“I’m honestly surprised you kept the appointment,” Reid said when he opened the door. He wore a pair of worn jeans and a simple navy-blue T-shirt. His feet were bare. His cheeks were smooth-shaven. She blinked bemusedly at the rare sight of him without facial hair.
He pulled the two heavy bags of food and cooking supplies out of Carley’s arms. “I would have met you at the restaurant and helped carry all of this, but I suspected you needed to do this on your own.”
Carley rolled her shoulders after he took the weight of the bags away, and then let her gaze peruse the interior of his apartment. It was different from the ancient home in which she lived with her fellow restaurant employees. Reid’s living space was sleek, all black and gray and white, with contemporary decor on the walls. The floor was Italian marble, the furniture was leather and glossy wood. She found herself anticipating her first glimpse of the kitchen. If the living area was this nice…
“You know me well after such a short period of time,” she commented as she slipped her coat off her shoulders and waited for him to hang it in a hall closet. She hoped her black leggings, white lace camisole, and sage-green sweater with fat buttons running up the front was appropriate attire for this sort of thing. She had never provided a private cooking lesson before, not even when she lived in the coterie.
She leaned over to unzip her boots, and he said, “Leave them.” His voice held a faint hoarse quality.
She straightened again and warned him, “Vivian is expecting a call by eight.”
He nodded. “I suspected the only way you would agree to be alone with me was if your human shields were aware, and there was a distinct end time to the encounter.”
“They aren’t human shields,” she reminded him crossly. “And you could do a lot in three hours’ time, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied, and she knew they were thinking of far, far different activities.
Or maybe not. Despite her best efforts, her mind had strayed into uncharted territory the moment he opened the door and she saw him standing there in his bare feet, looking comfortable, casual, and ridiculously sexy. She hadn’t dated at all before her parents mated her off to Miguel, and the lights above knew her mate had never looked like this.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and followed him through the apartment.
“So am I really here to show you how to cook? Lights above, look at this kitchen!” Carley gaped, taking in the perfect, shiny, stainless steel equipment, the smooth black-and-gray swirled granite countertop, the brand-new set of Henkel knives lined up on the counter, next to an assortment of bowls and measuring cups and other sundry supplies that would be necessary for a cooking lesson.
Reid smiled his lazy smile as she wandered around the room, touching everything, admiring what he’d provided for her use. He pulled a bottle of Brunello out of the wine chiller tucked under the counter and poured two glasses while she continued to fawn over the kitchen.
As he offered her one of the glasses, she said with accusation in her voice, “If you own all of this already, you can’t possibly need a cooking lesson.”
His eyes sparkled when he spoke. “Your manager was kind enough to give me a list of supplies that would be helpful for the cooking lesson. It’s all new. For you.”
She gaped anew. “You bought all of this—for me?”
He sipped his wine and nodded. His eyes glowed faintly.
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a defiant look. “I can’t be bought, you know.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d been bought once. But that time, she hadn’t had a choice. And now, she vowed it would never happen again. No one controlled her actions, her destiny, except her. She didn’t live in the coterie any longer. Even the king of the lightbearers had no control over her life anymore.
It was a heady revelation.
“I don’t want to buy you,” Reid assured her. “I just want you.”
“Oh…” She lifted the glass and took a hearty swallow. She rarely drank and figured she should keep a clear head for this encounter, but she needed a little liquid courage at the moment. She had no idea how to handle the obsessive, overly attentive shifter. She didn’t have the first clue what to do with a man who seemed to genuinely want to be with her. Who genuinely wanted her. She suddenly wished she had a fan to wave at her heated face.
When a fan popped into existence in her hand, she and Reid both burst out laughing. The laughter managed to ease the tension that had been steadily building since she stepped into his apartment.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and for a moment, the tension returned, until he reached into the bags and began pulling out the ingredients her manager had assembled for this private cooking lesson.
“This steak rub is a secret,” she warned him, as she chopped fresh herbs and added them, along with a variety of spices, to a steel bowl.
“There is something you should know about shifters.”
