Snowed In with the Bad Boy (Bad Boys on Holiday Book 1) Page 5

  Georgie shifted in her chair, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building up between her thighs, but it was useless.

  “I grew up in Denver,” she said. “But I moved to New York for college and ended up staying. And unlike you, I’m not a retired, ball-scratching, alcoholic porn-watcher.”

  “Pffft. Whose fault is that? Sounds to me like someone needs to reevaluate her life choices.”

  “I love my job. I design and build web sites for small businesses, and my clients are awesome.”

  “That’s the kind of work you can do from anywhere, though. Why would you pick the most crowded, expensive place in the country? Not to mention a prime target for all sorts of shit you can’t even imagine.” Ronan shook his head and leaned forward, slamming the chair back to the floor. “Tell you this much, Cupcake. Shit goes down? New York is the last place you wanna be.”

  “Who’s the cupcake now, tough guy?” Georgie rolled her eyes. “Shit goes down there every day. I could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe. And it’s not that expensive. I have a roommate.”

  “Yeah? What’s her story?” Ronan drained his whiskey, then poured himself another shot. “Tell me it involves pillow fights and walking around the apartment naked. Otherwise I honestly don’t care because I’m sticking with my version.”

  “His story is he’s an architect.”

  “His?” The muscles along Ronan’s jaw ticked. “You banging this fancy-ass architect?”

  “Ronan!” She waited for him to apologize, but of course he wouldn’t. Diplomacy was not part of Ronan’s skill set. “For your nosey information, no. Shane and I aren’t together. I don’t even know him all that well, honestly. It was a Craigslist thing.”

  “He’s never made a move?”

  “No.”

  “Gay?”

  “We’re just… we’re not into each other. He’s—what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You live with a dude, who’s not gay, and you think he’s not spending every waking moment trying to figure out how to get into your pants?” Ronan laughed until his eyes watered. “You’re too sweet for your own good, Georgie Taylor.”

  “Believe it or not, some people have evolved beyond our baser instincts,” Georgie said. “I mean, look at us. We’re sitting here having a nice dinner, finally having a real conversation. You’re not trying to get in my pants.”

  Ronan raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a hard glare that made her stomach swoop. “You sure about that?”

  This conversation was rapidly going off the rails. Georgie couldn’t handle those intense eyes, not when she was still imagining what his hands would feel like smacking her bare ass. Not when he was playing with her curls and messing with her head and asking rude questions about her sex life.

  “I invited you into my home,” Ronan went on, his deep voice vibrating straight through her chest. “Let you use up all my hot water. Cooked my secret recipe Alfredo sauce. This is A-game, panty-melting shit right here, Cupcake.”

  Ronan wasn’t going to let up. Not a chance.

  Georgie’s only recourse was to give it right back to him.

  In a bold move she’d probably never consider if she thought she’d have to face Ronan again after tonight, Georgie loosened the tie on her yoga pants and reached inside, closing her eyes and rolling her head back as she pretended to give herself a thorough investigation. She wasn’t surprised at how hot she was, but she wasn’t expecting the barest brush of her own fingers to send a jolt of pleasure up her spine. Her breath caught, and she yanked her hand out of her pants and forced a laugh, hoping Ronan hadn’t noticed. “Sorry, dude. My panties are still intact. Guess your A-game’s a little rusty.”

  When Georgie finally looked up again, Ronan was glaring at her, his chest heaving, his fist clamped so tight around his glass, his knuckles were white.

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  Heat rushed to Georgie’s cheeks; she felt like a naughty schoolgirl who’d just gotten caught cheating on a test.

  Guess he noticed after all.

  “You done?” Ronan shoved his chair back and stood up to clear the dishes from the table, the levity and camaraderie between them vanishing.

  Georgie closed her eyes and willed the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

  Without a word, Ronan finished clearing the table, putting away the leftovers, filling the sink with soapy water, scraping every last dish, relocating the candles to the counter, and still the stupid floor remained unmoved by her plea, leaving her there to suffer in silent horror.

