Page 34 of Dirty Delivery

Something’s off with Rylan. He’s too still, too tense, and even though his hand is gentle as it threads through my hair, I can feel the hesitation in the way he touches me. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance toward his lap. My breath catches when I see the faint outline of a very unmistakable bulge rising beneath the blanket.

Oh. My. God.

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I freeze, unsure of what to do. Does he even realize I’ve noticed? I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stifle the nervous laugh bubbling in my throat. This is ridiculous. He’s probably mortified. Hell,I’mmortified.

I shift slightly. His body stiffens even more. The movement causes the blanket to shift. Suddenly, I’m given an even clearer view. Yup. Definitely what I thought it was.

“Rylan?” I try to sound as neutral as possible.

“Yeah?” His voice is tight, almost strangled.

“Are you okay?” I glance up at him, hoping he can’t hear the nervous edge in my tone.

He clears his throat, then forces a strained smile. “I’m fine. Just . . . thinking.”

Thinking? Yeah, I’m sure he’s thinking about all sorts of things right now. A part of me wants to tease him, to see if I can make him squirm a little more, but the other part—the part that’s hyper-aware of how close we’re sitting and how warm his arm feels around me—is too flustered to do anything but stay still, silent.

The movie continues to play, but I’m not paying attention anymore. My thoughts are a whirlwind, my pulse races. I should pull away, put some space between us, but I don’t. Instead, I lean back slightly, letting his warmth envelop me.

I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I do know one thing: I need this man inside of me more than I need my next breath.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Savannah

The air between us is charged, thick with tension neither of us acknowledges but both of us feel. My pulse races, and my heart pounds a rhythm against my ribs when I glance up at Rylan. His jaw is tight, his body impossibly still, like he’s trying to hold himself together. I know he’s fighting it—whatever this is between us. But I’m tired of fighting.

I want him.

And I’m done pretending otherwise.

Shifting slightly, I reposition my arm so it rests against his thigh. It’s a small movement, subtle enough that he might not notice right away. But when I let my fingers trail lightly along thefabric of his jeans, his breath hitches. My lips curve into a small, satisfied smile.

He notices.

I let my hand drift higher, until I brush against the hard ridge pressing against the seam of his jeans. His body jerks at the contact, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his head tipping back against the couch. Still, he doesn’t stop me.

Encouraged, I let my fingers explore further, tracing the outline of his arousal through the thick denim. His breath stutters, his chest rises and falls faster now.

“Savannah.” His voice strained. “What are you doing?”

“Getting what I want,” I reply softly, my tone unwavering.

Before he can respond, I unbutton his jeans and tug the zipper down with deliberate slowness. His eyes are on me now, dark and intense, the glow of the TV casting flickering shadows across his face.

I slide my hand into his boxers to wrap my fingers around him. His length twitches at my touch. He’s hot and hard, and when I give him a slow, teasing stroke, a low groan escapes his lips.

“Mo stóirín,” he groans, his accent thicker, rougher. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Then show me,” I whisper, sliding the blanket off of us as I shift to my knees on the floor. His pupils dilate, his gaze locked on mine, and the tension in his body is palpable.

I reach for the waistband of his boxers and jeans to pull them down. He lifts his hips just enough to help me, and then he’s bare before me. My breath catches at the sight of him, his arousal thick and ready, and I feel a rush of heat flood my cheeks.

Grasping my hand firmly around the base of his cock, I lean in and let my tongue slide up the length of him. His reaction is immediate—a guttural groan that vibrates through him, his hands fist in the blanket as he fights to stay in control.

But I’m not done yet.

I take him into my mouth, starting slow, teasing him with shallow strokes. His breathing grows heavier, his fingers twitching as if he’s fighting the urge to grab hold of me. Encouraged by his response, I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I move, tasting him, savoring the way his body responds to my touch.

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