He shifted me on his lap. “Anything else you want to get off your chest while we’re on a roll?”

I scratched my puffy lip and muttered, “I was arrested today.”

“No, you weren’t, remember? No charges?”

“There will be photos of me getting taken into custody in every paper, Ryan.”

“And you’re expecting me to be mad at you about it?”

“Well, yeah. Not just mad, furious actually.”

“I am mad. I’m freaking furious, but not at you. I’m pissed off that hordes of women prevented you from getting back into the hotel and that you were manhandled and treated like a criminal and injured.

That’s what I’m pissed about.”

I bristled. “You don’t need negative press.”

Ryan shirked it off. “It is what it is. If it bleeds, it leads. This isn’t a scandal, Tar. It will blow away eventually so spending a lot of energy on it is a waste. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Ryan stood up with me in his arms. “Oh, you’re a big lug,” he said. He smiled and kissed me before setting me gently down on the bed. “Hungry? I take it they didn’t feed you in the slammer.”

I frowned at his lame joke, but he was too busy reading the room service menu to notice. “Starving, actually.”

He glanced back at me. “Come to think of it, I am sort of mad at you, though. If you were so desperate to try bondage and handcuffs and shit, all you had to do was ask. I’d be more than happy to go there with you. We have yet to fully explore the depraved side of sex. Hell, we haven’t even scratched the surface.”

Leave it to him to find the humor in it all. Ryan ordered a late lunch and then called the front desk for antibiotic cream and ibuprofen. I was relieved that food was on its way.

I snuggled with a pillow on the bed. “You still need go to your premiere. You know that, right?”

Ryan grabbed his cell. “David, what’s the stylist’s name that’s traveling with Jenna? No, the girl that does makeup. I need you to find her and send her up here.”

After he ended the call, he climbed over the bed to me. I curled up to his chest.

“I know why you’re bent . . . and I don’t care what the papers will say. A week from now it will be forgotten and someone else will wear the target for a day.”

What a relief. “Thank you. I’m glad we can talk things out like this.”

He stared at me for the longest time. I could sense the sadness building. “When I think of the things that could have happened to you, worse than these scratches on your cheek—”

I stilled his lips with my fingers. “Shh. Stop.”

His hand brushed down my side, pausing over my stomach. His eyes scrunched closed and he swallowed hard. “You will always be my first priority, Taryn. Always. Just knowing you were hurt today is killing me.”

I gazed into his eyes. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. I love you so much. But . . . I am not going to add any more fuel to this situation by appearing battle-scarred in public. I won’t . . .”

Visions of thousands of cameras chasing down picture evidence of my wounds scorched my mind. “I will not embarrass you that way. I promise. I’ll be here when you get back. No matter what time that is.”

He frowned. “I don’t think so. Since you insist that I go to the premiere and I absolutely refuse to leave you behind, I guess we have to compromise. I’ll have a separate car take you so you won’t be visible to the general public. I think you know how this works now.”

I nodded.

“You can skip the more public appearances, but you will be with me every other moment tonight. And that, my love, is nonnegotiable.”

Chapter 8

Recover

We had barely parked our luggage in the foyer of our newly rented condo when Ryan began to peel his clothes off. He pulled his T-shirt up, revealing his muscular body and those glorious washboard abs.

My mouth watered, admiring the poetry in motion stalking me like a hungry predator, all chiseled and cut to perfection. No wonder women around the globe practically faint in his presence. He was breathtaking. And all mine.

With a playful smirk he tossed his shirt to the floor, driving me back into the depths of a dimly lit room. Six days had passed since the Paris debacle but the press was unrelenting. I knew his ego was also smarting since Reparation wasn’t pulling in the box-office sales that his team had hoped for. Ryan, however, continued with the pretense of being unfazed by it all.

“Looks like a nice place,” I said jokingly, unable to tear my eyes away from his heated stare. Everything beyond his smoldering blue eyes seemed to blend into a blur of neutral color.

I took a few steps backward, afraid to drop my guard, bumping into a decorative chair along the way.

My backpack slipped off my shoulder and hit the floor.

He nodded once, not caring in the least what the place looked like. “Find the bedroom.”

“Don’t you want to unpack first?”

His gaze was dark and full of lust. “No. Sex first. You have five seconds to get naked or I will rip those clothes right off of you.”

My pulse spiked. “Someone a bit anxious?”

He returned with a salacious smile. “You started this.”

“Uh-uh. You were the one bragging. Think you can best your five orgasms? Not that I doubt your mad skills or anything.”

“Oh, do I have plans for that mouth of yours.” He continued his prowl, stripping his socks with each step. “Three seconds. Lose the clothes, Tar. Now. Or do you want me to leave red fingerprints on your ass?”

“You wouldn’t . . .”

The devil in his glare said oh hell yeah, I would.

“Want to find out?” He prowled, closing the gap. His admonishing tone heated my skin. “You might like it.”

I only managed to get one shoe off while removing my shirt, backing up with every step. My retreat was halted by the couch.

“That’s a good place to start.” Ryan grabbed the front of my jeans and yanked me forward.

“You’re so adorable when you’re flustered,” he murmured, drifting his fingertips down my cheek, softly, reverently. “Let me be the first to welcome you to Vancouver.” He opened my belt, slowly pulling each inch of the leather free from their loops. “We’re gonna have to perform a cavity search, though.

Make sure you didn’t smuggle anything into Canada. I’m going to keep this item in case you need restraining.”

He tucked my belt into the back pocket of his jeans.

My heated pulse jumped another degree.

Zipper down, his hands slid over my rear, fingers curving right into where I burned the most.

He had been toying with me the entire flight, innocently brushing fingertips over my chest, whispering

in my ear all the things he was planning on doing to me. Torturing me into this frenzied state.

His mouth locked on mine, kissing me into oblivion. Nimble fingers unlatched my bra while I shoved his jeans down on his hips, clutching his arousal firmly.

“Enough foreplay. I need to be inside you—now,” he groaned in my mouth.

I used my foot to push his jeans the rest of the way down to this ankles. “What are you waiting for?

Take what’s yours.”

“Plan on it. Just making sure you’re ready for me.” He fell back on the cushions, deftly pulling my legs over his thighs so I was straddling him.

He gasped then groaned when he was fully seated inside. Sinking down on him was shear bliss, like coming home. Cheek to cheek, his hands held my hips, rocking me back and forth as my knees gave us lift.

I sucked the curve of his top lip, lost in his kiss and skillful tongue.

His kiss drifted to my chin, my neck. I cradled his head in my hands when he took my breast into his mouth. I relished his hard tug, melting my entire existence into sensory overload.

In an instant, I was dipped backward, hissing when my skin came in contact with the cold wood of the coffee table.

He withdrew and replaced my sudden emptiness with his mouth and fingers. My back arched, moaning from his touch.