Katee Robert - In Bed with Mr. Wrong

“How thoughtful.” They may not have remembered to feed it, but they made sure he wasn’t wasting away from boredom? It was such a little-boy thing to be concerned about.

Bri shook her head. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Ryan being cute. “How long will you be in town?”

“I fly out in ten days.”

So soon. She couldn’t say why the news sent a pang of regret through her since she’d known all along Ryan wasn’t staying—and didn’t want him to, even if he changed his mind about Wellingford. This wasn’t one of her romance novels, and Ryan wasn’t the Prince Charming she’d always dreamed of. It just seemed strangely difficult to picture her life going back to what it’d been before he barreled into it. But she couldn’t afford to think like that right now—or ever. He was leaving.

End of story.

…

Ryan wasn’t sure what had brought about that lost look in her eyes, but he didn’t like it. Not when they seemed to finally have found a topic that didn’t lead to them fighting. Her damn betta fish, of all things. He’d buy her twenty more if it kept that smile playing at the edges of her lips.

As soon as he’d told her he was flying out next week, her eyes had dimmed and she’d picked a spot on the kitchen island to focus on. Even knowing he should leave well enough alone, he couldn’t help asking, “You love this town, don’t you?”

She shifted her gaze to him and smiled, the expression so sweet, it hit him in the chest with the force of a Mack truck. “I have a place here. It’s only been a little while, but it already feels like it’s become home in a way I’ve never had before.”

He wished he could see Wellingford through her eyes, but the thought of being forced into the role he’d grown up in, of seeing the pity in people’s eyes when his dad got in another fight at the bar or was found passed out somewhere public, made the walls feel like they were closing in. Having a place obviously mattered a lot to Bri, so he choked back his issues and rounded the island to stand before her. “I’m glad you like it.”

She frowned, as if trying to puzzle out his game. “What—”

He kissed her to chase away the lost look on her face, to add to the good memories she seemed to so desperately crave, to give her something of the present to focus on. At least that was the excuse he told himself. The truth was he’d been thinking about kissing her nearly nonstop ever since he’d taken out that goddamn traffic light.

So much of Bri was held in reserve, as if she were shielding herself from something. Her mass of gorgeous dark hair seemed to always be down, bangs a blunt edge that brushed her black-framed cat-eye glasses. Her clothing was strategically loose, conveying comfort without looking sloppy, but effectively hiding the body he wanted to memorize with his hands and mouth.

And those lips—the same lips softening against his own right now—were the devil’s own temptation, with their marked Cupid’s bow and full bottom lip that begged to be nipped. Ryan gave in to the temptation to do just that, and she gasped, her hands going to his shoulders as she swayed against him.

It was all the invitation he needed.

He sank his hands into her hair, angling their mouths so he could plunder hers. She tasted of wintergreen, so fresh and clean that he groaned. While he was distracted with relearning her lips and tongue, Bri started her own exploration, her hands drifting from their perch on his shoulders to his chest. He wanted to strip off his shirt so he could feel her fingers against his skin, but Ryan contented himself with stroking his tongue against hers. They already walked such a fragile tightrope. He wasn’t going to do anything to risk her doubts creeping in to put a stop to this.

But when she slipped her hands beneath his shirt, fingers brushing over his stomach, a shiver worked its way through his body, all the way down his spine to his cock.

That level of reaction from a single near-innocent touch almost made him pull back. What the hell was he getting himself into? Then she hooked the top of his jeans with one hand while she palmed him with the other and he decided he didn’t care. He held perfectly still as she stroked him, his muscles actually shaking from the need to yank her against him and rip off their clothes.

Bri broke away, kissing along his jaw and down his neck. “You need to tell me what cologne you use. I’m going to sue them.”

His laugh cut off when she unzipped his pants and took his cock in her hand. “ God .”

She jerked back. “Did I hurt you?”

No, but she might if she stopped doing what she was doing. Ryan took her hand and maneuvered it back to where she’d been. “I like it when you touch me.”

“And I like touching you.” She cupped him more firmly, sending pleasure sparking through him.

He kissed her again, but this time he let himself return her touch, pushing up her skirt until he could get to her skin beneath it. He moved his hand up her thigh and pressed his palm against the thin barrier of fabric shielding her from him. She moaned and any plan he had of taking this slow and teasing her disappeared in a puff of smoke.

With a groan, he slipped his hand into her panties and, finding her already wet, slid a single finger into her. Her hand spasmed on his cock, and she began touching him with renewed fervor. The way she explored him was the most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced. Her fingers danced over his skin, thumb dragging up the underside and then circling the head.

He wanted inside her. Wanted it so bad he could barely hang on to the reason why it wasn’t a good idea.

Ryan dropped to his knees, already mourning the loss of her hands on him, but he wanted—needed—to taste her again. From the way she eagerly lifted her hips so he could slide off her panties, she wanted the same damn thing.

Seeing her spread out for him made a deeply hidden part of Ryan roar to the forefront just like it had on the porch. He wanted to follow through on his threat to ruin her for other men, so that no one could even come close to making her feel how she felt with him. Only him. He wasn’t proud of the possessive feeling coursing through him, but he wasn’t going to deny it. He wasn’t going to deny a damn thing when it came to Bri.

He dragged his tongue over her, savoring her taste just like he savored the feeling of her nails dragging over the back of his head, urging him on. Already, she rocked against his mouth, whimpers turning into his name chanted over and over again.

This was perfection. They didn’t need to talk. All they needed was the language created between two bodies. He sucked her clit into his mouth, using his lips and tongue to drive her crazy, until she went rigid and screamed his name. Fuck . A man could get used to giving a woman that kind of orgasm. He licked his lips and lifted his head to tell her just that.

Then the goddamn smoke detector went off.

Bri should be doing something other than staring stupidly at Ryan while he hurried to open windows and fan out the smoke curling from the oven. She should help or…something. But since she wasn’t certain she could stand without falling on her face, she settled for shoving her skirt down to cover her nakedness. Her panties had been thrown…somewhere…and she was in no position to search them out. Even the ear-piercing shriek of the smoke detector wasn’t enough to snap her out of her post-orgasm haze.

She’d always read about women who got themselves into trouble because they were thinking with their bodies instead of their minds, but she’d never understood before. Now she did. With the way Ryan made her body feel, she could forgive him any number of sins as long as he kept touching her.