“What’s the difference?” I ask.
“The difference is, we said we would see if you could live out what’s in your books, and that’s what’s in the book. Our findings will only be accurate if you fully commit.”
I send him a challenging glance. “Oh, and you’re going to fully commit?”
“Hell yeah,” he says.
I roll my eyes and wrap part of the sheet in my left hand. I give my attention back to the manuscript and find my place. “‘Robert moved towards her at an agonizing pace, using every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking her that very second. Charlotte was equally tortured, and a frustrated moan slipped from her kiss-swollen lips.’”
I look up from the manuscript. Ryan steps forward and raises an eyebrow. He’s daring me.
Saddle up, cowboy.
I close my eyes and unleash the best come-hither moan I’ve ever attempted. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I can see Ryan’s shoulder muscles tense up in the aftermath.
I’m encouraged enough to continue, “‘That was his undoing. Robert could wait no longer. His heart pounded in his chest as desire burst through his veins like liquid fire. He tore at his shirt, ripping it open in his haste to remove the unwanted garment.’”
I haven’t even finished the last sentence when Ryan pulls his T-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. My eyes lock with his, as they always do, and in that moment, I’m struck with a sudden sense of clarity. This isn’t some fantasy and it’s not my overactive imagination. Ryan is here. He’s here and he’s smiling and why shouldn’t we do this if we want to? My nerves begin to fall away as I close my eyes for a brief second.
“Is me without a shirt on that scary to look at?” Ryan asks. “Or is it just too arousing for you? That, I’m willing to accept.”
I open my eyes and glower at his smirking, half-clad form. Afraid that I’ll stare, I move the pages close to my face—so close that the top paper folds down and bumps against my nose.
I straighten it out and read on, “‘He needed her skin on his with nothing between them. Needed it more than he needed anything in his life. Without pause, Robert lowered himself onto the bed to lean over the perfect beauty writhing beneath him.’”
I move the pages away from my face, and Ryan pauses as he looks at me.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
His question hangs in the air for what feels like forever until I shake my head no. I then concentrate on even breathing as he carefully lowers himself onto the bed. He braces his hands on the mattress, framing my face and pushing up so he’s hovering above me. With the manuscript still in my right hand, I extend my arm to the side and continue reading.
“‘Charlotte’s excited breaths caressed Robert’s cheek as he kissed her throat...’” My voice cracks as Ryan’s warm mouth moves along the side of my neck. “‘He worshiped all of her, every inch. He didn’t stop until...’” My words are smothered as Ryan brings his lips down to mine, tender at first and then urging them open. My body feels close to igniting as our tongues touch and slide. I can’t believe we ever bothered using them to talk when we could have been doing this instead. He breathes into me and takes it back. A moan from me. A growl from him.
It feels like I’m kissing him again for the first time—a stranger I’ve kissed a hundred times before. It doesn’t take long until we both need more. Still holding the pages, I wrap my arms around his neck, desperately trying to pull him down to press his body where I want it the most. He doesn’t give in. He stays positioned over me, his weight supported by his arms as he slants his mouth over mine, kissing me over and over. Deeper and longer.
He pulls back just enough that our noses are still touching. He’s taking quiet but labored breaths as he slowly nudges his knee into the space between my thighs. “Keep reading,” he says.
Desperate not to lose the friction, I hold the pages up with a shaky hand, finding my place. I blink as I attempt to decode the illegible words. “‘“Don’t,” Charlotte moaned, practically drowning in the pleasure of it all. “Don’t stop...”’”
I’m not sure who’s talking anymore, Charlotte or me. I honestly don’t care. Ryan’s mouth is back on my skin, nipping at the base of my throat as I shift down against his knee, trying to ease the ache that’s steadily climbing. I twist my free hand into his hair and pull. He attacks my neck with renewed hunger. I’m beyond intoxicated, and it has nothing at all to do with drinking.
“‘Robert groaned against Charlotte’s neck as he ran his fingertips up her thighs. With his kisses and hands, he urged Charlotte’s trembling limbs around his...waist!’”
The exclamation point is all me as Ryan’s hand slips under my dress and along my leg, pulling it up to wrap around his hip. His breath is as strained as mine now as his hand drifts from my leg to my face. He angles my chin up to kiss the underside of my jaw and keeps the delicious path moving from my throat to my shoulders to the top of my chest. His mouth moves lower as he tugs the neckline of my dress down until it’s taut, almost ripping. I’m dizzy and burning but I force myself to keep reading.
“‘“I have loved you since the first moment I saw you rolling around on that library floor,” he whispered into Charlotte’s ear. “Don’t ask me to go. Stay with me. Tell me you want me, always.”’”
“Enough,” Ryan says, his voice breaking. The manuscript is torn from my hand and is sent flying across the room. He grabs the hem of my dress and bunches it at
