
I help him, my hands guiding his as he peels the pants away from my legs until they’re nothing but a memory. All I care about is Ryan’s hands—they’re running up my legs, just the tips of his fingers making contact, sending goose bumps prickling over my skin.
“Ryan…” I say, but that’s all I can manage as his fingers pass the insides of my thighs.
All I have on now is a thin pair of panties. They’re lacey and pink, something fun I always wear when I perform. I wear them for luck, to remind me that I can be fun and flirty if I really want to, and they’re an even better reminder of that now.
He rests a possessive hand there, one of his fingers straying along the outside of the fabric, testing for my reaction as he watches my face, the pressure almost too much to handle. It’s overwhelming, and I mumble nonsense.
“You like that?” he murmurs in a husky, lust filled voice “I’m just getting started, honey …”
Next, he dips his head and plants a kiss next to his fingers, and it makes me burn with pleasure. Lava—I am lava.
Thankfully, he pauses there, giving me a moment to breath. “You are ready for me,” he says, almost in awe.
“Not yet,” I grit out. “Lay down first.”
He doesn’t listen, his hand clamping down as he leans in for a kiss. This time I’m ready for it, and I take advantage of his one-armed stance to shift him over onto the bed. It pains me shift his fingers away from working their magic, but I do it before he can stop me and lower myself against him.
Now it’s just me, a bit of lacy material, Ryan, and his boxers. I can feel him for the first time without denim between us, and it’s more pleasure than I’ve ever known. I close my eyes, adjusting until his fingers come up to grasp my waist.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he murmurs. “I wasn’t done with you.”
We’re somewhere between playful wrestling and passionate sex, and I like it. I love it, actually, especially when he starts rubbing again, tracing small circles around my sweet spot. My eyes are still closed, and I’m lost in the moment, moving against him, until I realize it’s enough to set me off. I raise my hips from him, pausing the momentum.