Chapter Three
Juliet told herself her pulse was a little fast because of the walk. But it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the guy who was regaling her with just how exactly he’d ended up with Tiny as they made their way down the headland.
He was here. He’d come.
Ryder Davis had been on her mind ever since he’d skidded into the shelter yesterday afternoon, looking for a doggy exorcist and she’d made a pact with herself this morning. If Ryder showed tonight, it was her sign from the universe.
And here he was.
Hell if she was going to look that gift horse…er, dog…in the mouth.
Her stomach had gone into free fall when she’d heard Tiny’s bark and things below her belly button had gone a little weak when she’d laid eyes on Ryder in hibiscus-patterned boardies and snug-fitting T-shirt, his big black Akubra pulled low on his forehead.
A cowboy hat should have looked ridiculous with clothes more suited to the beach, but it didn’t. It suited his loose-limbed gait and his country boy smile. He’d taken it off now it was almost dark, but she couldn’t help thinking what a handy prop an Akubra could be in the bedroom.
His pace slowed. “This is me.”
Juliet blinked up at the building. They’d only been walking ten minutes and were still on the esplanade. He lived here?
Who could afford to live here? “You live here?”
“For the last five years. Yes.”
Juliet stared at him in awe. “The rent must be astronomical.”
“I don’t rent. I own it.”
He owned it? “Are you some kind of bank robber?”
He laughed and it ruffled goose bumps through her scalp and over her skin. She supposed that was her cue to ask him what he did, but a bunch of guys walked past and called out his name, stopping to high five him and shake his hand and wish him well at Henley on the weekend.
Juliet cocked an eyebrow as they left. “Okay…who are you?”
“I…play for the Sydney Smoke.”
“Oh.”
Well…shit. He was looking at her like that should mean something. But it didn’t. She tried to desperately scrabble through her brain for the thirty-second snatches of sports news she caught from time to time before flipping the channel to something she actually gave a toss about.
He laughed. “You don’t know who they are, do you?”
“Sure I do.” She nodded, just needing a few more seconds to place the name. “They’re a…” She looked him up and down. He was fit. His shoulders broad, his stomach flat, his thighs muscular but lean. Henley was vaguely familiar.
A football stadium of some kind?
“Aussie rules team.”
He shook his head, a smile hovering over his lovely mouth, clearly amused. “Rugby.”
“Rugby. Right. A rugby league team.”
He winced, the smile disappearing. “Rugby union.”
Union… Okay. Obviously, there was a difference. One look at his face told her it was best not to ask. “Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t really watch sport. I don’t know much about it.”
He laughed. “I can tell.”
“I mean clearly, other than you make a fuck load of money from it.”
Juliet cringed at her frankness and choice of words. They were both bad habits. But he laughed again, unperturbed. “I do all right.”
“You must to be able to afford to live here.” She turned back to face his home. She may have known squat about footy, but architecture was a different matter. “I love this building.”
“You do?” He turned to face it, too.
“Oh yes.” She sighed. “It’s one of the finest examples of art deco architecture in the area.” There were precious few left, and Juliet had lost count of the number of times she’d walked by and wished she could see inside one of the apartments.
He rubbed at the five o’clock shadow on his jaw, and it made a delicious rasping noise. Her nipples hardened as if he’d scraped his whiskers against them.
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“Now I’m definitely pleased I said yes to that drink.”
He clutched at his chest in faux disappointment. “Are you telling me you only want me for my building?”
Juliet shook her head. Hell no. She wanted this man with a shocking ferocity. She’d want him if he was homeless. The fact he came with an architecturally stunning apartment was the cherry on top.
“I’m telling you your chances of me staying for two beers just increased about a hundredfold.”
He smiled, his fudge brownie eyes growing warm. “Lucky me.”
“Hang on a sec.” Juliet took out her phone, opened the camera app and framed him in the shot. “Say cheese.”
She snapped the image before he could say anything. The result was a slightly confused expression, a wrinkle knitting Ryder’s brows together. Oh mama. Even his frown was sexy.
“What was that for?”
“A safety thing.” Juliet opened a text window, but Tiny, who’d happily walked beside them with no evidence of being possessed as Ryder claimed, poked his nose at the phone before she could attach it. “Okay, okay, bossy boots.” She laughed as she snapped a quick pic of the grinning dog.
“Safety?”
Juliet’s thumbs went back to work. “I’m texting your picture, your name, and your address to one of my flatmates. In case I’m letting your beautiful building blind me to the fact you’re actually a serial killer.”
