Bachelor at Her Bidding (Bachelor Auction Book 2)(14)

She leaned back in her chair with a sigh when she’d finished. “Lily was right.”

“About what?”

“What she said at the auction about your food. It’s better than sex.”

As soon as the words were out, she blushed. Deep, rich color bloomed through her cheeks.

So she’d been thinking about it, too – about what it would be like between them? She felt that same irresistible pull?

Oh, man. They were really going to have to be careful. It would be oh, so easy to give in to that attraction and make life way too complicated – for both of them.

He thought he’d gotten himself under control – and then she did the one thing to make Ryan’s control snap. She bit her lip. What could he do other than lean across the table and soothe the sting by kissing it better?





Chapter Four




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It turned out there was a better combination than man and chocolate, Rachel discovered.

Man, chocolate and champagne.

The champagne had definitely gone to her head. It felt as if the bubbles were running through her veins instead of blood, and Ryan’s mouth was sweet and tempting and coaxing, making the bubbles fizz faster.

How could she resist?

Even though Rachel knew this was a bad idea – neither of them was looking for a relationship – she couldn’t help kissing him back. Matching him kiss for kiss, touch for touch.

*

This really shouldn’t be happening, Ryan thought. But he couldn’t stop kissing Rachel. He was drowning in the lushness of her mouth. And the warmth of her body against his was way too much temptation for him. He couldn’t resist her. He simply picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen through to the hallway. When he tried the first door, he discovered it was her living room; he tried the second door and was relieved to discover that it was her bedroom. Right where he needed them both to be.

He set her down on her feet, keeping her body pressed against his all the way so she’d be fully aware of how much he wanted her.

Still working on autopilot, he took the scarf from her hair so it tumbled down over her shoulders, then reached round to unzip her dress and let it slide down to the floor.

She looked suddenly nervous, and he had the strongest feeling that someone had been here at this point with her before and said something that had hurt her.

Wanting to reassure her, he whispered, “Rachel, you’re lovely.”

She looked as if she didn’t believe him, and he knew his hunch had been accurate. Someone had definitely hurt her.

He traced a fingertip along her collarbones. “Your skin’s so soft. So gorgeous.”

She still didn’t look as if she believed him.

He let his finger slide lower, to trace the lacy edge of her bra. “And I like this. It’s pretty.” And he really wanted to unclip her bra and let her small breasts spill into his hands, except she looked so worried that instead he kissed her again, wanting her to realize that he was serious about this. That he wanted her. That he really did think she was lovely.

She began to undo his chef’s tunic, but her fingers were clumsy with the fabric buttons. “I – I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking awkward and miserable. “I’m not very good at this.”

The buttons, or sex? he wondered. But this wasn’t meant to be about misery. It was meant to be about joy. About snatching an unexpected moment of shared pleasure. “French buttons aren’t the easiest things to deal with,” he said, and helped her. With every button that he undid, the excitement in his belly twisted up another notch. Right now he really needed to feel her hands on him.

Once the tunic was completely undone, she slid the material from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Her fingers were actually shaking when she undid the button of his trousers; he slid his hand across hers, gently squeezing it with encouragement, and she lowered the zip.

The anticipation was driving him crazy and he stepped out of his trousers, leaving them crumpled on the floor next to his tunic.

She spread her hands over his abdomen. “You’re beautiful,” she said softly. “A perfect six pack.”

“A combination of good genes and a daily five-mile run,” he said. “In my job it’s all too easy to be greedy, eat way too much and get out of shape.”

Though right now he was greedy for her. And he didn’t intend to deny himself.

She reached up and kissed her way along his collarbones, making him shiver with need. He just couldn’t wait anymore; so he dealt with the rest of their clothes and pushed the comforter aside on the bed. Then he picked her up, laid her down against the pillows and knelt between her thighs.

She traced his lower lip with a fingertip.

He caught her finger gently between his teeth and then sucked it. Hard.

Her eyes went wide, dark with arousal. “Ryan,” she whispered, her voice almost rusty with desire.

“I know. Me, too.” He bent his head and kissed her.

She arched back against the bed and he kissed the curve of her throat. He loved the way her hair flowed over the pillows. “You’re like a mermaid,” he said. “I’d love to take you to a secluded part of the lake and watch your hair spreading over the surface of the water.” And then, because he really couldn’t help himself, he added huskily, “As I slide deep inside you.”