  After wiping down the table, Ronan rinsed out the sponge and got to work scrubbing dishes. After an agonizing eternity, he finally spoke. “You okay? Awfully quiet over there again, and there’s no food in your—”

  “Stop!” Georgie hopped up from her chair, nearly tripping over poor Bella, who yelped and darted into the living room. “Let me take care of the dishes. I don’t mind.”

  She joined him at the sink, still unable to meet his eyes. He wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s fine, Georgie. You just… relax… or whatever it is you need to do.”

  “No, I’m serious. You cooked. I’ll wash.” She dipped her hands into the hot, slippery water, her fingers gliding down the length of his tattooed forearms in search of the sponge. She couldn’t help it; she had to touch him, even if it was just for a second.

  God, he felt so good. So solid and strong.

  Ronan turned his hands over in the water, lacing their fingers together. A million electric tingles raced up her arms, across her shoulders, and down her spine, straight to her core.

  “You’re trembling,” he said softly, tracing her skin with his thumbs in a gesture so gentle, she couldn’t believe it was coming from Ronan Steel.

  For a moment neither of them uttered a word. Their fingers continued their erotic dance under the water, skin sliding against skin, exploring each other’s touch.

  “I’m…” Ronan sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not the man you think I am, Cupcake.”

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking,” Georgie whispered. Frankly, neither did she. She was so far out of her comfort zone, so far beyond any rational thing she’d ever done in her life, she hardly recognized herself. With every flirty innuendo, every joke, every touch, she was charting new territory. But something about Ronan had worked its way under her skin, and in the hours since her ill-fated arrival, that something had smoldered into an aching need that pulsed red-hot between her thighs, begging for a release that only Ronan could give her.

  She’d never felt this way around a man before—so reckless, so out of control.

  It scared the hell out of her.

  And she liked it. Really liked it.

  Ronan finally turned to look at her over his shoulder, the flickering candlelight throwing shadows on his face. There was something savage and beautiful in his eyes—a dare, a warning, maybe a little of both.

  In a low voice that made her shiver, he said, “Don’t you dare start something with me that you can’t finish.”

  Georgie shrunk inside, her confidence vanishing once again. Who was she kidding? Ronan was a master at this, so confident and commanding. She couldn’t keep up with him, no matter how badly she’d wanted to.

  “I… I’m sorry. I guess I just… sorry.” Georgie released his hands and turned back toward the table, looking for more dishes to gather, a dog to pet, another candle to light, anything to distract her from the red-hot need coursing through her body. But it was useless. She was in too deep, too far gone to pretend that anything else mattered.

  “Ronan, wait.” She turned back to him and met his eyes again, giving him a fiery glare of her own. Maybe she didn’t have the confidence to put it into words without tripping up, but she wanted him to know exactly what she was thinking, what she was feeling, what she needed. Without another thought, she ran her hand down his arm, his chest, his abs, and brushed her fingers over his cock, bulging hard against his jeans.

&nbs
p; I did that. Me.

  She palmed him through the jeans, feeling the full, delicious weight of him in her hand, her core flooding with unchecked desire as she imagined him thrusting into her flesh, again and again and again…

  “What are you doing, Georgie? Jesus fuck.” Ronan closed his eyes. He tried to shake his head, tried to resist, but he was already groaning at her touch. When he finally opened his eyes and looked at her again, he was smiling… but it wasn’t his usual smart-ass, nothing-can-touch-me smirk.

  It was the grin of a wolf, hungry and desirous, ready to devour its prey. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

  And if there was one thing Georgie had learned in their short time together, it was this:

  Ronan Steel never said a thing unless he absolutely, positively meant it.

  CHAPTER 9

  I n one fluid motion, Ronan yanked his hands out of the sink and grabbed Georgie’s arms, spinning her around and shoving her into the countertop, his cock raging hard against her ass as water streamed down his arms.

