Chapter 13: Chapter 13

What the hell am I doing?

The question crashed through the jumble of his thoughts, loud as cymbals and for the life of him, Ryan had no answer to that.

Correction, he did have an answer, just not the one he wanted to admit to his conscience right now. So he forced the question to the back of his mind and concentrated on the taste and feel of Sam's lips against his own.

Soft, pliant, with a hint of strawberries, probably from her lipstick. It was a deadly combination that went straight to his dick, rendering him fully hard in seconds.

Sam stiffened against him, and for one dreadful moment, he braced himself for a kick in the nuts. Hell, it was what he'd do if he where in her shoes. It was what he needed her to do, so he could prove to her he was really a jerk.

He needed this to happen, because hopefully, maybe she would then keep her distance, and no longer look at him with trust shining in her eyes like she had moments ago.

But then, she seemed to melt against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, hands rising to curl around his neck, a small gasp escaping her lips and he damn near lost his mind. He took advantage of her parted lips to plunge into her mouth, her tongue tangling with his, in a passionate dance, flaming a hunger for more.

This was no tentative exploring, rather an explosion of the attraction that had been simmering between them since that almost kiss in his office. The moment that had haunted his dreams for the past few days.

God! She tasted even better than in his dreams, all forbidden sweetness.

A sound filled the small space, and he realized the groan came from him. He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her harder against him, his dick hard and throbbing against her lower belly, prompting him to grind against her, a sharp hiss escaping from the both of them at the pleasurable friction created by the move.

Every last iota of anger melted away, his frustration over his father's disregard vanished, to be replaced by white, hot need.

He reached down to graze his fingers against the place where her dress ended, and his fingers brushed bare skin. From the moment she'd walked into the boardroom wearing that sexy dress, he'd been filled with a need to slip it off, and worship her body with his hands and mouth.

Gathering the fabric till it bunched in his fist, he tugged, exposing more of her silky skin till the dress gathered at her hips. His hungry fingers traced patterns over her upper thighs, enjoying the little moans she made in his mouth.

Then, Ryan felt her tense, seconds before her hands, which had been resting on his shoulder pushed against him, demanding to be let go.

He obeyed, breaking the kiss and took a step back, and another, until his back hit the opposite wall and there was a respectable distance between them. His heart thundered against his chest, skin pricking from the loss of her warmth against him and he dragged in a lungful of air in a vain effort to calm his racing pulse.

Their eyes locked, hers wide with shock, dismay and the remnants of passion flickering in their depths. Lips, swollen glistening and parted slightly, and he clamored to taste her again.

He shook his head, in an effort to clear the lust filled haze that wrapped around his brain, turning his thoughts to molasses and waited for Sam to speak, bracing for a scathing condemnation.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, and as he watched, she dragged in a shaky breath and pulled herself together. When she next opened her eyes, her gaze was cool, but not before he caught a flicker of an expression cross her face.

Hurt.

Just then, the elevator gave a jolt, the failsafe override having kicked in, and the car continued its descent as though nothing had happened in the last sixty seconds.

Sam broke eye contact, turning away from him to look at the mirrored wall and busied herself smoothing her hair and clothes. The action seemed almost normal, but Ryan could see the tense set of her shoulders, and the slight tremble of her fingers as they ran over her dress.

Guilt slammed into him. "Sam -"

"Don't." She didn't turn to look at him, simply dropped her arms to rest stiffly by her sides, her gaze fixed on the glowing panel. The doors slid open to the fortunately deserted parking floor, and she stepped aside, silently requesting him to leave.

But Ryan couldn't bring himself to move. He felt like the worst sort of heel, and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and apologize until she forgave him.

He tried again. "I'm -"

She turned to look at him then, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Go to your meeting," her tone was cutting. "You've made your point, loud and clear. Go."

Knowing there was nothing he could say, for now at least until she'd cooled down a little, he sighed, straightened his tie and jacket and came to stand beside her. He let his shoulder brush against hers, the gesture conveying the words she forbade him utter and made his way to his car.

****

He barely managed to get through the meeting, his concentration shot to hell, his brain alternating between a graphic replay of the kiss, to beating himself up for forgetting his damn principles, to a burning need to talk to Sam.

But hot damn, the woman knew how to kiss! For those glorious seconds, Sam had more than matched him stroke for stroke. It had been like a duel, a hot, glorious battle to give and take as much pleasure as they could.

"Something funny, Silverton?" Mr. Greer, his client raised an unamused eyebrow at Ryan.

"Huh?" Ryan shot the silver haired man a puzzled look, then cursed under his breath when he realized he'd probably had a stupid grin on his face while thinking of the kiss that should never had happened.

"I'm sorry about that." He forced his mind clean of his lascivious thoughts and focused on the blueprints spread out on a work desk.

The sounds of heavy machinery filtered through the open windows of the makeshift office, punctuated by shouts from Ryan's crew and the smell of paint and fresh sawn wood.

Greer grunted at the apology and laid a meaty finger on the plans. "Here's where I want to change. I think the upper floor should be wider..."

