Sullivans 06 - Let Me Be the One

her friend.
    One who just happened to want her like crazy.
    Ryan was famous for his steady hands, and for the fact that nothing riled him. But tonight, just the thought of undressing Vicki had his hands shaking like a blade of grass in the breeze.
    He thanked God that her zipper was on the side of the dress so he could reach it without having to touch her too much. As he slowly pulled it down, he was torn between wanting her to wake up and praying she’d stay asleep.
    What would she think if she found him undressing her in the dark bedroom without her consent? Would she slap him and throw him out?
    Or would she tell him to finish the job by taking off her underwear, too, and then invite him to press kisses to the skin he’d just uncovered?
    By then the zipper was down, but he wasn’t doing his control any favors by letting his mind wander into fantasyland when he still had the dress to slide off her incredible curves.
    You can do this, Sullivan.
    He’d learned early on, when the game stakes were high and it came down to him on the pitcher’s mound, how to shut down everything but the one thing he needed to focus on: making enough good pitches to strike the batter out.
    Tonight, that focus was entirely on getting out of the guest bedroom without kissing Vicki. Or stroking his hand over the curve of her breast. Or waking her up and begging her to let him make love to her.
    Her dress was made of smooth fabric and it didn’t take more than a couple of slow tugs on the hem to get it to slide off. His jaw dropped at the sight of her in a strapless bra and lace panties, both of them red. The bold color looked like fire licking across her pale skin.
    He knew it was wrong to stare at her like this, while she was asleep and he was all but drooling. Knowing he still needed to get her under the covers, Ryan tried to get a grip, and swore he almost had it when she stirred slightly, just enough that he was utterly mesmerized by the way her breasts moved beneath her bra.
    Hard past the point of comfort—way past—he gave himself sixty seconds to get her under the covers and himself out of the room.
    Steeling himself for the touch of her soft skin beneath his hands, he gently lifted her from the bed again before putting her back down on the sheet. And as long as he blocked out every ounce of sensation, if he didn’t make the mistake of smelling her hair, or getting too close to her luscious mouth, he might be able to get out of the bedroom in one piece.
    He had almost pulled his arms from her when she suddenly said his name in her sleep, pressed her lips to his neck, and tightened her hold on him as if she didn’t want to him to leave.
    Ryan went completely still, everywhere—apart from his erection, which was throbbing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. His hands started moving with a mind of their own down her back, over her hips. When she moved closer to him instead of farther away, he almost gave in to the need that hadn’t just been eating at him from that first moment he’d seen her with James at the Pacific Union Club.
    It had been eating at him since he was fifteen years old.
    Ryan didn’t just want Vicki anymore. He needed her. With a desperation he’d never felt before for anything or anyone but her.
    Black and white turned into a dirty shade of gray as the urge grew bigger, stronger, and he teetered between right and wrong. And in the end, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to gently lay Vicki back against the pillows and cover her with the sheets.
    She trusted him, enough that she’d actually fallen asleep in his arms down on the beach. He’d never forgive himself if he selfishly took advantage of her sleepy vulnerability.
    Especially when she’d just made it perfectly clear to him at dinner, and then again on the beach, that she needed him to be her friend.
    And only her friend.
     
    * * *
     
    After leaving her alone and soft and perfect on the bed, instead of going to his bedroom where he knew he wouldn’t sleep worth a damn with Vicki only a wall away, he headed for his home office and picked up the phone.
    “Hey, Rafe, it’s Ryan.”
    His cousin worked as a private detective in Seattle. Ryan always made sure Rafe had killer tickets when they played in the northwest.
    “Need some pointers for the game tomorrow?” his cousin joked.
    “Not tonight,” Ryan replied.
    Realizing he wasn’t calling to shoot the breeze, Rafe said, “What’s wrong? Is everyone in SF okay? Your