Hell in a Handbasket - The Journey (4 page)

"No! Ryder, I can't afford that."

"Maeve, we have a lot of writing to do and I
don't think you want to waste time arguing with me about paying for an upgrade.
Do you?"

"Well…I…I don't…I don't know. If…if we don't talk
about it now, when will we?"

"On the plane."

"
Are you going
to the same destination as me? How do you know where I'm going?
"

"
Maeve…
" Ryder let out an agonizing
breath, rubbed his hands through his hair, and looked as if he were having
second thoughts.

"Anything else?"
Tom had one eyebrow raised and a cockeyed grin.

"Yes, when you get back, knock. The door will be
locked."

"You got it." Tom walked away with a look of
admiration smeared across his face.

We walked into the office. It was an average office,
small, four bland walls painted a light tan. There were a few travel posters.
No windows. I guess that's why the posters were there, so a person wouldn't go
crazy looking at nothing all day but four blank walls. There was a large but
ordinary desk with an office chair behind it and two basic chairs sitting
across from it. There was a desktop computer sitting on the desk with a
screensaver of swimming fish running on it. There were four plain, tan metal
filing cabinets behind the desk. The only thing that wasn't ordinary was the
couch. An exquisite overstuffed leather couch of a deep burgundy set inside of
a hand-carved wooden frame.

Ryder locked the door behind us and set my belongings
on the desk. He turned to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, caressing
from the tops of my shoulders to my neck.

"Friend of yours?"

"Yes."

"That's it? That's all I get?"

"Would you rather talk about him? Or this…?"

Ryder's right hand continued stroking the indent of
where my shoulder met my neck, sending serious shivers down my spine. He
stroked there for a few moments before his hand went to the back of my neck,
cradling my head.

His left hand left a blazing trail of overheated flesh
down the outside of my arm to my wrist. Once at my wrist he held his hand
loosely while his thumbs drew lazy circles to the inside flesh. No air. There
is no air in here. I began rapidly breathing, trying to find air to force into
my starving lungs. I felt the blood rushing through my veins, setting me on
fire.

"Look at me." I heard him speaking from what
seemed far away.

I must have closed my eyes. I don't remember.

"Maeve, look at me."

He abruptly removed his hand from my wrist and I felt
as if I had lost my lifeline.

I staggered, inhaling sharply as my eyes jerked open.

With his right hand on my neck, he grabbed a handful
of my hair and tipped my head into an upward
s
position. Now I had no
choice but to look at him.

"You okay Maeve?"

"Huh?" Was he speaking English? I think my
eyelids started to droop again.

With the middle finger of his left hand he softly
started tracing the inside of my elbow. I shuddered and my knees went weak.

He caught me before I lost all illusion of being a
lady and went splat on the floor.

"I think we should sit down."

"Huh?"
"Oh,
uh-huh."
For a writer, you'd think I'd have a better grasp of the
English language. Nope.

He chuckled, a soft sweet rumble, making my eyes start
to roll back into my head.

As we sank down into the plush cushions of that
luxurious couch I regained some of my ability to think.

"You know…I bet…if you'd make a recording…"
cough "of that chuckle…" I was having trouble breathing and making a
complete sentence…"Women the world over…" throat clear "would no
longer have a need…for vibrators."

That awarded me the deepest laugh I think I've ever
heard…"I stand corrected…add that laugh too!" My head tipped slightly
down and I smiled a goofy smile with droopy eyelids.

He smiled a beautiful smile that dripped of pure
pleasure.

Hell in a hand basket
.
God, I love that smile!

"Are you going to remember any of this?" He
sure did look awfully pleased with himself.

I sighed. "God, I sure hope so!"

He leaned toward me, snaked his hand behind my neck
and into my hair again. With his favorite leverage, a handful of my hair, he
tilted my head up again.

I moaned and rolled my eyes back into my head. I
shuddered and felt my panties get wetter.

"Maeve, you have no idea what you do to me."

"Ditto."
I was really having a problem stringing two words
together.

With my head tilted, he started kissing me softly. His
tongue tenderly licked my lips. I opened my mouth for him.

Sweeping his tongue into my mouth, he stroked and
prodded, silently telling me of things to come. I trembled.

He let go of my head and elbow and reached for the
front of my shirt. Slowly he undid the buttons, one agonizing button at a time.

For a minute there I seriously thought about smacking
his hand away and just ripping my clothes off.

Then I remembered that's not me.

I was the good girl. I didn't go out clubbing, I
didn't go to bars. I didn't start a date with one guy and pick up a different
guy to end the date with, even if the date wasn't going how I wanted.

I never had sex with a guy until I knew there was a
true emotional connection, a real possibility of a future together (which meant
close to never). I didn't even kiss on the first date.

I had very strict guidelines: I didn't date married
men. I didn't date guys with girlfriends. If a guy had dated the same girl
twice in one week, he was off limits because in my mind he had a girlfriend. I
believed in total monogamy no matter what! And I sure as hell didn't do one
night stands!

So what in the hell was wrong with me? What was it
about this guy that had me weak in the knees, sitting on a couch in a
stranger's office letting him unbutton my shirt? Perfect. Its legitimate, I'm
insane.

Unbuttoning my shirt…he was going so slowly.
So agonizingly slowly.

