Dalila
Okay, so maybe I took it too far.
I wanted to make Ryan realize he has feelings and an attraction to me that he can’t ignore. I want to break through that wall of his, and if driving him crazy by flirting is the way to do it, I have no problem taking that chance. He’s the only one I can trust and rely on, and that scares me.
He’s desperate to ditch me, but I can’t let that happen. When I’m with him, I don’t feel alone and isolated. I feel a tiny bit sorry for him. The way he rushed out of the room a few minutes ago was a telling sign that he’s not as immune to me as he’d like to be. My plan is working.
I should feel guilty that I brought a short, almost sheer nightgown with me. When I slipped into it, every inch of my skin was sensitive to the fabric. My entire body is aware and alert as I wait for Ryan to come back.
I stand in the middle of his room practicing sexy poses. I feel like such a dork, standing here waiting for him. What if he doesn’t come back tonight? It’s almost two in the morning. He’s used to sleeping on mats. What if he decided to sleep in the middle of the boxing ring instead of in the room with me?
I’ll just wait. He said he was taking a shower, but it’s been like thirty minutes since he left.
Sighing in frustration, I plop myself down on his makeshift bed and lean my back against the wall. I’m relieved I haven’t gotten any texts from my parents. At least that’s good news. I play some stupid game app on my phone and wait for him to come back.
Time ticks by.
I keep waiting, but he doesn’t appear.
Discouraged, I toss my phone beside me and, unlocking the door, make a path down the darkened corridor to the bathroom. I step inside the bathroom and focus on Ryan’s silhouette behind the curtain.
“What’s taking you so long?” I blurt out. “I mean, how clean can one person get?”
Ryan pushes the curtain aside, revealing most of his perfectly sculpted body. “I told you to stay in . . . in . . .” He hesitates as his gaze roams over my skimpy, sheer nightgown that covers every imperfection of mine so he can only see the flawless parts. “. . . in . . . um, I mean, I told you to stay in my room and lock the door.”
I step closer to him. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He shakes his head. “No way. I can’t talk with you when I’m in the shower and you’re wearin’ that.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask innocently, even though I’m acting anything but innocent right now.
“It’s too perfect.” He swears under his breath. “Can’t we talk about whatever it is tomorrow, when we’re on the road? Not here, when all I want to do is . . .”
I shake my head slowly and step even closer. An errant spray from the showerhead soaks the front of my sheer baby-doll nightgown and I feel mischievous and powerful. “I’d rather talk right here and right now, Mr. America.”
His eyes boldly rake over me and my entire body tingles with excitement. When his eyes rest on my mouth, my tongue darts out to lick my lips.
“Damn you. You’re going to be the death of me,” he growls, then with a swift movement his arm goes around my waist and urges me into the shower with him.
His breathing gets labored as the water drenches my nightgown, making it completely see-through. I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’m practically naked here and I want him to look at me.
“You wanted to talk right here and now,” he says, his strong hands still on my waist. His sky-blue eyes right now have a hunger in them I’ve never seen before. It’s empowering knowing that I’m having such an effect on him. “So talk,” he says, then swallows hard as his eyes focus on the sheer fabric clinging to my breasts.
Suddenly I’m self-conscious and nervous. I’m trying hard not to look down and admire his naked body.
But I do.
And he’s glorious.
“Talk,” he orders again as if it’s not a request.
But now I’m speechless.
I’m exposed.
And he’s very, very aroused.
I clear my throat, pretending not to be affected. “I, um, was wondering . . .” I swallow, then squeeze my eyes shut because I want to take another peek but that would be losing the small ounce of dignity I have left. I step out of the shower and turn off the light so we’re cloaked in darkness, then step back into the shower with renewed vigor. My only guide is the tiny glow from the hallway light. “Ryan, I’m not tired.”
“Then why’d you turn off the light?”
“For what?”
Okay, here goes. I take a deep, calming breath. “I don’t know why or even how you walked into my life, but you did and now I can’t get you out of my mind.” I can feel my face getting hot as I add, “If tonight is the last time we’ll be alone together, I don’t want to waste it.” I tentatively reach out and touch him. “Do you?”
With gentle fingers, he cups the back of my neck. “I can’t resist you,” he whispers as his fingers deftly slip the strap of my nightgown off my shoulder. My breath hitches as he leans down and gently licks my wet skin, the sensation sending shock waves through my veins.
As his tongue is replaced by his mouth, he places soft, sensual kisses on the hollow of my neck. Oh, my. This is nothing like I imagined. Nothing like the books or movies or stories my friends told me. I grab his shoulders because I’m suddenly deliriously dizzy and my knees go weak. This isn’t supposed to be how it happens. I’m supposed to take control and be the strong warrior woman. I’m supposed to make him fall in love with me so he won’t leave.
But I’m not in control.
While I’m trying to make him fall under my spell, I’m falling into his.
His hot, wet tongue graces my earlobe and then his lips place tiny, light kisses on my mouth. A fire burns within me that I’ve never experienced before. I couldn’t describe what I’m feeling right now even if I tried. It’s like my entire body is experiencing an overload of sensations all at once. This feeling is like a drug and I want more.
With the last ounce of control I have left, I pull back just the slightest bit. Water is dripping on us and steam from the hot water is surrounding us in this darkness, making me feel like we’re in our own little cocoon.
This feels so right, it can’t be wrong.
My trembling, tentative hands skim over the hard ridges of his chest. With a renewed sense of determination, I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body to his.
“Promise me this doesn’t mean nothing,” I whisper into his ear.
“It won’t, but it can’t mean everything,” he says.