All Of You (Only You) Read online

  All Of You

  Only You, Book One

  By Rhian Cahill

  Copyright 2011 Rhian Cahill

  First electronic publication: September, 2011

  Second electronic publication: October, 2013

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writers’ imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Claire Jones never thought her fantasies about the hot—younger—guy next door would ever turn into her reality but after a push from her best friend and an encounter involving dirty laundry she's getting more reality than one woman should be allowed. But with reality comes emotion and Claire finds herself falling deeper and deeper under Ryan's spell until he’s infiltrated every part of her life.

  There’s no doubt Ryan Doherty wants in Claire's pants but he soon realizes hot sex isn't the only thing he's after. She makes him happy in a way nothing and no one else ever has and if he has to use their sizzling chemistry to stay in her life he will. Because having all of Claire isn't an option. It's his only choice.

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  Dedication

  To Lexxie, you're the best writing friend and life friend a girl could wish for.

  To Mari who never fails to slap me about the head when I need it.

  Last and always, to the boy who promised me the world and the man who delivered it. I love you with all that I am. I write romance because you've shown me how magical it is to be loved above all else. Together Forever, Babe.

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  Chapter One

  Claire Jones stared at her best friend of almost forty years and wondered when Jane had lost her mind. Then again maybe it was Claire who'd lost hers. Either that or her hearing had gone in the last two minutes. Surely she wasn't that old. She'd be forty-two next birthday. At what age does the body start to break down?

  Her fork hovered between mouth and plate, the bite of lobster forgotten. Jane had not said what Claire's mind tried to convince her she'd heard. No, it had to be whatever had possessed Claire of late—the thing that had her fantasizing about her very sexy, very young, next-door neighbor.

  Claire smiled. "For a second there, Jane, I thought you said I should fuck Ryan." She popped the fork into her mouth and savored the delicate flavor combination of lobster, butter, and garlic as it exploded across her tongue.

  Jane chewed the piece of steak she'd just put in her mouth and reached for her glass of wine. She swallowed and took a sip of the deep red liquid. Her wine coated tongue slid out to wet her lips before she spoke. "I did."

  The lobster caught in the back of Claire's throat, choking her briefly. Her fork clattered to the plate, and she reached for her water in the hope it would ease the food down. She coughed and spluttered before the cool liquid moved the lump blocking her airway and brought soothing relief.

  "What?" she croaked.

  "You should fuck him." Jane's gaze was steady. "I've seen the way he eats you up with his eyes. He's hot for you, and before you deny it, I know you've been having all sorts of interesting fantasies about him. You told me so yourself."

  The smug look on Jane's face made Claire want to take back every word of that old conversation. She'd confided more than one of the steamy daydreams she'd been having in which Ryan played a starring role. Luckily, she hadn't divulged the incredibly hot wet dreams she'd woken with every night for the last month. Her fantasizing had definitely become more frequent—more intense—in recent weeks.

  "Jesus, Jane. What the hell are you thinking? I'm old enough to be his mother." Claire tried to keep her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze darting across to the nearest table. The thought of anyone overhearing the conversation terrified her.

  "Only if you'd had him really young."

  "It doesn't change the fact I'm old enough to be his mother."

  "But you're not."

  "Christ. There's at least fifteen years between us. I even look old enough to be his mother," Claire protested.

  "No you don't," Jane's words were taking on the tone she got whenever someone was pissing her off.

  "But I could be!" Claire's voice came out a high-pitched squeak. She quickly glanced at the nearby tables. The whole discussion was wrong. Jane should have been able to see that. How cruel was it to dangle something in front of her that was so out of her reach?

  "Again, you're not. And I think you're protesting too much." Jane's hand slid across the table and landed on Claire's. "You don't look a day over thirty, and one of the hottest guys I've ever seen outside of a magazine drools all over you whenever you're close. I'm not telling you to marry him. I'm telling you to take what both of you clearly want. Fuck each other into oblivion for the sheer pleasure of it."

  Jane pulled her hand back and picked up her wine. Claire waited for her to say something else. Tried to think of another reason why it was a bad idea to think about fucking Ryan, never mind actually doing it. But her mind was going the way her body had the minute she'd met Ryan Doherty—straight to the hell of lusting after a man she could never have.

  "Are the proofs in for tomorrow's meeting?" Jane asked.

  The change of topic had Claire stumbling. "Um…yes. I got them first thing this morning."

  "Did they turn out as well as we thought they would?"

  "Better. Branded may be expensive, but they're worth every penny we pay them for our advertising."

  "Good. I'm not in the mood to fight with Mr. Nichols about it again."

  Claire laughed. "Yeah, it took us long enough to convince him to try our idea for the winter range."

  Jane shuddered. "You weren't the one that offered to get down on your knees and beg!"

  Laughing harder, Claire tried to speak but gave up when she couldn't get rid of the image of her best friend on her knees in front of stodgy old Nichols.

  Jane grinned. "Yeah, not someone I wanna get on my knees for."

  Claire relaxed as they ate the rest of their lunch—the subject of fucking Ryan was dropped. But after they left the restaurant for the office restlessness began to plague Claire, hanging on all afternoon and making time drag.