“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing him warily.
“We are exceedingly loyal. If you show me your secret recipe, you can rest assured that I will share it with no one.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t want me to.”
Magic flared around her hands as she clumsily unwrapped two large steaks and kept her gaze downcast. She had the most ridiculous urge to confess everything, to tell him why she was living in Chicago instead of in the coterie. To her knowledge, no other lightbearer had ever lived outside the magical, protective wards surrounding their village. She hadn’t meant to be a pioneer. She had only wanted to live.
“Besides, I’m not a very good cook. Hence, the cooking lesson.”
She briefly wondered if maybe a cooking lesson was all he hoped to get out of this encounter, but then she dismissed her own foolish thoughts. Of course he was hoping for more.
Odd, but she wanted him to want more. She hadn’t yet determined if she was brave enough to give in, but the idea that he wanted her, craved her, was obsessed over her, made her feel stronger. She could do this.
If she wanted to.
And if she didn’t—or couldn’t go through with it—that would be okay, too. He might be disappointed, but she was confident Reid would not push her to do something she wasn’t quite ready to do. Nor would he give up on her, either. She couldn’t say precisely how she knew all of this—or maybe she could, given the amount of time they’ve spent together over the course of the last month. When she wasn’t working or sleeping, Reid was there, walking her to and from the restaurant, hanging out at the house, in her life, all the time.
She had become used to his presence, had come to expect it. She wanted him in her life, she realized. She too wanted…more.
She washed her hands and set to mincing garlic. She glanced at Reid, who sipped wine, watched her work, and looked so incredibly sexy, she was surprised at her own willpower for keeping him at arm’s length for this long.
“Do you always work this hard to try to impress women?” she blurted.
He leaned his hip against the granite counter and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Not usually.”
Of course he didn’t. The man was gorgeous, stunning, sexy as sin. As scarred as she was, her mind had taken a very provocative slant over the last few days, as she lay in bed alone and tried to fall asleep each night. Considering her experiences with sex, she’d never been one to have fantasies. Now she couldn’t seem to turn them off.
“I’m, ah, flattered,” she said, feeling flustered. She still did not understand why he would be so obsessive over her, of all people.
“I suspect, initially, it was your magic. I’ve heard it said lightbearer magic is ‘happy magic.’ Apparently, to me, that means arousing magic. But now, I am utterly intrigued by you, as a person. Magic or not,” he commented, as if he’d read her thoughts, and knew she needed his reassurance.
Oh my. Carley’s heart rate increased. He was so charming. So starkly honest. So…sincere. She placed the knife on the counter and wiped her hands with the towel she’d slung over her shoulder. Then she turned to face him.
“Kiss me,” she said in a breathy voice. “A real kiss, I mean.”
*
Reid froze. The smile slipped from his face. “If I kiss you, Carley, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop.”
“I really want you to kiss me,” she whispered, watching him with eyes that were wide with anticipation mixed with the faintest tinge of fear.
He wanted to take the fear away. He wanted her to look at him with anticipation mixed with lust. He decided there was only one way to fix the situation.
He reached out and slid his fingers into her soft blonde hair. She automatically lifted her chin. He wrapped the other hand around her waist, and then gently pulled her to him, until they were not quite touching. He bent his head and brushed one of those almost painfully innocent kisses across her sweet, lush lips. He wanted to devour those lips, but he needed her fear to be erased first.
He was rewarded when she parted her lips slightly and a faint sigh escaped. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she instinctively leaned forward, silently asking for more. Her body melted against him. She wanted this. He leaned in and gave it to her.
He pressed his lips against hers, let his tongue flick out to tease her plump bottom lip. She automatically opened her mouth and he licked his way inside. She tasted like wine and magic and need. She tilted her head and pressed closer, her own tongue tentatively touching the tip of his.
The hand tangled in her hair closed into a fist as he struggled with his own self-control. He needed to go slow, for her sake, and it was killing him, because all he wanted to do was tear off those leggings—while leaving the sexy as hell knee-high boots on—and lift her onto the counter and take her with an urgency he hadn’t felt since he was a youngling experiencing his first sexual encounter.
