Last Call for Love Page 4

  In this moment, for the first time in a very long and painful time, Ryan wanted. He wanted to scoop Charla into his arms and pull her close, and tell her everything in her world would be fine. He wanted to kiss those impossibly full lips and make her know that she didn’t have anything of which to be fearful. He would take care of everything. Get rid of those obscene men, and make certain that no other female employee of Mesquale would suffer as she had suffered.

  But he could say none of those things now.

  He tried to tell her with his eyes.

  “Do you have a friend in Los Angeles who would maybe let me stay with them?”

  She smelled of surf and citrus and sunshine. The light of the flames flickered in her eyes. He nodded.

  “I …” he started and then he stopped. “I do. If it comes to you leaving, then yes, of course, I have a couple friends you could stay with.”

  Her eyes brightened with his words. “Oh thank you. I seriously thought I might be homeless in Los Angeles.”

  They walked toward another piece of driftwood, this one a bit farther from the fire and the group. Quieter. More secluded. More private.

  “And this is happening.” Charla sat. “Orso fired me tonight.”

  Ryan looked past her toward the blackness of the ocean that reflected the fire and the moon. “Did he do an investigation? Did he speak with security?”

  “No,” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I don’t think so. I mean, did he come to you or to Liam?”

  Ryan shook his head. Not only had Orso not inquired anything of Ryan, as an employee on the scene, but Orso had failed to report the incident to Antigua.

  “Orso did insinuate that if I slept with him, I could keep my job.”

  Ryan leaned back. His brow rose. “That’s illegal and unethical and—”

  “And that’s the way it is at Mesquale.”

  “Are you saying that Antigua knows about Orso, that—”

  “I don’t know who knows.” Charla crossed her arms over her chest. “And I don’t care. It’s kind of hard for me to believe that Antigua and management don’t know something. How could they not? Orso’s done this before. Gotten a guest complaint because a female bartender or server refused a drunk guest’s overtures, and then he tells them You can sleep with me or you’re fired.”

  “I …” Ryan searched for the words. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I couldn’t either. Until it happened to me. I should go pack. I’m scheduled for the first flight off the island in the morning. Will you write down the number of your friend? My cell should work once I get to the airport.”

  Charla wouldn’t get that far. He’d see to it that at the very least, if she chose to leave Mesquale after what had happened, that she’d have an apartment in Los Angeles. Paid for. Until she could find a job and her own place.

  Ryan stood. “I’ll walk you back. It’s dark, and after today …” His words drifted away. He’d walk her back and call Antoine and sort this mess out, before the morning, before she got on the plane, before any more damage was done to her or to anyone else.

  “Thank you. I know there are good men around. I haven’t lost my faith in them. They’re the hard workers. The ones who understand what it’s like to work for the things you want, like I do.” She smiled at Ryan. “Let me go tell Poppy.”

  Ryan’s eyes trailed after Charla. Poppy now sat on Trevor’s lap and listened to Liam tell a story. Good. He’d get back and could use the phone in his and Trevor’s room to contact Antoine, tell him that he needed to sack Orso immediately.

  Charla walked back to him. “Ready?” She pressed a smile to her face in a valiant attempt, but happiness didn’t reach into her eyes. How could it? She thought she’d be homeless in the morning. Homeless and unemployed, but Ryan would make certain that neither one of those fears came true.

  Chapter 5

  There were still good guys in the world. Ryan was proof of that. He pulled back the giant banana leaves and she walked over the path toward the staff apartments. There were no lights and it seemed darker and the path more uneven.

  “Careful,” Ryan called. He’d just stepped in front of her and grabbed another giant leaf. “There’s a dip there, and you might—”

  Too late. Charla placed her foot, expecting the ground, and instead got air. She pitched forward, and Ryan grabbed her.

  “You okay?”

  She gasped. His arms were around her. Heat thrilled through her body. She looked up. Her breath shortened. Her heart raced. He was … He was … He was all the things the past men in her life lacked. He was kind and generous and hardworking and had a strong moral compass. She felt that. She knew that Ryan was good, based on how he’d reacted this afternoon and then tonight. Most importantly, he was honest and transparent and didn’t have some secret agenda like Orso or Bertram’s father.

