Unstoppable
Page 50
“I am so, so sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t believe he just showed up. That’s twice now we’ve been interrupted. My family has the worst timing.”
“It’s OK.” Ryland steps outside, then turns to drop a kiss on my forehead. “I’m beginning to realize you’re a package deal. You, Zoey, your brothers…”
I feel a lurch of panic. “You don’t mind, do you?” I ask anxiously. “I’ve tried to get them to back off, but…”
“Don’t worry.” Ryland gives me a smile. “They’re just looking out for you, I understand. I should have been doing the same thing for Brit.”
I exhale in relief. “He won’t be here long,” I say quickly. “And we can still see each other.”
“Tomorrow?” Ryland asks.
I nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”
“Tomorrow then.” He leans in, grazing my cheek with a whisper only I can hear. “Because I’m only just getting started.”
I catch my breath. His eyes glitter dark in the moonlight, and he slowly trails a fingertip down my bare arm.
My body screams back to life.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs, dropping a last kiss on my lips. Then he turns and saunters away, leaving me melted in a pool of desire right here on the front step.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
I can’t sleep. This time, it’s not nightmares of Connor keeping me awake, but thoughts of Ryland. Hot, stomach-twisting memories. I lay in bed, restlessly tossing and turning, tangling in the sheets as I remember the desire in his eyes, the delicious torment of his hands…
The feel of him thrusting into me, God, the pleasure I never knew I could taste.
I feel like I’m burning up, my skin flushed with a fever even the cool breeze from outside can’t soothe. I open the windows wide, but still, my heart races and my body aches. For him.
Only him.
I drop back against the pillows with a frustrated groan. I should be satisfied, but I feel more ravenous for him than ever before. Since the night we met, this itch has been building, coiling tighter, twisting deeper. Every kiss, every touch has only fueled the fire, creating a slow-burning inferno that consumes every part of me. Now I know exactly how it feels to possess him completely, my blood burns with need. All I can do is flash back over our brief moments together. Kissing him. Touching him…
My hands trace over my body, as if controlled by some foreign power. I’m wearing an old T-shirt and pajama shorts, but I feel sexy and alive, imagining it’s Ryland’s fingertips brushing softly over the swell of my breasts, his touch toying with my nipples until they’re two hard, aching points.
My breathing quickens. I reach for my phone.
I can’t sleep. I write. I want you.
I hit “send" and wait for a response, my cheeks hot with the confession. I feel like Ryland can see me here, sliding my hands under my shirt and over my bare stomach; see the way my body trembles to my touch with just the thought of him.
My phone flashes with his silent response.
I want you more.
I smile, breathless. Something makes me pick up the phone again, but instead of texting, I dial. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey.”
His voice is low, that sweet whiskey drawl that snakes through my body and settles low between my thighs.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
There’s a long pause, but I can feel the electricity humming between us; a live wire sparking in the dark blue night.
“Where are you?” I whisper, even though Blake is crashed out downstairs, way out of earshot.
“In the guesthouse at Brit’s,” Ryland murmurs, just as intimate. “She insisted I sleep in a real bed for a change.”
“Real beds have their advantages,” I tease. “A soft mattress…pillows…”
“Nobody interrupting before we’re damn well ready,” Ryland finishes, his voice full of laughter.
“I’ll have to make it up to you,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
There’s a pause, a long silence, and I swear I can hear him breathing. Out there, somewhere, he’s lying in bed just like me. The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it just feels natural. We don’t have to say a word for me to know, he’s thinking about me.
Wanting me.
I exhale in a shiver. I feel so connected to him, even though we’re miles apart. I know how I’d fit in the crook of his arm, resting my head against his chest close enough to feel his heartbeat. I know how he smells, how his body feels against mine.
How he tastes.
“I miss you,” I whisper, feeling the absence of him beside me; the space in my bed he should be occupying. I saw him just a couple of hours ago, but still, I feel a pang. It’s not enough. Hours, days, weeks, it’s not enough time with him.
“I miss you too, baby,” Ryland murmurs back, and I feel my stomach twist tighter with longing at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s too far away.”
He chuckles. “I know. But it’s OK. This is only the beginning.”
His words filter through me.
The beginning…
I catch my breath, surprised to feel tears sting in the corner of my eyes. Tears of happiness. I want a future with him, a thousand other nights like this. Talking, laughing, sharing the deepest parts of ourselves. I haven’t dared think more than a few days ahead in so long, but suddenly, I see a future unfolding before us, a dizzying parade of simple, contented days and blissful, passionate nights.
