“I got turkey and ham,” Ryan said, holding up two sandwiches covered in plastic wrap. “Pick one.”
She reached for the ham and unwrapped the sandwich, as Jane got up to sit with Becker, digging into the potato chips he’d brought her, and Holly and Carson split a tuna sandwich.
John Garrett walked into the waiting room while the women were eating, looking completely frazzled. Annabelle noted he was an extremely good-looking man, with dark hair, intense eyes and a long sexy bod. Even the lines of exhaustion creasing his face didn’t take away from his handsomeness. Jeez, did the Navy only allow sex gods to enlist or something?
“Six centimeters,” Garrett announced, raking both hands through his hair. “Shit, I’m dying in there.”
“Is she okay?” Holly asked, her green eyes wide with concern.
“She’s fine, considering.” Garrett looked like he was going to keel over any second. “But she keeps yelling at me, and I’m pretty sure she broke one of my fingers during the last contraction.” He held up his hand and sure enough, his pinkie was red, swollen and bent at a slight angle. And yet he didn’t seem the least bit concerned about it, and a few minutes later, he said he’d keep them posted and went to be with his wife again, broken finger and all.
Annabelle was impressed. Maybe it was a military thing, but she’d never seen a man look so calm. She shot a sidelong glance at Ryan, wondering how he’d react in this type of situation. His wife yelling and in pain, clinging to his hand so tightly she broke one of his fingers. She got the feeling he’d be calm too.
“So,” Ryan said after Garrett left the room. “How long do you think this’ll take?”
“Not long,” Carson said at the same time Holly replied, “Probably hours.”
Ryan groaned, evidently smart enough to know that the woman was always right. And right Holly was. Two hours passed before they knew it. Then three and four. By the time hour number five ticked by, the waiting room became substantially quiet. Annabelle yawned and stretched her legs out, leaning closer to Ryan. In the corner of the room, Jane had fallen asleep on Becker’s shoulder and he was absently running his fingers through her hair. Carson was asleep too, head lolled to the side, while his fiancée buried her nose in a paperback novel.
Annabelle jumped when she felt Ryan’s lips brush across her earlobe. “This is so boring,” he whispered in her ear.
She smiled. “It’s hard work pushing out a baby. I doubt Shelby is finding it boring at all.”
“Yeah, well, Will and his wife have the right idea. They’re going to show up in a few hours, all bright-eyed and ready to hold the baby, and they’ll laugh at us for our six-hour wait.”
“It could be worse,” Annabelle pointed out. “My mother was in labor with me for thirty-two hours.”
“That does not surprise me,” Ryan said solemnly. “You went from a difficult infant to a difficult adult.”
“Ha ha.”
He shifted close again, his tongue darting out to lick her ear. “I have an idea,” he rasped.
“Oh really?”
Planting a little kiss on her neck, he met her gaze and said, “Number four.”
She coughed in surprise, instantly catching his drift. “At the hospital? No way.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“You really need to stop promising me fun.” She gestured around the quiet waiting room. “So far, I’m not having fun.”
“But you will.” Before she could blink, he was on his feet and pulling her up. “Let’s go make some memories, babe.”
At the sound of movement, Holly looked up from her book. “Going to stretch your legs?” she asked, the amusement in her green eyes revealing that she knew precisely what they were about to do.
“Sure are,” Ryan said easily. “Want anything from the vending machine?”
“No, thanks.” Holly winked at Annabelle as Ryan linked his arm loosely through hers as if they were going on a leisurely stroll.
It was past ten, and the hospital corridor was bustling. Nurses in bright pink scrubs hurried by, doctors stood in the hallway studying patient charts, and they passed several family members with either pink or blue balloons going into rooms to visit the new moms. They walked past the nursery, and at the sound of a newborn wailing, Annabelle glared at Ryan. “I refuse to have sex near babies.”
He seemed to mull that over, then sighed. “Me too. Let’s go downstairs.”