  The warm breeze ruffled Ryan’s black hair. She smelled the scent of mint from his breath. The hard nudge of his maleness pressed against her hip, and he wasn’t letting her go. She wanted his arms around her.

  “I’m … I’m okay,” she whispered, and she was okay in a sense, but in another way she was absolutely not okay because she’d been fired and unfairly judged and propositioned. Yet right this very moment, all she wanted was Ryan’s lips on hers. What would his mouth feel like pressed to hers? Her tongue flicked out over her lower lip, and she moved forward the tiniest bit.

  She couldn’t say who kissed whom, but his lips were on hers, and a heat—a deep unsettling heat—pulsed between her legs and up through her body. He clasped her upper arms, and pulled her closer. Ryan’s lips opened, and he slid his tongue into her mouth. A tiny moan escaped her throat. Her nipples tightened into buds that tingled and pressed against the silken fabric of her bra. Yes, God, yes. He felt so right.

  Her hands were on his chest and fluttered down the front of his shirt. His skin. She wanted the heat of his skin against her fingertips. He tilted his head. His tongue slid deeper into her mouth. A deep rumble, a growl, a strong masculine sound, came from Ryan.

  Her sex tightened. Her body flamed. She thrust her hips forward in response to the sound, to his touch, to this moment. Ryan’s tongue stroked her mouth in long licks. He held her hip, and his fingers trailed over her shirt, her breast, her side to the top of her shorts.

  Ryan pulled away, and his eyes widened. His breath was short. His gaze searched her face. The air around them was charged with desire and want and need.

  “I’m … Charla, I’m sorry. This isn’t …” His gaze swept over her. She wanted him to not apologize and not feel bad and not say any more words but to instead kiss her and make all her fears and problems and worries disappear with the heat of his lips on hers.

  “Don’t apologize,” she whispered. “Kiss me again.”

  Desire lit his eyes and his lips pressed to hers. This kiss harder and more demanding than the first. She grasped the edge of his T-shirt, and her fingertips tingled against his flesh. She trailed along the edge of his jeans to the spot just above his hard cock. His body tightened and tensed.

  His thumb pressed along the material between him and her nipple. His mouth, damn that lush mouth, worked hers with long, languid kisses. Her hips rolled forward and his breath rushed from him.

  “My God, I want you,” he whispered. “Let’s go.” He pulled back and grasped her hand. “Be careful. No more falling.” He walked her along the path, his arm securely around her waist. They stopped at her doorway, and she slid her keycard into the lock and opened the door.

  A hungry look inhabited his eyes, but he paused. He heat remained between them but an uncertainty clung to his face.

  “Do you want to come in?” she asked. Heat thrummed through her. She wanted more of him, but perhaps he—

  “Of course I do, but—”

  She stood on her toes and nibbled his lip. His hand wrapped around her waist and cupped her ass with a firm grip. “Poppy will stay with Trevor, and you can stay here.”

  He swal
lowed. For an instant he hesitated, as though there were words he wanted to say. Didn’t he want to be with her as she wanted to be with him? Perhaps she’d misread the signals, the vibe, the—

  His lips captured hers. The heat throbbed through her.

  He lifted her and carried her through the darkness of her room with only the light of the moon to guide him forward. “Which bed?”

  “Closest one.” She kissed him deep and hard and pressed her hips against him. She wanted him to take her and erase her fears with the pleasure their coupling would provide.

  He stopped beside her bed and she slid down his body. His gaze locked to hers, a nearly haunted look behind his eyes. As though he was uncertain, he brushed the hair away from her face. Slowly, with great determination and what she could only call reverence, he pulled her shirt over her head. His gaze swept up over her belly and her breasts. He leaned forward and kissed her. His teeth captured her bottom lip with a gentle tug.

  Her sex clenched. His finger stroked along the edge of her bra where her sensitive flesh met the fabric. Her breathing was short. His lips moved down her neck, and her head fell back. He reached around her and unsnapped her bra. His lips kissed the curve of her neck as he slipped the strap of her lace bra over her shoulder. The silk dropped to the floor.