The problem was, she responded to him so wantonly, she was more enticing than any female he’d ever bedded before. She was completely open, utterly honest. She let him take the lead, but made it abundantly clear when she liked something he did. And so far, she liked everything he liked.
When he took the chance and lifted his hand to brush it across her breast, she thrust out her chest and pulled him yet more tightly against her body. He tugged his other hand out of her hair and dropped it to squeeze her ass. And was rewarded when she mocked his movement with her own hands.
“Carley,” he mumbled against her throat. She’d tilted her head and let her hair fall to the side, giving him full access to the curve of her neck. He nipped gently. “I want you.”
She made an erotic noise in her throat, not quite a word.
“Bedroom?” he suggested as he scraped his teeth over the shell of her ear.
She mumbled something incoherent, but did not stiffen, yet he did not want to assume he had her assent. He needed her to say it. She had obviously been violated at some point in her past, and he did not want her to associate his intentions with that experience.
He kissed a trail from her ear, down her neck, and up to her lips, against which he murmured, “Tell me, Carley.”
“Yes.”
It was the sweetest word he’d ever heard uttered. He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. She curled into him, one arm holding tightly to his neck, the other clutching his shirt, while she burrowed her face against his chest.
He walked over to the bed and laid her down on her back. She immediately tensed. He felt her close up on him, as if he could sense her emotions. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. He dropped to his knees next to the bed, an attempt to be less intimidating.
“Talk to me, Carley. What am I doing wrong?”
She twisted her head to the side. “Nothing. I just…It’s just…I thought I could forget,” she whispered as tears welled in her big blue eyes.
“Is it the bedroom? The bed? We can go into the living room. Or back to the kitchen. What do you need?” Anything. It wasn’t even about the promise of impending sex. He wanted her to feel safe. To trust him.
He watched her face as she struggled to come to terms with her fear. He wondered about the fear, wanted to press to determine the root, but now was not the time. If he asked, he would lose her completely, at least temporarily, and neither his body nor mind was ready to let her go just yet.
“This,” she finally said, indicating herself. “This position. Me, lying on my back. It’s…This is how—” He cut her off with a shake of his head.
He pushed to his feet and dropped onto the bed, lying on his back. “Here,” he said. “I can be subservient. Do what you will with me.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to ensure she did not close up entirely, and change her mind about where they were headed.
She sat up and smiled. “I’m not sure I even know what to do with you. But this does make me feel more comfortable. Thank you.”
Thank the gods, fates, and lights. Reid blew out a breath. “I’ll guide you.”
She looked dubious.
“Take off my shirt. Just the top one. Leave the undershirt.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding blooming on her face. She pulled off his shirt.
“Now take yours off.”
She hesitated and then unlatched the buttons on her sweater. He sucked in a breath, and his eyes dilated as she slipped the sweater over her shoulders, revealing the lace camisole underneath.
“Your eyes are glowing,” she commented.
“That happens when our emotions are heightened.” He watched her with eyes he knew were filled with stark hunger. Hell, he wasn’t surprised they were glowing. His emotions were certainly running high at the moment. Everything was running high at the moment.
“Oh. This one too?” she asked, referring to her camisole.
“Come here,” he said gruffly.
He held out his hand, and she placed her smaller one into it. He gave it a tug, and she climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips. She kept her weight on her knees, instead of sinking onto his groin like he wanted her to. But that was okay. All in good time.
“Let me,” he said, his voice gone hoarse with need. He placed his hands on the leather boots, ran them up to the tops, then trailed his fingers up her thighs. She shivered, and he continued upward until his hands rested on her waist, at the lacy hem of her camisole. “May I?” He would do nothing she did not want him to do.
She lifted her arms over her head.
He pushed his hands up her side, taking the camisole with him, and then he tugged it over her breasts and over her head. They jiggled as the material released them. Her nipples peaked instantly, and she sucked in a ragged breath and stared at him as he stared at her chest.
