A new tension slithered through Julia’s veins now. Ten at night, and she and Ryan had arrived back at her apartment a few minutes ago. They’d stopped at the flat Ryan and Caleb shared for Ryan to pick up some of his gear. Now that the door closed behind them, her apartment seemed too intimate. Ryan’s scent ghosted around her, enticing and seductive. He took up space, the air in her kitchen.
“I’m knackered,” he said, holding his hands in the small of his back and leaning back. “I swear the painting prep was more exhausting than anything I’ve done this year.”
“You’ve used different muscles. Have a hot bath while I clear the spare room for you. The bathroom is down the passage on the right.”
“No, I’ll help.”
“Go and have a bath.” Sharp and terse. She bit her lip at the appearance of Bitch Julia. Consciously lowering her voice, she tried again. “If you use the bathroom first, then I can jump into the shower straight away.”
He nodded, his sexy lips perking up into the beginnings of a smile. “You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Bathroom.” The sudden need to laugh tugged at her, and she pointed. “Go.” To her relief, he left and she waited until his footsteps faded before she sagged against the kitchen counter. She didn’t understand how he did it. Yesterday morning she’d been so certain she wanted a divorce. Ryan was muddying her thoughts, confusing her. Now she didn’t know what she wanted, what to do for the best. He’d sounded sincere about the photos—she didn’t sense he was lying.
With a sigh, she strode down the passage, grabbed clean linen, and continued to her spare bedroom. He was splashing around in the water already, his husky voice singing a classic Jackson song. She smiled before she could stop herself. Heck, why didn’t she admit the truth? In two days he’d charmed her all over again. She didn’t stand a chance.
Julia finished making the bed for Ryan and cleared away some of the surface clutter that had encroached into her guest room. Once she was satisfied, she wandered to her own room, collected her robe and paused. She sank onto her bed. No, as weak as she was feeling now, it wasn’t a good idea to walk into the bathroom and jump into the shower with Ryan still lolling about in the bath.
So she sat there, waiting and trying not to imagine the beads of water covering his chest, trying not to listen to the husky ballad he was singing—something she hadn’t heard before but one that echoed the need stirring inside her now. The singing coming from the bathroom trailed off.
She froze, sucking in a breath when she heard the water gurgle down the drain. Then her imagination turned redcoat. A vision of his broad shoulders filled her mind as she conjured details from the past. His trim waist and hips. His sexy tattoo. His muscles flexing with each rub of the towel along his limbs. One of her towels. A low-level buzz bloomed in her sex. A pithy curse escaped, and she leaped to her feet. The movement made her conscious of the way her clothes clung to her skin, the lace of her bra abrasive against her nipples.
“Julia, I’m done.”
“Thank you.” A boon to her sanity. “The room is ready for you.” She opened her door and came face-to-face with him. Her steps faltered. “Good night, Ryan. Thanks for helping me today.”
“Goodnight, Julia.” He entered the spare bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaving her standing in the passage, gaping at the wooden barrier between them.
Well, what had she expected?
Yanking from her reverie, she stalked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was steamy after Ryan’s use, and those ridiculous visions ran through her mind again, springing into sharp relief.
“Fuck.” She cursed again because it felt good on her tongue. Her mother would scold her for the bad language. Susan would for certain, if she’d been present. Julia stripped off her clothes and jumped under the water. It was only lukewarm and should have dampened the desire streaking through her veins. But the temperature heated all too quickly.
“Heck,” she muttered.
She grabbed her scented gel and applied it with rough, scrubbing motions of her shower buddy. Maybe she could rub out her desire. Didn’t happen. On completing the brisk wash, every inch of her skin tingled. She shut the water off and toweled dry. In her bedroom, she smoothed chocolate body butter on her limbs.
Her body revved up again, her skin prickling all over. Damn it all. She slapped on the last of the lotion, switched off the light and jumped into bed. This fantasizing—it had to stop. It wasn’t smart, even if it was grown-up!
Julia closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
A shout woke her. High and terrified, it seemed to hang in the air. Her heart raced and a ripple of goose flesh rose on her arms and legs. She half sat, unsure if she’d had a bad dream or if it was something else.
