Chapter 17: Chapter 17

The traitor was gone before Sam could even draw breath to protest. She cursed under her breath, and glared at Dee’s retreating back, mentally planning ways to eviscerate the bloody woman.

She heard what sounded like a chuckle and swung around to glare at Ryan.

"Don't you dare laugh."

He wiped the grin off his face and held up both hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dream of it. But I like Dee."

"Of course, you do," Sam muttered, giving him the evil eye, hands crossed over her chest. "You're not the one she just abandoned to the wolves."

An eyebrow rose, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. At that moment, he looked positively wolfish - and delicious goosebumps filled her skin.

“I’m a wolf?” He took a step closer, his voice deep and definitely dangerous - too dangerous for her mental constitution.

Sam felt her heart slam against her ribs, the traitorous organ all too ready to forget she was supposed to be mad at him.

Useless organ.

She lifted her chin and forced herself to maintain eye contact, hoping like hell he couldn’t hear the rapid beats of her heart or notice the ticking pulse at the base of her throat, or the way her silly mouth moistened in readiness for contact with his.

“If it walks like one and talks like one,” she replied, pleased to hear her voice sound so cool. “Chances are, it’s a wolf.”

Amusement flickered in his expression, but then, his eyes did drop to her neck, more accurately, to the gently throbbing spot and a feral gleam lit those grey depths.

Oh, goddess.

"Mmm...maybe you’re right.” he murmured, taking another step, this one bringing his body to brush against hers, her breast, against his chest, nipples instantly hardening to tight buds.

Don’t be easy prey, Sameera.

She lifted a hand to his chest in a bid to stop him from coming closer and gulped as his heat threatened to engulf her entire body, concentrating on the area between her thighs. The rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingers told Sam he was just as affected by her touch as she was.

His own hand closed over her wrist, a pained look crossing his face as though her touch burned him. Instead of removing her hand, he merely held it steady, just like he held her gaze, the rhythm of his heartbeat somehow falling in sync with the electro pulse that thumped through the club. Passion sizzled like a forcefield between them, and Sam felt like sinking into the dark promise his gaze offered.

Still, a small part of sanity intruded. The part that knew to allow herself to be swept up in the moment would only result in disaster. With that in mind, she broke eye contact, lowering her eyes to level with his neck, not that it helped much.

"You wanted to talk." She reminded him, letting her hand fall, and tried to ignore the wave of disappointment that ran through her at the loss of contact.

Ryan looked lost for a minute, as though he'd forgotten what he was here for. Then, his eyes cleared, and he nodded, then looked around.

“Yes, I -” A group of chattering ladies entered the narrow corridor, and he broke off with a grimace.

Sam let out a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the interruption, that quickly turned to alarm when a strong arm came round her waist and she was pulled back against Ryan.

“What are you doing?” Her attempt at sounding indignant came out as a breathless squeak instead and she flushed. Stupid, stupid brain.

“We’re in the way.” Ryan murmured in her ear, and she shivered as his breath fanned against her ear. Now, her own heartbeat thumped as fast as his, her erratic pulse speeding out of control.

She shut her eyes at the sensory overload but quickly opened them again as high pitched giggling filled her ears. The ladies squeezed past, casting Sam looks of blatant envy and long, lingering looks at Ryan, feminine appreciation clearly written on their faces.

“Sorry for being in the way, ladies,” Ryan said, going extra heavy on the charm. Sam looked up just in time to catch the lazy wink he sent their way. Her fingers clenched and a sinking feeling hit her stomach. He’d never sounded that charming to her before, but had no problems slathering it on for a bunch of women he’d never met?

Wait. Why should I even care?

Whatever the women replied passed over Sam’s head, as she was too engrossed in thinking up reasons for not caring about what this man did with other women. Reason number one being, it was none of her damn business and should never be in any case.

“We can’t talk here,” Ryan’s voice distracted her from reason number two. She glanced up at him to find him watching her with that same heated gaze as before. He let go of her waist, only to take her hand in his and turned, leading her back to the main floor.

“Wait. Where are we going?” Sam had to raise her voice as they entered the room, the music nearly drowning out all other sounds. Ryan was steering them past the tables, now mostly filled up, and towards the back end of the hall, where two heavy-set men stood guard over a set of opaque double doors.

“Upstairs,” Ryan yelled back, turning to give her an assuring smile. Her stupid heart skipped a beat, of course. “It’s much quieter there.”

Sam nodded, even though he’d already turned away. Then another thought surfaced and she tugged on his arm. “Dee won’t know where I am.”

He ushered her past the two men, who merely nodded and pulled open the door, to reveal a small hallway ending in a flight of stairs. As soon as the doors closed behind them, the noise faded to a dull thump, thump.

