Her breath was coming fast now, faster still when he slid two fingers beneath her panties and into her. A heartbeat later, she was lying on the couch and he was lowering his deliciously heavy weight to her so that they could kiss and grind against each other.

Maybe it was because they had first fallen for each other as teenagers, but she loved the way they always got down and dirty on the couch like two horny kids who couldn’t get enough of each other even when a bed was just feet away.

He levered himself up from her just enough to remove her bra and panties, but once she was naked, instead of coming back into her arms, he simply stared.

“I can hardly believe you’re mine.” His whispered words were filled with awe. Pure, never-ending desire.

And so much love it filled her to overflowing.

“Always,” she whispered back. “Forever.”

She was reaching to pull him in for more kisses, when her elbow smacked into something hard. And cold. And wet.

“Sorry about that,” he said as he lifted her elbow up to press a kiss to it. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He pulled a champagne bottle out of its hiding place. “Surprise.”

She tried to smile back at him, but it was hard to pull it off when all she could think about was what he was planning on doing with the champagne. She watched with heady anticipation as his deft fingers worked the cork. It popped open and champagne sprayed all over her br**sts, making her laugh in surprise as the cold, fizzing droplets covered her.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

A flash of his wicked grin was the only answer she got before he lowered his mouth to her sensitive flesh and licked off every last drop. When he found a particularly sensitive spot, and then another, she threaded her hands into his hair to hold him against her.

Finally, he lifted his head to stare down at her with his dark, intense eyes.

“I think we’re ready to start now.”

He hadn’t even started yet?

Oh God...she was never going to make it out of this hotel room in one piece.

And that was just fine by her.

* * *

Ryan wanted to savor every single second with Vicki. It meant everything to him that she trusted him to love her the way she deserved to be loved.

Gently, he ran one finger down between her br**sts to her belly button. “Do you know what they call this part of a woman?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide and filled with heat.

“The champagne line.”

A soft whimper left her pretty lips and he had to press a kiss to them. She licked the bubbly from his tongue and he was tempted just to take her right then and there and forget about the full bottle of champagne. But he’d have a lifetime to take her hard and fast.

Tonight, he wanted to cherish. To treasure.

To love.

He lifted her arms above her head one at a time and curled her fingers around the arm of the couch. Her back arched just enough to make the slight indentation on her torso slightly more pronounced.

He stared down at her, the woman he’d waited half a lifetime to finally make his own.

“Perfect.”

With a quick lick over the tip of each breast, he finally tilted the bottle over her. Champagne pooled between her br**sts for a split second before beginning the slow, sweet slide down toward her belly button.

His groan sounded in the room a beat before he leaned down to lick his way up over the sweet, fizzly liquid, from her waist to her breastbone. One by one, Vicki’s fingers slipped from the couch until her hands were in his hair again and she was arching into his mouth.

A moment later, Ryan lifted her up off the couch. He’d given slow his best shot.

But he was known for speed, after all.

He carried her over to the bed and left her arms just long enough to put on protection. And then he was sliding deep and she was gasping out his name. He stilled and stared into her eyes.

“That first day we met, when I was lying over you on the grass, I knew you were the one.”

Vicki smiled up at him, even more beautiful now than she’d been all those years ago when they’d lain together on the high school lawn.

“I did, too.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

Four nights later, Vicki and Ryan walked into the San Francisco Modern Art Museum hand in hand for the fellowship awards ceremony.

“He’s here.” Ryan’s low voice vibrated with anger.

He wasn’t just her best friend and fiancé, he was a Sullivan. He would always want to protect—and avenge—her, especially when it came to her first husband.

She squeezed his hand as Anthony made his way across the room straight toward them. “I’m glad he’s here.” And it was true. She actually appreciated this opportunity to see her ex again. It was her chance to finally put him where he belonged.

In the past.

But before her ex-husband could get to her, a beautiful woman approached her. “Are you Vicki Bennett?”

Vicki had never met the woman before, but she recognized her nonetheless. It was the woman in the picture with James. The one who had sold her soul to a sadistic devil for a million-dollar prize.

“Yes, I’m Vicki.”

“I’m Kris. I worked with—” The woman faltered, paused, regrouped. “—with James. I was last year’s sculpture winner. I just heard the fantastic news that he’s been kicked off the fellowship board. Off all of them, actually, including the board of this museum.” Before Vicki could respond, the woman said, “I don’t normally do things like this,” and then strong sculptor arms were coming around her in an unexpected hug. “Thank you for doing what I didn’t have the strength to do.”

Vicki had spent plenty of time on the phone with several of the board members during the past few days while she’d been in St. Louis watching Ryan’s first round of playoff games. Again and again she’d gone over what had happened with James, but it wasn’t until Anne called her with the good news about James’s dismissal as she and Ryan were getting on a plane to come home that she knew for sure that they believed her.

The woman’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she took a step back. “I never should have said yes to his offer to 'help' me. Everything I have now feels like it’s been tainted with ugliness. I’m going to leave, go somewhere new, start over where people don’t know about the mistakes I’ve made.”

Vicki had been mulling over the Italian residency for the past few days, but any way she looked at it—and despite Ryan’s obvious willingness to chuck it all in for her—she couldn’t quite picture herself in Europe again. Suddenly, she knew exactly what she was going to tell the museum curator.