Sinful Desire

Her heart tripped over itself. “I want all that, too.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, and she melted, just melted from the simple touch. “I need you to know, I was never using you. I won’t lie and tell you it didn’t cross my mind that you were the detective’s sister, and I won’t insult your intelligence by saying I didn’t wonder if you knew anything about the case. I did wonder,” he said, and she nodded, listening intently to his serious tone. “But that literally lasted for a minute, maybe two. And it ended as soon as I set eyes on you at Aria. Because once I saw you again, none of the other things mattered. I wanted you with an intensity I haven’t felt before. And the more time I spent with you, the greater that desire became.” His fingertips traced soft lines on her waist. “I know we haven’t even seen each other that much in the grand scheme of things, but I already feel something for you, Sophie. Something deep and powerful,” he said, and those words weaved through her, humming in her body, buoying her heart and her spirit.

“I feel the same,” she whispered. “I barely understand how it’s possible that I met you a little over a week ago.”

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “It makes no sense to me, either. It was pure, one hundred percent lust at first sight, and then it somehow became more. I can’t risk losing you by being so damn stubborn.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes again. His dark blue gaze made her stomach pirouette, and the way he brushed his fingertips along her arm had her skin sizzling. Chemistry—they had a surplus of it, so much they could sell it on street corners, or bottle it and make a mint. Only, she didn’t want to sell it. She wanted to hoard it, because this kind of reaction—like and lust, passion and possibility—didn’t come around often. She needed to grab it, explore it, and see where its magic took them.

“You didn’t lose me. I promise.”

“I know I messed up by not telling you more about my family, and I can’t promise I won’t mess up again. And I don’t really know that I’m able or ready to just sit down and tell you every single sordid detail of my life—”

She pressed her hand to his chest, thrilling at the feel of his firm body beneath the light cotton of the T-shirt. “You don’t need to tell me everything. You don’t have to deliver your biography on a silver platter, Ryan. I already want to see you more. I just want to know more about you. Bit by bit, day by day, as you’re ready to share.”

He nodded and clasped his hand over hers. “I meant what I said at the diner. I don’t ever get beyond three dates because I don’t like to share. So you need to know you’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to get closer to. You do something to me that drives me wild and makes it impossible for me to think about anything but you.”

She couldn’t contain her grin if she tried. “You’re pretty much ever-present in my mind, too.”

“Now listen, I’d really like to get you naked, but I also want to get to know you. So what would you say if we did something totally Vegas and took a gondola ride and talked?”

“I would love to get to know you better, Ryan Sloan,” she said. He held out his elbow, and she hooked hers through it, walking with him to the gondolier, excitement ping-ponging through her because they were starting something.

Starting over, and starting anew, and starting fresh.

They were going to make a go of this for real, stripped down and bare, hearts and minds.

And—probably pretty damn soon—bodies, too.

But for now, there was a boat, and there was water, and there was a fake skyline that looked like a bright blue summer day, so she settled into his arms and bobbed along the canals inside The Venetian.

“Why don’t you tell me more about hockey?” she asked.

*

Whew.

That was not easy.

That was like…scaling a mountain.

Lifting a car.

Leaping over a tall building.

But to have Sophie in his arms again, her lush, ripe body snuggled next to him as they floated down the manmade canal? Yeah. Worth it.

Giving voice to emotional truths was exhausting. But she was happy, so damn happy, to listen to him talk about hockey. And he was relieved, so damn relieved, not to have to dig any deeper right now. Fine, he’d probably have to later. But for the moment he explained the basics of a line change, the different penalties, and the puck-before-skates rule.

“So the puck has to cross the blue line before the skates when you move to the opposing team’s zone?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

“And if the attacker has both his skates across the line before that happens, it’s an offside and there’s a face-off,” she said, as she processed the rules he’d explained while the gondolier crooned a love song in Italian.