Burn by Jenny Lyn Read Free Book Online Page B

Still,
an orgasm built between her hipbones, gathering strength with every lazy thrust.
    Back when they
were together in college, she and Ryan had made love so many times it was impossible
to keep count. He’d known her body as well as she did. Knew
how to make her squirm in a room full of people and burn hotter than the sun
when they were alone. It had become embarrassingly easy for him to make
her come. He could get her worked up with just the briefest of touches,
glances, a few dirty words whispered into her ear. She was almost capable of an
orgasm on command.
    Sex since then
had been adequate at times, unfulfilling others. It was telling to acknowledge
that she’d often fantasized about Ryan when it wasn’t working with another man,
but she didn’t want to think about that right now. Not when her own personal
sex god fucked her like something out of a wet dream. She didn’t even need to
hear him say anything. The sounds of their soft, blissful moans and warm bodies
moving together were enough.
    His hand moved
down her stomach, unerringly finding her swollen clit. Tate wavered on the
brink of a blinding climax. She made a rough gasping noise in her throat, a
wordless plea for more, more, more, and Ryan gave her what she needed. Gripping
his hip in her hand, she broke apart beneath his deft touch.
    “Christ,” she
heard him mutter before he thrust deep twice more, then buried his face in her
neck, broken breaths gusting over her skin as he shuddered in completion.
    Tate could feel
the grasp of sleep tightening its hold on her. If she lay still and quiet for
another minute she’d succumb. She needed to get up, redress, go home while she still had a miniscule amount of energy left.
    Ryan eased off
the bed. She watched him stroll into the bathroom, all graceful rolling muscles
and firm ass. She couldn’t help but smile. But then he turned on the shower and
came back to where she lay, offering a hand to help her up.
    “Ryan,” she said
feebly. “I should—”
    “You should be
quiet and let me scrub your back.” A wicked grin curved his mouth. “And maybe your front, too.”
    Without further
protest, he ushered her into the shower but didn’t join her right away. “I’m
going to throw your clothes in the wash. Don’t collapse on me while I’m gone.”
    Tate moved
beneath the hot spray, letting the warmth of the water ease the knots in her
shoulders and neck that the sex hadn’t loosened. In a matter of minutes, he was
back. He soaped up a mesh sponge, and she let him wash her from chin to toe.
Then he shampooed her hair, his fingers working a subtle magic on her scalp. By
the time he had her body thoroughly rinsed and dried, she was as limp as a used
dishrag.
    “I didn’t intend
to spend the night,” she murmured as he ran a comb through her damp hair. “Did
you put my scrubs in the wash so I couldn’t leave?”
    “Maybe.” She
met his eyes in the vanity mirror and saw not a trace of remorse. “You want to
stay, though, don’t you?”
    She did.
    Aside from lacking
the energy to drive home, she wanted to spend the night in Ryan’s arms. Since
he’d reappeared, her staid, predictable world had been turned on its head, but
she couldn’t ignore the fact that the empty places inside of her didn’t feel so
cold and deserted anymore. Even if it was a temporary fix, she could no longer
deny the craving for more of him, of them together.
    He’d always been
so very good to her, up until the moment he vanished. Punishing them both by
holding onto the anger wasn’t productive or healthy. He would tell her his
reasons for leaving in due time, though she hoped it was sooner rather than
later. She would just have to be patient and wait, as hard as that might be.
Tate wasn’t known for possessing a great deal of patience. Now was a good time
to start working on that.
    “Yes, I want to
stay.”

Chapter Six
     
    Ryan was
finishing up the bacon when Tate shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes bleary
from sleep