Another low cry sounded, and she jumped off the bed. She switched on her light and was through the door, standing before the doorway of her spare room in seconds flat. A third cry propelled her forward. She opened the door and rushed to the bed. The light from her room allowed her to make out his form. Ryan was still asleep, but he was twisting and turning, moaning in the throes of a dream.
“Ryan, wake up. Ryan.” Gingerly, she reached for his arm. “Ryan.”
His eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused. “Julia?”
“Yes, you were shouting. A bad dream?”
“Yeah.” He sat up with a grunt and swiped his hand across his face. “Thanks. I’m sorry I woke you.”
Julia stood, trying to keep her gaze off his bare chest, his dragon tattoo. She ignored the urge nipping her heels, the one telling her to slide right into bed with him. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” Like a coward, she fled back to her room. She slid beneath the sheets, her mind too busy to rest.
Seconds later, she heard the pad of footsteps.
“Hey, Julia. I can’t sleep. I thought I’d make some hot chocolate, if you have some.”
“I’ll get it for you.” She started to get out of bed again.
“No.” He stayed her with a stop gesture. “I’ll make it.” He was gone before she could argue. After debating following him she slumped against her pillow. No, that would be plain silly, and she’d already reached her stupidity quotient today.
She reached for her handbag and retrieved her list. With a pen in hand, she checked through each item and crossed out two.
Ryan appeared in the doorway. “Julia, I made one for you since you’re awake too.” He handed her a cup, the rich scent of chocolate wafting to her. He’d dropped four marshmallows in the top and they’d already partially melted.
Instead of leaving, he perched on the end of her bed. He was wearing black boxer-briefs and nothing else. The man sure looked good, albeit on the skinny side.
“Don’t get cold.” Grief, she sounded like a mother. Unfamiliar heat swept into her cheeks, and she focused on her hot chocolate. “There’s something wrong with me.” The words came out unbidden, and once she’d uttered them, she couldn’t take them back.
“Oh? Are you sick?”
She half-laughed. “No, it’s you. When I look at you I get inappropriate feelings.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His brows winged toward his hairline. “Have you turned to religion?”
“No! Not that there’s anything wrong with religion. I—you put me off balance. I can’t think straight.”
His charm came to the fore in a dazzling smile, and she gulped. She had no defenses against him when he applied his flirtation. It reached the point where she couldn’t make proper decisions. No, that wasn’t quite right. She arrived at conclusions, but her instincts steered her wrong.
“That’s not inappropriate,” he said. “I enjoy spending time with you.”
“But that’s the problem,” she almost wailed. “We can’t be together every day. Because of your job you need to travel overseas. Now that I’m helping Mum with the club, I have even more reason to stay in Auckland. I—what happens if I need you or you need me, and we’re in different countries?”
“Other people manage long-distant relationships,” Ryan said. “Can I get under the covers? It’s getting cold.” He pulled back the duvet and slid into her bed before a refusal was born, let alone passed her lips.
She gave an exasperated huff. “Don’t mind me.” She drank the last of her chocolate and set her cup aside.
“We can work out something,” Ryan said.
“Things didn’t work for us last time. I don’t want to go through that hell again.”
Ryan put his cup down and turned to her. “I’m sorry. I understand the last months can’t have been easy for you. No one could have predicted I’d get mugged and lose my memory.”
Julia struggled to find the right words to explain her inner conflict. “It’s not going to be as easy as you say. Seeing photos of you with other women brings back things I’d rather forget. I thought I had a handle on the past, but bad memories keep interfering. It’s not fair to you. I know that, but…it just happens.”
“But you’re willing to try. There’s something special between us. You’ve said you react to my charm.”
“I have no idea what to do.” A yawn took her by surprise. “I’m tired. I need sleep otherwise I’ll never get everything done before we reopen.”
“Can I stay here?”
“We’re not having sex.”
This time he didn’t flash a grin in her direction. “I don’t want to have another bad dream.”
