Her Maine Reaction Page 8

  Grabbing my burger, I lift it to my mouth and inhale the scent of salvation. And the second I bite into it, I moan, closing my eyes. “Oh my God,” I say around a full mouth, not even caring. “So good.”

  “I know I am, sweetheart.” He chuckles. “And I intend on reminding you of that.”

  Opening my eyes, I shift them over to Ryan’s heated gaze. Swallowing, I pour out the rest of the wine from the bottle, and down it in a few gulps.

  “I don’t need reminding, Ryan,” I tell him, popping a few fries in my mouth.

  Tilting his head slightly, the corners of his lips rise. He knows I’ve been downplaying everything. And I’m done pretending he doesn’t affect me the way he does.

  Eating in silence, I practically inhale my food with how hungry I was. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Ryan while he chews. His jaw flexes, his lips move, and his throat bobs when he swallows. He even eats sexy.

  “Did Ally make you come?” I ask, needing to break the silence.

  “No,” he says, his eyes shooting to mine. “I called Jake to see if you were with them for the storm. I can’t believe they let you stay here when it started snowing.” Shaking his head, he rubs his hand across his jaw. “After my shift, I just got in my truck and came straight over.”

  “You called about me?”

  “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “Because I am.”

  “Why?” he asks, studying me.

  “I’m nothing to you. Why would you care if I was stranded out here?”

  “It’s my job,” he says simply, and my heart drops.

  Oh, right, his job. Being the sheriff must mean saving women when they’re stranded. Why would I be different?

  “So, do you often save woman in snow storms and bring them dinner?”

  “Yes.” He nods. “But never dessert,” he adds with a small smile. Reaching into the bag he brought, he pulls out another container.

  Smiling, I relax, knowing he’s just joking. I seriously need to calm down. I don’t know why I’m so wound up. Or, well, I do. It’s just Ryan being here that’s making me act so weird.

  “Good. I’d be offended otherwise.” Opening the box, I smile wider than before, turning to him. “You really do read minds, don’t you?” A big, chocolate frosted brownie is staring back at me with whipped cream and sprinkles.

  “Let’s just say I can read you better than you may have thought.”

  “Can you, now? I thought I was more of a closed book.”

  “To others, maybe. But I can see the foods you desire.”

  Laughing, I grab a fork and dig in. “That’s an interesting talent. Has it been useful to you for women in the past?”

  “No. You’re the first that it’s worked on.”

  “Huh. Well, lucky me, I guess.” Smiling, I put the forkful of brownie in my mouth and close my eyes, moaning. I can’t help it. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.

  Opening my eyes, I see Ryan’s are blazing.

  “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to stop making those sounds if you want me to be good.”

  “Who said I want that?” I ask, my voice low as I lick the fork clean–my tongue putting on a little show for him. He narrows his eyes, and I give him a sly smile as I stick the fork back in the brownie. I’m about to put it in my mouth when his hand reaches out and stops me.

  “Let me,” he says, his voice husky.

  Turning my face towards him, Ryan pulls the fork from between my fingers and then puts it in his mouth–licking it clean the way I did.

  “You just stole my brownie,” I tell him, a little breathless as I watch his tongue lick his top lip.

  “It is good.” His voice floats over me like a hypnotic mist, pulling me under. “Do you want more?”

  I nod, and he cuts off another piece, holding it up to my mouth. Opening for him, I keep my eyes on his as he feeds me. Moaning the second the chocolate melts against my tongue, Ryan’s eyes turn molten–the light blue is being strangled out by the dark.

  Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he holds me in place as he puts the fork back in the container and swipes his finger through the frosting, rubbing it across my lips.

  When my tongue darts out, he grips my chin harder and shakes his head. My pulse quickens, and my breath comes a little shorter as he leans forward.

  The second his tongue meets my bottom lip, a strangled moan escapes my throat. Gliding it across the expanse of my mouth, he sucks my lip between his, and I lean into him.

  It feels like a thousand little sparks are igniting down my spine as he nibbles on my bottom lip.

  “Mmm,” he hums, pulling away, licking his lips. “It’s even better tasting when eaten off of you.”

  With my lips parted, and my eyes hooded, I wait for him to make the next move. I need him to do something–more.

  But he doesn’t.

  Releasing my chin, he reaches for the bottle of wine he brought and uncorks it, pouring himself a glass.

  “Would you like more?”

  Breathless, I whisper, “Yes.” I need him to kiss me.

  “Wine?” He smirks, but I gently shake my head no.

  The smooth expanse of his square jaw is begging for me to touch it. I want to memorize the hard plains of his face with my fingertips.

  Placing the glass to his lips, he takes a sip, and I watch his throat work. I want to feel that motion beneath my lips as I kiss my way up the column of his neck.

  “Ashley.” At the sound of his husky voice, my eyes snap up to his.

  I feel like I’m in some hazy dream state. “Yes?”

  “Why are you really here?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you come here?”

  He’s seriously asking me this now? I’m desperately wanting to kiss him, and he wants to talk?

  Turning away, I grab the wine he just opened, and pour myself a full glass. Taking a sip, I lean back against the couch and stare into the flames of the candle.