  “You’re beautiful.” His voice was deep. His eyes held a certainty, a confidence she’d not noticed before this moment. He cupped her breast and the pad of his thumb caressed her erect nipple. All the while his gaze locked to hers. His other hand dropped to the top of her shorts. He unbuttoned them, and they fell from her hips.

  She stood before him wearing only lace panties. His hungry gaze traveled down her body. While he continued to stroke her nipple, the fingers of his other hand slid beneath the lace of her panties and between her folds.

  She gasped. She was hungry for the release that his fingertips stroking her clit would provide. The sound that flew from her mouth was unfamiliar.

  “I want you,” he said. “I haven’t wanted anyone in a very long time, and I want you.” His head bent forward, and his lips grasped her nipple. He pulled the flesh into his hot, wet mouth. His teeth teased her tender flesh, causing spirals of want to thrum through her body.

  “Oh my God,” she said.

  He walked her to the bed and pressed her back onto the mattress. She pulled up his shirt and her eyes feasted on his glorious body. His lips met hers, and he pulled at her bottom lip, his fingertip still gently massaging her clit, stroking her in a slow and teasing circle. His touch sparking a fierce lust.

  Her hands trailed over the fine hairs of his chest and along the hard muscles of his abs. She pulled at his jeans, taking them over his hips. His bare ass hard and muscled in her hand. Yes, oh God, yes. Her entire body thrilled with a molten heat, seeking relief.

  He lifted each of her thighs and placed each on one of his shoulders.

  Anticipation at the pleasure of his mouth on her sex curled taut in her belly. Slowly, he bent forward. His mouth teased along the edge of her sex with small kisses, not yet parting her folds.

  Then his tongue stroked her open, down the center of her, through the rich heat of her wetness. She could not control the motion of her hips and they rolled upward.

  Pleasure throbbed through her. She reached between her legs, and wove her fingers through his hair. Oh my God. Oh my God. The rhythm of his movements caused her to dance along the edge of orgasm. His mouth sucked and teased her clit. His tongue stroked over her nub. Her body trembled and caught the edge of the brilliant wave. Pleasure sliced through her as he grasped her hips tight and sucked hard on her clit, pulling her deep, deep, deep over the edge.

  *

  She tasted of stars and ocean and sky and beauty. Her scent clung to his mouth as she trembled beneath him. He’d pulled her over the edge into her climax two maybe three times. Her body was beautiful. The taste of her, oh God, the taste of her. He wanted to feast between her legs again and again and again. And yet his cock throbbed, ached, needed relief. He held himself above her now. Her eyes were half-lidded with lust. She was satisfied by her orgasms. She grasped the base of his cock and stroked up. Her fingertips slid along the drops of pre-come at the tip of his cock.

  She pressed her fingertips, slicked with his pre-come, to her lips. His lower back tightened. Fuck. To thrust deep inside her. She was so wet, so swollen, so ready for him and yet … He wouldn’t last. He could barely last now.

  “I want you,” she said. “I want you inside me.”

  Damn. He reached for his jeans on the floor, but she was faster. She drew out the top drawer of her nightstand, and he heard the foil. She ripped it open with her teeth. She sat before him and sheathed him. His balls tightened close to his body.

  Fear sliced through him. He hadn’t been with a woman in over a year. No time to think. No time to worry. She placed her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. That beautiful mouth with those full lips. Yes. Yes. He wanted to press inside her with a deep carnal need that stoked a fire deep within him. A primitive lust. The head of his cock paused at her entrance. Her muscles clenched. He pushed forward and nudged himself into her. The heat consumed him. Her body slowly opened to him. She clasped his ass with her hands and pressed him deep, deep inside her. He thrust forward.

  “Yes,” she whispered in his ear. “Please, please.”

  With those words he lost himself. The throbbing of his cock. The heat pulsed in his balls. He pushed in and out, and quickly lost his steady rhythm. Release. He needed release. She held him tight and clung to his body. Her body vibrated around his cock.