Julia yawned again, too tired to argue. “All right.” After he’d settled, she turned off the light. For a while she was overly conscious of his body warmth and held her muscles tense. When he let out a long breath and lay on his side, she turned in the opposite direction and closed her eyes.
The alarm blared at six-thirty, and Julia smacked at it with an uncoordinated hand. The beeps cut off. Supremely warm and comfortable, she didn’t want to move.
A hand curled around her hip, and a kiss landed on her bared neck. “I like waking up this way.”
Oops, awake now. She did too but wasn’t about to admit it. Dangerous territory. “I need to get moving.”
“Give me a kiss good morning.”
“Morning breath,” she muttered.
“Can I feel you up instead?”
She spluttered out a laugh. “No.”
“Damn, you’re no fun.”
Julia sprang out of bed before she weakened. “Do you want coffee?”
“Is the pope Catholic?”
“Why yes. I believe he is.”
She pulled on a comfy pair of sweats, and after hesitating, removed her sleep shirt and replaced it with a T-shirt. Out in the kitchen, she made a quick call to check on her mother and started the coffee. The coffeemaker was soon gurgling, and she stopped to wonder if she’d made a mistake in sharing her bed. No, she decided. She’d slept better than she had in months. While she waited for the coffee, she ran through some of her morning stretch routine.
Ryan joined her in the kitchen. Without asking, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, tugging her against his chest.
“I thought we were confining ourselves to friends-only,” she said.
“Nope, I never agreed to that. This is wooing, baby. I intend to persuade you to my way of thinking.”
“Do you have any suggestions for promo for the club?” Not the smoothest change of subject, but she’d run with it. “I need to complete everything this week and get moving on the advertising.”
“Coward.”
“I’m in work-mode now,” Julia said. “That’s got to be my focus.”
His blue eyes narrowed a fraction. “I’m up for the task.”
“I don’t want you to look on me as a challenge. I have to concentrate on Maxwell’s.”
“Of course you do. I’ve written a theme song for your club. You could play it when you’re introducing dancers or something. Use it as a signal to the audience that something is about to happen.”
Julia stared at him, warmth twining through her. “You wrote a song for me?”
“You’re my inspiration. Even when your name escaped me, I dreamed about you. Your face and your pretty blonde hair filled my sleep.” He ran his fingertips over her cheek.
God, he was so sweet. Unable to think of what to say or to fight her desire any longer, she said, “We’ll have sex. Tonight.”
Yeah, that would sort out her waffling. A little hot and heavy sex would sort out everything.
“Gotta go,” she said, not giving him a chance to answer. “I will be in and out of the club today, plus I have the girls coming to practice dance routines.” Finished, she snapped her mouth shut and ran for cover, the weight of his stare following as she disappeared back into her bedroom, her heart spooked into erratic beats. Well, she thought on reaching the safety of her bedroom. Nothing like laying down a challenge.
“I’ve booked a hen’s party for the week after next,” Susan greeted her. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I suggested it to my cousin.”
“Great!” Julia said. “I guess I should buy a diary to keep track of our bookings.”
Maggie dragged herself through the door of the club. Her pained gaze swept their faces before settling to glower at Julia. “Tell me you have stiff muscles too.”
Susan’s groan was heartfelt. “Thank goodness. I thought it was just me. Julia’s not limping one bit, so I was trying to pretend I’m fine. I had to roll out of bed this morning, and I took five minutes to get moving.”
Christina walked gingerly through the double doors, wincing with every step, and Julia had trouble restraining her chuckle.
Julia glanced from one friend to the next. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about sore muscles. I still go to dance classes two or three times a week.”
“It’s not natural, twisting a body into graceful arcs,” Maggie grumbled. “I had to get Connor to give me a massage—”
“Don’t rub it in,” Christina said. “Some of us don’t have a handy man.”
Susan nodded emphatically. “What she said.”
“It will get better,” Julia promised.
“We’re holding you to that promise,” Susan said, her expression glum as she attempted a cautious stretch. “But I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Well, she should buy the first round of margaritas when we hit the pub again,” Maggie said.
Julia grinned at her three friends, so grateful for their support. “Deal.”