  Her mind kept going back to what Jane had suggested, "…take what both of you clearly want. Fuck each other into oblivion…"

  By the time five o'clock rolled around, Claire was more than ready to escape and head home to the peace and quiet her townhouse offered. She longed for a hot bath, a glass of wine, and good book. Preferably all at the same time.

  Traffic was a bitch. A sixty-minute drive quickly turned into ninety minutes in hell. Claire cursed and muttered under her breath the whole way. Even lowered the window and swore at the driver of a truck after he almost became her new hood ornament.

  Frazzled, hot, and sticky she was ready for a whole bottle of wine when she finally approached her drive at little less than top speed. Too distracted by her own annoyance, Claire didn't notice the man standing in the parking lot until she nearly ran him over. Cursing a blue streak any sailor worth his salt would envy, she slammed on the brakes, threw the car into park, and flung her door open.

  "Are you fucking crazy!" she screamed as she launched from the vehicle. "I could have run you dow—" The air left her lungs and her words caught in her throat. The glistening flesh of a god-like, bare male chest numbed her mind and turned her body into a quivering vessel of need.

  Ryan.

  God the man is to die for. Claire would have had to be dead not to notice. Even dead I'd notice him. She tried to swallow over the lump of harsh words in her throat.

  "Evening, Claire, bad day at the off
ice?"

  Ryan's smirk should have been irritating. Instead it did funny things to her belly, stirred and warmed it like soup in a saucepan. She licked her lips, swallowed again, and finally dragged a few words from the depths of lust-induced stupidity. "Drive home."

  Jeez, could I be anymore lame? The man probably thought she was an idiot. Hell, she acted like a dumb schoolgirl every time he was around, so who could blame him if he did?

  "Ah, yes. I heard there was a bad accident on the highway earlier. They said traffic would be screwed for hours."

  His gaze dropped to where her blouse sat snug across her breasts, the material raising and lowering with every labored breath. Her nipples strained beneath her bra. The look in his eyes one of hunger—desire. Could Jane be right about him? The thought sent shockwaves of heat bursting out from the breasts he hadn't stopped staring at. Her pulse quickened, her breath turned short—choppy. Her clit ached, and Claire squeezed her thighs together to ease the throb.

  Ryan's nostrils flared, and his gaze came back to meet hers. The heat and lust swirling in the green orbs delivered another burst of heat to her body. Claire shivered. Goose bumps sprang up all over her skin and moisture filled her panties. God, if he could do that with a look what could he do with a touch? Sparks of gold ignited in his eyes, and Claire wondered why she'd never noticed those flecks of light before. Had she ever allowed herself to look that close?

  No. She'd kept contact with Ryan to a minimum. Usually because she found it hard to string a sentence together with the way he had her body exploding to life whenever he got close. Oh, who was she kidding? Just thinking about him sent her nerve endings into a frenzied bunch of sex-craving knots. Claire closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Big mistake.

  The scent of hot, sweaty male flooded her nose and lungs. Her body went from mild arousal to fever pitch in a nanosecond. The smell of a hardworking man had always turned Claire on, but coming from Ryan it tweaked her senses on a whole new level. Her pussy throbbed and turned slick, her breasts swelled and grew heavy, and her nipples rasped against the cotton bra she wore. Her eyes popped open wide, and without permission her torso leaned closer to what tantalized her.

  A cool breeze ruffled the hems of her skirt and blouse, drifting beneath the material to flow over heated skin. Her clit burned with want, and Claire knew she could climax with minimal effort. Hell, she was so close it would take no more than a brush of his hand or lips to set her off.

  Shit. She had to get away.

  Without a word she spun on her heels and dove back into her car. Slamming the door, she put the car in gear and shot into her parking spot. In one move she switched the engine off and grabbed her handbag. After jumping from her seat, she shut the door with her hip then strode across the asphalt. Aiming her keys over her shoulder, she activated the door locks and alarm.

  "Gotta go. Can't stop," she called out as she made a dash for the front of her townhouse…safety.

  It took longer than she liked to fumble her way inside and close the door behind her. Slumping against the cool timber, Claire let her head fall back with a thunk and stared at the ceiling in her foyer. She shuddered. She'd just made a complete fool of herself, and even if she'd been remotely contemplating doing as Jane had suggested and what her body screamed for, she'd probably just managed to ruin any hope she may have had at succeeding.

  *****

  Ryan reached down and adjusted his cock. The second Claire had bounded out of her car all flushed with anger and the stress of sitting in traffic too long, he'd had a hard-on and nowhere for it to go. The damn thing hurt from being bent in half, but Ryan refused to move it like some randy little schoolboy in front of Claire. It didn't matter that she made him feel like one, he flat-out would not stoop to behaving like one.

  It didn't help to see her looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. Strands of silky brown hair flying every which way, like someone had run their fingers through it. Ryan could picture his hands wrapped around her head, imagine his fingers tangled in those soft tresses. He'd hold her still while he took his time devouring her mouth with his. Their tongues would clash, each seeking the dark recesses and hidden warmth to be found in the mating of their mouths… He adjusted himself again.

