Page 20 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
I’ve never felt quite so lavished. So worshipped. The desire to squirm on his lap to find some relief for the ache between my legs is almost irresistible.
“Talk to me, Angel,” he murmurs, circling his thumbs over the rigid nubs of my nipples. “If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say so, because next I’m gonna get you on your back and get my face between your legs and eat your pussy until you scream my name.”
Mierda santa. My body wants that so much, a riot breaks out inside me. My brain is battered with lust hormones wielding hammers until rational thought is all but impossible.
“I…I want…please…”
My voice is the husky tenor of a phone-sex operator. I don’t recognize it at all.
“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one,” mutters Ryan. In one lightning-fast motion, he flips me onto my back on the sofa and kneels between my spread legs.
My dress slides languidly down my bare thighs and pools around my waist. Ryan stares down at me like he’s been electrocuted.
“Sweet Jesus, woman,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful.”
Out in the dark night sky, thunder booms. The breeze picks up, fluttering the pages of a magazine on the coffee table. And my heart aches like it might be dying.
No one has ever looked at me like this. Like I’m a wild, endangered animal that needs to be treasured and protected if it’s going to survive. He might as well be a penitent kneeling in front of a cross for all the reverence in his eyes. The fervor in his gaze is religious.
He slowly slides his hands down my spread thighs. When he reaches my waist, he circles it and squeezes, learning my shape. Then he pushes the dress up past my hips, exposing my stomach all the way to my ribs, the entire time staring down with intense concentration.
He traces his index finger lightly around the tattoo near my left hip. His questioning gaze flashes up to mine.
“Dragonflies live a short life,” I whisper, mesmerized by the ardor in his eyes. “They know they have to make every moment matter.”
His eyes are piercing. “I’ve heard that a dragonfly landing on you is a dead loved one coming to visit.”
My heart twists so violently, I suck in a breath. I turn my head away and close my eyes to hide.
Ryan lowers himself onto me, resting his weight on his elbows. He murmurs into my ear, “Okay. Sore spot. We won’t go there tonight.”
The way he says “tonight” lets me know he has every intention of getting it out of me in the future, however.
But there’s no future here. This is one of those unexpected things that pops up randomly in life. A fleeting spark between two strangers, a moment in time that’s special exactly because it’s so short.
Things like this aren’t meant to last. A few hours of pleasure in a lifetime of pain is the best we can hope for.
It dawns on me that I’m being offered an incredible gift.
It doesn’t really matter that I’m here on a job and my initial intention was only to use him as a pawn to make my play. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never crossed this line before, or that I’ll never see this man again after tonight.
What matters is that this connection—this strange and beautiful thing—is real. Ryan makes me feel alive. He makes me feel special. He makes me feel seen, something I never truly am.
I’m a fool if I let him slip through my fingers when I could have a memory that could sustain me through all the dark times to come.
The decision made, I relax on multiple levels. I exhale my final resistance, take his face in my hands, and look into his beautiful eyes, the blue of opals and clear summer skies.
“No, we won’t go there tonight. But let’s go everywhere else, Ryan. Let’s go all the places we need to go. Let’s do it all.”
There’s a long, tense moment where he doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, searching my face. Then a smile curves his lips, dangerous in its intensity.
“There you are,” he says softly.
“You only have a few hours until I turn into a pumpkin,” I warn him. “Make them count.”
He chuckles. “Goddamn, I love a bossy woman.”
“Then you’re in luck, cowboy.” I pull his face toward mine. “Now shut up.”