Music played—guitar with a faint bluesy tone. A husky voice commenced singing, and Julia froze, memories slipping over her. Good memories, ones of laughter and sensuality. Then the words of the song registered, and her heart did a rapid change up in gear. He’d done this for her.
“Oh, my god,” Susan shrieked. “A theme song for the club. It’s perfect.”
“He’s good,” Maggie said.
“I agree,” Christina said, wincing as she shifted her weight and turned to watch Ryan on the stage. “If the rest of his band is as good as him they won’t be roadies for much longer.”
Ryan finished his song and everyone broke into applause. Julia swallowed, the emotions booming inside her almost too much to contain.
He stood and bowed from the waist. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said in a corny Elvis impression.
“Back to work everyone,” Julia said, clapping her hands to hurry them along.
“I have suggestions for the costumes,” Christina said, producing a sketchbook from the red tote bag in her left hand. “Do you have time to go over them now?”
“Sure. My office? I’ll meet you there. I want a quick word with Ryan first,” Julia said.
“Clock is ticking,” Christina said. “No dilly-dallying with that handsome husband of yours.”
“I’m the boss. I can dilly if I want.” Two days ago she would have hotly disputed Christina’s words. Even yesterday, but the wretched man had worked his magic once again. And then, to top things off, he’d seduced her with a special song. She turned her back on her grinning friend and strode toward the stage.
“What do you think?”
“I loved it. Thank you. Your song is perfect.”
“Worth a kiss?” His unrepentant grin had an answering smile tugging at her.
Her nose lifted into the air. “Maybe.”
He glanced past her, but Julia didn’t need to turn around to tell everyone was watching them. Not when their gazes bored into her back.
“I’ll record it for you as soon as Caleb gets back from Tauranga. It should be ready for opening night.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, and because she couldn’t resist, she cupped his upturned face between her hands and kissed him. Gentle and sweet, the physical contact sent longing crawling through her veins. When she pulled back, they stared at each other for a long moment.
“Tonight?” he asked.
“Tonight.” Julia turned away because she didn’t trust herself not to touch him again. The guitar started as she hurried to her office. It was something new and foot tapping, a tune to entice her to stay to hear the rest of the song. Unfortunately work and responsibility beckoned. She didn’t search out her friends, keeping her gaze lowered as if she were concentrating on a weighty problem. A sharp snort escaped her. Heck, she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all her friends. Let the teasing begin.
When she arrived in her mother’s office, Christina had removed fabric samples from her tote bag and opened her sketch book.
“Have you hired any new dancers?”
Julia scowled at her friend’s opening salvo. “No. Most of the decent ones are working at the club down the road. I talked to my mother earlier. From what she said, we’re not likely to find any at present. She’s tried everywhere.”
“I suspected as much,” Christina said. “I might have a way you can work around a staff shortage. Have you decided whether to stick with stripping or are you going to specialize in burlesque?”
“I’m not sure,” Julia said. “My mind keeps going back and forth on this. The Last Frontier has always been a strip club. It’s what the customers expect.”
“Except custom has dropped off. This is the perfect time to change things up. You’ll attract more hen’s nights if it’s burlesque. Go for it and switch to burlesque. It will be a point of difference to your competitors. You’d be targeting a different set of customers.”
Julia nodded. Christina’s summation, stated so succinctly, helped her decide. She nodded again, more categorically. “You’re right. We’ll take the burlesque path.”
“Good. That will make the costuming easier and challenging too. A suggestion. Your dancers should wear masks. It will make your dancers mysterious and will work to your advantage. Even if you can’t hire enough dancers before opening day your existing ones will look different by changing masks and costumes and wearing wigs. The audience will never realize you’ve only got four or five girls dancing because each set and costume change will make them appear different.”
A delighted laugh escaped Julia. “So simple. Yes, that’s perfect. I can dance myself if necessary.”
“If you agree to the masks, I can dance too—if I’m good enough. I wasn’t about to agree to stripping in front of everyone.”
“You’d still be stripping off a few layers,” Julia warned, touched by her friend’s offer.
“But my bare body wouldn’t be out there for everyone to see,” Christina said. “Believe me, that’s not a sight for enticing customers. The idea of the tease and seduction sounds heaps better.”
