Battered Not Broken (51 page)

She frowned and turned the water on, splashing her hands in its flow before pressing them to the sides of her head and hastily smoothing down her hair. The rebellious mane – or halo, as Ryan was so fond of calling it – of frizz that surrounded her skull like a fuzzy aura refused to go down without the aid of some serious styling products. “Not fair,” she said. “You hogged the bathroom for half an hour and now you tease me when I’ve only been in here for a minute.”

“I’m not teasing,” he insisted. “I like your hair when it’s like this.”

She slicked another handful of water onto her head anyway. “Why are you all dressed and ready anyway?” He was at least half an hour ahead of schedule.

“I thought we could stop somewhere on the way to work and get breakfast together.”

“Okay. I’ll have to hurry, but I think we can make it.”

He rocked his hips again, pressing the hard rod of his erection against the small of her back.

A frisson raced down her spine, sending color creeping across her cheeks as every muscle in her core tightened. “I’m not going to get anything done if you keep doing that.” Caught between his body and the sink, she was practically his prisoner. Not that it didn’t feel good, but it wasn’t exactly conductive to getting ready for work.

“It doesn’t have to be a sit down breakfast.” He deliberately let his lips tickle her ear, almost biting the edge of it as he spoke. “We could take our time here and pick something up along the way.”

Ally’s heart hammered as if to say
yes, yes, yes
. “There’s that bagel place just down the street.”

“I was thinking the same thing. We could eat in the mustang. Get to work just before nine and no one would be any the wiser.” He slipped a hand between her thighs, running his fingertips over the thin fabric of her panties.

God, she could feel his body heat through the cotton and she’d bet a paycheck that he could feel her dampness, too. “Okay,” she breathed, abandoning her attempts to tame her hair, at least for now.

Two or three seconds later, her panties were around her ankles. Ryan had regained almost all the mobility in the wrist he’d broken, a fact he liked to take advantage of at moments like that. His right hand was still a little pale from being inside a cast for so long and stood out in stark contrast to his black suit sleeve.

He gripped one of her breasts, squeezing and breathing hard against her ear and neck. Her hair was still secured in a knot, leaving her neck bare and exposed to him.

Her pussy seized up when a distinct sound echoed off the tiled bathroom walls – the noise of a zipper being pulled down.

“Your pants will get dirty,” she warned as he rubbed the naked head of his cock against her ass. No way would he be able to wear the black pants to work if he fucked her while wearing them, the zipper parted to free his erection.

A little rustling and his pants and underwear slid down around his ankles, hitting the tile with a muffled
fwump
that sent a bolt of anticipation straight through her core.

“Hold on a sec,” she gasped as he positioned his cock between her thighs, letting the shaft rub against the lips of her pussy. As quickly as she could, she stepped out of her panties. With her feet free, she was able to widen her stance. Spreading her thighs and rocking up onto the balls of her feet, she was ready.

“Damn,” he breathed into her ear, tightening his grip on her breast as he met her eyes in the mirror, then lowered his gaze.

She couldn’t keep from looking at where he held her, either. He supported the curve of her breast from below, holding its weight in his palm. His fingers dented its roundness, her nipple peeking from between two of them, a dark bud that strained the pale pink cotton of her cami. When he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, her thighs quivered.

“Ready?” he asked, his breath rushing into her ear and making her nipple tingle between his fingers.

He had to be purposely teasing her. If her pose and the way her nipples had gone rock hard didn’t scream ready, then what would? “Yeah.”

He maintained his hold on her as he used his other hand to guide the tip of his cock to her entrance. When he flexed his hips, he slid inside her in one long, deep stroke. Balls-deep inside her, he groaned and began to rock against her, plunging in, almost out and completely in again.

Every muscle in her core responded, quivering, tightening and aching in an effort to keep up, to grip him and pull him deeper. There was absolutely nothing between his shaft and her walls, a fact that took the heat and friction of fucking to another level entirely. They’d been making love this way for almost two months, and it still took her breath away every time.

She couldn’t look away from the mirror, where she could watch Ryan’s hands rove over her body, stroking, caressing, squeezing and generally demonstrating just how insubstantial the cami she’d worn to bed was. But she could see her knuckles in her mind’s eye – white and strained as she gripped the edge of the sink, breathing a ragged sigh.

When he reached around her hips and let his fingers fan over her pussy, their tips settling on her clit, she gasped.

Maybe it was because of the thrill of watching him fuck her in the mirror, or maybe it was just because he looked so damn good in a suit, but she came almost immediately. He drove her desire to a fever-pitch as he rubbed her clit, and then everything inside her was shrinking and shuddering, her inner walls rippling with pleasure as they closed in around the hard girth of his shaft.

“God…” he breathed, his lips still brushing her ear. “Fucking hell…”

Succumbing to instinct and the heat of the moment, she stood even higher on her tip-toes, arching her back so that her ass was snug against his groin and he slipped just a little deeper inside her on the next stroke.

