Roughing It With Ryan Read online

  “Suzanne—”

  “And given what’s almost happened between us, twice now, I think you’re also addicted to…sex.” She whispered the last word, horribly embarrassed that her mouth seemed to have run away with her good sense. In fact, forget him leaving, she’d leave.

  He caught her in the kitchen. When he turned her back to face him, he was smiling, damn him.

  “Suzanne.” He bit his lower lip, and she had a bad feeling it was to keep from laughing. She wondered how he’d look wearing a spoonful of ice cream, and gripped her spoon and gallon tight.

  “If I’m addicted to anything,” he said. “It’s you. And don’t take this wrong…” He backed her into a corner. “But I’m not leaving until we have this out.”

  Bullies had never scared her. Without stopping to think—a problem she’d been addled with since childhood—she lifted her spoon, fully loaded with ice cream, and used it like a slingshot, flinging chocolate ice cream.

  It hit him square on the forehead.

  He lifted a hand to the spot, then looked at his chocolate-covered finger with shock. A drop of the stuff plopped from his forehead to his nose, and he shook his head, baffled. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Believe it.” She loaded her spoon again, hit him on the jaw this time. “And there’s more where that came from.”

  “I take it you’re not going to be logical about this.” Putting a hand on the tile’s edge on either side of her, effectively blocking her in, he bent slightly so that they were eye to eye. A drop of the chocolate ice cream fell from his jaw and hit her on the shoulder.

  He looked down at it with gleaming eyes before he bent and licked it off.

  At the feel of his tongue on her skin, her breath caught in her throat. Whatever she’d been about to say or do—and damn it, it had been good, too—flew right out the window.

  “Now.” He lifted sleepy, sexy eyes. “Let’s try this again.” He shifted his big, warm body close without a care for the ice cream dripping over the both of them.

  “Yes, we need to see this through. I realize you’re thrilled as hell at the thought, but—” He grabbed for her wrist when she might have flung more ice cream.

  “Why don’t you let me tell you a few things to see if we can ease your mind.” Almost idly, he set the gallon container on the counter, then took her other wrist as well, leaving her pretty much his captive.

  “First, I do not date obsessively.” Dipping his head again, he took another nibble of ice cream off her shoulder and made a low purring sound in his throat before speaking again. “That would be far too tiring.”

  It was very difficult to follow this conversation with his hands and mouth on her. “But Rafe said—”

  “Rafe was wrong. Tonight was a fluke, he set me up when I wasn’t listening.”

  Suzanne blinked at his flat voice. “He said you go out every night.”

  “Three nights a week.”

  She saw that his jaw had gone tight, and that the humor had left his eyes. Obviously he was more than a little tense, but what had made him so? She was the one picturing him going out three nights a week with a different woman each time. “Fine,” she said slowly, feeling more than a little confused. “But you should know, I still consider three dates a week pretty sick.”

  He stared at her for a heartbeat, then pulled her hands behind her back, holding them there with one of his. This left his right hand free, which he took on a cruise over her shoulder, smearing the ice cream into her skin. “Do you consider three dates a week sick because it’s me?”

  It had become difficult to concentrate on anything but those fingers. “Uh…”

  “Do you?” His fingers traced her collarbone. “Suzanne?”

  What had he asked?

  “I’m thinking you don’t want me dating anyone.” More fingers on her skin. “Except, maybe, you.”

  “Ha!” She meant to sound strong and carefree, but it came out weak and breathy because his finger trailed over her throat with a light touch before he dipped it into the gallon container on the counter.

  With a mischievous light in his eyes, he brought that ice-cream covered finger back to her throat and skimmed it to the wild pulse at the base of her neck.

  Her nipples hardened.

  “I’m leaving the house three nights a week, yes,” he said, tracing her collarbone now. “But not for dates.” Very lightly he stroked that finger straight down to the top button of her sundress, which was right between her breasts. “And as for being addicted to sex…” Now his fingers played with that first button, and before she could draw a breath, it fell open.

  “Before I met you I would have said of course not.”

  “And now?” Good Lord, was that her voice, all light and fluttery and…inviting?

  “Well, if we’re talking about you and me…then it’s quite possible.” Another button popped open, then another, and then the strap of her sundress slid off her shoulder. With a little nudge from Ryan’s mouth, her breast was free. He studied the white cotton of her bra, then stroked the covered nipple with his thumb, watching it pucker all the tighter with a fascination that made Suzanne clench her thighs tight.

  “Have I answered all your questions?”

  She blinked him into focus and tried to remember.

  “If you’re not dating the entire female species, where are you three nights a week?”

  “I’m…” He let out a long breath. “What the hell. I’m going to college at night.”

  “But… That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Why? Because I trim trees?”

  “What you do is more than that,” she said slowly at the unfurling anger in his voice. “You know it’s more than that.”

  “Yes. It’s been a way for my family to stay together. It’s put food on the table and a roof over our heads. It’s been a lifesaver, but it’s not the job of my heart, and I need that. I need the job of my heart, Suzanne. I’m getting my landscape architectural degree this year, after six long years of taking classes whenever I could.”

  He was staring at her with such drive, such intensity. Contrasting sharply was the ice cream dripping off his nose.

  “I’m sorry I smeared ice cream on you,” she whispered.

  “Sorry enough to lick it off?”

  Um…undoubtedly. But there was the little matter of keeping her head, so that afterwards they could walk away from each other. “Licking you,” she said, “would be very nice, I’m sure.”

  “Nice?” He let out a choked laugh. “Nice.”

  “That’s not an insult.”

  “Really.”

  “Look, I’ll admit I feel…a little hot and itchy when I’m near you. But—”

  “I really hate that word but.”

  “But…” She had to smile at his groan. “But…I just have to be careful that we both know where we stand.”

  “Since you’re so determined to keep reminding us, how can we forget?”

  “Yeah.” His chest just barely brushed against her achy nipples. She bit her tongue to hold her moan in.

  “You going out on any more dates? Not that I care—”

  His smile was slow and devastating. “You care. So do you want to know where we went, or what we did?”

  “Neither. I don’t care.”

  “Really? You didn’t care at all? Not one little bit?”

  “No. Yes. Yes, okay?” And I want to know if you touched her like you’ve touched me. He better not have, came her next thought, quickly followed by dismay at the possessive feelings she didn’t want. She lifted a shoulder. “What you did tonight is your own concern.”

  With a surprisingly gentle touch, he smoothed a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear. “I can tell you we didn’t smear ice cream on each other’s bodies.”

  “Neither have we.”

  “Ah, but the night is early.” Eyes once again filled with that hot, challenging, oh-so-sexy glow, he slid his hands—still sticky—into her hair.

  “Y