To his credit, he didn’t look at her like she was crazy, just smiled. “I’m a reasonably famous rugby player. I’m on the TV. You can see my half-naked ass on a billboard as you drive off the Sydney Harbour Bridge.”
“What, you can’t be a serial killer as well?”
He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure serial killers tend to keep a low profile.”
“Elite-rugby-player-serial-killer could be a thing,” she insisted, although she smiled too at the absurdity of it.
Juliet didn’t think for a minute he was a serial killer, but she’d made a pact with her flatmates and that’s just what they did.
“What’s your apartment number?”
“Four.”
“Thank you.” Juliet was pleased he wasn’t being a dick about it. Any guy who thought a woman was being overly conscious of her safety wasn’t worth the time of day.
She attached both snaps to the text. “Okay, so…” She dictated out loud as her thumbs flew over the keys. “Hey Bea. Meet Ryder Davis and his dog Tiny. Am going to his place for one drink. Not staying. Just test driving. Will send address. Be home by eight.” And she pushed send.
He checked his very expensive wrist watch. She’d given him an hour. “Test driving, huh?”
Juliet grinned. “Yup.” Her libido had spoken. And it wanted him.
“And, just so I’m sure of the boundaries, what does that involve exactly?”
“Kissing.”
“I like kissing.”
“A lot of kissing.”
“That works for me.” He shoved a hand through his short brown hair. She liked the way he wore it longer on top. Gave a girl something to twist her fingers up in. “So…just kissing…?”
If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Kudos to him. “Some feeling up is allowed, but nothing below the waist. And absolutely no sex.”
Just saying it out loud was getting her all hot and bothered. Him too, if the flare of his nostrils was any indication. God, she’d missed this. All of it. The flirting. The chase. The dance. Surprisingly she wasn’t even that rusty. It was all coming back to her.
“So it’s making out. Like in high school.”
“Exactly.” She smiled.
“High school sucked.”
“Yes.” Juliet laughed. She couldn’t disagree with him there. “But a girl likes to know if a guy’s a dud or not before going all the way.”
“I haven’t had any complaints.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Ryder. Women don’t tend to complain to the guy who is shit in bed, that he’s shit in bed. They save that for their girlfriends.”
“But then how does the poor guy know to improve if she doesn’t tell him?”
“He should probably take lack of repeat business as a sign.”
He grinned. “I get plenty of repeat business.”
Juliet laughed. She just bet he did. Ryder looked like a giver. “It works both ways, you know. Test driving. I mean, I’m sure a guy doesn’t want a woman who’s going to be some kind of starfish, just lying there lapping it up and making him do all the work.”
“I don’t know…” He sucked in air through his teeth as if he was giving it serious consideration. “Is she a naked starfish?”
“Yes.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “She’s naked.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Most men aren’t that fussy. We’re just generally grateful that any woman lets us see her starkers and most of us aren’t afraid of a little hard work, especially if it means we get to have an orgasm that doesn’t involve our own hands.”
Juliet tisked. “Men are so easy.”
“We’re simple creatures, really.” He grinned. “Pay us some attention, pet us a bit, maybe talk dirty to us every now and then, and we’re putty in your hands.”
“Talk dirty?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Like, do me now big boy?”
He threw back his head and laughed, and the urge to run her tongue up the taut column of his throat hit hard. “That’ll do,” he said when he stopped laughing.
“That wasn’t me talking dirty.”
“My dick disagrees.”
Oh really? “Got you hard, huh?”
A small smiled played on his mouth. “Now you’re talking dirty, right?”
Oh yeah. Now it was all coming back to her. She didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the footpath where anyone walking by could hear them. She loved that she could turn him on with just a few words.
Hearing him admit to it out loud turned her on.
She flicked her gaze down to where his T-shirt covered his crotch. Time to step it up a notch. “How hard?”
“As stone.”
Juliet’s toes curled in her sneakers as a wave of red-hot lust rippled through her abdomen. The urge to reach out and confirm the status of his cock, to grope him in public, was almost overwhelming.
She really wanted to test drive him now. “Why don’t we take this inside?”
He held out his hand, and she took it.
Had it not been for Tiny taking up all the room between them in the gorgeous, original—exceedingly small—lift, Juliet may well have made the first move then and there. Her pulse was tripping and she was already wet from their loaded conversation. The way Ryder was looking at her was only making her wetter. Knowing she’d made him hard had really turned the tap on.
But Tiny was right there, looking at her adoringly, and she had no desire to corrupt a puppy. His owner, on the other hand…
The lift eventually creaked to the fourth floor, and Tiny waited patiently for Juliet to exit before he leapt out after her, licking her arm enthusiastically.
