He looked at her for just a moment, those dark eyes alight with desire. Then, with breathtaking suddenness, he scooped her into his lap and picked her up from the sofa, standing with her in his arms.
She let out a little yelp. “What are you doing?”
“Kendrick’s in the other room,” he said simply. Then he carried her out the front door and kicked it closed behind him.
Outside, the temperature was mild and the tang of sea air filled her senses.
“Your house?” Gen said.
“Whole family’s there,” he answered.
“Car?”
They both looked at Gen’s car, a tiny little two-door. Ryan was six-foot-three.
They looked at each other and they both said, at the same time, “Barn.”
Gen giggled and he gave her a little toss to seat her more comfortably in his arms. Then he set out with long, confident strides toward the old barn, with its new skylight that she imagined would let in silvery strands of moonlight.
The barn wasn’t far, but it was far enough. Far enough that she’d have thought carrying a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound woman there would be out of the question. But he hardly seemed to notice her weight—he made carrying her seem effortless, and his strength, his pure manly force, turned her on even more. Snuggled up so close to him, she could feel his heartbeat against her chest.
By the time they got inside the barn with its pale, shimmering light and its smells of hay and earth, the blood was pounding in places she’d neglected for far too long.
He set her down inside the barn and she looked up at him, breathless. Then he tangled his fingers in her waves and waves of glorious hair and kissed her.
She’d imagined this for so long. Had a raging crush on Ryan Delaney for so long. How many times had she wondered how his mouth would taste? How many times had she wondered how his body would feel pressed against hers? There was, of course, the potential that the reality—when it finally came—could pale in comparison with the fantasy. That the fact of him could let down, disappoint. But the way he kissed her, the way he handled her—all firm, manly confidence, forceful in a way that made her feel as feminine and delicate as a flower—was so much better than what she’d expected. So much more.
She gave back everything, and more. Her hands roamed his chest, his arms, his face, taking in the feel of him, of everything. The kiss, the long, passionate kiss, the claiming of her mouth by his, sent shivers of need through her body. She unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled it off of him. She grabbed the T-shirt she found underneath and yanked it over his head.
And oh, God, the glory of his naked torso was so much better than what she’d pictured in her mind. Sculpted muscles, hard planes. Skin golden from time spent in the sun.
“Ah, Gen,” he murmured into her ear, and it was her name he said, all breathy and rough, not Lacy’s. No one else’s but hers.
They kissed again and she nipped at his lips with her teeth. She wanted to devour him.
She was wearing the dress she’d planned for their date—the date that hadn’t happened—and he reached around her and drew down the zipper, slowly, all the way to the small of her back. He put his hands on her shoulders and eased the dress off of them, down her arms, until the fabric pooled on the floor at her feet.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in a voice made rough by desire.
Suddenly, he picked her up again and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her further into the barn.
Ideally, he should have thrown her down onto a soft pile of hay, but this was the old barn, and it hadn’t been in use for a few years except for storage, and—most recently—Gordon Kendrick. So there was no pile of hay, and instead he had to grab a thick, wool blanket from the boxes of stuff piled up in one corner of the cavernous space. Still carrying her in one arm, he shook out the blanket with his free hand and tossed it on the floor, spreading it out with his foot while she giggled.
“That would probably be easier if you put me down,” she said, laughing at his efforts to arrange the blanket while holding her.
“Like hell,” he said. “I’m not letting go of you.”
She looked into his big, dark eyes. “Oh.”
He went down onto his knees with her still wrapped around him, then lowered her onto the blanket. He looked at her lying there, with her smooth, white skin and her flaming red hair spread out around her.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said. “God. Just look at you.” He ran his hands down over her, her throat, her belly, her legs, and she shivered in the wake of his touch.
“I want you so much, Ryan,” she whimpered. “I’ve wanted you so much …”
“Shh.”
He lifted her up just a little, so he could unclasp her lacy bra and slip it off of her shoulders. Then he lowered his mouth to her breasts, tasting one of the pink peaks and then the other. She groaned and squirmed beneath him, impatient with the force of her arousal.
“I love your breasts,” he murmured, his mouth so close to her skin that she could feel the tickle of his warm breath.
Then he slid her panties off of her hips and down her thighs.
Lying naked beneath him, with him still partially dressed, was so erotic she almost had an orgasm right then. She tugged at his belt. “Now you.”
She unbuckled him, undid the snap, and slid his zipper down with the same teasing slowness he’d used with hers.
He groaned at her touch, then pulled away from her long enough to free himself from his jeans.
When they were both naked, both clothed in nothing but the moonlight filtering through the skylight, he used his mouth on her again, kissing the hollow between her breasts before moving downward, making a hot trail down her body with his tongue.
“Ryan. Please. I need you, right now. Please.”
“In a little bit,” he said, a hint of a tease in his voice. He kept working his way downward with his mouth until he was between her silky legs. He kissed the insides of her thighs, increasing her torment, until finally using his tongue on her warm folds.
“Oh. Oh.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, her entire body on fire with urgency. “Ryan. Oh.”
When he’d brought her right to edge of the abyss, he stopped, rose up her body, and knelt before her.
“I … shit,” she murmured. “I didn’t bring a condom. I’m on the pill, but …”
“Shhh.” He hushed her, and reached over to where his jeans had been discarded. He pulled a little foil packet out of one of the back pockets.
“Oh, thank God,” she said.
When he was ready, he lowered himself onto her and she felt the delicious sensation of his body pressing into hers. It felt so right, so perfect, that her body sang with the joy of it. As he moved inside her, he ran his hands over her round, heavy breasts, the delicious curves of her ass. She thrummed with pleasure, and she wondered briefly if it were possible to be driven insane by sexual bliss. The pressure, the tension of her passion rose and rose until she cried out with her release.
“Oh, Gen.” The words were soft and warm in her ear. He buried his hands in her hair and groaned as his own pleasure peaked.