“You can—can you touch me?” she whispered.
Reid groaned as he lifted his hands and cupped her breasts. “So beautiful,” he murmured as his thumbs brushed over her sensitive nipples. She arched into his touch, making a sexy noise that he was quickly learning meant she approved. He did it again and then pushed himself up onto one elbow so he could take one of those delicious-looking, rosy buds into his mouth.
Carley cried out and thrust her hands into his hair, holding him there. He obligingly laved at her breasts, more than happy to give her this pleasure.
He took as much control as she would give him, while he remained on his back and she straddled his hips. And slowly, gradually, they removed their clothing, until he wore only his undershirt, and she sat astride him, utterly gorgeous in all her natural, naked beauty. When she’d tried to pull off his undershirt, he stopped her with his hand covering hers, and distracted her with a kiss, possessive, thorough, until she panted with need and forgot what she’d intended to do in the first place.
But then the tension began to ratchet up again. He sat up and hugged her to him. He could feel the wetness between her legs. She was so ready for him, and yet she was suddenly hesitating again.
“What is it?” he asked as he rubbed his face against her beautiful, flaxen hair. “Tell me, Carley.”
“This is the part that hurts,” she whispered.
He squeezed her more tightly, as he struggled with his own self-control. He felt dual urges at the moment. First, to show her that sex did not hurt, and was not meant to be feared. And second, to go find whoever scarred her this badly, and teach him a well-deserved lesson. His hands shimmered as they shifted from human to animal, and he pulled on every ounce of control he possessed to tamp his temper.
“I suspect it hurt because you didn’t want it and weren’t ready for it,” he said, and then he rolled his hips, sliding his erection through her outer lips, and the wetness there. “Do you feel that?”
She gasped and arched against him.
“You’re ready for me, Carley. Do you want to? Or do you want to stop now?” He said another silent prayer to whatever Fates might be listening. Please don’t ask me to stop. Had he ever wanted anything so badly in his life? Another memory tried to intrude, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. This was nothing like that. Nothing.
“I…Do that again,” she whispered.
He did, pressing his hand into the small of her back as he did so. She gasped again.
“It’s never…felt like this.” She sounded confused, uncertain.
“I can make it feel even better,” he promised.
“Okay,” she said, shyly. “But go slow.”
It might kill him to do so, but he vowed to try. He started to lie back down, and she wrapped her arms around his back and said, “No. Like this. I like this.”
So he held her in his lap and slid backward until his back was pressed against the headboard. She straddled him, and he lifted his hips again, sliding his erection across nerve endings that he knew were ultrasensitive. Her gasp of pleasure confirmed it.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and slipped the other between their bodies. “Ready?” he asked, and when she nodded, he trailed a finger through her wetness until it slid inside. Her inner muscles tightened around his appendage, and she gasped at the intrusion as her eyes flew open and gave him a questioning look. He slid the finger out and in again, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.
“Good?”
“I’ve never…”
“But good?” he urged as he continued to slide his finger in and out. Her eyes glazed with passion as she nodded. He added a second finger, and she sucked in a breath as her body finally kicked into gear and began to move with the motion of his hand.
“That’s it,” he encouraged as his thumb teased her clitoris. She let out a strangled cry, so he did it again. And again. And over and over until she suddenly arched and threw her head back and let out a shriek as her body convulsed through what he suspected might be her very first orgasm.
He was immensely proud that he’d been the one to give it to her.
She collapsed against him as he pulled his hand out from between them and wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly as she struggled to catch her breath.
“That’s never happened before,” she mumbled against his shoulder, confirming his suspicion.
“Explains why it hurt to have sex,” he commented. “A little manual stimulation never hurt anyone,” he said with a teasing smile.
She blinked rapidly. “No, that certainly didn’t hurt,” she agreed, and then she giggled.
He shifted his hips. “Ready for more?”
“I don’t think I can—”
“Trust me. You can.” He pressed against her and then waited. His entire body was tense with the need for release. But he would wait. He needed her assent first.
She wiggled her hips experimentally. He sucked in a breath. And held it.