This was crazy. Annabelle wanted to object as she followed Ryan to the stairwell, where they climbed the stairs up to the next floor. When she’d written that list, she hadn’t planned on actually doing any of the things on it. Fantasized about them, sure, but doing them? Again, crazy.
Yet her heart was pounding wildly as Ryan dragged her down the fluorescent-lit corridor of the respiratory ward, and her knees shook when he discovered an empty closet and ushered her inside. Darkness instantly engulfed them, but she could make out a metal rack stacked with boxes of…she squinted…latex gloves. Ryan followed her gaze and laughed. “Can I please, please fuck you while wearing latex gloves?”
“You are a sick man.”
He encircled her waist with hands and bent down to nip at her neck. “Think about how cold and slimy it would feel.”
“I am a firm believer that sex should not be cold and slimy.”
Ryan’s mouth moved from her neck to her jaw. He kissed his way to her mouth, his morning stubble tickling her chin. They both froze at the sound of muffled footsteps, but whoever it was walked right past the closet. “Are we really going to do this?” she whispered.
He took one of her hands and placed it directly over his crotch, which sported a thick ridge of arousal. “Hell yeah.”
Annabelle sighed. “Fine, do your worst.”
“My best, you mean,” he murmured as he slid his hand between her legs.
He stroked her gently, as if he had all the time in the world, but Annabelle was very much aware of their surroundings. “If we do this, we do it fast,” she murmured back.
“If you say so.”
Before she could blink, he spun her around so that she was facing the wall, as he ground his lower body against her ass. She moaned, the delicious friction causing a ribbon of pleasure to uncurl through her body and settle in her aching core.
Ryan reached around to cup her breasts, his breath warm against her neck. “Hey, I just thought of something,” he said, sounding delighted.
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“We can cross off numbers two, four and eight, all at once. It’s the trifecta…the perfect storm, if you will.”
It was hard to concentrate on his words when his hands were fondling her breasts. He meant the list, obviously. She strained to remember the items. Sex in public, sex standing up, and…her face heated up. Oh right. From behind.
“I’ve gotta tell you, babe, I’m loving this list of yours,” he rasped, sliding his hands down her belly to unbutton her jeans.
He didn’t take them off, just let them fall down to her ankles, and then his hand was between her legs, stroking the crotch of her panties. Annabelle’s entire body was on fire. The dark closet, the sound of footsteps out in the hall, Ryan’s talented fingers poking underneath her panties to rub her clit…it all aroused the hell out of her.
“Close your eyes,” Ryan whispered.
She obliged, listening to the sound of plastic tearing—he’d remembered to bring a condom—and then a zipper hissing open. A moment later, she felt his cock pressing between her ass cheeks, teasing her puckered hole. Her heart did a somersault. For a second she thought he would venture into the forbidden, but to her relief—and odd disappointment—he moved aside the crotch of her panties and pushed into her wet core with one smooth thrust.
God, it felt good. She tried to think about the last time she’d made love to Bryce, tried to remember if it had felt as good as this, but her brain promptly stopped functioning as Ryan began to move.
It didn’t last long at all. Four, maybe five str
okes, and then she was coming, a fast, pounding orgasm that seem to come out of nowhere. Annabelle gasped as pleasure rocketed through her. Her breasts tingled, her clit throbbing as waves of ecstasy pulsated in her core. She ground her ass against Ryan, milking him, taking everything she could get, and his husky groans heightened her pleasure.
His fingers dug into her waist as he pistoned his hips, fucking her hard, his balls slapping against her ass with each deep thrust.
“Fuck,” he wheezed, and then he released a harsh cry and shuddered inside her.
She loved feeling him come, loved the guttural sounds he made, the way he nuzzled her neck, heating her skin with his ragged breaths. She wanted to cry out in disappointment when he finally withdrew, leaving her empty and sated and wanting more. So much more.
It had never been this way with Bryce. Never.
Her legs were still shaking as she bent down to pull up her jeans. She buttoned them up, turning to face Ryan. His blue eyes glimmered in the darkness, satisfaction etched into his handsome features. He removed the condom, tossed it in the metal garbage can near the door, then zipped up his pants and stepped toward her.