“I know just how he feels,” Ryder said, following at a more sedate pace.
Juliet looked over her shoulder at him. “You want to lick my arm?”
“I want to lick every inch of you.”
She let her gaze wander over his chest and down to his crotch again. “Ditto.”
Juliet thought she heard him groan or maybe curse under his breath as her head swivelled forward, and she smiled despite the ache between her legs becoming more and more urgent.
Leaving here tonight without fucking him was going to be torture. But, thanks to her ex, she’d learned to set boundaries with men. To start as she meant to go on. She’d told him no sex, and she meant it. If she didn’t respect her own boundaries, how could she expect him to?
And it would just make their inevitable coupling the sweeter.
She waited for him to open the door, the flex of the muscles in his forearm cranking her anticipation to fever pitch. They were mesmerising, and the urge to make a start on the licking was strong. The door gave way and Tiny pushed it open, enthusiastically racing into the apartment ahead of them.
Juliet wasn’t conscious of stepping inside or the interior of his apartment or the door closing behind her, just the thud of her heart, the warm slide of his fingers on her nape, his breath on her cheek, a tangy hint of passionfruit filling her nostrils, the loom of his body as he guided her backward, the feel of the wall at her shoulder blades.
Then it was the heat of his mouth, the hungry lick of his tongue, and the rumble of his groan. The way his shoulders filled her hands, the hard cage of his chest, the firm span of his hands on her hips.
The hard, thick length of his cock.
Juliet moaned and rubbed herself against him shamelessly. He groaned again, deep and resonant, and she swallowed it up, her arms twining around his neck, her hands tunnelling into his hair, her fingers twisting into it liked she’d fantasised about earlier.
Her lips pressed harder, opened wider, branding his mouth with her own. Desperate to take all he was offering and give all she had of herself. She clung to him, starving and drowning all at once.
Two short, loud barks dragged her out of the moment. Ryder, too, who groaned as he tore his mouth away. “Jesus.” He panted hard as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Fucking dog.”
Juliet gave a half laugh, vaguely aware of Tiny watching them as her brain struggled to seize command of her lust-drunk body. “Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that, Ryder Davis?”
“We country boys are born knowing how to kiss.” The huff of his breath was warm on her cheeks, the smile in his voice contagious.
Tiny barked again. “Okay, okay,” Ryder muttered, taking a step back, his fudge brownie eyes heated with desire, like molten chocolate lava. “I’m not being a very good host.”
Juliet smiled, her mouth still tingling. “I’m not complaining.”
“I promised you a beer.”
“You also promised me you’d act like a perfect gentleman.” She narrowed her eyes at him, a smile hovering on her mouth. “You Boy Scout promised me.”
“I never actually said I was a Boy Scout.”
“So you got me here under false pretences?”
He snorted. “I’m pretty sure there was bugger-all pretence.”
Juliet laughed. Yeah. It had been kind of thin. Tonight had been heading in one direction since the universe had spoken by Ryder showing up for class.
Things were happening scary fast with this guy. And not just the sexy times but the crazy beat of her heart every time he looked at her.
“So let’s get the pretence back on track. Grab me a beer then show me around this gorgeous apartment of yours.”
She needed some time to cool her jets. If he kissed her again right now, she might just do more than a little test driving.
“This way.”
Tiny trotted by her side as Juliet followed Ryder into the kitchen. She’d like to say she checked out the spectacular geometric-patterned lacquered floor on the short trip, but she’d be lying. She didn’t take her eyes off Ryder’s spectacular ass, his snug boardies showing off his glutes to perfection.
“Is a pale ale okay?” he asked as he crossed to the fridge.
“Yep.”
He pulled out two long-necked bottles, twisted the tops, and handed her one as he sank his ass against the edge of the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle. She casually tried to assess whether he was still hard before dragging her mind out of the gutter.
She raised her beer, tempted to toast erections before checking herself. “What should we drink to?”
“To art deco apartments.” His mouth curved into a smile. “And dirty talk.”
“I’ll definitely drink to those.” She clinked the bottle against his and took a swig. “Speaking of…how about the grand tour?”
He nodded. “Let me just feed the beast.” He glanced at Tiny who was watching their exchange with interest. “That might keep him occupied for a while.”
Juliet sipped her beer as Ryder dished out some food in a bowl, topped up another bowl with water, then washed his hands. Tiny nosed the food for a second or two before indulging. Juliet expected a monster dog like Tiny to wolf down his food, but instead he lapped at it delicately.