  “Last chance,” he growled. Ronan didn’t like head games, and if that’s all this was, he needed to know now so he could toss her out on her ass. “Because I’m warning you—we cross that line tonight? There’s no going back.”

  He forced her legs apart with his thigh, grinding into her pussy.

  “Ronan,” she moaned. Her breath was jagged, her whole body trembling as she rode his leg. The layers of fabric between them did nothing to camouflage her heat.

  Fuck, this girl is so responsive…

  Ronan slid his wet hands across her chest, cupping one of her firm tits, squeezing it hard. It fit perfectly in his hand, the diamond-hard nipple stiff against his palm.

  God, he wanted her in his mouth. He wanted to bite and tease her, to suck her until it hurt, until she cried out in pleasure.

  “There’s no changing your mind after this, Cupcake. You start something here, and I promise you, we ain’t stopping—not until that ass is red, that pussy is dripping wet, and you’re screaming my name, begging me to let you come.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear, every inch of his rock-hard body plastered up against her. “So think real hard about your answer, ‘cause I’m only asking once: Yes, or no?”

  “Y-yes.” She let out a soft moan, arching her back and rubbing her ass against his crotch. “Please,” she breathed. “I won’t change my mind. Just… just keep touching me. Please, Ronan. Don’t stop.”

  Jesus.

  His cock was practically screaming at him to tear off her clothes and bury himself in her tight little ass, but he wasn’t about to blow his wad in some two-and-a-half minute fuckfest. No way. Georgie was his beautiful, eager, Christmas present—the kind of gift made to be savored all night long, slowly and deliberately, no matter how badly he wanted to come right the fuck now.

  He ran a hand up the back of her neck, fisting those wild, red curls. Her hair was so damn soft, cold underneath where it hadn’t yet dried. He leaned in close again, inhaling the scent of her exposed neck, like vanilla and fucking heaven.

  “You have no idea how fucking sexy you are,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her soft nape. “How fucking beautiful. I’ve been hard ever since I saw you standing on my porch in those candy-cane tights.”

  “Stockings,” she panted. “They’re… they’re stockings.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” He trailed his fingers down the front of her shirt and slid inside the waistband of her pants, skimming the silky-soft skin of her stomach, down to the top edge of her panties. He rubbed the lace between his thumb and forefinger, memorizing the feel of it on his skin. He wanted every detail, every texture, every scent seared into his memory.

  I’ll be looking back on this fantasy for a fucking decade.

  “You’re right,” he said. “These panties are still intact. That’s no good.” He tugged the lace edge upward, pulling the material hard against her clit, then releasing it, sliding his fingers deeper inside. He brushed through her soft hair and glided over her clit, heat radiating off her body in waves as he stroked her with a light touch, driving her fucking mad.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. The skin on her arms was covered in goose bumps, her body responding to his every move.

  “Do you want me to fuck you like this?” he asked, his mouth against her ear. He dipped his fingers lower still, skimming her outer lips and pulling back again, coating her clit in her juices. She quivered in his arms, so fucking hot and wet, melting like butter at his touch. Ronan couldn’t wait to slide his cock inside of her, take her hard and deep. His balls ached, heavy with need, but he wasn’t ready for the main course—not by a long shot. “Or would you rather touch yourself again?”

  She shook her head, her curls brushing his cheek, hitting him with another wave of her addicting vanilla scent. “I don’t… I wasn’t… I…”

  “Maybe you were just teasing me, then. I don’t like being teased.”

  “I wasn’t teasing, I swear.”

  Ronan grabbed her hand and slid it down the front of her panties, urging her fingers into a slow, circular motion against her clit.

  “Show me.” He forced her fingers lower, guiding them into her pussy. “Show me what you do when no one else is watching, all alone in your bed at night.”

  Ronan slid his hand out, leaving Georgie to fuck herself at his command.

  “That’s it, baby,” he said. “Show me what you’ll do when I’m not there. Because after tonight, I know you’ll be thinking of me every time you touch yourself.”

