The Sun and the Moon [Wattys 2015 winner]

Chapter 14: You're Gonna Need a Dress

I put down the coffee cup on the counter.

"Ryan, how come you can come over to my house and make better coffee using the same equipment and coffee beans that I do?"

"Magic, Hermione."

I harrumphed. It was too early in the morning for me, although Ryan seemed to be a morning person. I suppose he had to be, working in a coffee shop.

He picked up his keys, wallet, and phone to leave and put them in his pocket. Then he wrapped me in his arms in a crazy bear hug, enveloping me in his warmth, kissing my hair and inhaling me. I curled my arms around his narrow waist and stuck my hands in the back pockets of his jeans, feeling the hard muscles of his fantastic ass.

I didn't want him to leave. Not at all.

"Come over to my house this week," he commanded, talking against the top of my head. "On Wednesday. I can't wait until the weekend. I want to have you in my bed.  I want to break some more of your rules.  I want to break the record for the number of orgasms you have had in one night."

I automatically shivered in anticipation. What would it be like to have orgasms delivered by Ryan on his home turf? I took a moment to review my work schedule for the upcoming week in my head; Yes! I could spend the night on Wednesday.

I was getting to the point where I wanted to spend every minute with him because he was getting to be more than just a sexy Sun God to me. Something much, much more.

I needed to analyze that thought at a later point in time too.

But he was still bossy and I needed to call him on that.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" I shot back at him.

Of course I was just messing with him; I was really curious about where he lived and I was glad to be invited. Although I was fearful that it was some crummy bachelor pad, based on the cleanliness of his truck and the way he did the dishes, I hoped that it would be tolerable.

"A little of both," he said warmly, dimples appearing on his beautiful face.  "Mostly telling."

Dimples.

I lost my train of thought.

Focus.

Then my train of thought got back on the rails. He was still telling me what to do.  If I was truthful, I would admit that his bossiness made me wet.  But I still had a backbone and a pathological need to push back.

"You're a short boarder, right?" I asked. I had seen him at the beach with a short board.

"Yeah," he said, warily. "Why?"

"You're this weird combination of confident bastard and mellow zen," I said. "You competed in surfing, so you clearly wanted to win, but surfing is a mellow, natural, individual sport that doesn't require competition. It's like you're an Alpha male hippie."

This brought out a chuckle. "You nailed me," he said.

"No," I argued, "I think you nailed me."

He laughed. More dimples. Damn.  

In a low, husky voice, he murmured, "And I intend to do so every chance I can, Movie Star."

When he talked to me like this, I couldn't handle it.  It was like he was breaking me into dirty talk.  I know there is dirtier talk than this and I'm not sure why I resisted it but I wanted to keep pushing back at him.  I opened my eyes and looked at him.  

"So you're in charge here?"

"Pretty much," he said, lazily trailing the tip of his tongue against my jaw.