Page 48 of Dirty Delivery

“Show-off,” I tease, grinning.

“Anything to impress you,” he shoots back, his smirk making my stomach flutter.

The game continues, each question and dare peeling back another layer of the man I thought I’d already gotten to know. He dares me to dance to an imaginary song, and I counter with a challenge for him to recite a cheesy pickup line—which he delivers with such over-the-top charm I’m left in stitches. By the time we’re both lying on the rug, breathless from laughter, I realize something. For the first time in weeks, I’m not thinking about the danger we’re in or the chaos that brought us here. I’m just . . . happy.

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were,” I admit, glancing over at him.

He arches a brow. “High praise. Coming from you, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

“Don’t push it,” I warn, but my smile gives me away.

As the fire crackles and the night stretches on, I let myself relax. Just for a little while. Because in this moment, with Rylan beside me and laughter still lingering in the air, it feels like maybe—just maybe—everything will be okay.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Savannah

“You could sleep in my room tonight,” I say casually, my voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in my stomach.

Rylan’s brows lift slightly, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. “Is that an invitation?”

“Don’t overthink it,” I reply, turning on my heel before he can analyze my expression. “It’s just . . . the house is big, and it’s quiet. Too quiet.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his smirk audible as he follows me upstairs.

Once inside my room, I head straight for the luxurious walk-in closet, pretending to search for pajamas. Instead, I pull out thesilk robe I’d seen earlier. Its cool fabric slides over my skin as I slip it on and tie the belt around my waist. The silk clings to my curves, and the thought of Rylan’s reaction sends a thrill through me.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the closet. Rylan is already on the bed, propped up against the headboard with his hands resting behind his head, his eyes closed. The way the soft light dances across his exposed tattooed chest and chiseled torso is almost too much.

He remains still as I approach the bed, stopping a few feet away from him. But the moment I untie the belt of my robe and let it slip to the floor, the soft thud of fabric meeting the ground snaps his eyes open. His gaze darkens, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

I saunter towards him, each step purposeful as I close the distance between us. Climbing onto the bed, I straddle his lap and rest my hands lightly on his chest. His muscles tense beneath my touch, and for a moment, he looks frozen in slumber, as if he’s waiting to wake up from a dream.

“Savannah . . .” he murmurs, that deep voice sounding strained.

“Shh,” I whisper, sliding my hands up to the back of his neck, and thread my fingers through his hair. “I’ve made up my mind.”

His lips part, but whatever protest he was about to make dies when I lean in and press my mouth to his. The kiss is slow at first, teasing, but when he groans against my lips, something inside me snaps. My nails scrape lightly against his scalp as the kiss deepens, our breaths mingling in the charged air.

With a sudden growl, he flips me onto my back, pinning me beneath him. His weight is delicious; his warmth is searing. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, mo stóirín?” he murmurs, his lips grazing my jawline. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I want to get burned.” My voice is breathy on my reply.

His eyes blaze with heat as he captures my lips again, his hands roaming over my body. One hand cups my breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, while the other slides down to grip my thigh, hitching it around his hip. The silk sheets beneath us are cool against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the inferno building between us.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin while he trails kisses down my neck and over my collarbone. “Every inch of you.”

My body responds to his touch and arches into him, as if it’s been waiting for this moment forever. His lips continue their journey, and when his mouth closes around my breast, a gasp escapes my lips. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me.

“Rylan,” I breathe, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He lifts his head, his gaze locking with mine. “Tell me what you want, Savannah.”

“You,” I whisper. The word slips out before I can stop it.

His expression softens for a moment, a flicker of something tender passing through his eyes. Then he’s kissing me again, his lips demanding and insistent as his hands explore every curve of my body.

I watch his fingers trail lower on his exposed skin to tease the waistband of his pajama pants. With a deliberate motion, he sits back and reaches for the drawstring, pulling it loose. My breath catches as he pushes the fabric down over his hips, his movements slow and deliberate as if he’s giving me time to take in every inch of him.

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