Julia grinned. “Agreed. Show me what you’ve got for costume ideas.”
They spent the next half hour discussing fabrics, fans and feathers with Christina feverishly jotting down notes.
“I can put these costumes together with no trouble,” Christina said. “It won’t cost much either.”
“Come and see what Mum has upstairs in the flat. She has an entire room of costumes. We might be able to use some of the props at least. Most of the stuff is skimpy though.”
“I might fit skimpy if I keep up with the amount of exercise I’ve done during the last couple of days.”
Julia led the way up to her mother’s flat. “We’re here to check out the costumes,” she said when they popped in on Elise and Janet.
Elise smiled, but Julia could see her mother forced it. Her pale features told of her poor night of sleep. “You know where they are.”
Julia hesitated before deciding to tell her mother of her plans. “I’ve decided to take the burlesque angle rather than straight stripping. I’m hoping the point of difference will bring in more customers—some new ones who wouldn’t have otherwise come to the club.”
Elise gave a throaty laugh of surprise. “Did you know that originally we did burlesque rather than stripping? My grandparents probably spun in their graves when my father changed things to attract the customers.”
“Then you don’t mind?”
“Of course I don’t. You have a good head on your shoulders. The business is in your veins after all. Check the suitcases right at the back of the wardrobe. I packed the old costumes in there a few years ago. They might smell of mothballs, but there are some wonderful outfits. They might be just what you’re looking for.”
Julia kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thanks. You try and catch more sleep. Are you still seeing the specialist later?”
“Yes. Janet is taking me.”
“Okay.” Julia smiled her thanks at Janet. “Just shout if either of you need anything.”
Julia and Christina walked into the large room. Costumes hung from freestanding racks, each outfit covered with plastic.
“Where do we start?” Christina asked.
Julia strode over to the wardrobe door, wheeling a rack out of her way to clear her path. She opened the door and pulled out two large suitcases. “These are the ones Mum meant. Can I leave you to it while I take care of stuff downstairs? I intend to have an earlier dance practice today because the painters are coming at three. Connor arranged for most of his rugby team to come and help.”
Christina opened the first suitcase and waved her away. “I’ll shout if I need you.”
The rest of the day passed rapidly. Dance practice worked well and the progress pleased Julia. The guys arrived and soon the place smelled of fresh paint. Three hours later, she stood in the middle of the club and turned slowly, surveying the walls. The midnight blue color was perfect. Excitement did a slow burn inside her stomach. For the second time today goose bumps pebbled her skin—in a good way.
There were still details to arrange, but opening day couldn’t come soon enough. Yes, there was some of the Maxwell businessman welling up inside her now.
“Man, I’m beat,” Ryan said when they caught the lift to her apartment.
“Me too,” Julia said with a yawn. “I feel as if we’re making progress though. It’s a good sensation. Do you want first shower?”
“Thanks.” Ryan took the keys from her and opened the door because she was carrying a load of costumes in plastic wrapping.
“Christina picked out some costumes for the hen’s night, and she wanted me to try them on to make sure they fit.”
“You’re dancing?”
“Yeah.” She entered the apartment in front of him. “I’ll do a dress parade for you. You can give me your expert opinion.”
In her bedroom she stripped down to her underwear and glanced at the first of the costumes. A long black dress with silver embroidery. It was reminiscent of something one of the glamour movie stars of the thirties would have worn. She’d have to lose the bra.
“Ryan, are you there?” She heard him coming and turned her back to the door while holding the bodice in place. “I need help with the zipper.”
Warm hands tugged the zip into place then settled on her bare shoulders.
“Wow,” he said as he turned her around to face him. “Are all the costumes this elegant?”
“Yes, we’re doing a Hollywood glamour theme for the hen’s night. Sort of thirtyish era.”
“Do you need music?”
“Christina and I thought we’d sort out a soundtrack of music from that era.”
“Would you like live music?”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes.” His short tone told her he was a little pissed with her for doubting him.
“You haven’t been here,” she flared defensively. “I’m not used to counting on you.”
