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“Girlfriend?” I hated how pitiful my voice sounded. It even broke at the end. I cleared my throat. “You considered me your girlfriend.”
“Still do. We haven’t broken up, have we?”
“I don’t know. I thought all those things I listed earlier, at least one of them, was a deal breaker.”
He chuckled, and squeezed my hands. “Yeah. I thought that, too. Except, whenever I thought of you, I didn’t think about what you did but who you are.”
Gently, he raised his hand to my face. Cupping my cheek, he said, “I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what your family does, either. I only care about you. I love you, Laura.”
My breath hitched at his words. I thought I was dreaming, but the warmth of his skin on my cheek couldn’t be denied. “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Your strength, your heart, your smart mouth, I love it all.” He inhaled sharply. “I want you with me every day. I want to feel you.”
His thumb rubbed against my cheek, and I closed my eyes. Despite the cool air, my body heated at his words. “I want you, too. Even though we are worlds apart, when I’m next to you, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
His eyes widened slightly and the green burned into a sage. Slowly, he bent his head toward me and I closed my eyes. His lips pressed against mine, but I kept them closed so I could savor the pressure.
Wrapping his fingers behind my head, his tongue probed the seal of my lips. “Laura,” he whispered. It sounded like a plea, and I opened my mouth, inviting him in.
He swept his tongue over my bottom lip and then across the inside of my mouth. My tongue tangled to meet with his, fighting to take control of the kiss. Pressing both my hands on either side of his face, I kissed him back. Hard. I never wanted him to let me go.
Me. The person who thought they didn’t need anyone else. Not a mother. Not a father. And definitely not a man.
But I needed this man. I needed him to breathe, to think, to feel, to love. I needed him in my life, in my thoughts, and in my world.
“Come home with me,” he growled when he broke from the kiss. “I want to hold you in my bed. Make love to you.” His eyes pleaded with me. “Say yes, Laura.”
“Yes,” I whispered, and he swept me up off my feet.
26
Laura
The car ride to Ryan’s house was a blur. My body hummed in anticipation. His hand caressed my thigh and each time he stopped at a red light, he pulled my head to his and devoured my mouth. At least two cars honked at us when the light turned green and he hadn’t noticed.
I tried to touch him when I noticed the large bulge over his black pants, but he swatted my hand away. “I won’t be able to drive if you do that,” he said and rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb. I nipped at his skin, then pulled his middle finger into my mouth and sucked.
He groaned and pressed the gas pedal. Tires squealed as he drove with one hand and I licked his fingers.
He nearly drove into one of his short bushes but narrowly missed as he parked his car out front. Racing to open my door, he scooped me out of the car.
A giggle escaped my lips when he threw me over his shoulder and wrestled with the keys in his pocket. “All this damn technology and I still have to use a key to open my front door. I’m fucking changing that tomorrow.”
“Do you plan to carry me in like this every day?” I joked.
He set me down on the carpet in the foyer. “I plan to have my hands full whenever you’re around,” he said and nipped my lips.
“Come.” He grinned as he pulled me up the staircase, I recalled his smile when I first met him. How his lips curled slightly and his eyes barely moved. Now his teeth shone under the crystal chandelier and creases formed around his eyes. He smiled with his entire face and I couldn’t help wondering if I’d done that. If I’d made him smile like this.
“Why are you shaking your head?” He asked when we reached the top of the stairs. “Am I going too fast?”
“No, no, that’s not it.”
“I can take it slow if that’s how you like it.”
“Mmm, well maybe…” He drew me to his bedroom where the king-size bed dominated most of the room. Although the wall-to-wall closet on one side and windows on the other were hard to miss. But neither of those things captured my attention. No, it was the piece above his bed.
“It’s the painting,” I whispered, my hand floating in front of my mouth. I don’t know why it surprised me to see it. It seemed so long ago when he had purchased it at the auction. Now over his bed, the dream became real. That painting was here because of me. I had a small hand in choosing something that belonged to him and he put it over his bed. Close to his body. It felt very intimate.
“Do you like it here? I know I talked about putting it in my office, but—”