She frowned. “For a big-ass dog, he eats like a sparrow.”
“Pfft.” Ryder shook his head in disgust. “Trust me, he normally eats like the Cookie Monster. He’s just showing off for you. C’mon”—he picked up his beer—“let’s leave him to it. The last tour for the day is departing now from the balcony.”
He herded her toward the glass doors, the salty sea breeze ruffling her hair as she walked to the railing, the roll of the waves like a drum beat. The moon was almost full overhead. A milky stairway to heaven shimmered across the ocean through the dark shapes of the Norfolk Pines.
She pressed her legs to the solidness of the balcony wall, her hand curving around the cool metal of the horizontal railing that sat at waist level. She inhaled deeply. “This is a great view.”
“It is.” He pressed his lower half to the wall also, the railing coming to his hips. “I’m lucky.”
Juliet was conscious of his nearness. Of the heat radiating from his body. Of the passionfruit she’d smelled earlier—sweet and tangy. It made her want to press her nose to the warm hollow at the base of his throat. Did it come from his soap, his deodorant, or his aftershave?
“Do you surf?”
He snorted. “And be shark bait? No way.”
Juliet laughed. “You’re probably more likely to be killed playing rugby.”
“Yeah.” He laughed, too, warm and self-deprecating. “Hey…I just realised.” He half turned to face her, resting his hip against the rail. “You’re Juliet…on a balcony.”
Juliet rolled her eyes, refusing to mirror his stance. If she had a buck for every time someone had said that to her…
“So I am.”
“Were you named after her?” He pressed the bottle to his mouth.
“I was, actually.”
He almost choked on his swallow of beer. “You’re shitting me?”
“Not at all.” She turned her head to look at him. “My mother adored the play.”
“She was a Shakespeare fan?”
“No. She was an Italophile. She loved anything and everything to do with Italy. Going to Verona and seeing that famous balcony was on her bucket list. Her favourite movie was Roman Holiday, and she loved all the ones set on the Italian coast.”
His smile had slowly disappeared as she’d talked. “Was?”
“She died five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” A sharp pang of loss flashed like a bolt of lightning through Juliet’s chest. The grief had dulled to a familiar ache now, but it was still surprisingly raw from time to time.
“Your dad?”
Juliet shook her head, ignoring the strands of hair the wind was blowing across her cheeks. “There was only ever just the two of us.”
“She didn’t get to Verona?”
“No.” But Juliet would. And so would her mum, posthumously at least. She was taking her mother’s ashes to scatter over the city she’d always yearned to see.
“That’s sad.”
Their gazes locked, the soft empathy in his voice touching her deep inside. Deeper even than his kisses had. Juliet was about to agree when Tiny found them, breaking the intense eye contact and, thankfully, a conversation that had become way too heavy.
He leapt up between them, placing his front paws on the railing and grinning at eye level with Juliet. Ryder sighed. “Must you, dog?”
Juliet stroked his ears. “Does he have a bed or something?”
“Yes.” Ryder’s voice was testy. “In the laundry. It’s like the Rolls Royce of doggy beds, but he apparently prefers to roam the house at night gnawing on inanimate objects than actually using it.”
Juliet suppressed a smile as Tiny whined and ducked his head. “Oh no, Tiny,” she crooned into his ear. “Such a bad boy. You need to say sorry to Ryder.”
Tiny whined again and she glanced at Ryder, trying to keep a straight face. “Tiny says he’s sorry and he won’t do it again.”
Ryder snorted. “Tiny would say or do any damn thing you asked him to.” He glared at the dog. “And when you leave, he’ll go to the dark side.”
“The dark side?” Juliet burst out laughing.
“Seriously. There’s no way I can even contemplate leaving him home alone for fear of what I might come back to, and I’m probably not going to sleep a wink tonight, wondering whether he’s out here devouring my three seater couch this time.”
Juliet laughed at Tiny’s affronted expression and Ryder’s dramatics. “So, let him sleep with you. Maybe he just likes company?”
“Hell no.” He shook his head. “He’ll take up most of the bloody bed.”
“Move his bed in next to yours. He’s probably just feeling a little abandoned at the moment.”
“Yeah…maybe.”
It was grudging, but Juliet took it as a win. “There you go, Tiny,” she said. “Progress. Now…on your bed.”
Tiny immediately dropped his paws from the railing and disappeared from the deck.
Ryder gaped. “That dog is shameless.”
“What can I say? He likes me.”
“If you ordered me to bed like that, I’d go, too.”
Juliet smiled at the tease in his voice. “You’re so easy.”
He clinked his bottle against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”