“It’s OK.” Ryland steps outside, then turns to drop a kiss on my forehead. “I’m beginning to realize you’re a package deal. You, Zoey, your brothers…”
I feel a lurch of panic. “You don’t mind, do you?” I ask anxiously. “I’ve tried to get them to back off, but…”
“Don’t worry.” Ryland gives me a smile. “They’re just looking out for you, I understand. I should have been doing the same thing for Brit.”
I exhale in relief. “He won’t be here long,” I say quickly. “And we can still see each other.”
“Tomorrow?” Ryland asks.
I nod quickly. “Yes. Please.”
“Tomorrow then.” He leans in, grazing my cheek with a whisper only I can hear. “Because I’m only just getting started.”
I catch my breath. His eyes glitter dark in the moonlight, and he slowly trails a fingertip down my bare arm.
My body screams back to life.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs, dropping a last kiss on my lips. Then he turns and saunters away, leaving me melted in a pool of desire right here on the front step.
Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.
I can’t sleep. This time, it’s not nightmares of Connor keeping me awake, but thoughts of Ryland. Hot, stomach-twisting memories. I lay in bed, restlessly tossing and turning, tangling in the sheets as I remember the desire in his eyes, the delicious torment of his hands…
The feel of him thrusting into me, God, the pleasure I never knew I could taste.
I feel like I’m burning up, my skin flushed with a fever even the cool breeze from outside can’t soothe. I open the windows wide, but still, my heart races and my body aches. For him.
Only him.
I drop back against the pillows with a frustrated groan. I should be satisfied, but I feel more ravenous for him than ever before. Since the night we met, this itch has been building, coiling tighter, twisting deeper. Every kiss, every touch has only fueled the fire, creating a slow-burning inferno that consumes every part of me. Now I know exactly how it feels to possess him completely, my blood burns with need. All I can do is flash back over our brief moments together. Kissing him. Touching him…
My hands trace over my body, as if controlled by some foreign power. I’m wearing an old T-shirt and pajama shorts, but I feel sexy and alive, imagining it’s Ryland’s fingertips brushing softly over the swell of my breasts, his touch toying with my nipples until they’re two hard, aching points.
My breathing quickens. I reach for my phone.
I can’t sleep. I write. I want you.
I hit “send" and wait for a response, my cheeks hot with the confession. I feel like Ryland can see me here, sliding my hands under my shirt and over my bare stomach; see the way my body trembles to my touch with just the thought of him.
My phone flashes with his silent response.
I want you more.
I smile, breathless. Something makes me pick up the phone again, but instead of texting, I dial. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey.”
His voice is low, that sweet whiskey drawl that snakes through my body and settles low between my thighs.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
There’s a long pause, but I can feel the electricity humming between us; a live wire sparking in the dark blue night.
“Where are you?” I whisper, even though Blake is crashed out downstairs, way out of earshot.
“In the guesthouse at Brit’s,” Ryland murmurs, just as intimate. “She insisted I sleep in a real bed for a change.”
“Real beds have their advantages,” I tease. “A soft mattress…pillows…”
“Nobody interrupting before we’re damn well ready,” Ryland finishes, his voice full of laughter.
“I’ll have to make it up to you,” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
There’s a pause, a long silence, and I swear I can hear him breathing. Out there, somewhere, he’s lying in bed just like me. The silence stretches, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it just feels natural. We don’t have to say a word for me to know, he’s thinking about me.
Wanting me.
I exhale in a shiver. I feel so connected to him, even though we’re miles apart. I know how I’d fit in the crook of his arm, resting my head against his chest close enough to feel his heartbeat. I know how he smells, how his body feels against mine.
How he tastes.
“I miss you,” I whisper, feeling the absence of him beside me; the space in my bed he should be occupying. I saw him just a couple of hours ago, but still, I feel a pang. It’s not enough. Hours, days, weeks, it’s not enough time with him.
“I miss you too, baby,” Ryland murmurs back, and I feel my stomach twist tighter with longing at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s too far away.”
He chuckles. “I know. But it’s OK. This is only the beginning.”
His words filter through me.
The beginning…
I catch my breath, surprised to feel tears sting in the corner of my eyes. Tears of happiness. I want a future with him, a thousand other nights like this. Talking, laughing, sharing the deepest parts of ourselves. I haven’t dared think more than a few days ahead in so long, but suddenly, I see a future unfolding before us, a dizzying parade of simple, contented days and blissful, passionate nights.