Sam tugged her hand free of his and repeated her statement in case he hadn’t heard the first time. “Dee will worry when she goes back there and we’re not there.”

A look of comprehension flitted across Ryan’s face. “She’s with her cell, right?”

“Yes,” Sam replied, idly rubbing her arms. This place was much cooler than the place they’d just left. “But, I don’t have mine.”

She’d left her phone charging at Dee’s place since she had a tendency to lose the damn thing if she held it on to it without the aid of a bag or a purse. Plus, Yash had scared the crap out of her with warnings about keeping it too close to her skin, so tucking it into her cleavage was out.

Ryan fished his phone out his pants pocket, unlocked it and handed it over. “Here, text her and let her know to come this way.”

The device was still warm from being near his body. Sam took it, the warmth seeping into her fingers. The rustle of leather caught her attention, and she watched him shrug off his jacket, and he moved behind her to drape it over her bare shoulders. Warmth flooded her entire being at the gesture, and she looked up at him, surprised.

His mouth quirked at her expression. “Even wolves know how to act human now and then.” He pointed at the phone. “Text your friend, while I tell the guys at the door to let her in when she comes.”

He turned to walk away, but Sam called out after him.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop through your stuff?” she asked, eyebrows raised in query. “I’ll bet there are tons of dirty, sexy pics you don’t want me to see.”

Her question seemed to greatly amuse him, setting off a peal of laughter. “Princess, that’s one bet you have no chance of winning.”

“Which is it? You don’t have dirty pics you jack off to, or you’re not afraid I’ll judge you even if there are.”

Still chuckling, he moved closer, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Both.” He whispered, the sound going straight between her legs. “Plus, I don’t need dirty pictures to get me off, not when I can touch, taste and enjoy the real thing.”

He was gone before her befuddled brain could think of a suitable reply.

With fingers that trembled, she typed out a text and entered in Dee’s number from memory. That done, she held onto the phone, resisting the temptation to snoop. Ryan seemed to take his time coming back, and she suspected it was a deliberate move to give her enough time to snoop. Well, she wasn't that interested in his life.

Nope. Not one bit.

Liar.

He returned, quirking an eyebrow in a silent query but Sam merely smirked and handed the phone back.

"Thanks for letting me use it," she told him, "And for the jacket."

He said nothing, just took it and slipped it back in the pocket, then reached for her hand once more. "Come on."

Sam followed, upstairs, and onto a glass-enclosed catwalk. She glanced down at the roiling mass of bodies on the floor below, moving in rhythm to the electronica music being spun by a Deejay in the corner. Feeling queasy from the height, she averted her eyes and focused instead, on the back of the man walking in front of her. Without his jacket, she could now appreciate how good he looked even from behind. Unbidden, her wandering eyes strayed lower, to dwell on his butt.

It was a nice butt, she surmised, firm and perfectly sculpted, especially covered in those jeans. Her fingers itched to touch, but she tightened her grip on the lapels of his jacket instead and roundly scolded herself for having lascivious thoughts.

“Are you checking out my ass?” The amusement in his tone made Sam’s head shoot up, and a deep flush suffused her skin as to find that he’d stopped moving and was now staring at her with a smug grin.

Kill me now, please.

“No, I wasn’t!” the protest sounded weak, even to her ears and she inwardly cringed. “I was looking down at the dancefloor.”

Way to go Sameera. Now, he probably thinks you’re a liar and a perv.

Judging by his smirk, Ryan didn’t believe her either.

“Sure, you were.” He chuckled and pushed against a mirrored wall, and when it swung open, Sam realized there was a room behind it. “When are you going to admit you enjoy looking, Princess?”

When hell freezes over. She retorted silently.

Aloud, she merely sniffed and stalked past him, held high in some semblance of dignity. His chuckle followed her into the room, and he shut the door, drowning out the sounds of the party.

Sam glanced around the room, lit up in a reddish glow by colored lights embedded in the ceiling. It was a lavishly decorated room, furnished with a private bar, a large screen TV at one end, a white couch and chair clustered around a glass coffee table. Red silk curtains draped over the floor to ceiling glass windows and the floors were made of the same, so they had an unobstructed view of the floor below. The temperature was much warmer here, and she shrugged off Ryan's jacket, draping it over the back of a chair.

Ryan crossed to the bar and picked up a half-filled decanter. "Drink?"

She thought back to the five glasses she'd already consumed and shook her head in the negative. Wits were definitely going to be needed for the next few minutes else she was in danger of giving in to her lustful desires.

He poured himself a glass of whatever spirit was in the decanter, took a sip and stood, staring out the window wearing a contemplative look on his face, completely ignoring her for the moment.

