Sinful Desire

She gripped the wood as she writhed into his hand, his fingers deep inside her, and she hit the edge, detonating from the intensity that ravaged her.

Before the orgasm even subsided, he grasped her hands from the slats, released them, and threaded his fingers through hers, as ripples of pleasure continued to spread through her body like aftershocks. He’d taken off his shorts, and now he wedged himself between her thighs, and told her to wrap her legs around his hips.

She did as instructed, and then he sank into her. He filled her so completely, and the sheer intensity of him inside her was astonishing. She moaned loudly, her voice carrying across the heat of the afternoon, floating on the hot air as he buried himself deep. He gripped her fingers hard.

“Sophie,” he growled in her ear as he thrust.

“Ryan.”

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here,” he said. It vaguely occurred to her that this was one of the first times they’d had sex face to face. It occurred to her, too, that she wanted to try every position with him. She wanted to be taken, she wanted to be owned, and she wanted to be his.

Completely his.

“Me, too,” she said on a breathy moan as he claimed her with his cock. She clenched around him, her * gripping him tight as he thrust into her.

“I love being with you,” he whispered, his breath ragged in her ear, his words lighting her up. “Everything. Everything about being with you.”

“Oh God,” she cried out, because he was doing it again. He was taking her there. To the ends of the earth. To the edge of reason. To another fucking world, one stitched with silver and gold and bright, hot sunlight that rained down on her skin, liquid pleasure that flooded her veins, and something so damn close, so immeasurably close, to more.

He let go of one of her hands to palm her breast, squeezing her nipple as he rocked into her. He pinched her, and it hurt so good as she came hard around his cock. In seconds, he followed her, biting her shoulder as he reached his own climax, grunting in gorgeous pleasure, the sound of his deep, sexy moans music to her ears.

“It’s you,” he said, a minute later as he spooned her, holding her in his arms and kissing her neck. “It’s only you.”

She knew what he was trying to say. She felt it, too, inside her body, and deep into her heart. For the first time, the emotion lived in both places.





Chapter Twenty-Eight


“I have a confession to make,” Ryan announced, as he set two plates on the kitchen table then opened the cardboard box of pizza.

“Confess.” She held out her hand grandly, inviting him to talk – something he was increasingly enjoying doing with her.

He snagged a slice of the cheese pie that he’d ordered from Gigi’s, his favorite pizza shop, and placed it on Sophie’s plate. With the salad tongs, he scooped out some of the Caesar salad for her then for himself, too.

He sat down, joining her. “You already know my secret about being completely unable to cook.” He held up one finger to make a point—a point of self-defense. “Though I am unbelievably proficient at calling the pizza place.”

She nodded approvingly. “Gigi’s is the best in Vegas. I absolutely approve of your dinner choice. Cheese pie, Caesar salad, and a chardonnay.” She picked up her fork and dug into the salad first. “So, tell me.”

He took a bite of the cheese pie, rolled his eyes in pleasure, and pointed to his chipmunk cheeks to say wait just a moment. When he finished chewing, he made his confession: “I ate the peach pie you made.”

She smiled broadly then took a drink of her white wine. “I’m so happy to hear that. It’s my mother’s recipe. It’s divine, isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly what my grandmother said about it. Divine.”

She tilted her head curiously, asking, “Your grandmother?”

“I brought it to her house after you gave it to me. I had some with her.”

Sophie’s blue eyes seemed to show her processing this information—that he was a man who brought pie to his grandmother. Maybe he’d made a strange choice to go see her last night, but it had made as much sense to him as anything had then. So he quickly added, “She told me that I should never give up a woman who could bake like that.”

Sophie raised her wineglass, a toast of sorts to his grandmother. “Smart woman. Sounds like you’re close to her?”

“Definitely. She and my granddad pretty much raised us after Mom went to…” He let his voice trail off.