He was playing with fire. And though he thought he’d assessed the risk, the second she breathed his name, he knew he’d miscalculated.
Ryan’s New List
1. Find out how this woman says his name when he’s inside her.
Leaning down, he slid his hands under her and lifted. She wrapped those candy cane socks around his waist as he spun them around. The table was the closest available flat surface. He shoved crafting paraphernalia out of the way, sending some of it tumbling to the floor.
McClane the cat stalked off the table in a huff.
And then Ryan was placing her on the white oak and sliding his hands under her ancient sweatshirt.
“Yes?” he whispered against her mouth, fingers stroking the taut skin of her stomach.
“God, yes,” she breathed. Her fingers dove into his hair and tugged hard.
He found the edge of a cropped tank top just under her breasts. And just as he was ready to glide his hands under the cotton and over the softest, smoothest skin he’d ever encountered, Sammy pulled back.
“Wait. You don’t do one-night stands,” she reminded him.
“I seem to be doing a lot of things I don’t do.” His palms inched higher as he kissed her again.
She moaned, and his hard-on began to pulse painfully behind his zipper.
“Wait,” she said again, breaking away from his mouth. “I don’t want to force you into anything.”
“Stop being honorable and take advantage of me, Sparkle,” he growled.
“Well, if you insist.” With one hand on the back of his neck, she reached for the fly of his jeans.
She managed to pop the button before he kissed her again. As his tongue swept into her mouth, she lowered his zipper. The kiss was hard and desperate. He slid his hands up the last inch to cup her breasts.
“Finally,” he breathed, as those soft curves welcomed his touch.
Sammy’s head fell back, and the hand that had been poised to dive into the front of his jeans went limp as he brushed his palms over both pebbled peaks. Touching wasn’t enough. He had to see her. To taste her.
He pressed her back down on the table and dragged the sweatshirt over her head. The little white tank top obscured nothing from his hungry gaze. She arched her back, putting those beautiful round breasts on display for him.
That trusting acquiescence made him feel things he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.
She was willing to give him this part of her after having known him only a few days. That was a gift. A miracle. She’d seen him on his worst day and still wanted him.
He brushed his lips over her cheek, the curve of her jaw. She smelled like sugar cookies and cinnamon. He was a goner.
“More.” Her voice trembled, and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in town. Possibly the state.
“I need you to know I didn’t come here with the intent to do this,” he whispered as he kissed and licked his way down her neck to her shoulder.
“’K,” she said. Her hand returned to his jeans. Only this time, it didn’t stop at the waistband.
He lost his breath and his damn mind when she closed her fingers around his swollen shaft.
“I love that you don’t wear underwear,” she said on a low moan.
Right now, he was pretty happy with that wardrobe choice too. “This is probably a mistake,” he admitted on a rasp. A misstep that nothing in the world could stop him from making. “I want to make that mistake with you.”
There were too many layers between them.
“Definitely,” she agreed. Her fingers tightened on his erection and then began to move, driving him out of his mind and into his body.
On a groan, he lowered himself and sucked a nipple into his mouth through the thin cotton. She bucked her hips against him and tightened her delicious grip on his shaft.
He didn’t know how much longer he could stand not being inside her. To distract himself, he shoved up her tank and worshipped her breasts with his mouth.
Sammy’s leg spasmed in response, catching the box of jingle bells and sending it flying to the floor.
Bells rang. Cats hissed. Stan the sheep eyed them curiously.
“Shit,” she breathed. “Sorry.”
He picked her up off the table.
“Ryan, if you come to your senses right now, I will implode,” she vowed.
“You’ve destroyed my senses, Sam. We’re going to your bedroom.”
“Yay! Condom?”
“Wallet. Bedroom?”
The fireplace was closer and cozy. Maybe even romantic? But Ryan didn’t want to have to perform for the first time with a petting zoo for an audience.
“Upstairs and to the left,” she said, shivering against him. She rained kisses over his jaw and neck. And when she sank her teeth into his ear lobe, he almost tripped.
Recovering quickly, he bounded up the staircase. Until she shoved a hand between them and gripped him in her fist. His dick jerked, and his foot nearly missed the next step.
“Don’t move a fucking muscle until I get us up these stairs,” he commanded.
“Hurry!”
They both survived the last few steps and Ryan kicked open the first door on the left, zeroing in on the bed. He couldn’t have described the room or the bed if his life depended on it because he was too busy dragging those Naughty or Nice shorts down her thighs. Underneath, she wore white underwear with snowflakes, and he couldn’t stop staring at the tantalizing wet spot on them.
“Help,” she whispered, and he realized she was doing her best to shove his jeans to the floor. He held off on touching her for as long as he could. Which was only about 1.5 seconds. Just long enough to get his shirt off and his jeans down.
With his jeans trapped around his ankles and one shoe on, it was good enough, he thought as he dove for her. Covering her warm, soft body with his own. As his mouth took hers in an aggressive assault, he brushed his fingers gently over the hypnotic wet spot on her underwear.
She shivered.
He was afraid to touch her too much. The want welling up inside him threatened to take over everything. He felt alive. Out of control. Scared shitless.
As if sensing that, Sammy brought his hand to her breast and closed his fingers over it. And then he couldn’t have stopped if he wanted to.
She was soft and smooth and small. He couldn’t understand how she was here, available to him. How he was the lucky guy who got to taste her and touch her tonight.
He replaced his hand with his mouth and teased her pink nipple until it stiffened against his tongue.
“I need you, Ryan,” she whimpered, bucking against him. “Please.”
He shoved his hand into her festive underwear and finally found her.
She needed him. Her words repeated in his head, echoed in his chest where knots he hadn’t known he had untied themselves.
“Say it again,” he demanded, spearing two fingers into her tight, wet channel.
Sammy’s moan was music to his fucking ears.
“I need you.” It was a gasp. A plea. And it was more than enough for him. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of her, then thrust them back in. Rhythmically. Tauntingly. She was so fucking wet. So fucking ready for him. And had he followed the rules, stuck to the plan, he would have missed out on this.
The thought of that had him diving into another kiss, harder than he’d intended. Her fingers dug into his neck and shoulders.