“Faith—”
“How about a cheese omelet and toast?” she asked, already grabbing the eggs. She paused, looking up at him when he put a hand on her forearm, halting her.
“I don’t want you to cook for me. It’s four-thirty in the morning. You should go back to bed.”
She shrugged. “I’m up now. I have to be at the office at seven, anyway.” His furrowed brow smoothed slightly when she gave him a smile of reassurance. “Will it help any if I eat with you?”
He shook his head and looked skyward, as though looking for patience in dealing with her. “Does it make any difference what I say?” he asked dryly.
She shook her head matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you sit down in the breakfast nook? I’ll bring you some juice.”
“I don’t want you to wait on me,” he grumbled. He released her arm and reached into the refrigerator himself. “I’ll pour the juice and make the toast.”
“Deal. How was your flight?” she asked him a moment later as she whipped the eggs in a bowl and Ryan plugged in the toaster.
“Pretty uneventful. Just the way I like them.” He gave her a backward glance. Her cheeks heated as she returned her attention to the eggs. He’d caught her staring at the way his back muscles rippled when he moved.
“Faith?”
?
??Yes?” she asked, looking around and hoping he didn’t notice her pink cheeks.
He stepped toward her. His naked torso was like a miracle of taut ridges, valleys and dense, swelling muscle. His skin was beautiful—smooth and dark-honey colored. A smattering of dark hair grew on his chest, but not thickly. A thin, tempting trail of it led from his taut bellybutton and disappeared beneath the low-riding cotton pants.
She felt as if her lungs had failed her as he drew nearer.
“When I was looking in the refrigerator before you came in, I noticed—” He halted, looking a little uncomfortable. “Were you planning on making dinner? Last night?”
He definitely had to notice her blush now.
“Oh...yes. But it wasn’t a big deal. I just thought I’d throw something on the grill, you know. Just a little welcome dinner...”
She faded off, feeling scored by his stare. She turned around and began beating the eggs again, pausing when she felt Ryan put his hands on her shoulders. He applied a slight pressure. Reluctantly she set the whisk in the bowl and turned to face him. He stood close enough that a bulging pectoral muscle was less than a foot away from her face. He pushed back her unbound hair from her cheek, smoothing it over her shoulder. Her neck tingled with pleasure. His fingertips brushed against the shell of her ear, and her shivering amplified.
“I’m sorry I ruined the evening,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” she insisted, looking up to reassure him. “You had a job. It wasn’t a big deal.”
His face looked somber as he studied her. He cradled her jaw with his hand. She felt so small in comparison to him. So feminine standing there next to his large, hard male body. She realized she was holding her breath.
“It was a big deal.” She stared at him, mesmerized. His nostrils flared slightly and his face drew nearer. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“There’s nothing to make up. It was nothing,” she said, the words popping out of her with her expelled breath.
“I disagree,” he murmured. His lips moved now just inches from her own. He stepped forward with his right foot, so that his inner thigh touched the outside of her hip. He leaned into her and she was wedged between Ryan and the counter. “It was sweet of you. You’re incredibly sweet, Faith.”
His hands tightened around her waist. He paused, his face just inches from her own. She met his stare, wide-eyed, and saw he was watching her like a hawk. Her lips parted.
He swooped down, seizing her mouth with his own.
Chapter Nine
His mouth moved over hers, a sensual drug that left her consciousness hazed by pleasure. He pressed closer, nudging her middle. Her eyes popped open, even though she kept avidly participating in the kiss. He wasn’t wearing anything beneath the thin fabric of the pajama bottoms.
His obvious arousal made something squeeze tight deep inside her, made her recall all too well how he’d filled her on Christmas Eve, how he’d pulsed high and hard and alive deep inside her. Desire sluiced through her, so sharp she cried out softly into his hot, marauding mouth.
She touched his back with her hands, relishing the sensation of smooth skin gloving muscle and bone so tightly. Her fingertips moved eagerly, detailing the line of his spine. Her palms swept over the expanse of his back, pushing him closer.