“Okay,” she finally said, and he let out the breath.
With one arm wrapped around her waist, he held her still, while the other guided his erection to her opening. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. Her body tensed. If she wasn’t so wet right now, he would probably not be able to even do this. But she was and he was determined to prove to her that this was what it was supposed to be like between a man and a woman. Whatever the hell she’d experienced in the past was wrong, and as he gently pushed up while pulling her down with his other arm, he vowed it would be like this for her forever now. Never again would she experience pain during the act. Never again, he swore as he slid into her tight, wet heat.
And then he groaned, overcome with the sensation of something he’d been craving for a month, something he’d been fantasizing about every night as he sat either in her bedroom or on the roof of the building next door and watched her sleep. This was as close to the Summerlands as he’d ever get while still living in this life. He sank into her, and then stopped and waited for the tension to drain from her body.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered as she experimentally shifted her hips.
He groaned again. “Actually, it does. But it’s a good ache. Want more?”
Her face was still buried in the crook of his neck, but he felt her nod. He pulled almost all the way out and then slid in again, painstakingly slowly. As his body twisted more tightly and ached for release, he felt the tension slowly drain from her body. It was a heady feeling, this knowledge that he could do this to her. For her.
She trusted him now. He could tell. Her earlier tension was replaced instead by a far different kind of tension. This one he knew how to handle. He knew exactly what to do to give her relief. He pulled out and pushed into her again, and was rewarded when she ground her hips against him, telling him without words that she liked it.
He slipped his hand between their bodies. If he weren’t so damn turned on at the moment, he could probably hold out until she had another orgasm without manual stimulation, but as it was, he felt like he was about to explode any minute. So he used his hand to help her along. As she threw her head back and her body tightened around him, her fingernails scraped along his shoulders, and he thrust again and again, harder this time, as he too lost control and finally chased her over the edge.
* * * *
Sometime later, he was jostled awake when she slid out of his lap. He blinked his eyes open and watched as she climbed off the bed and bent over to retrieve her clothing off the floor. Night had fallen. The only light in the bedroom came from the artificial lights of the city, spilling in through the window. He had deliberately ensured every curtain was pulled away from every window in his apartment, knowing she would need the natural light.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She turned her head, held her sweater to her chest to hide her body from view, and offered a shy smile. “Yes. Sorry I woke you.”
He stretched and yawned. “It’s okay. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. And that was a hell of a workout.” He flashed a grin. His shifter senses allowed him to see the blush staining her cheeks, despite the low light.
“I should probably go home. I could use a shower.”
“You can shower here.”
She glanced at the partially open bathroom door. It was too dark for her to be able to see the giant jet tub and shower stall with three enormous showerheads.
“I’ll join you,” Reid suggested. “I’ll scrub your back.” He hadn’t showered with a woman in years, but the idea suddenly held great appeal. Because it was Carley.
Her eyes widened and her gaze flew to his. He shook his head.
“Have you ever had a single positive sexual experience?” he asked.
“Today I did.”
He shook his head again as he slid off the bed. “Come on. Let’s give you another one.”
He used candles, instead of turning on the harsh overhead lights. Besides the romantic element, he knew the lowered lighting helped ease Carley’s nerves. And it gave him enough cover to shed his undershirt and climb into the shower with her, although he was careful to face her the entire time. He would happily scrub her back, but she was not allowed to touch his. Or even see it.
He used a soapy washcloth to ensure she was squeaky clean and…panting with need and desire. As he slid the washcloth between her legs—again—he whispered, “Want to do it in the shower?”
“Yes,” she responded, her eyes once again glazed with desire. He decided he liked that look on her.
“Want me to sit? Or can I take you against the wall?” he asked as he massaged her breasts.
*
He was giving her a choice. Carley was so bewildered, she didn’t know how to respond. Beside the fact that she’d never had sex in the shower before, so she had no idea which way was best.
“What…what do you want?”
“You,” he responded immediately. “Any way I can get you.”