Ryan listened intently, adding his input when necessary. A tour to survey the progress on the chain of ongoing department store builds in several parts of the city took the better part of the day, and by late afternoon, he was more than happy to toss safety goggles, hard hat and protective vest and call it a day. His jacket and tie had been discarded ages ago, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to elbows.

He glanced at his watch and grimaced. Already going on six p.m. Sam would probably be out of the office by now, so there was little use heading back there.

He briefly toyed with the idea of calling, or sending her a text, maybe ask to meet over the weekend so they could talk, but discarded the idea. Besides, he had a hunch she would turn him down anyway.

As he slid behind the wheel of his car, he wondered what she was doing right this minute. Probably with her fiance, and sparing no thought to the jerk who'd stolen a kiss from an engaged woman.

Her fiance was a damn lucky man. Ryan's gut twisted at the thought of the other man touching Sam, kissing and making love to her. Did she respond with as much fire and passion as she had with him?

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scanned the text

You coming tonight?

He frowned at the words until the meaning registered. His old college housemate, Landon Meyers was the owner of a chain of exclusive nightclubs, most of which Ryan had helped him build. Tonight was the grand opening of Sylph, his second club in Manhattan, and one Ryan'd had a big hand in designing.

Sliding the screen open, he typed a reply.

Nah, I'm beat. Had a long day. Congrats on the opening!

He hit send, and Meyers replied almost instantly.

Nerd. I know the new God of War drops tonight and you'll be glued to your PS4 all night. Don't you know pixel pussy can never replace the real thing? C'mon bro, let me hook you up with some of the best ass in Manhattan who'll blow your socks off. You'll thank me.

Ryan smiled and shook his head in fond exasperation. Meyers was always trying to set him up with one from his bevy of long limbed, sultry women whom he seemed to gather in spades. Probably helped that the guy was richer than Croesus, and looked like a fucking demigod.

This new GoW doesn't feature naked women, idiot. Just his son, and Valkyries. You know I'm a sucker for women who can kick ass and look good. And no thanks, not interested in a blow job.

Dork.

Prick. Have fun tonight.

Grinning at the juvenile eggplant emoji Meyers sent in reply, Ryan tossed his phone on the passenger seat and started the engine, listening as his baby came to life with a satisfying growl.

****

Two hours later, he growled in frustration and tossed the controller aside, the game doing nothing to stop his mind from wandering to Sam.

Images of Sam wrapped in the arms of some faceless guy, moaning the way she'd moaned when his tongue had been in her mouth, plagued his mind to the demise of his concentration.

He flopped back against the futon, hand over his eyes and groaned. Why the fuck was he so attracted to an unavailable woman? What kind of sick joke was Fate playing on him?

This whole thing was ridiculous. There were thousands of available women who would welcome him into their beds, should he chose to put himself out there. Women who wouldn't send his conscience plunging into the murk for entertaining thoughts of fucking them against his desk, or the elevator, or his bed or...

Shit! He reached down and cupped his aching balls through his sweats, squeezing a bit in the hopes of relieving some of the pressure.

It didn't help at all.

Uttering another curse, he rose from the futon, scooping up his phone on the way to the bathroom. His fingers flew over the screen, as he typed a message to Meyers.

Changed my mind. Will be there in an hour.

He hoped Meyers wasn't too busy to see the text. Not that it mattered really. Meyers had his name permanently on the VIP list, so all he had to do was show up.

It took slightly more than an hour, but Ryan was soon stepping past the line that stretched endlessly, hands thrust in the pockets of the black leather jacket he wore over a red shirt, and fitted black jeans.

Intending to have more than one drink, he'd chosen to leave his car at home, calling an Uber instead. As he strode past, a group of three women, dressed to the nines in the skimpiest clothes he'd ever seen, smiled at him. He smiled back, but didn't linger, walking up to the bouncers standing by the doors.

"Silverton." He gave his name, and after checking it on his tablet, one of the bouncers motioned him in.

The music hit him the minute he stepped into the club, strobe lights and Friday night revelers surrounding him on all sides. He stood, disoriented for a minute, until a woman, dressed in a short, black sheath approached.

"Mr. Silverton?" She inquired, and when he nodded, wondering if he knew her from somewhere, she beckoned for him to follow her.

"Do I know you?" He asked, trailing after her, his gaze dropping momentarily to the mesmerizing sway of her hips and long legs as she walked. He raised his gaze back to her face in time to catch her knowing smile.

"Landon asked me to look out for you."

"Oh."

He followed her, weaving through gyrating bodies, all the while the heady beat pouring from speakers reverberated in his skull.

The VIP section was on the second floor, an oval room that seemed to dangle over the dance floor with no visible support, mirrored glass over the walls and floor created the illusion to its occupants of being suspended over thin air, the floor below visible from the inside, but to those outside, the glass was opaque, offering a measure of privacy for Landon's exclusive patrons.

The concept and execution had been Ryan's idea, and seeing it completed gave him satisfaction.

"Hey Dork!" Landon Meyers rose from a pristine white couch, drink in hand to welcome his friend. He pulled Ryan into a one handed hug, his handsome face beaming. "Glad to see you could make it."