“So…was that fun?” he teased.
A breathy laugh exited her mouth. “Oh yeah.”
Chapter Five
“So what do you want to watch tonight?” Ryan asked, holding up two DVD cases.
From her spot on the couch, Annabelle snorted. “Rambo one or Rambo two? Seriously, those are my options?”
“It’s my pick, remember?” he said defensively. “Last night I sat through P.S. I Love You. I think my sperm count dropped in half.”
“Don’t worry, you looked very manly when you teared up.”
“I did not tear up—”
“You did!” she chortled. “Right after Gerard Butler died. It was like ten minutes into the movie.”
“You were imagining it.” He waved the DVDs. “So which Rambo do you want?”
“Neither. You choose, and I’ll just go into the bathroom and slit my wrists.”
As usual, her sarcasm never failed to make him burst into laughter. They’d spent an entire week together, and each time she unleashed one of her biting remarks, he liked her even more. He was used to women treating him like he was some sort of god, especially when they found out he was in the Navy, but Annabelle remained completely indifferent to what he did. She didn’t take any crap, from him, or anyone, he suspected, and he loved that. His friends loved her too, even Shelby, who’d given birth to an eight-pound girl bound to be the apple of her daddy’s eye. Annabelle and Ryan had gone in to see the baby, and when they were leaving, Shelby, looking sleepy and relaxed, had pulled him aside and said, “She’s a keeper.”
Shelby might be right. Ryan had never felt this way about anyone, except maybe Jane, but he was trying very hard to banish those inappropriate thoughts. He and Jane would never be together. He knew that. But his heart simply needed to get the memo.
Annabelle was helping, though. He loved being with her, and Jane was never on his mind when Annabelle was around.
He smiled as he watched her stretch her legs out. She looked so cute sprawled there on the couch, wearing a pair of tiny black shorts and a yellow halter top. Her long brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail, which made her look like a little girl. Except there was nothing girlish about her body. All curves, all sex appeal.
His cock stirred in his loose shorts, and just as he was about to toss the movies aside and suggest they have hot sex instead, the door to the apartment swung open and Matt walked in.
“Thank the Lord that’s over,” Matt said with a groan. He dropped the blue duffel bag he was holding and it landed on the floor with a thud. “I swear, I love my sweet mother to death but sometimes I could just strangle—oh, hello there,” Matt drawled, noticing Annabelle on the couch.
She sat up awkwardly. “Um. Hi.”
Ryan wasn’t surprised to see her eyes widen at the sight of his roommate. O’Connor usually evoked that wide-eyed response from females. Probably the shaved head. It made him look all tough and lethal. Most chicks totally dug it, and it looked like Annabelle wasn’t the exception. Ryan noticed her checking Matt out, her brown eyes moving up and down Matt’s tall, muscular body. He didn’t mind, though. He’d never been the jealous type, and he and Matt had indulged in enough threesomes that he was used to sharing the attention.
“Annabelle, Matt, Matt, Annabelle,” Ryan introduced.
Matt flashed Annabelle a grin. “It’s nice to meet you, darlin’.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh no, he darlin’ed you. That means he likes you.”
“Where are you from?” Annabelle asked curiously. “The South, I assume.”
“Nashville,” Matt confirmed. He looked from her to Ryan. “Mind if I hang out with you guys for a while? I need to be around people my own age.”
Ryan laughed. “I take it Nana O’Connor drove you nuts.”
“As usual.” Matt drifted toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Anyone want a beer?”
“Me,” Ryan called back. He glanced at Annabelle. “You?”
She sighed. “What the hell.”
Matt came back with three bottles, gave two away, and flopped down on one of the comfortable leather recliners flanking the couch. Ryan took the other chair, while Annabelle stayed sprawled on the couch, leaning forward a little to take a sip of the beer Matt handed her.