“Oh my,” she said in a breathy voice. He overwhelmed her. She had no idea what to do, what to say, how to act. All she knew was…“Um, against the wall.”
“As my lady wishes,” he murmured, and he grasped her thighs and lifted her off her feet, pressing her back against the cool tile, and holding her legs wide, while he stepped between them.
“I need you to do the honors, Carley,” he said. “My hands are occupied at the moment.”
He meant for her to touch him, to guide his erection to her opening. She stared down at that appendage, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She was grateful for his choice to use only a small grouping of candles, rather than turn on the light, when they’d made the decision to shower together. As much as she enjoyed what was happening between her and Reid, she was still far too uncomfortable in her own skin to do this with the lights on.
He watched her, but said nothing. Giving her, she knew, the choice. Again. She’d never had so much control over her own experiences before.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured. She’d hesitated too long. And then she realized she wanted to. She wanted to touch him, to figure out if her hands on his erection would give him as much pleasure as his hands on her…inside her…did.
With one arm tightly wrapped around his neck, she tentatively reached down with the other and grazed her fingernails along the length of him. She felt his body tense and his erection give a jerk. She smiled when he closed his eyes and groaned.
“Damn, that feels good,” he whispered.
Spurred by his comment, she touched him again, wrapping her entire hand around him and smoothing it up and down, familiarizing herself with that part of his body that had just given her such pleasure a short time ago.
“If you keep doing that I’m going to lose it before we get much further,” he murmured, and she froze as she realized she’d gotten lost in the pleasure of giving him pleasure.
He chuckled. “If you want to keep it up anyway, go ahead. There are plenty of other ways I can make you feel good, too.”
She contemplated his offering, wondered what other ways there were. But her body craved him. She wanted this. She wanted him inside her again. Hopefully, this would not be their one and only evening together, and she could convince him at a later date to demonstrate some of those other ways. She had never felt this way with Miguel. It was a heady feeling, this urge to actually want to couple with someone.
Reid flexed his hips. She squeezed his erection again and then guided it toward her opening, gasping when he thrust into her, pressing her back against the wall and sending her body into sensation overload.
She immediately began gyrating her hips, as he tried to maintain a slow pace.
“Faster,” she said on a gasp, once again lost in the moment. She could feel her insides clenching, squeezing, building toward what she decided was going to be a fabulous explosion. She wanted this. She needed this. “Faster,” she said again, more demanding this time, as she clung to him, and her hips moved impatiently.
He surged into her, pulled out, and surged again. Over and over. “Yeah,” he growled. “Oh yeah.” And he kept it up, faster and faster, while she urged him on, until she arched and stiffened and shrieked and came apart in his arms. He pushed her through her orgasm and then continued toward his own, and then he held her there, pressed against the wall, as he poured himself into her.
She gasped. Panic surged through her system. Her entire body went rigid. He pulled his upper body away and looked down at her. She sucked in air as if she’d been underwater for too long.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked as he gently pulled out and slowly lowered her to her feet. He sounded so damned concerned. That alone went a long way toward tamping the panic.
“Sorry,” she muttered with her eyes closed, as she fought to regain control. “I just—it’s just—I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh good,” she said on a sigh.
“Tell me,” he commanded, as he grabbed a washcloth and quickly cleaned himself up. He lifted the cloth as if he intended to clean her as well, but then hesitated. He seemed to instinctively know that she might not yet be ready for him to touch her again. Instincts, hell—it was pretty damn obvious by the way she was breathing heavily, her entire body once again tense with agitation. She felt another strong urge to tell him, to be honest about her past. It was an unusual feeling for her, as she’d done her best to close that particular door and never speak of it, to anyone.
“I always used to feel like I was suffocating,” she said. “You know, when…” She waved her hand feebly.
“When I came and pressed you too hard against the wall,” he guessed.
She nodded. “Except it was always on the bed, and I was always on my back.” She touched his chest. “It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “I’m okay now.”
He lifted the washcloth, silently asking her permission. She nodded so he slid the washcloth between her legs and whispered, “I don’t like it missionary style anyway.”