Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(44)

But he doesn’t stop. He walks through his penthouse, and only when he opens the front door and shuts it at his back does he let me slowly slide down the front of him. When his face comes into view, one eyebrow is quirked up. “Is this front door good enough for you?”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of odd that it’s your front door when it should be mine—” My mock complaint is cut off when Ryker places his lips on mine to shut me up.

The kiss smothers our laughter, along with erasing any other thoughts of being difficult from my mind. It’s like a sweet seduction. It starts off soft and slow and then builds with an unfettered desire that’s almost palpable.

My hands roam up the firmness of his chest to thread through the hair at the base of his neck, while one of his cups my breast and the other presses against my lower back. There isn’t an inch of space between our bodies.

I can’t help the groan that emits from the back of my throat, but the minute he swallows its sound he steps back and breaks the kiss. I’m left breathless, my body on fire and desperate for more of his touch, as he stalks into his place without a word.

My smile is almost as automatic as my desperation for him. The man is struggling to keep his word. I have to admire him, but oh this is going to be so much fun.

“That sure was one incredible good night kiss,” I say as I enter the penthouse, shutting the door before following him down the hallway toward his bedroom. “I’d love to see what you do for an encore.”

His strained laugh is his only response as he walks into his closet, where I can see him brace his hands against the island in there. His head is hung forward, his smile disbelieving, and he shakes his head as if he’s trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s really doing this. That he’s really denying himself sex.

The minute he seems to rein it in, he shoves his jeans off and throws them somewhere I can’t see in the depths of the closet.

I slide the sweatshirt he loaned me off and then make quick work of undoing the bustier of my uniform. “Hey, Ryker?” I ask innocently.

“Hmm?” He walks to the doorway, his impressive cock pressed against his boxer-briefs, which only serves to make that deep-seated ache I have for him burn that much brighter.

His eyes meet mine momentarily before scraping down to my bare chest and over to the bustier that I let drop unceremoniously onto the floor without looking. I make a show of giving his body the same once-over he’s just given mine—him in his underwear and me in my skirt, stockings, and nothing else.

“Impressive.” I lift my brows.

“That’s the least of things I could use to impress you,” he says, followed by a groan as I reach my hands to the back of my skirt so that the distinct sound of the zipper fills the room.

“I could take care of that for you, you know,” I say, pointing in the general vicinity of his pelvis.

“Pajamas. You need pajamas right now.” He’s flustered, and it’s adorable.

“Oopsie.” I let my skirt fall to the ground around my ankles, so now all he’s greeted with are nylons and lacy boy panties beneath. “I didn’t bring any.”

He struggles—the clench of his jaw, the flexing of his fists, the twitch of his cock. “I’ve got the perfect thing for you,” he says and disappears into his closet, leaving the sexual tension in the room so thick I can almost feel it. He reappears in seconds and throws something at me from the other side of the room.

“What?” I laugh as I catch it. Then groan when I open it up. “No way. Uh-uh. I am not wearing this.” The T-shirt has RED SOX emblazoned across the front of it, and I can’t help but laugh thinking of our non-Wicked-Ways-sanctioned date. The Yankees game. His rooting for the Sox while I jeered at him for going against my Yankees. Taking the subway across town to his place. Sleeping together for the first time.

He flashes me a megawatt grin. “I think it’ll look nice on you.”

“Over my dead body.”

He levels me with a look. “While I more than enjoy that body of yours, you need to cover your tits up if I’m going to be anywhere in your vicinity.”

I look down as I cup both of my breasts, shirt falling to the floor, and run my thumb and forefinger over my nipples. “They are nice breasts, though, aren’t they?”

His eyes darken with desire. “Put it on, Vaughn.”

“I will not. I refuse to sleep with the enemy.” I pout, then close my eyes and let my head fall back in mock rapture as I gently pinch my nipples once again.

“You already have.” His voice is strained.

“I thought this was our first date, though,” I say coyly as I fight my smile.

“I’m warning you.”

“Does this bug you?” This time I let an exaggerated moan fall from my lips.

“Vaughn.”

And before I even have time to squeal, Ryker has snatched the shirt up off the floor and tackles me on the bed in one continuous swoop.

I squeal in shock and then protest when his fingers find my rib cage so they can dance with tickles up and down their line.

“I’m not putting it on!” I say through the laughter.

“Yes, you are.”

He straddles me so that he sits on my pelvis, his knees squeezing me in place as he tries to shove the shirt over my head. The motion has the thick hardness of his cock pressing against the underside of my breasts.