Every breath, every heartbeat. Every atom in the space between us, every molecule of matter that makes up his body.
This man… The words echo through my mind, mingling with the breathless rush in my bloodstream. This man believes in you like no one else.
When I feel the car stop, I look around, disoriented. I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts I barely noticed the journey. “We’re already back?”
Ryland cuts the engine. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.”
I don’t tell him that I wasn’t asleep, that I’ve been consumed with fantasies of his hands on me; my body like a live wire, electric, every moment of the drive. “I had a great time tonight,” I say instead, my heart racing.
“Me too.” Ryland looks across at me. His eyes glitter dark in the shadows. The silence stretches, an unanswered question.
What now?
My stomach twists. This is what I’ve been waiting for, the moment when we’re finally alone in the dark with nobody watching, just steps away from a locked door, an empty hall.
A bed.
“I’ll walk you in,” Ryland says, getting out of the car.
I pause a moment, trying to pull myself together as he walks around. This night has been magical so far, but I can’t help feeling nervous about what’s still to come. My desire for him is so strong, it scares me; my body is craving him like nothing else, but more than that, some deeper need calling out for him too.
This is more than physical, it always has been. Right from the start, he got under my skin. Now he’s seen all of me—knows every dark corner of my soul—I can feel my heart unfurling like a flower turning towards the sun.
More, it demands softly, whispering in the back of my mind. I want more.
There’s a tap on the window, making me jump. I yelp. It’s Ryland, waiting outside. “You scared me!” I gasp, climbing out of the car.
“Who did you think it was?” Ryland laughs, taking my hand.
“It’s dark out here,” I recover. “You could have been anyone.”
“I’ll keep you safe, baby,” he winks. “Nobody’s going to touch you. Except me.”
His voice murmurs in my ear, a teasing promise. I shiver, even though it’s a warm night.
“Promises, promises,” I manage to whisper back.
In an instant, he has me pressed up against the car, the whole length of his hard, lean body covering mine. Ryland looks down at me, his face just inches away, so close I can see the raw hunger in those eyes.
“I’ve been waiting to kiss you all night,” he says, low and rasping. He lowers his head, but instead of bringing his mouth to my eager lips, he moves lower, dropping a line of blazing kisses along my collarbone.
My body ignites.I reach up around his neck, tangling my fingers in his dark curls as his mouth works magic along my sensitive skin. He trails lower, to the edge of my neckline, nudging at the swell of my breast.
My nipples tighten. My legs go weak. I sway into him, feeling the hard planes of his body but trapped and powerless to do anything but feel every shiver of pleasure from his teasing assault.
I’m gasping by the time Ryland lifts his head and fixes me with a toe-curling gaze. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he growls, and I feel heat rush through my body and twist in a deep ache between my thighs.
I would strip for him right here on the front lawn if he asked me to with that tone.
I take his hand instead and lead him to the front door. My body is wired so tightly that I fumble with my keys, but at last, it swings open, and we step inside.
I flip the lights on and hit the security code. Ryland lets out a low whistle.
“So when you say your brother is a rock star, you mean…”
“Number one international platinum bestselling,” I nod.
“Good for him,” Ryland says. I turn to see if he’s being sarcastic. “I mean it.” He catches my look. “That’s a one in a million break, he must have worked like hell to make it happen.”
“He did,” I say proudly.
“Determination must run in the Callahan genes,” Ryland suddenly grins. “That and bone-headed stubbornness.”
“Hey!” I laugh, hitting him lightly on the arm.
“Kidding.” Ryland catches me against him, and my laughter fades on my lips. “I bet he’s just as proud of you.”
“But I haven’t done anything.” I look away.
“Not yet. But you’re just getting started,” Ryland says softly. “The best is yet to come.”
Our eyes catch. A surge of heat pulses between us, making me feel breathless with anticipation.
He’s right. The best is yet to come—tonight.
“Come on,” I take his hand again. “I want to show you something.”
I lead Ryland through the house and back to the music room: the glass-walled conservatory on the edge of the building. Outside, it’s dark now, and only the black shadow of the bay is visible. I turn on one lamp, bathing the small room in a warm glow.
“So this is where the magic happens.” Ryland looks around. He strolls to the glossy grand piano, and runs his fingers over the ivory keys, picking out a melody.
“You didn’t tell me you played!” I exclaim in surprise.
He chuckles. “Not really, I just picked up a little waiting around in bars on the road.”
I want to ask more. Ryland’s past is still a mystery to me. He’s confided about his childhood here in Beachwood Bay, but the years since he left are still blank. I wonder what he did on the road out there, what he was doing the night we met in Las Vegas. But something stops me asking him straight out. I know all too well that some things are too private to share just like that.