“Zoe,” he whispered, his heart racing as she clutched hi
s shoulders.
“Yes, Ryan?”
“I’m gonna make this really good for you.”
Her smile was like dawn breaking over Charleston Harbor. “You know you don’t need to worry about me.”
He blinked. Had she actually just said that? “Baby, you can’t stop me from putting your needs first.”
At his declaration, she glanced away, but not before he spied a glint of moisture in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
His chest tightened. Such simple words, but her tone was poignant with surprise and relief. The urge to find her ex-husband and punch the living crap out of him burned in his gut.
Ryan drew in a long, slow, steady breath and pushed all thoughts of anger or violence to the back of his mind.
Her fingers slid into his hair as he dropped his head and lowered his lips to hers. He wanted to start slow and let the passion build at a measured pace, but her hands skimmed over his shoulder and ribs, fingers digging into his skin as her lips parted and a hungry moan erupted from her throat.
Suddenly, holding back was beyond his control. His desire for her had been building since the moment she’d bumped into him at Susannah’s campaign office.
Ryan swept his tongue around hers, deepening the kiss, reveling in the raw hunger with which she kissed him back. In that moment he knew he could never get enough of her. Of the give-and-take between them. Of her passion. Her taste. The way her nails dug into his back and her teeth nipped at his lower lip.
For several seconds her ferocity surprised him. There was always something so reserved and guarded about the way she spoke and moved. Who would’ve guessed all this unruliness bubbled beneath her watchful eyes and careful expressions?
“Tell me what you like,” she whispered.
“How about I show you instead.”
Seven
Ryan’s words sent a cascade of happiness through Zoe. For days she’d been imagining this moment, but nothing she’d dreamed up had come close to the thrill of Ryan’s hard body pressing her into the cushions. She bent her knee and the fabric of his slacks scraped against her sensitive inner thigh. Every nerve ending cried out for the touch of his skin on hers.
She’d worn her sexiest underwear tonight and a wrap dress that came undone with a simple tug. She hadn’t wanted buttons or zippers to get in the way of his hands finding her naked flesh. Unfortunately, with his weight bearing down on her, she couldn’t get free of her clothes. The frustration made her groan.
“You smell delicious,” he murmured, trailing soft kisses down her neck. “It was the second thing I noticed about you.”
“What was the first?” she asked.
“Your eyes,” he told her. “They were the most amazing color I’d ever seen.”
“I noticed that your hands were strong and also gentle. It made me wonder what it would be like to have them all over my body.”
Setting her foot on the couch, she shifted her position until he slid into the V between her thighs. He was now in a much better position for her to get some relief from the ache pulsing between her legs.
She bumped her hips against his, rocking the most sensitive part of her against the hard ridge straining his zipper. The move caused him to release a husky groan. He slid his hand over her butt, pulling her hard against him.
“Do that again,” he commanded, his fingertip skimming beneath her silk panties.
This time when she repeated the move, she gave her hips a little twist and his fingers grazed close enough to where she so desperately craved his touch that she whimpered.
She slid her fingers into his hair and imagined all the sexy, dirty things she was going to do to him. Sex with Tristan hadn’t always been about romance or even passion. Sometimes she’d felt anonymous beneath him. Especially when he’d flip her onto her stomach and take her from behind. At that moment she could’ve been anyone to him. It hadn’t occurred to her at first. She’d been a virgin on her wedding night, having never experimented with boys her own age. Which meant that a man who was eleven years her senior, with a lot more life experience, could convince her that whatever he told her was the truth.
And it wasn’t as if she had friends she could reach out to about the subject. She’d run with a similarly sheltered group of women who’d pledged virginity until marriage. Nor could she speak to her mother about such a subject. Helena Alston was a soft-spoken, Southern gentlewoman who would be scandalized to discuss such private bedroom matters.
Later, when Zoe had established herself in society and gained some confidence, she’d realized that asking questions of her peers about their intimate moments would only point out her naïveté and open her up to ridicule. Since maintaining appearances was so important to Tristan, she’d hesitated to say or to do anything that might leave anyone questioning his ability to satisfy a woman in bed.