  The woman had him tied in knots. She hardly gave him the time of day, but all she had to do was breathe in his direction and his dick was raring to go, his body pounding with a need that consumed his every thought. It had taken weeks for him to build up the nerve to say hello to her. But after he'd spoken those first words, Ryan started to go out of his way to run into her. He'd even hung around near his front door with keys in hand so he could pretend to be going out as she came in from work.

  Damn.

  He was acting like a randy schoolboy.

  It had to stop. His body couldn't take much more torture. Today was the first time in ages that she'd actually looked at him. Normally she ducked her head and made a hasty retreat whenever she saw him coming. The only time he managed more than a two-word conversation was when her friend Jane was with her. Ryan had taken advantage of those times, using Jane's presence to gain some insight into Claire. Not that any of those brief conversations had revealed much. And still he found himself enthralled by her. The simplest things set him on fire—the curve of her chin, the subtle sway of her hips, the fan of dark eyelashes over hazels eyes—everything about Claire enticed him.

  He'd never had such an instant reaction to a woman—a pounding, driving need to shove her against the nearest flat surface and fuck her senseless. Shit, he didn't even need a surface—he'd take her standing up. He'd touch and taste, lick and nibble, devour every inch of her before starting all over again. It would take him forever to get his fill of her. The first time would be fast and furious, but once the raw edge of desire was sated Ryan would slow things down, savor her lush body.

  His cock throbbed, grew harder and he widened his stance to ease the ache. The running shorts he wore gave him little room to expand…and they also gave anyone walking by a clear view of what was going on in his mind. Shit. He was standing in the parking lot with a hard-on, staring after a woman who'd clearly slammed the door on him. Was it any wonder she wouldn't give him the time of day?

  Ryan shook his head to pull himself together. In a few strides he made it across the parking lot to his door. The one right next to Claire's. He ignored the pain that lanced through his cock when he bent down to retrieve his key from the special pocket in his running shoe. Straightening, he breathed deeply and caught a lung full of her alluring scent. It hovered in the air like a vapor trail, made him want to follow, though he wouldn't.

  Not yet.

  Soon he'd make his move. He just had to get himself together and make a plan. There was no way in hell he was letting her get away. The chemistry couldn't be one-sided, and after the way she'd eyed his chest when her tirade had stuttered to a halt, Ryan was convinced it wasn't. It just required the right moment, the right place, and the right actions, and he'd bet his big screen TV on their attraction turning explosive.

  First, he needed a shower, and maybe he could give himself a little relief before he ventured over to Claire's with some excuse to spend time with her. Ryan shouldered the front door open and stepped inside. He took in the mess he'd left behind when he'd come in from work. His mud-caked boots sat by the door, a flannel shirt splattered in the same mud hung over the railing for the stairs, and a pile of jeans, socks, and T-shirt lay in a dirty heap at the bottom of the first step.

  Sighing, Ryan reached down and scooped up his work gear, snagging the shirt as he passed on his way to the laundry. He only hoped the damn washer worked. The last load he'd done had come out as dirty as it had gone in, and he'd ended up taking it to his brother's and running the clothes through Brett's machine. If his washer was on the fritz, he could make it through the rest of the week, but come the weekend he'd need to do something about it.

  Then again, I might have just
found the perfect excuse to head next door and see Claire.

  Ryan turned around and walked back to where he started, dumping the pile by the door. Oh yeah, a shower, a little light relief from the arousal gnawing on his insides, a change of clothes, and he'd head next door to get some washing done. He grinned, toed off his running shoes, and took the stairs two at a time on his way to the bathroom. He stripped out of his shorts and tossed them over the railing to the foyer below before entering the bathroom.

  Soft music echoed off the tile surface, and Ryan spun around looking for the source. It took him a minute, but the second Ryan worked out where the music was coming from he groaned. Claire. Jesus. She was in her bathroom. He knew what that meant. Torture. Absolute. Complete. Torture.

  The faint sounds of splashing water could be heard through the thin common wall that separated their homes, it mixed with whatever music she'd put on. Some sort of classical crap that he wasn't into but Claire seemed to love playing whenever she took a bath. And he should know—she took a lot of them.

  He imagined her lying back in the porcelain tub, stretched out with scented water and frothy bubbles swirling around her lush curves. Her breasts would play peek-a-boo, bobbing beneath the white foam before peeking out to tease him. She'd grab a sponge, lather it with soap, and glide the slick cloth over her shoulder, down her arm. In a slow, even stroke, she'd bring it back up her smooth skin and across her collarbone. Neck arched, she'd drag the sponge up her throat, leaving a trail of bubbles that would drip south, down into the line of foam hiding her generous breasts from view.

  "Fuck!"

  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and tried the clamp down on the lust roaring through him. His cock lengthened, engorged with blood boiling with white-hot arousal. Giving in, he wrapped a hand around his shaft and stroked from root to tip in a punishing grip. Pre-come beaded in the slit on the bulbous head, and his balls pulled up tightly into his body. Fire burned in the pit of his stomach, urgent need raced up his spine, and his knees went weak when he thought he heard a moan from next door.