Sam settled onto the couch and watched him watch the crowd, wondering at the thoughts running through his mind. She decided to wait until he was ready to speak before saying anything, and thus, another minute passed in silence.

Finally, he stirred and looked her way. "How do you know Erin?"

Nonplussed at the unexpected question, it took her a moment to reply. "Er...who?"

"Erin Gosling." He clarified, his gaze searching her expression as though hoping to find the answer written there.

"Oh," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just met her tonight, actually. She's a friend to someone who knows Dee."

Did he look...relieved? His shoulders certainly lost some of its tension.

It was her turn to ask. "You know her?"

How did he even know she had been in Erin's company?

Oh! She glanced at the floor and remembered the feeling of being watched that had assailed her earlier. So that had been him?

"She's just someone I used to know."

The vague answer only stirred her curiosity, and she couldn't help asking. "An ex?"

A self-mocking smile crossed his face. "No."

He didn't seem inclined to elaborate further and she let the matter drop.

"Were you watching me earlier?" She asked instead.

Ryan chuckled and stepped out from behind the bar, coming to sit beside her on the couch. "The guy you were with, is he...?"

"Hey! I asked first." Sam leaned over to lightly punch his arm. "Don't evade the question."

His eyebrow rose and he grinned. "I had no idea we were playing question tag."

"Ryan!"

"Fine," he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I was in another room with friends and I happened to notice you sitting downstairs. So, of course, I watched you, even when you danced with that guy."

Was it her imagination, or did he sound disgruntled?

He gestured with the hand holding the glass. "So, that guy?"

"Just met him tonight, not that it's any of your business." She retorted saucily, punching him again. This time, however, he caught her fist, easily swallowing it in his large hand.

His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint in their depths. "That so?"

Her heart started its erratic beat again, as he brought her hand to his lips, his fingers prying her fist open so he could press a kiss to her open palm, his gaze fixed on her face.

“I owe you an apology,” he murmured against her palm. “For how I acted yesterday. I shouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me.”

His breath tickled the sensitive flesh, sending tiny flutters up and down Sam’s spine. “Has the relationship between you and your father always been like that?”

Ryan’s smile was bitter as he released her hand and turned away, but not before she caught a glimpse of the sadness lurking in his expression. Her heart went out to him, and she wanted to hold him and offer some form of comfort.

“Not always,” he finally replied, tension returning to his shoulders. “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I took advantage and you ended up hurt by it and I’m sorry.”

Sam moved closer, setting her hands on his shoulders. She felt him stiffen for a moment, the tense muscles bunching up beneath her touch. His head swiveled round to look at her, an unreadable look on his face.

She bravely met his gaze, even as her fingers began massaging the tense muscles. Heat flared up between them, hotter and stronger than before.

“Sam.”

She stopped, a tremble running through her as she yearned to hear her name on his lips again.

“Yes?” she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“If I kiss you now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop this time.” He turned fully to level the full force of those eyes on her. “You should leave now.”

Before it’s too late. Those unspoken words hovered in the air between them.

Sam’s mouth went dry, while down below, wetness drenched her panties. At that moment, she knew he wouldn’t stop her if she stood up and walked away, which would be the sane thing to do right now.

I should go.

She leaned forward instead and closed the distance.

A primal groan rumbled from him as their lips met, and a delicious shiver passed down Sam’s spine at the sound and need that emanated from him. Ryan quickly took control, his tongue seeking and gaining entrance to her mouth, devouring, nipping, sucking; while his hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her to settle on his lap. Sam’s hands cupped his face as she swung a leg over to straddle him, the move bringing her aching softness into contact with his turgid hardness.

She moaned and rocked against him, loving the way his hands moved under her dress to cup her ass, grinding her harder while he rocked as well, every nerve in her body focused on the ravenous space between her thighs.

But it was not enough. Her body needed...craved more. Luckily, Ryan was consumed with the same urgency, the same desperation to touch and taste every inch, to drown in the sweet sensations. His lips left hers to trail down her throat, leaving a trail of fire with every lick, every little nip, while his hands got busy, nudging aside the tiny straps of her dress and freed the front clasp of her bra to let her breasts spill free.

“God, Sam.” He moaned against her skin, causing goosebumps over the highly sensitized flesh.

Ryan filled both hands with her breasts, and she gripped his shoulders and arched into his touch, a breathless cry spilling from her as his thumbs brushed the hardened peaks, before taking one into the wet heat of his mouth.

Filled with an urgency to touch his bare skin, Sam's hands frantically worked slipping free the buttons of his shirt, she tugged at the edges and he helped her shrug it off, leaving her with a view of his glorious, naked chest.

