Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face. President. Okay. He didn’t see that one coming. “The driver doesn’t know who you are. We never mentioned a name, just an address.”
“Maybe he knows who I am and maybe he doesn’t,” she said. “But I don’t have the luxury of taking that risk. My private life has to be my private life. That I can’t change by moving. I wish I could but I can’t. The minute a politician runs for higher office, people crawl out of the woodwork to tell their stories, truth or fiction. I don’t want to be one of those stories.”
He stopped, checked himself. He didn’t want to leave and that was where this was headed. He wanted this woman next to him, beneath him, wanted her calling his name. He vowed to do whatever it would take. It didn’t matter that she was finding herself and would, no doubt, carry her fine little backside right back to New York. There was here. There was now. And there was a father running for President.
Another silent curse followed, as he reined in his control, and gained a new respect for Sabrina in the process. He’d chosen to be a soldier and chosen when not to be. She was hungry to have choices and still felt without them.
“I’ll leave.” But he didn’t let go of her hand; he couldn’t make himself. Instead his fingers gently stroked her palm.
A conflicted look flashed across her face, torment showed in her gorgeous green eyes before her dark lashes swept low on ivory cheeks, lingered and then lifted.
“Right,” she said softly. “You’d better.”
Disappointment, regret, laced the words. And she didn’t move any more than he did. Didn’t make any effort to distance herself from him. She swallowed, her delicate neck moving with the action, her hand—tiny and delicate—still in his.
Ryan studied her, searching for answers with the same intent he would the members in a mission. Analyzing the emotions he saw in her. Understanding. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want him to let her go so easily. She wanted an escape. And now, she expected him to turn around and walk out the door. Well, Ryan had never been one to do the expected. He wasn’t going to start with Sabrina. Not with his blood pumping liquid fire.
He tightened his hand on hers and led her toward the stairwell.
“What are you doing?” Sabrina whispered behind him. “Ryan!”
He didn’t reply. She’d find out his intention soon enough. There was something about Sabrina he likened to the adrenaline rush he got the minute the plane door opened and he knew the world was about to explode around him in some mad, uncertain, amazing way. Just once in her life, Sabrina needed to feel that feeling. And he was going to be the man to show her how.
Ryan yanked open the stairwell door, scanned for cameras and found none. Tugged Sabrina forward and pressed her back against the closed door, framing her legs with his. Nuzzled the thickness of his erection against her stomach. He could smell her, damn near taste her. Oh yeah, he was gonna taste her all right. In all kinds of ways.
Her hands went to his chest. “Ryan! Are you crazy?!” Her green eyes glistened with flecks of amber warmth. It wasn’t normally a woman’s eyes he got lost in, but then, he was normally restricted to a dark bar and a quick goodbye before another mission. This time, the woman was his mission.
“Daring,” he corrected, wrapping a hand around her neck to bring her to him. “Like you want to be.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded, raspy, aroused, sexy as hell.
“Someone will see us! What about cam—”
He kissed her—no, he drank her as he had the cool, perfect water that had saved his life not so long ago, in a place he’d rather forget. This kiss, this woman—neither one did he want to forget, nor did he expect he ever would.
***
“NO CAMERAS.”
Sabrina had barely processed Ryan’s statement before his lips once again possessed hers in another drugging, impossible-to-resist kiss, sweeping her into a deep, lust filled haze. She struggled for sanity, willed her hands to shove Ryan away, instead losing herself in the rich, male taste of him. Desperately, she struggled to remain stiff and unyielding, failing miserably. Every slow, sensual stroke of Ryan’s tongue against hers drew her deeper into a spell, and slowly, slowly, her fingers softened against his hard muscle rather than trying to press him away from her.
A tiny part of her brain continued to scream with the fear of being caught, with the frustration of having to worry at all. But Ryan’s touch, his tongue, his taste—it was all too much to resist. With a moan, she arched into his touch, his hands sliding across her back, caressing her into a burning need she wasn’t sure she could fight, wasn’t sure she wanted to fight.
This was what people talked about when they said they were consumed with need. She knew now. Had never understood before.
Another caress of his hand, another caress of his tongue, another rush of his spicy male scent, and worry slid away, the stairwell with it. Ryan was everything, Ryan was her next breath.
Abandonment came with a rush of passion and Sabrina suddenly couldn’t get close enough to him. She pressed to her toes, reaching urgently for more of his mouth. Moaned when he deepened the kiss, a plea for more in the wordless demand. She reached for his shirt and worked her hand under the cotton, desperate to touch him. Sighing with the warmth of his skin, warm all over, she was just plain hot.
He cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples through her T-shirt. Her mind conjured an image of his mouth on her nipple. His lips found her jaw, her neck, and her head fell back against the door, welcoming the erotic invasion. Frustration rolled inside her as a tiny sliver of familiar fear and guilt slid into her consciousness and threatened to steal this escape. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered roughly, unconvincing even to her own ears.
“I told you,” he said, his hand sliding under her shirt and over her breast again, teeth nipping her earlobe. “No worrying.” He shoved down her bra and tweaked her nipple.
A gasp fell from her lips, his name with it. “Ryan.”
He kissed his name from her lips. “Sabrina,” he murmured, his tongue caressing hers, his hips shifting, lowering, his thick erection pressing against her, promising satisfaction. “Trust me.”
Cynically, she laughed. “The famous words uttered at just the right moment from someone who wants something.”
“But you really can trust me,” he assured her, dropping to one knee, his hands on her hips, her waist, inching up her shirt. His breath was warm on the V of her body. Shock rushed over her, mingled with uncontrollable arousal.
“What are you doing?” she demanded urgently. “Get up. Someone is going to find us.”
“No one will find us,” he promised, his lips touching her bare stomach, his tongue dipping into her belly button. “Relax.” His fingers worked the side of her pants down as his lips grazed her hips.
“Ohh,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “Stop. We have to…” He tugged her sweats farther down and slid a hand over her bare backside.
“No panties,” he said approvingly, his fingers curving her backside, brushing the crevice of her cheek and taking her pants farther down. His mouth explored her stomach, her hips. Every nip and lick quivered through her body. Wetness clung to her thighs, aching need spiraled inside her. Her fingers slid to his head as she silently willed his mouth where she wanted it. His mouth moved lower, closer to where she wanted him, but a second of clarity sparked renewed panic.