His face clouded, a hint of pain twisting his lips. “You’re right. I’d be honored to provide live music for your first function. I can’t promise Caleb’s help. He’ll have to answer for himself, but I’m in. Will you want me to wear a costume too?”
“I’ll discuss it with Christina and we’ll come up with something for you. Can you unzip me?” She slid the dress off and reached for the next. The choked sound from Ryan stilled her hands.
“You’re beautiful.”
Julia picked up the gown—a slinky red—and held it against her. After her stripper years, nudity never worried her, but Ryan’s avid gaze roving her body felt different, her skin pulsing under his visual interest. “I didn’t think.”
“Let me help with the fastener.” His voice was lower than usual and rough in a sensual way.
“It zips up the side.” Without looking at him, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up over her hips. “Do you like it?”
“I thought these were costumes for strippers?”
“Some are, but Christina and I decided they’d work for me to wear while introducing each act. I’m aiming for sophistication. Do you agree?”
“You’re a knockout and your ideas are perfect.” His gaze traced the curves of her breasts, cupped and lifted in the tight bodice. In a trick of the light he appeared predatory and when he stalked around her to view the back of the gown, the similarity to a dangerous feline heightened. He settled in a casual sprawl on the bed. “Are there more?”
“Yes.” She undid the gown and stepped out of it. The next number was the one Christina had dubbed sexy ringmaster. Black and white, it was more bathing suit in coverage, leaving her legs bare. A tight black jacket completed the outfit.
“You need black boots with spiky heels and fishnet stockings with that one,” Ryan said.
Julia nodded, in full agreement after a quick glance in her full-length mirror. “Christina has a good eye for fashion. These fit perfectly. I thought you were going to have a shower.”
“And miss the show? Not likely. Besides, you might need my help again.”
A snort escaped her.
“I hope you’re not going to make that sound on stage,” he said. “You’ll send the customers running to the opposition.”
“Funny man.” Julia reached for the blue. It was almost the same color as the paint she’d chosen for the walls of the club. Gold sequins decorated the neckline and hem.
“Beautiful.” Ryan’s verdict. “You’ll need to wear your hair up.”
Julia glanced in the mirror, agreeing with his assessment. She pulled on another skimpy bathing suit number in red and black that came with a long matching skirt.
“Perfect,” Ryan said, his eyes skimming her body. A hot sensation prickled in the wake of his gaze, edgy heat making her shift her weight from foot to foot. “Come and shower with me.”
She took a few seconds to comprehend. An instinctive rebuttal sprang to mind, but that wasn’t the word that emerged. She removed the last costume. “Yes.”
Ryan rolled off the bed and extended his hand. When she took it, his fingers threaded through hers, filling her with warmth. He led her to the bathroom and turned on the shower without releasing her hand. Tugging her to him, he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. “Thank you for giving me this second chance. I won’t let you down.”
Julia nodded. She wanted him so much, needed him to drive away the loneliness and the chill that had encased her for months now.
A sense of wonder filled Ryan when she settled against him, naked, chest to chest, with warm water pouring down over their heads. It was home and every part of him rejoiced at having his wife in his arms again. He kissed her cheek and sucked at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Touching her was like sticking his finger in a light bulb socket, or at least how he imagined that experience.
His wife.
The woman who’d spoiled him for all others.
He skimmed his hand down her back and cupped her bottom, drawing her against his straining erection. From zero to go in half a second. Her tongue darted out to lick along the tail of his dragon tatt, over one pectoral muscle before settling against his nipple. Pleasure snared him, dragging another groan to the surface. Urgency thrummed through his body now, and Julia seemed just as caught in the writhing emotions as he. He lifted her and her legs curled around his waist. Still the water poured over them. He sucked roughly on one breast, and she jerked, almost ripping out a handful of hair when he tried to reposition his mouth to her other breast.
“Ryan,” she whispered hoarsely, full of silent pleading.
Hell, he didn’t want to wait either.
Angling his body, he pressed her against the wall.
“Cold,” she muttered.