  “I quit my job. Not by choice.” Apparently, the wine has caught up with me, and I’m feeling chatty.

  “Why?”

  “Because my manager was a handsy asshole who thought I wanted him. Just like the others.”

  “What others?” he asks, his voice hard.

  “My other boss, those assholes the other night–take your pick.” Sighing, I take another sip of wine. “I was a paralegal for a really prestigious firm back home. I had worked there since I graduated college, and I loved it. But late one night–about six months ago–the partner that I worked closely with, cornered me. He thought that I had been flirting with him, and teasing him, all that time I was working there. But I wasn’t, and he didn’t take the rejection well. And because of him, I can’t get a job in my profession anywhere near where I live. He blackballed me.

  “I went to school with a girl who works at another firm nearby, and she told me that my boss had told anyone who called for a reference that I was some homewrecker hoe looking to bed any and all of the wealthy men in the office.”

  “Fucking asshole. I’m sorry, Ash.”

  “It’s fine.” I shrug. “I’m used to men thinking I’m just some piece of ass that’s teasing them because I smile at them.”

  “It’s not fine.” Ryan practically growls. “He wasn’t man enough to take the rejection, so he ruined your career. That’s not okay, Ash.”

  “I know,” I whisper, taking a bigger gulp of wine than before. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. So why dwell on it?”

  Rubbing his jaw, Ryan lets out a frustrated sigh. “Did he put his hands on you?”

  “No, not him.”

  “Then who?” he asks harshly, his eyes boring into mine.

  “After my career was ruined, I moved back home with my mom and got a job bartending. It was fun, actually. I loved how busy it always was, and watching people get drunk and try and pick people up–it was fun.” I smile. “But Thursday was different. My manager asked me every night
after work since I started if I wanted to go out with him. I always said no. Then Thursday, he was weird. Mad at me or something. And while we were cleaning up, he came up behind me and pinned me to the bar.”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I look away from Ryan. I can’t look at him while I tell him what happened. But for some reason, I want to tell him. I want him to know.

  “He wrapped his arm around my waist and pushed himself against my back. He kept saying I wanted him, and that he knew it, and I was just denying it because he was my boss. Then he spun me around and grabbed me behind the neck.” Pausing, I reach up and rub the side of my neck that I know still bares the evidence. “And he kissed me. It was disgusting.” Shuddering, I continue. “When I finally got loose, I kneed him in the dick, and then punched him in the face as hard as I could.”

  Ryan pulls my hand away from my neck and takes my hat off, moving my hair off of my shoulder. He pauses, immediately going rigid, and I can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

  Turning me so he can get a better look, he brushes his fingers across my neck–replacing the harsh touch of another man with his gentler one. When I feel the warm press of his lips against my neck, I lean into his touch and sigh. Each finger print left behind by Rick, Ryan kisses. And for the first time in a very long time, I feel cared for.

  Kneading his thumbs into the knots between my shoulders, I relax into his touch. I’ve felt like the world has been weighing me down over the past few months, but now it feels like a distant memory.

  Kissing his way up my neck, a soft moan escapes my lips when he reaches the spot behind my ear. My pulse quickens under his touch, and he digs a little harder into my muscles. Pulling me back towards him, Ryan turns my face so he can look into my eyes. And it’s what I see there that makes my heartrate kick up to a speed I’m sure will make it give out.

  Turning around to face him fully, the intensity of his gaze draws me in–hypnotic and controlling. I sit up on my knees, and he reaches for me, pulling me on top of him so I’m straddling his hips.

  Lost in the swirling blues of his eyes, I lift my hands to his handsome face and trace his cheekbones with feather light fingertips. I make a sweep down the sides of his jaw, and slide my hands around his neck, leaning in, watching his eyes the entire time battle with restraint.

  Just a whisper away, my bottom lip brushes his, and he tightens his grip on my hips.

  It’s in this pause that I feel everything. The magnetic force pulling us together, the tightening of my chest, the rushing of my blood through my veins, and his pulse beneath my hands.

  My body hums alive with a need I’ve never had before.

  I give in to the pull, pressing my lips fully to his, melting on impact. Ryan wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his rock-solid torso.

  The little control I had flies out the window and gets lost in the snow storm as Ryan’s tongue slides across the seam of my lips. Opening for him, he slips inside my mouth, and we both moan on contact, the taste of wine on his tongue forming an addiction I didn’t even know possible.

  Sliding his hands down my back, he skims the sliver of skin exposed between my sweatshirt and pants. His touch sears me, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  Ryan pulls back, and I gasp for air as he kisses his way across my jaw. Stretching my head to the side to give him better access, he swirls his tongue around the shell of my ear and sucks it into his mouth, biting down. Moaning, I give him the invitation he needs to lift my sweatshirt up and over my head.

  Slowly, he unzips my fleece–his hot mouth leaving a trail of fire as he kisses, licks, and sucks his way down my neck.

  The room is spinning, and my head is spinning. Dizzy, I close my eyes, and just let myself feel it all. My mind imprints this moment, knowing I’ll have to take it back out when I’m home again.

  Home again.

  That thought snaps me out of the hazy spell I’m under.