  She whimpered again, her fingers sliding into her pussy, thrusting faster and harder, all of that shy, sweet, embarrassment vanishing as she lost herself in their shared fantasy.

  Ronan dropped to his knees, slowly rolling the thin cotton pants down her hips, sliding them off her legs to reveal the most shapely plum of an ass he’d ever seen. Her white lace panties hugged the twin mounds, pulling tight as she continued to stroke herself, making herself so wet, Ronan could fucking hear it.

  “So sweet,” he whispered against her flesh. “So nice.” He buzzed his lips along the curve of her ass, tracing a path with his tongue down to the back of her thigh. “But I’m not Santa Claus, baby. I don’t give a fuck about naughty or nice. You’re getting spanked either way.”

  Georgie gasped, but the roll of her hips told him she wanted every minute of it, as hard and dirty as he wanted to give it to her.

  Fuck, yeah.

  He rubbed the soft globe, then raised his hand, bringing it back down with a crack that startled Bella from her snooze in the living room. The dog yelped and high-tailed it upstairs, but Georgie only moaned, her hips rocking against the counter, her head rolling forward like a rag doll as she gave herself a thorough fingerbanging that made his cock jealous. He smacked her ass again, then ghosted his fingers over the pink flesh, soothing the sting.

  “Ronan!” she cried, her legs trembling. “I’m going to—”

  “No, you’re not.” He grabbed her hand and yanked it out of her panties, which at this point were just an annoying barrier that stood between his mouth and her sweet cream.

  He grabbed his pocket knife, bringing the blade to the flimsy edge of her panties and cutting it without another thought. He yanked the scrap of fabric from her body and tossed the knife onto the counter.

  “Touch me,” she whispered, turning around before him and sliding her fingers into his hair. “Please. Please!”

  She was losing her mind, so fucking desperate for it. Ronan didn’t even have to make her beg. He stood up in front of her, and like heat-seeking missiles homing in on a target, his fingers found the soft, hot folds of her pussy. She was drenched for him, his thick fingers slippery with the evidence of her desire.

  “More,” she said. “Now.”

  Ronan didn’t need to be told twice. He thrust two fingers deep inside, feeling her body tense, then relax, slowly getting used to him.

  He had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from moaning out loud.


  God, she’s fucking tight.

  His dick strained against his pants, gunning hard to find out what it felt like to be buried balls deep in that tight, wet heat, letting her milk him for all it was worth.

  She matched the rhythm of his thrusting fingers, fucking his hand until it was coated with her slick juices, her flesh pulsing around him, begging for more.

  “Greedy girl,” he teased. “Maybe you’re not so nice after all. But I bet you taste nice.”

  He slid his fingers out of her pussy and brought them to his lips, but then he changed his mind, moving them to her mouth instead. “Open up, baby.”

  Georgie parted her wet lips without hesitation, taking his fingers between them, her eyes fluttering closed as she sucked her juices from his hand. Her tongue was velvet-smooth, and the soft whimpers of pleasure escaping her mouth made his dick throb.

  Suddenly he wanted to fuck her everywhere—her mouth, her tight pussy, that juicy little ass.

  Holy shit, she’s gonna make me come just from sucking on my fingers.

  Ronan couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been dreaming about those lips for hours, and he wouldn’t deny himself for another second. He shoved his hands deep into her hair and pulled her close, capturing her mouth, tasting her sweet-and-salty lips. She moaned, her lush tits swelling against his chest as he claimed her with a deep thrust of his tongue.

  Her kiss made him delirious, but the taste of her divine pussy was fading from her lips, and he needed another hit.

  Right fucking now.

  He backed her up to the kitchen table and lifted her onto it, pushing her flat onto her back. He grabbed her bare thighs and spread her wide, reveling in the sight of her gorgeous, glistening pussy, cataloguing every sexy, beautiful curve as he considered where to put his tongue first.

  Pinning her thighs to the table, he dipped his head between her legs, her heat radiating over his face.