So instead of taking that step back, she inched forward, pressing fully against him. She was aware she wore only a towel, that her breasts spilled over the top, pillowing against his back. She laid her head against his shoulder.
“Angie.”
The word came out in a harsh rush of breath, as if it pained him to say it. He finally made a movement, and she held her breath.
He turned, and she tilted her head back. The first thing she saw was the heat in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw as if he were at war with himself and had just lost some internal battle. She knew all about that skirmish.
“Throw the white flag, Ryder,” she whispered.
He hooked his finger beneath the knotted towel and crushed the material in his fist. Could he feel her heart pounding against his knuckles?
His gaze was riveted on her face. She couldn’t take her eyes off the harsh lines around his eyes. Years of worry, or pain. She wanted to reach out and smooth those lines away, but she was frozen to the spot, not wanting to do anything to break the spell.
His hand relaxed, and he lifted the knot from the towel, the material drifting to the floor and discarding the one barrier she had. Not that she cared. The cool airconditioning in the room didn’t do a damn thing to relieve the soaring heat coursing through her body. Her skin ached. Everywhere his eyes grazed her body, a bonfire started.
“You don’t even have the body type I go for. I like big tits and full hips. You’re thin.”
“I know.” She smiled at his attempts to deliberately insult her. Did he think that would drive her away? She knew what he was doing. He was trying to protect him self. Or maybe protect her. He was trying to get her to run.
It wasn’t going to work. She was in this and she wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, he didn’t mean it. He’d been attracted to her since the first moment he set eyes on her in Australia. Instead, she breached those few microinches of distance he refused to take, and slid her hands over his shoulders, then down his chest.
Solid. Muscular. His heart beat wildly, just as hers did.
This was madness. And she had to have it.
“Ryder.” She inhaled, breathing in the man scent of him that drove her crazy.
He pulled her against him, her breasts crushing his chest.
“I lied,” he said as he locked his hands around her back.
“About what?”
“I think you’re so goddamn beautiful I can’t breathe when I’m around you.”
Oh, God. Her belly did flip-flops, but that’s all she had time for, because then his mouth was on hers, and where there had previously been heat, now there was an inferno. She was consumed by it as he devoured her lips with a hunger that curled her toes.
She’d been desired by men before, pursued by them, but not like this, not with this raging, animalistic wanting. Ryder growled against her mouth. It ratcheted up her own need, driving a fury inside her that made her blood boil. She fumbled at the hem of his shirt, tearing it out of his pants, desperate to feel his skin. And when she palmed the flat plane of his stomach, she burned hot-fiery hot.
She was drawn to that flame, wanting to be inside it, to melt until there was nothing left of her. She wanted to touch him everywhere.
She tore her lips away to mumble that he had way too many clothes on and she wanted them out of the way. She pushed away from him, taking a step back while he jerked the shirt over his head, then toed off his boots and popped the button on his pants, shrugging out of them.
He stood proudly naked before her and she sucked in a breath of pure female delight. He was so beautiful, all muscular angles and planes. She wanted to admire his body as she had when she’d caught a glimpse of him in the shower a few days ago. But that would have to wait for later. Now she needed contact. She climbed back into his arms and he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist and search for his mouth again. His tongue twined with hers and licked with devilish intent, mastering her with each velvety stroke until she went liquid. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, not once breaking contact as he climbed on top of her.
His face was tight with strain as he loomed over her. He spread her arms out to her sides and stared down at her.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Be certain.”
Was he joking? His cock rested hot and heavy on her thigh, sweat beaded between her breasts, she was panting like a damn dog in heat because she wanted this so badly-and he was asking her if she was sure? “Dammit, Ryder. I’m not sixteen.”
“No, you sure as hell aren’t.” He leaned over her, covering her body with his.
Oh, the contact of skin to skin was just what she needed. To feel him pressed full on against her was everything she’d wanted. There was so much muscle on him, and she felt every inch of it against her. She was so slight and he was massive, overshadowing her slight frame.
Instead of intimidating her, she thrilled to his possession, the way he buried his face in her neck and seemed to linger there, just breathing her in.
She felt a sense of urgency. He didn’t, taking his time to lick along the pulse point of her neck. Oh, did that ever drive her nuts. She tilted her head to the side to give him free access, her blood rushing where his lips met her skin.
That wasn’t the only place blood was rushing. With every lick of his tongue along her neck, she tingled between her legs. Mercy, that was hot. And it made her itchy to feel something else between her legs. Something hard. Something he withheld from her.
“Ryder, come on.” Hadn’t they toyed long enough?
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “Relax, darlin’, we’re just getting started.”
No, no, no. She didn’t want foreplay now. She wanted sex. Him inside her, thrusting hard. Damn him. She struggled, deciding to take over.
But clearly Ryder wasn’t having any part of letting her take the lead, because when she tried to lift, he held firm to her wrists.
“Uh-uh.” Instead, he dipped down and licked her nipple.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, both hating and loving the wet heat of his mouth. Too much, not enough, she wanted more of this. She moaned, bit down on her lip to silence herself, and fumed that she couldn’t break away from his tight hold on her. His body had her pinned from the waist down, and his hands had a viselike grip on her arms. She was going nowhere until he decided otherwise.
And he was determined to torture her by paying lavish attention to her breasts, licking them, sucking them, even nibbling. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that would eliminate the sensations shooting south and threatening to make her insane.
It wasn’t working. She arched her back and drove her breasts against his oh-so-eager mouth, absolutely crazy over what he was doing to her. She hated him. She loved what he was doing to her. She was pulsing everywhere.
So much for her taking the upper hand. She was unmolded clay, soft and unformed. And Ryder was the master sculptor. She even whimpered, God help her, then clamped her lips together, realizing that would only encourage him further.