With the first button, his fingers brushed my skin. An
electrical current singed me everywhere his fingers met my skin.

And with the next button—singed and the
next—singed.

Why couldn't I have worn the shirt that only had three
buttons?
Or a shirt without any buttons?

His touch was sending sparks of heat skimming over the
surface of my body. And those sparks of heat turned into waves.
Waves of sparks and heat traveling across my skin, under my skin
into my muscles, down to the very marrow of my bones.
The waves were
starting in the palms of my hands and the soles of my feet and languidly
rolling into my very core.
So.
Very.
Slowly.

I was so keyed up I thought I was going to explode and
he was taking his sweet time. Agh!

He finally finished unbuttoning my shirt. He moved the
sides of my shirt away from my body. The cool air hit my flushed skin, causing
my nipples to harden into painful nubs.

He pulled away from me so he could look at me.

"Beautiful.
So beautiful."

He sounded a bit breathless. With one hand he began to
knead my breast and stroke my nipple, causing it to harden even more. I didn't
think that was even possible. He leaned down and through my bra he blew a hot
breath onto my nipple and then ever-so-gently bit me. The heat and pressure I
felt in my lower belly and between my legs was so extreme. I had never felt
anything like it before with anyone.

I groaned…"Ryder…" I pushed against his
mouth, trying to get him to do more, to take more.

He placed a hand on my knee and leaned back. Without
his body heat I felt cold, empty. I shivered.

He took off my shoes and set them together in front of
the couch.

Then he eased me back onto the arm of the couch. He
bent my right knee up and placed it against the back of the couch. My left foot
he positioned so only the ball of my foot and toes were on the floor, causing
my knee to be up and my legs splayed open. I tried to close my legs but the
position of my feet made it a bit tough. I felt very vulnerable in this
position. Even though I was still technically fully clothed, I still felt
exposed.

I don't know what expression I was wearing, but he
looked at me with such concern on his face and in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"I've just never really…done anything like
this…" I kind of waved my hand and left arm, gesturing to him and the
office.

He smiled.
Hell in a hand basket.
He really
needed to get that thing patented.

The concern never really left his eyes.

"You are the one truly in control here,
sweetheart. If you want me to stop, I will."

Then he smirked. "Don't get me wrong, it will be
hard as hell to stop and walk away, but if you want me to, I will."

My brain started screaming at me.
Here's your out,
here's your out! This is not you, here's your out!

My body said
Shut.
The.
Fuck. Up!
I deserve a say and I say,
Let's
get
laid!

My body won!

"I'm just
scared
…and
nervous
…and
this. Just.
Isn't me
…and
I'm nervous
…"

He chuckled. "I get the impression you're nervous
.
"

"Would you like to come up with a safe
word?"

"Oh God, are you going to hurt me?"

"Not in a million years."

"Then why do we need a safe word?"

"So if it gets to be too much, you say the safe
word and I stop. Like I said earlier, you're the one in control here. You
decide just how far we go. I just decide where we start. Now unless there's
something you want to try, just tell
me
and I will
make it happen."

"I can't really…think clearly right now…I
guess…um…Just uh…"

He smiled a soft, sweet, caring smile and I felt
butterflies in my stomach as my muscles started dancing under my skin.

He scooted closer to me so his hip was positioned
close, between my legs. I quivered.

He leaned over, resting his left forearm on the arm
rest beside my head and kissed me. It was a soft, gentle kiss. I moaned and
looped my arms around his neck.

I felt like I was falling and I needed an anchor.

His kiss never stopped. It stayed soft and sweet.

He turned his right hand so that he stroked me with
his fingernails.

He started at my cheek and then trailed his fingers
down my jaw, to my neck and on, until he was just above my breast.

The touch was gentle yet it stirred a raging fire
throughout my body.

He continued his torturous stroke of my skin with his
fingernails over my breast and to the front clasp of my bra.

With one fluid snap of his fingers my bra sprang open
and fell away.

Seriously?
I wear a damn bra every day and yet I have trouble working
the blasted clasp. He snaps his fingers and the bitch just falls off.

Still using his fingernails he scraped across my
breast and then my nipple.

There was the slightest flick of pain but it was a
good pain. I moaned a deep guttural moan.

His smile broadened as he scraped my nipple again. He
was rewarded with another deep moan and the twitch of my hips. He scooted his
hips even closer until he was touching me. I instinctively went to close my
legs. He braced his left side against my right knee, effectively pinning it
against the back of the couch. With his right hand he kept my leg from closing
any further. He pushed and opened my legs even more.

I started to freeze up. His kiss deepened and became
somewhat demanding and I forgot about trying to close my legs.

Both of his hands began a unanimous journey up my
thighs. He reached the hem of my skirt and began to lift it upwards. When it
caught between my backside and the couch, he reached under my left thigh,
cupped my bottom and lifted me up enough to hike my skirt up to my waist with
his other hand.

He started trailing kisses down my cheek, jaw and
neck. I squirmed and moaned approval at every kiss. He stopped at my breasts.
With his left hand he began to knead my breast and stimulate my nipple. He took
one in his mouth and sucked it softly. My body jerked and I trembled. His right
hand began tracing the inside edge of my panties. Fire coursed its way through
my veins and I shuddered hard. The sounds I was making had no coherency or
description. I moaned, I groaned, hell, I was just happy to be there.