  I can’t be with this man no matter how much I want to.

  I pull away from him and run my hands up his head, feeling his soft hair tickle my palms until I’m cradling his face. Seeing the confusion in his eyes, I lean forward and kiss him softly before untangling myself from him and crawling back to where I was sitting before–a relatively safe distance away.

  I hope.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice husky and sexy.

  “Nothing. I uh…I just don’t think we should get carried away. I know you think I’m some girl who sleeps with a man a second after she meets him, but I’m really not.” I zip my fleece back up, and put my sweatshirt back on.

  “Ashley,” he murmurs, turning my face back towards his. “I don’t think that. At all.” His eyes are glowing–still turned on. He’s just saying this so I’ll climb back onto his lap. I knew my impulsive nature would catch up to me one day.

  “You don’t have to lie to save my feelings, Ryan.”

  “I’m not lying. And I wouldn’t lie to you. I don’t think you’re anything but a beautiful woman I can’t have, and a strong woman who deserves better.”

  I deserve better than him, or better in life?

  Because I agree with the second, but I don’t really think the first is possible.

  “And now I’m just another man assuming you want him. I’m sorry.”

  He’s apologizing?

  “You’re not assuming,” I whisper. “I just have to go back in a few days, and I…” I look away. “I just can’t.”

  What I really want to say is that I can’t go back to dreaming of you every night, and reliving the same moments over and over in my head every day. He haunts me day and night, but he’s the most beautiful nightmare I’ve ever had.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Tell me about your life back home.”

  “Oh…um. Well, it’s just my mom and I.” Hugging my arms around my waist, I lift my knees to my chest. “My dad died when I was 20. Eight years ago. He was the best person in my life.”

  Reaching out, Ryan strokes the side of my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice full of regret.

  “It was cancer. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn’t ready. He was always there for me, no matter what. He taught me to be a strong woman and to stand on my own two feet, but I could always count on him to be there if I needed him. He was the only one in my life like that. Then, and now.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “She shut down after he died. We have more of a superficial relationship. Everything is okay as long as we don’t dive into the deeper stuff. Before, though, she was always happy–smiling, laughing, living life to the fullest. My parents were the epitome of true love. They lived, and loved, fiercely–with everything they had. But it was taken from them. Without choice.” Shaking my head, I look into the flame of one of the candles, a ghost of a smile on my lips. “I can still hear my dad telling me to ‘live big, and love hard,’ though. It was one of the last things he said to me during one his life lesson lectures he started giving me towards the end.”

  “And have you?”

  “I think so. He told me he never regretted anything, even dying from cancer. He said that it just made him appreciate the time he did get to have, that much more.”

  “That must have been a hard realization to come to. I don’t think many people would share that wisdom if they were in the same situation.”

  “I know. He was the best.” A few tears escape my eyes, and fall against my knees. I wipe them away quickly, though. I don’t want Ryan to see me cry.

  “Hey,” he whispers, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I rest my head against his chest, and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. “He sounds like he was a great man. You’re lucky.”

  “Is your dad not great?”

  “Yeah, he is. As the oldest, though, I have a slightly different relationship with him than my brothers.”

  “How?”

  “I had a
lot of pressure put on me to be the best. The best student, athlete, role model, son, and brother. Anything you can think of, I was meant to be the best at it.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes.” He sighs. “I couldn’t disappoint my parents, and I couldn’t let my brothers down. It sounds insignificant, and inconsequential, but it wore me down.”

  “It’s not insignificant, Ryan. You should’ve been able to just be you, and have that been more than enough.” I look up at him, and his eyes are clearer than I’ve seen them yet.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “For what?”

  Shaking his head, he lifts my chin slightly, and plants a soft kiss to my lips–one that I can feel tug at my chest.

  How did we go from hot and heavy, to talking about our dads, to kissing sweetly? Ryan’s throwing me off balance and making me rethink everything I thought I knew about him, and me.

  Resting my head back on his chest, I close my eyes. “Thank you for coming to save me. I thought my body was going to eat itself if I didn’t get food soon. I also thought that I’d die a frozen popsicle.”

  His body starts to shake with laughter beneath me, and I playfully slap his chest. “Stop laughing.”

  “I’d never let you die a frozen popsicle. I have ways of keeping you hot for days.”

  “I know you do, sheriff.” I smile. “And it’s those ways that have been keeping me up at night.” Oh my God. Shit. I just said that out loud?!

  Tensing up, I try and pull away, but Ryan tightens his arm around my shoulders.

  “Don’t,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Don’t pull away.”

  I try and relax back into him, but it’s hard. I just told him I’ve thought about him–often, and at night. I’m fucking pathetic.

  He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. We just sit and breathe together. My head lifts with every inhale he takes, and lowers with each exhale.

  The comforting motions lull me into closing my eyes, and I start to drift off.

  ∞∞∞

  Stirring, I feel myself being moved, but I don’t want to wake up yet. I was dreaming of Ryan, and he was here with me. He was being sweet, and kind, and handsome, and sexy.

  “Shh, I’m here,” he says to me, and I snuggle closer, loving the warmth he’s giving me.