Copyright © 2012 Leah Braemel
“There’s the beautiful Mountie who always gets her man.”
That voice! That sexy, half-mocking, gorgeous, friendly voice. Megan Sullivan searched the crowd waiting outside the baggage claim area for its owner. His long legs clad in trademark denim, Ryan Porter stood in the middle of the concourse, his mouth pulled up on one side in the grin that caused her knees to wobble every single time.
Pulling her biggest suitcase behind her and wrestling with the carry-on she’d balanced on top of it, she battled her way through the throng and hurried toward him.
Once she rounded the barrier, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground in a full-body hug. “Hey, you. I’ve missed you.”
Ignoring the amused spectators, Ryan lowered his head to capture her mouth with his. Pure male confidence, shouting to the world, “Yeah, she’s mine,” came through loud and clear from the hard press of his lips to the way his hands kneaded her ass.
When he finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Meg left her arms hooked around his neck, loving the feel of his body against hers. Her clit pulsed, needing to be touched by his long callused fingers. Her pussy heated and her nipples ached in anticipation of his mouth on them.
“That wasn’t an I’ve-missed-you kiss.” It had been a full-blown I-want-inside-you kiss.
“No, it wasn’t just an I’ve-missed-you kiss,” he corrected.
She rested her forehead against his chest, the long-seated loneliness that had plagued her up north finally leaching away. “I thought you were supposed to be in Montreal until tomorrow.”
“Are you kidding? And waste even one day with you?”
Meg’s breath stuttered when he cupped her head and kissed her again, this time softer, sweeter, showing none of the blatant possessiveness of the first kiss. This one whispered of need and desire. “I love you, Meg.”
“I love you too.” She loved the way he kissed, the way he felt against her, the way he made her feel feminine instead of the hard-ass bitch she’d been called far too often on the job. She loved the way he smelled of sawdust and… She leaned in and sniffed him deeper. “Why do you smell like roses?”
“Because Amy’s into her nesting phase.” His grimace and fake shudder made her laugh. “She’s making homemade soaps and shampoos, claiming they’ll be safer for the baby. So naturally she’s using us as her guinea pigs. Her latest batch is some hippy-dippy rose petal shampoo so me and Derek and Noah all smell girly-girl. I tell ya, pregnant women are seriously dangerous to us guys.” He dipped his head to whisper in her ear, his russet hair tickling her nose. “I’ll pay you to convince her to make something more manly.”
“You mean like new car scent or burnt motor oil?”
“Yeah, now you’re talking.” He rounded his free hand as if there were a basketball in front of his stomach. The laughter made his amber eyes almost glow though others might have blamed it on the bright sunshine streaming through the glass roof. “Wait’ll you see her. She’s out to here. Derek won’t let her get behind the wheel anymore, she’s gotten so big.”
“I can’t wait to see her again.” Amy had been her roommate in college and they’d become fast friends. When Amy had started dating Derek, Megan had found herself on a double date with Derek’s older brother Ryan. Though she’d expected to be bored when she’d learned Ryan was an artist, she’d been fascinated by his energy. After spending the night debating movies (he preferred art house movies where she loved action) and music (they both loved the same groups), he’d asked her for another date. Three months later, he’d asked her to move in with him.
Until a car accident had changed all their plans.
Ryan stroked the backs of his knuckles along her jaw. “You should be exhausted from your flight yet you’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”
“I slept on the plane, and it’s not hard to look better considering I was just coming off a double shift last time.” Sexy was a tough look to achieve in her standard uniform. But it was only after he’d left that she’d seen her reflection and grimaced. Her hair had been sticking up on end, and she’d had a grease stain on her cheek from changing the tire on an old woman’s car. Definitely not the memory she’d wanted to leave him with, not when he’d been on his way to New York to meet his agent at some swanky gallery in Manhattan. Manhattan, where he’d been surrounded by women with carefully coiffed hair, pouty collagen-injected lips and mile-high legs made even sexier by stilettos she’d never manage to walk in without falling on her ass.
“I mean it, Meg. After all the delays, the changes in your schedule, the sixteen-hour layover waiting for the weather to clear up, you’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He looked pretty damned good himself, but then he always did. In addition to staying fit, he’d let his hair grow longer so now the russet waves flowed over his shoulders. It suited him. She reached up and stroked his jaw. “Why did you shave your goatee?”
“Amy and Sophie double-teamed me before I left for Montreal. They said I should shave it since the press was going to be at the gallery opening.” He leaned down and rubbed his clean-shaven jaw over her cheek. “Do you like it?”
“You look good.” Except she’d liked his goatee, especially when he was between her thighs, his tongue working its magic, the bristle of his facial adding an extra— Stop thinking about how great it would be if he fucked you in the front seat of his truck. About how he’d feel when you straddled him and lowered yourself onto his thick cock. How his fingers would dig into your hips, lifting and lowering you, as his mouth sucked your nipples, rasping his teeth over them. Her pussy tightened as she imagined him pounding into her, hitting all the right spots until her muscles tightened around him, clenching, spasming…
Crap, that really wasn’t something to dwell on until they were somewhere private. At the rate her pussy was tingling in anticipation, drenching her panties, she might not wait for anywhere more private than a dark corner of the parking garage.
Ryan lifted the strap of her duffel from her shoulder and hoisted it over his own. “Pack much? What did you do? Bring everything you owned?”
“What? Is it too heavy for you, big guy?” She hid her grin. Wait until he learned she’d done exactly that.
Despite her protests, he wheeled her suitcase behind them down the long concourse toward the ramp to the parking garage. They chatted about the weather, the flight, all the usual humdrum stuff, but an electricity hummed between them, the little zing deep in her soul that tingled whenever he was near.
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