It didn’t take long for Matt and Annabelle to hit it off, though Ryan wasn’t surprised. Matt was the most laidback guy Ryan had ever met, and Annabelle, well, she was thoroughly entertaining. By the time the next round of beers was polished off, the three of them were laughing like old friends. Matt regaled them with stories about his trip home, and Annabelle told them about one of the worst weddings her company had ever planned, something involving feathers and swans and a very drunk uncle.
Annabelle’s cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but Ryan knew she wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. Neither was he, and he’d noticed Annabelle admiring Matt several times in the past hour. Again, he wasn’t concerned. He was, however, curious to see how far she was willing to go. He’d meant what he said in the hospital—he was having fun acting out all the fantasies on her list. And he knew she was having fun too. Except that she kept insisting the list didn’t mean anything.
Which he knew was a total lie.
When Matt left the room to take a quick shower, claiming he was grimy from his trip and now sweaty from the three beers he’d consumed, Ryan joined Annabelle on the sofa and said, “Do you think he’s attractive?”
She set down her beer bottle, furrowing her eyebrows. “Matt? Well, sure. Why are you asking?”
Ryan slid closer and placed his hand on her thigh. “I thought maybe he’d be a good candidate for number three.”
His remark got him a pair of wide brown eyes. “Are you crazy? That’s…just wrong.”
He offered a wry look. “And why is that wrong?”
Annabelle squirmed a little, and he wondered if she was squirming from discomfort or arousal. Probably the latter, though she probably wouldn’t admit it. “Threesomes are…sleazy. No?”
“Technically, what you wrote isn’t a threesome.” He bent close to her ear and said, “You said you wanted to get fucked by another man while I watch.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I didn’t say I wanted that… I just…” She looked away.
Ryan grasped her chin with one hand and made her look at him. “Why did you write the list, Annabelle?”
“I told you already.” Her cheeks turned pink again. “I wanted to show Bryce all the things I’d be willing to do.”
“Willing to do, or dying to do?”
Her blush deepened.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do wicked things,” he teased.
“Okay, yeah, maybe some wicked things, like sex in the hospital, or on the floor, but having sex with another guy…that’s so slutty.” Embarrassment fli
ckered in her eyes.
“Says who? Who decides what’s slutty, what’s right or wrong when it comes to sex?” Ryan shook his head. “As long as all the parties involved are consenting adults, why should it matter?”
Annabelle gulped. “Have you…and Matt…done stuff together before, with a woman?”
“Yes,” he said honestly. “Does that bother you?”
Annabelle’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. How did Ryan always manage to catch her off-guard? She hadn’t doubted he was a ladies man, or that he’d probably slept with dozens of women, but somehow she hadn’t imagined him in any threeways.
“No. I mean, I don’t think so.” She froze for a moment. “Wait—did you and Matt and Christina…?”
“Yeah.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Wow. She couldn’t picture Christina with Ryan and Matt. Christina didn’t seem like the type. But along with surprise, Annabelle experienced a wave of envy. Jeez, was she actually jealous that her friend had been fucked by two guys at once?
Annabelle glanced at Ryan, then Matt, who had just strolled back into the living room wearing a pair of faded jeans and no shirt. No, it wasn’t just two guys that appealed to her. It was these two in particular.
“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Ryan said in a low voice.
But not low enough. “What turns you on?” Matt asked instantly, swiveling his head toward Annabelle as he sank back into his chair.
To her horror, Ryan answered for her. “Doing you while I watch,” he said to his roommate.
Matt’s jaw fell open. Then a sexy little smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “For real?”
Annabelle met his deep green eyes. She found herself nodding.
Matt looked intrigued. “Huh. Okay then. Let’s do it.”
Her breath jammed in her throat like a wad of chewing gum. Oh God. She couldn’t believe he’d just said that. And she couldn’t believe how quickly her body responded. Her nipples hardened into two tight buds, straining against her halter top. Both men immediately zeroed in on the sight, which only made the tingling worse. She wished she’d worn a bra. She wished Ryan had never seen that list.