The moment Angie pulled behind Ryan’s Silver Hummer and followed him into the locked community of Gainey Ranch, she was second-guessing her decision for a night of unadulterated sex with the boss. In front of them loomed a one story ranch style home that had to be worth at least two million.
Just the elegant wrought iron gate which opened automatically had her admitting her anxiety level hit a new high.
What on Earth had she been thinking, accepting a one-night stand with her boss? She could wake in the morning without a job.
He pulled into the circular driveway and stopped. She eased up behind him, letting the engine of her Honda Accord remain running. When he stepped from his car, walked to her side of the car and tapped on the window, she turned the engine off.
“Ryan?” Before she could explain why this arrangement might be a bad mistake, he opened her door and pulled her into his arms. Her purse slipped off her shoulder and she caught the strap in her hand.
With just a touch—a look—he erased all doubt and insecurity. He cupped her head and gazed into her eyes with so much intensity. His expression prickled her skin, giving her the feeling that she was on the pinnacle of being kissed like she’d never been before.
“Shhh…” he hissed.
With a feather touch he smoothed his mouth over hers, sucking first on her top lip and then the bottom, before parting them to slip inside. Languidly, he caressed her mouth from side to side, flicking his tongue against hers. She responded in kind, tasting scotch and spearmint. He thrust more firmly against her tongue, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and their tongues began to duel.
Her fingers curled into the upper sleeves of his coat as she clung to him—lost in a valley of sensations. Arousing and potent, his kiss was like a drug.
She wanted more.
“Soft. Beautiful,” he groaned, moving his lips lightly across hers.
The night air was crisp. A small breeze stirred the paloverde trees that dotted his landscape, along with an occasional saguaro cactus or two. An ocean of rose-colored gravel with a line of walkway lights trailed alongside the sidewalk leading to his front door.
Strong palms stroked her neck with a gentle touch before he broke his caress and his lips followed the path of his hands. Fingertips breezed over her collarbone, working the neckline of her dress down to expose more skin. His tongue followed, dipping into the hollow area and moving lower to place small kisses upon the beginning swells of her breasts.
“Oh my God.” The words slipped from her mouth as she tossed back her head.
He didn’t stop there. Instead, he proceeded to lavish her cleavage with hot, wet kisses that made her breasts heavy with need, her nipples screaming to be next in line for his attention.
The area between Angie’s thighs was wet and ready. She needed him inside her now. But he took his time licking and nibbling on her skin, torturing her with long, slow caresses.
“Ryan, your neighbors.” Just the thought of performing for an audience made her hot.
Without releasing her, he guided her to the front door, reached into his pocket, extracted his keys, unlocked the door and pushed it open. No sooner did the door slam shut than she was back into his arms.
In their heated frenzy, she briefly noticed they stood in a foyer that opened up to a spacious living room where a huge custom decorated Christmas tree stood at least twelve feet tall. The glow from the twinkling Christmas lights bounced off white walls and marble flooring. A hallway led from both ends of the room. Everything else was a blur as he kissed her again.
When his hands touched her thighs, she felt her dress rise and her purse slipped from her fingers, falling to the floor. “Ryan, please.” Cool air swirled through her legs, stroking the dampness of her arousal. She released the breath she held, knowing she was one step closer to making a dream come true—making love all night long to Ryan Tyler.
What the hell is wrong with you, Angie? She was usually not the aggressor, but something about this man made her want to tear his clothes off, push him to the floor and fuck his brains out.
“What?” he asked, as his tongue slipped beyond her bra, getting closer and closer to a nipple.
“I need you inside me.” She released the death grip she had on his coat and began to push it from his shoulders. Her plan hadn’t been well thought out because in order to undress him, he had to stop touching her and that was simply unacceptable.
A cry of frustration pushed from her lungs.
He chuckled softly, making no attempts to hurry his seduction as his coat dropped upon the marble floor.
Excitement slid up her backbone. She wanted him to finish what he had started—undressing her. She knew it would be provocative to feel his palms sliding up her body, peeling off her dress.
“Dress. Remove it.” Her demand was breathless with anticipation.
Achingly slow, he pushed the silky material up her thighs, past her waist and then over her head.
She was so caught up in the moment she hadn’t noticed the large mirror hanging on the foyer wall until her reflection appeared inside it. She stood before Ryan in a black strapless bra, three-inch heels, black thigh-high nylons, a garter belt, a lacy thong and a look of pure lust on her face.
He took a step back and male appreciation washed over her from head to toe. “My God, you’re beautiful.” With a toss of his hand he slung her dress on the table beneath the mirror. As he approached, his eyes darkened with desire.
Again she found herself locked in his arms, another kiss of a lifetime placed upon her lips.
Thud! Thud! Thud! The door rattled with a pounding that startled her out of his arms. Heart racing, she tried to steady her breathing.
“What the hell?” Ryan growled, glancing over his shoulders. “It’s almost midnight.” He reached for the door as Angie dove for her dress.
But she didn’t have time to cover up before the door swung out of Ryan’s hand and the most gorgeous cowboy entered. Angie wondered if the man decked out in tight blue jeans, cowboy shirt and boots was another Christmas present for her to enjoy.
The minute he saw her, dress clenched to her chest, a big Texas grin tipped his mouth. He released a whistle, and then touched the rim of his black Stetson. “Ma’am.” Gaze pinned on her, he set his duffle bag on the floor before he said, “Evenin’, Ryan.”
“You’re early.” Ryan sounded a little gruff as he closed the door.
The cowboy took another assessment of Angie starting at her feet and moving up her body. “Nah, partner, it looks like I’m just in time.” His southern accent was like warm chocolate on a cold morning.
Where Ryan was dark and sophisticated, this man was light and rugged. Golden brown hair, mustache and beard groomed neatly around his mouth, he was the persona of the wild-wild west. All he needed was chaps, spurs and a six-shooter.
For a moment, she wondered what he’d charge for a mustache ride. Would that facial hair tickle against her thighs? With the wicked thought, her nipples tightened and moisture released between her thighs.
“Angie Clarke, meet Wade Peterson, who used to be my best friend.” Ryan ran his fingers through his wavy hair. He glanced at her and she could see an apology in his eyes.
Wade jutted out his hand. When she reached to shake his callused hand she lost the grip on her dress and it floated to the floor. Heat flared across her face, as his big brown eyes darkened and he caressed her with his hot gaze.
His broad chest rose on a breath. “You’ve been holding out on me, Tyler. Is this filly saddled for two riders?”
Filly? Two Riders?
Holy shit! Was the man talking ménage?