Playing with Forever (Sydney Smoke Rugby) Page 4

  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.”

  Chapter Four

  They were back inside a couple of minutes later, continuing the tour. The apartment really was a breathtaking example of an art deco interior, which Juliet would have appreciated a lot more had it not been for the constant sexual awareness of Ryder.

  The strong tug of desire following her around.

  As it was, though, she found it hard to concentrate on the boldness of the highly lacquered, geometric floor pattern or the beauty of the Tiffany light fixtures. The rich wood, chrome, and marble that had all been used to dazzling effect didn’t really have their full impact.

  It was hard to see the polished, sleek lines so typical of art deco when his big deep voice rumbled over her like a physical caress. Then there was his heat and his scent. Passionfruit and beer.

  So damn distracting…

  She came out of her stupor as soon as she entered the main bathroom. The classic black and white colour scheme and
the Ziggurat skyscraper tile pattern in the shower made her want to strip her clothes off and get in. But it was the mint condition mirrored vanity unit that left her gasping.

  “This is gorgeous.”

  Juliet placed her beer down before running her hands over the mirrored surface. She crouched before it, her image reflecting in all the blemish-free glass as she caressed the crystal drawer knobs. “The crinkled serpentine shape of the front is spectacular, and it’s in such good nick.”

  She stood again, admiring how the light from above gleamed and sparkled in all the mirrored surfaces, highlighting its pristine condition.

  Finally she dragged her eyes off it, lifting them to meet his in the massive wall mirror mounted directly above the vanity—another authentic bevelled piece of the era. “Where did you get it?”

  He was leaning casually in the doorway behind her. “It came with the apartment.”

  “Wow.” Juliet’s hands glided over the mirrored surface.

  It should have been screamingly feminine, but all his stuff lined up against the wall—shaving foam, razors, aftershave, deodorant, mouthwash—transformed it. She picked up a small silver dish holding a cake of soap, lifting it to her nose and sniffing.

  She flicked her gaze up. “That’s why you smell like passionfruit.” She tried to sound casual, but her voice betrayed the sudden rollover of her stomach as he pushed off the doorway and prowled closer.

  “My mother makes it.”

  He stopped behind her, almost touching but not quite as their eyes locked. He was bigger and broader than her, the shape of him in the mirror dwarfing the shape of her, her reflection dissolving into his.

  Warmth radiated from his body like a furnace, seeping into her back, flowing like warm treacle down her spine, oozing between her legs, infecting everything in its path with a sluggish, wanton heat.

  Except her nipples.

  They beaded like he’d applied ice cubes to the two tight points reflecting back at them. His gaze dropped and lingered, her nipples screamingly taut beneath his sustained scrutiny. He glanced up again, their gazes meshing once more, the air in her lungs as thick as soup.

  He took one more step, his body coming into full contact with hers. Juliet sucked in a breath as one hand slid onto her hip, the other pushing his beer bottle onto the vanity next to hers. The movement glided the length of his erection against the cleft of her ass, and she swallowed.