“Won’t be soon.” He gripped his cock, positioned himself at her entrance and let gravity impale her more deeply. Ryan gritted his teeth, the snug warmth of her almost doing him in. His balls pulled tight. His pulse raced, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest as Julia’s pussy flexed around his shaft and took him inside her. “Okay?” he demanded.
“No! Wait,” she said. “Condom.”
“Shit.” He stilled, grunting as he squeezed her against the wall. It took everything in him, but he withdrew and set her on her feet, maintaining his grip on her shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t think.” He’d presumed she was still on the Pill. She had taken them when they first married. He leaned down, then pressed his forehead against hers while catching his breath. A child was strangely appealing, but he didn’t voice his thoughts, not when Julia hadn’t seemed happy at the idea. “Turn around. Let me wash your back.”
She bit her lip and turned to present her back. He grabbed a bottle of body wash and squirted some on a bath buddy. Seconds later, his hand was covered with lather.
“I said I was sorry. There’s no need to give me the silent treatment.”
“I’m not.” She turned in his arms, a strange expression on her face. “I’m just as much to blame.” She took the buddy off him and indicated he should turn around.
Ryan turned, sighing, sorry the mood had passed. “Are you still going to let me make love to you?” He winced at his bluntness.
“I have condoms in the bedroom.”
His breath caught. “Why?”
“I bought them a few months ago when I decided I should have sex with someone to forget you.”
“Ouch.” Her words hurt, but given his lack of communication, he didn’t blame her. “And did you find a man?” She’d implied she hadn’t had sex for months, but perhaps he’d misunderstood.
“No. You done?” The defensive note told him not to push.
He washed the last of the soap away. “Yeah, I’m done.”
After toweling off, he padded to her bedroom. While he was waiting for her, he pulled back the covers, desire simmering inside him at the idea of touching her again, despite his confused feelings. From the deep recesses of his mind he pulled an image of her naked, stroking scented body butter on her legs, one at a time. He recalled the slow caress of her hands, smoothing across her skin. It was so real—a true memory. He grinned, absently fondling his cock.
“Having sex with you doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to continue our marriage,” she said abruptly as she entered the bedroom.
“What does it mean?” Ryan didn’t understand the brittle edge to her voice, the pain she was trying to hide.
“I’m scratching an itch.”
Okay. Ryan forced a smile even though a part of him died. He’d done this. Even though he hadn’t meant to—his silence had hurt her and damaged their relationship. “Fair enough. Let’s do that scratching together.” Her bitchiness was a façade. He was sure of it.
“All right.” She dropped her towel and crossed the room to the bedside cabinet. She opened the drawer and pulled out a box of condoms. An unopened box, he noted, and some of the tightness in his chest dispersed.
“Come here,” he said in a rough voice. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her to approach, another level of tension easing when she came willingly enough. She wanted him. At least they had the sexual part of their marriage to help glue their relationship together. He could fix this if he loved her hard enough.
His avid gaze took in everything about her. God, she was beautiful with her trim waist and long legs. He drew her between his legs, pressing a kiss to the slight round of her belly, just below her belly button piercing. She froze, but he ignored her reaction to draw her down onto his lap. He settled his mouth on hers despite the hint of frost in her. Determined to break her reserve, he doubled his effort, sliding his tongue against hers, tangling his fingers in her hair and tasting the mint from recently brushed teeth.
A few seconds later, she moaned against his mouth—music to his ears. Her hands slid over his shoulders and suddenly she was taking part instead of letting him touch her. Her breasts squashed against the wall of his chest, the eager pressure of her lips drawing a heated response from him. Yes, perfect, and he settled in to enjoy playing tag with her tongue.
They kissed, unhurried now that they were naked and near both a bed and condoms. Long, lazy kisses. Slow, seductive kisses until they were both breathing hard, and his cock was so rigid he knew he’d explode if he didn’t get inside her soon.
He shifted, tossing her on the mattress and covering her before she had time to protest.
“I need you, Julia.” He ran a finger up the soft skin of her inner thigh. He’d wait a little longer. Make this extra special for both of them. He shifted back, setting between the V of her legs to study her pussy and the narrow strip of blonde hair. So pretty. Where to start? Licking, he decided, and immediately ran his tongue from her entrance and up to her clit. Not a soft fluttery lick, but a hard, firm one that filled his mouth with her taste and stopped short of her clitoris. He lifted his head to grin up at her. “How’s that?”