"I need to taste you, Sam." Ryan murmured, and then he lifted her off him, setting her back on the couch. A gentle hand on her belly pushed her down until she lay back, wondering what he was up to. He came over her, supporting his weight on his arms and kissed her deeply, his lower body rocking against her, the rough fabric of his jeans abrasive against her bare thighs.

He broke the kiss to blaze another trail of fire down south, pausing briefly to suck each nipple into his mouth before going down, one hand pushing her dress, now bunched up hopelessly, down. She lifted her hips to aid him to slip the dress off, and he raised his head to look at her as she lay, clad only in tiny lace panties.

A wave of shyness hit Sam and she averted her gaze from the burning grey depths of his. Other than her fiance, she had never been in this state of undress with any man, and for one moment, she worried Ryan might find her unsatisfactory. Her stomach wasn't exactly flat, and her hips were a bit on the wide side and there was the matter of the birthmark on her upper thighs...

"You're so exquisite." The awe in his voice had her looking at him, searching for any sign of empty flattery, but all she found in those grey eyes was pure admiration and lust.

The butterflies in her belly stilled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down for another kiss. The urgency returned once more, and he slipped a hand beneath her panties, to cup her wet center.

"Oh god!" She cried out as he found her clit and played with it, taking the sensitive flesh between two fingers and rolling it, pleasure bathing her in waves as she became even wetter under the onslaught of his expert fingers.

Head thrown back, senses reeling, Sam clung to his shoulders for dear life, breath coming out in short gasps as she arched into his touch, riding on wave after wave of the sweetest sensation.

Still caught on a high, she was barely aware of him tugging off the soaked underwear, the frantic way he divested himself of his jeans, the telltale crinkle of protection being unwrapped.

"Sam?" The rough urgency in his voice caused her lazy eyelids to flutter open. He was poised above her, face strained from the effort of holding back.

"Mmm?" She mumbled, lifting her head to look between them.

He was rock hard and throbbing, and she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked him the silky steel length. He growled, gritted his teeth and jerked his hips at her touch, a litany of words she recognized as a prayer spilling from his mouth before he grabbed her hand and lifted it off him.

"Princess, the only place I want to be when I come, is inside you," the words were issued in a ragged, harsh tone. "So, unless you want this to be over before we even begin, it's best not to do that."

She couldn't help the giggle that escaped, the sound quickly changing to a moan when he set her legs on his shoulders and entered her in one long thrust. Her body stretched to receive him, and she moaned again, as the feeling of being deliciously full overtook her.

"Oh god, yes!" She arched into him, drawing him in deeper, her hands gripping the headrest above her head for leverage.

"Oh fuck, you're so goddamn tight, so sweet." Ryan began to move within her, each thrust eliciting fresh groans from him and cries from her.

The room filled with the sounds of their frantic lovemaking, punctuated by pleas for more, sweat slippery bodies moving together in a shared rhythm.

Another wave of orgasm crashed over Sam, and she screamed Ryan's name, just as he lost control and followed her over the edge, her name a prayer on his lips.

****

For long moments afterward, the only sound in the room was the sound of their ragged breaths. His muscles turned to jelly, Ryan let go of her legs, still unable to muster the will to even withdraw from inside her. His senses were still covered in a pleasant sort of fog, but deep down, his subconscious screamed mercilessly.

What the fuck have I done?

He'd just let go of his principles, had ignored the warning bells clamoring at the back of his head since leading Sam into this room and had done the one thing he'd vowed never to do.

Shit! I'm no better than Nicky.

The thought was like a bucket of cold water, cooling whatever was left of his ardor. Guilt slammed into him, tearing the remnants of his conscience to shreds.

With a curse, he scrambled up, unable to look down at the woman lying there, to look at the evidence of his worthlessness. He turned away, the urge to punch something strong within him, but he barely restrained himself.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Grabbing his underpants and jeans, he tugged them on and began hunting for his shirt. A rustling from the couch made him freeze, and seconds later her voice literally dragged a fucking knife down his back.

"Ryan?" There was a wealth of confusion in her voice, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

He took in a deep breath, and the smell of sex filled his nostrils, yet another arrow striking home. Chills crawled up his spine, blind panic threatening to swallow him alive if he didn't escape from her soon.

Where the fuck was that damned shirt?

"Ryan, what's going on?" Sam asked again, a tremble in her voice.

Oh god! He was now an accomplice to cheating. The bastard who fucked a woman knowing full well she was engaged to someone else.

He had become his own worst nightmare.

"This was a mistake." The words were torn out of him and he heard her shocked gasp. But he still didn't look at her.

"What?" Her tone was a mix of shock, disbelief, hurt and anger. "You're...you're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking?"

"We should never have…" he couldn't bring himself to say the words. "...You're engaged and we shouldn't have…"

"I'm what?"