Heaven. She’d never thought of it as having no-condom sex against a bathroom sink, but that was what it was. She didn’t care that he was probably making a mess of his suit jacket, or that her cries were echoing throughout the room. All that mattered was that he was so deep inside her that her pussy was stretching in ways it never had before just to accommodate him.

As she came down from the peak of her climax, she lowered herself a little, leaning into the sink and taking some of the pressure off her feet. She maintained the arch in her back though, liking the way it let him penetrate her and the fact that it seemed to be driving him crazy.

His breath rushed out in hot bursts that made her frizz-halo dance as he pumped himself into her with a few last, hard strokes. He said her name when he came and it echoed off the tile and porcelain, sending a last shiver of pleasure down her spine as he filled her with liquid heat.

When he withdrew, she stood flat on her feet at last, continuing to lean against the sink for support for a few more moments before she turned to face him.

“That was so good,” he breathed. “Worth having to put on a new shirt.”

Ally eyed the rumpled button-up that clung to his torso beneath his open suit jacket. It was wet around the edges – definitely not a professional look. “I’m going to jump in the shower while you do that.”

“Right. Then we’ll get bagels.” He stepped out of his pants rather than hiking them back up. If he hadn’t looked so sexy, he would’ve looked funny walking out of the bathroom in a shirt and jacket but nothing covering his lower half.

Inside the shower, Ally hurried to soap and rinse her body, her fingers gliding over her skin, including the two bumps of scar tissue on her left arm that marked where she’d been shot. She and Ryan had both recovered well on the outside over the past two months. Invisible wounds took longer to heal, but most days seemed a little better than the ones before. As long as they had each other, it was hard to imagine that that wouldn’t always be the case.

When she shut off the shower flow and stepped out onto the bathmat wearing only her engagement ring, the bathroom was filled with steam and heat. Not inappropriate, considering what she and Ryan had done to warrant her shower.

Twenty minutes later she’d dressed, conquered her hair and thrown on the neutral daytime make-up that she’d adopted after accepting a job at Greene & Jacobs.

When she’d first arrived in New York she’d considered looking for work as a nail technician but had eventually decided against it. Not everyone got a chance at a new beginning – a fact that had prompted her to take full advantage of hers. When Ryan had mentioned an opening in the company’s finance department, she’d decided that her nail-lacquering days were over.

The job was barely a step above entry-level, but that was okay. She was taking a couple classes at night to prepare herself to move up – fairly, not just because Ryan’s father had implied that her relation to him and Ryan trumped the fact that she didn’t have a college degree. She didn’t mind working – or fighting – for something she really wanted.

Neither did Ryan, which explained why when he emerged from their bedroom freshly dressed, he carried a duffel bag over one shoulder.

“Hold on, let me grab mine before we leave.” She picked up the gym bag she’d hung on one of the coat hooks in the foyer.

They belonged to an MMA gym again – Ryan’s old one. Neither of them were competing, but they were working out and training for the sheer love of it, teaching their healed-over limbs to move as they once had. Hitting the gym together was a welcome retreat after long days spent at the Greene & Jacobs building. And watching Ryan get shirtless and sweaty never got old.

Of course, the sight of him dressed for work was knee-weakening, too. All the polish and professionalism of a tailored suit couldn’t dull the indefinable, rugged edges of his sexiness. There was a saying his friend back in Quantico had quoted when she and Ryan had visited before leaving for New York – once a marine, always a marine.

It was definitely true. No matter what he wore or how well his tattoos were hidden, Ryan would never look like a man who’d spent his whole life in an office. There was just something about him that said he’d been places and done things that couldn’t be experienced from behind a desk.

“Here.” He plucked a light jacket of hers from its hook and helped her into it.

“Thanks.” She leaned up onto her toes, much as she had in the bathroom, seeking his lips. “You have your medication on you, right?” She always asked before they left.

“Yeah.” He wrapped both his arms around her – it felt so good for him to be able to do that without a cast in the way – and drew her close, taking her mouth in a kiss that made her toes curl inside her low-heeled pumps. “We should have lunch together too,” he said, his voice a low rumble of a whisper. “In my office.”

A knowing smile crept unbidden across her face. There were definitely advantages to working in the same building. “I was going to use my lunch break to check out that bridal boutique a few blocks down. I thought I might pick out some invitations.”

“I guess I can deal with that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He caught her left hand and lifted it, his gaze settling on the diamond sparkling on her finger. “It’s not like I’m not looking forward to putting another ring on this hand.” He gave her fingers a squeeze and lowered his mouth, brushing them with his lips as he met her eyes again.

Her heart skipped a beat. Would it ever stop doing that when he surprised her with gestures like that?

Maybe not. And that was okay.

About the Author

Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of many contemporary, paranormal and historical romances, all of them delightfully steamy. She lives on the US East Coast with her family, dogs and horses and spends most of her time letting her very active imagination run wild, penning her next story. When she's not writing, she can usually be found in the saddle or behind a good book with a cup of tea.
You can learn more about Ranae and her books at:

www.ranaerose.com