“Good,” she whispered, arching her hips upward to increase the pressure. “Ryan!”
Still grinning, Ryan settled in to make her come. Not that it was an arduous task. She was swollen and trembled whenever his tongue neared her clit. He teased her for a while with slow, delicate laps, keeping her on edge but not giving her enough stimulation to topple into climax. Her juices seeped from her entrance, her spicy taste filling his mouth while pleading cries spilled from her lips.
“Oh, Ryan.” Her hands gripped his head to focus his touch.
He glanced up to find her eyes squeezed closed, her bottom lip caught between her white teeth as her lower body strained upward, pushing into his face.
“Please. Please, Ryan.”
Aware of urgency thrumming through his own veins, he continued, this time concentrating on the straining bundle of nerves. Carefully, he took the bud between his lips, stroking with a barely-there touch of his tongue. She shuddered, groaned and fought to raise her hips, forcing him into greater contact. He gave it to her. Laving back and forth. Sucking carefully.
She cried out, trembled and the tiny bud vibrated in rapid spasms. He kept his touches light now, vaguely remembering this was what she enjoyed.
The tension melted from her limbs and torso, and she sagged in a sprawl on the mattress. “Oh, Ryan. That was an A grade orgasm.” Her throaty whisper brought a burst of satisfaction, like a jolt to the chest, and he smiled before pressing a light kiss to her sensitive clit.
Ryan fumbled with the outer wrapping of the condom box before he extracted a foil packet. Seconds later the latex was in place. He moved up her body, touched his lips to hers and slipped inside her. It was like coming home. Ryan moved and her hips shifted in counterpoint. The tight clench around his shaft forced a moan from deep in his chest. His breath caught as he watched her face, the minute shifts of expression as she started the climb to a peak again. He stroked into her faster, hurling himself greedily into the pleasure of the experience. She filled the gaps inside him, the loneliness. God, she made him whole.
Her arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. Ryan grunted, slammed into her. Once. Twice. And a third time, then his orgasm roared through him, white noise echoing in his ears. His lips sought hers again, anchoring himself in the present.
Aw, sweet. So sweet. He withdrew a fraction and pushed back into her heat. Lazy, easy thrusts even though he’d come. Julia groaned, her hips lifting. Taking her subtle clue, he reached between them and stroked her clitoris.
“Yes. Right there. No! Don’t move.” She grabbed his ears and tugged.
“Ow, woman. Bossy much?”
“Get me off,” she ordered.
Laughter spilled from him along with contentment. His finger worked her, and he watched her face again. Her eyes fluttered closed, arousal colored her cheeks in a delicate pink. Her lips were swollen. Her blonde hair tousled. Sexy. She came, shuddering and squeezing his cock in rhythmic pulses, looking beautiful.
“Was that up to your expectations?” he whispered after he’d withdrawn and dealt with the condom. He tucked her against the curve of his body.
Julia yawned. “Hmm, I need to get some sleep.”
Some of his feel-good attitude dispersed. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask if she hadn’t enjoyed their lovemaking before reconsidering. Crap, questions would make him sound needy and lacking in self-confidence. Him. The guy who, according to Caleb, charmed females of every age with nothing more than a smile. The guy who fronted French Letters and held their fans in thrall. The man voted sexiest scoundrel for the last two years in a row by Madam magazine.
Julia’s deep, even breathing indicated she’d fallen asleep while he felt like a theatre prop—an object present to illustrate a point.
The next morning, Ryan woke alone. Gritty eyed, he sat up. “Julia?”
Frowning, he scrambled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. The faint scent of Julia’s perfume filled the air, but by the time he reached the kitchen he realized he was alone in the apartment.
“Damn.” He stomped back to the spare bedroom, indignation in every rapid step. He might have slept with a lot of women before Julia came along, but he was pretty sure he’d never sneaked out before they woke or left them feeling cheap and used.