  Oh God yes, yes,” she yelled, her body tensed and her head pressed against her pillow. A tremble ripped through her. She’d come again for him. He pushed harder, deeper, now ready to satisfy his own want. Damn. How long had he been without a woman? Too long. He thrust and thrust and thrust. The muscles tightened across his back and a deep tingling pulsed in his balls. Come ripped through him, hot and fast. He tensed. He paused. He trembled.

  Clear. A buzzing in his mind. An emptiness, nothingness, other than the sense that all was right. In this infinitesimal moment all was good in the world. And this perfect, beautiful woman was his and just exactly the woman he needed.

  Chapter 6

  The ringing phone yanked Charla from sleep, jerking her back to reality. She slammed upward. Her mind was foggy. Her bed was empty. Ryan was gone. Two more short rings. She stumbled out of bed, pulling the top sheet with her. She wrapped it around her naked body. She shivered. The air was cold in her room. She grabbed for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Duvall, this is Susan, just letting you know that you’re confirmed for the nine a.m. flight.”

  Charla squinted and pressed her hand to her forehead. Nine a.m. flight? Right, she’d been fired, sacked. Unemployed and homeless. She looked toward her bed. And apparently ditched by another man. Hmm. Guess Ryan had an agenda that wasn’t nearly as transparent as she’d thought.

  “Nine a.m.? What time is it now?”

  “Six forty-five,” Susan said.

  “What?” Charla glanced about her room. She’d not packed. Not a bit of anything. “Okay. Bye. Have to go.” She slammed the phone back into its cradle. No shower, no toothbrush. No nothing.

  She lunged for the closet and yanked her suitcase from the top. She didn’t have much, but what she did have seemed horribly strung out across her room. How would she make her flight? How? She would, she simply would. She didn’t have a choice.

  She glanced around the room. Maybe Ryan had left her a goodbye note with the name and number of his friend in L.A. But no. Nothing. She couldn’t worry about Ryan … shit, she didn’t even know his last name. She’d slept with him, and didn’t even know his last name? That was right. Great. She was making pretty bad choices. She scurried about, dumping clothes into first her suitcase and then her duffel bag. She grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them up over her hips. Fine, she was nearly packed and whatever Charl
a forgot, Poppy could have.

  She zipped her bag and then grabbed the giant duffel and threw it over her shoulder. Seven forty-five. She might make the nine a.m. if she hurried. She had one stop to make. She had to say goodbye to Poppy.

  *

  Charla stood outside Trevor’s room.

  “Yo!” Trevor yanked open the door. He had a sheet around his hips.

  “I’m on the morning flight and I wanted to say goodbye to Poppy.” Charla tried to keep her voice even. She’d miss Poppy. Would she ever see her again? Maybe? Maybe not. Poppy was a rolling stone and not one to plan. So quite possibly Charla wouldn’t ever see her roommate again.

  “Oh, Charla!” Poppy said. She came to the door wearing one of Trevor’s T-shirts. Poppy wrapped her arms around Charla’s neck. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to go.”

  Charla nodded and wiped beneath her eyes. Why was she crying? Because she liked Poppy, and Trevor, and Liam, and she’d thought she even liked Ryan.

  “Is Ryan with you?” Poppy looked past Charla and down the hall. “I assumed he stayed with you last night.”

  “He did. But he wasn’t there this morning.” Charla glanced past Poppy to where Trevor stood. “Did Ryan happen to leave the phone numbers for his friends in Los Angeles?” Charla was hopeful. Hopeful that he hadn’t been entirely full of shit and only trying to get into her pants with his promise of somewhere she could couch surf.

  “He hasn’t been back,” Trevor looked out the slider toward the balcony. “His wetsuit is still here, so he’s not catching any waves.” Trevor shrugged like he had no idea where his roommate could be found, and he probably didn’t.

  “When he gets back, I’ll have him call you with the numbers …” Poppy leaned closer to Charla, “… or I’ll skin his hide. Seriously? He just left?” She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. She appeared as surprised as Charla felt. Perhaps Ryan had been an actor in Los Angeles, because she had certainly fallen for his good-guy, helpful act. She wouldn’t have guessed that he’d take off without a goodbye before she awoke. No. She hadn’t pegged him for that kind of lout. Her senses about men were definitely off. Terribly so.