Page 641 of Hell Hath No Fury
"I don't think I've ever met anyone with a Barbie collection."
"It's not just Barbies. There are all kinds, and I don't add to the collection. I just kept them because it meant something to her."
"That makes sense."
"Why Italy, and where else have you visited?" she asks, changing the subject.
I swallow a bite. "Italian cuisine is my favorite. I got excited when you recommended it earlier. But, since I love the cuisine, I figured, why not? I enrolled in a two-month program and spent the rest of that time practicing. I even picked up a job working as a cook for the added experience. After my year was up, I hopped around Europe, the Caribbean, Africa, hung around South America for a bit."
"Um," Rylan mutters.
"What's on your mind?" I question the low sound coming from her.
She holds a finger, asking for a minute to swallow a piece of a dinner roll. "You're a Chef, but you're working in marketing," she says casually.
"I'm not a Chef—" I go to defend myself, but she stops me.
"First off, no one who doesn't love to cook can make a meal this bomb. Secondly, I peeped how your chest puffed out, all strong and proud when you talked about Italy." She breaks off another piece of bread. "Trust me. You're a Chef."
"It's bomb, huh?" I change the subject and lick my lips in a failed attempt to hide the grin on my face.
"Oh, don't get cocky," she interjects with the same sass she possessed the night we first met.
I tilt my head and shrug. "Nah, I just know when a connection is brewing."
Rylan smirks and shies away when I repeat the words I said to her that night. The same words that gave us both the courage to end up here, with her naked in my living room. My dick remembers, too, and is already waking up. That's not even why I asked her here. Yes, I'd love to fuck her again, but I want more than that too.
I'm not typically the kind of man who believes in love at first sight or falls head over heels in no time at all. If I'm honest, feeling anything remotely close to that was the furthest from my mind. But with Rylan, it's different somehow. She caught my eye from across the room, and when I stood beside her, smelled her perfume, and heard how intellectual she was, I was hooked.
We finish our meal but spend the next few hours on the patio drinking wine and talking—about everything, from my horrible fraternity pledging days to her hobbies and everything in between. The conversation seems effortless, flowing like we've known each other for years. After a while, the temperature drops, and the fire pit start to burn down. She rubs her arms, shaking off the shiver rippling through her.
"Come on, let's get you inside."
Rylan accepts my hand and follows close behind me until we're back in the condo. I walk her over to the couch, suggesting she make herself comfortable. She unlocks her fingers from mine, and I rush down the hall to retrieve a throw blanket. On my way back, I snag a fresh bottle of wine and new glasses from my kitchen.
Rylan watches as I cross from one room to the other and join her on the sofa. She sits up, and I drape the cover over her shoulders. Once she's settled, I fill each glass with wine and handher one. I nestle up next to her, and she sits so that she has the perfect view of the side of my face.
Her eyes burn hot into me, so I glance in her direction. We stare at each other for a moment, no words exchanged. We just observe. I trace every swallow and every visible vein from her neck to the crease between her breasts. And she follows my tongue every time it slicks across my lips.
My stomach grows heavy with anticipation and admiration.Damn, she's so beautiful. I tilt my head back, resting on the pillow to get a better look at her. It must make her uncomfortable because she props her elbow on her knee to cover half her face with her hand.
I reach to take her finger and pull her arm away. Rylan's eyes narrow, but she doesn't protest me.
"I want to see you."
I can't break the gaze I hold on her. It's like the myth of Medusa—a woman so gorgeous one glance turns you to stone. Everything about her, even her innate need to be in control, turns me on. The thing is, I'm not sure if it's because I fucking want her or the burning desire to make her lose that control. Maybe it's both.
I swipe a loc behind her ear, letting my touch linger for as long as possible. Something flickers in her eyes, and she inches closer to me, lowering her head to kiss me. I don't move, not even to breathe. I just let her have her way with my mouth until the need to feel her skin takes over.
My heart races as chills run from my fingertips to my groin. I take our glasses and put them on the coffee table. In one swift movement, I grab and pull her onto my lap. Rylan straddles me, bringing her hot center down on me. My lower half jerks from the sensations building in my pants.
I want to take my time, but I also can't wait to get her out of all these fucking clothes. I've never hated clothing as much as Ido right now. I yank her shirt over her head and fling it to the floor. Rylan undresses me, starting with my shirt and stopping at my zipper. I claim her mouth and fumble with her pants, desperately needing to feel her flesh.
When I see her in just her bra and panties, I ignite. I rub my hands up her arms and shoulders before I cup her face and taste her sweet and swollen lips.
"Why are you so damn sexy?" I breathe into her ear. "Stay the night with me," I insist when she doesn't answer.
It's not a question. Hell, it's not even a suggestion.It's a demand. I said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm going to consume her and triumph from the pleasure.
