“Hey.” She opened the door, and it was like her biological clock reversed a good fifteen years. How could her heart not gallop at the sight of him, leaning against the threshold and holding a large bouquet of pink tulips? A V-neck shirt hugged his large frame without being too tight, and dark denim outlined those gorgeous legs she had yet to see. Wow.
He glanced at his watch. Not the reaction she expected. “Are you ready?”
“I…cooked,” she said, and gestured toward the table she had laid in record time. Martha Stewart herself would have been proud. She had produced a flowery linen table cloth, and the Pottery Barn silverware, plus the fancy cloth napkins and not two, but three types of glasses. An array of sweet pea scented candles, big and small, sat in the middle of the table.
He frowned. “Oh.”
“Is that okay? I figured, it would probably be best if no one saw us in public anyway. To keep it low profile.” After your scandal. Your sex scandal.
“Sure.”
He entered her townhouse and studied it. The contrast of his manly looks against the soft pink on the walls and the pastel-colored sofas and accent pieces could be laughable, if she weren’t so freaking nervous. She touched her stomach, wishing all the emotions swimming inside would come to a stop.
“Wine?” She smoothed her hand over her apron.
“Whatever you’re having.”
She dashed into the kitchen, and grabbed a red wine she hoped would impress him. After all, she had Googled and gone shopping at the European shop a few blocks from her place. With trembling fingers, she opened the drawer, searching for the corkscrew.
If only she had kept that modern wine opening thingy they’d received as a wedding gift after her divorce. Shit. She grabbed a glass and splashed some water from the tap, then drank it like she had gone hiking in the woods and her throat was parched. Damn.
Breathe in. Breathe out. She tried to follow the mantra, but the nausea only worsened. With cold hands, she left the wine on the counter and removed her apron. The scents of the spices she had used were like a stubborn yet pleasant fragrance in the kitchen, and she glanced at the lasagna cooling on the stove.
At least she had that going for her. Her family recipe. Unless, of course, Devon hated pasta. “Do you like Italian?” she yelled.
“Wouldn’t be here otherwise,” he answered, his voice far too close. She turned around, and found him closing the gap between them. “Can you open the wine?”
“Sure.” He took it from her, and his fingers brushed on hers. She swallowed. “Why are you nervous?”
“Er, it’s like I’m losing my virginity all over again. Sorry. I bet that was the worst thing I could have said. Crap.” She exhaled and her breath lifted her bangs. “I just don’t wanna be the worst woman in bed you’ll ever sleep with.”
He threw back his head in a hearty laugh. “Are you for real?”
She opened the fridge and removed the bowl of Caesar salad she had prepared earlier. “Yes. Okay. So now I suck in bed and am this insecure charity lay. Look, you can leave if you want.”
“And miss the garlic bread?” He grabbed the bowl from her hands and laid it on the island. Then, he kissed her knuckles and a glorious flutter shot up her arm.
I have to seriously switch the smile-o-meter off otherwise my cheeks will hurt soon.
“Stop thinking about sex. Let’s just have dinner.”
Dinner. The word was so simple, yet it unleashed a world of possibilities. She nodded, and reached for the Parmesan cheese. Sprinkling it over the greens, she realized dinner was something she hadn’t shared with a non-family male in a long time.
“Are you excited about seeing your family?” he asked.
She opened the built-in oven and removed the garlic bread, then flicked it off. Sitting the warm bread next to the salad, she glanced at Devon. “Not particularly. It’s happening this weekend. Too soon.”
He leaned in, and it gave her a degree of satisfaction to know he seemed entranced by her cooking. Hopefully the sentiment would continue after he tried her food. No pressure. “Do you have a date for your brother’s engagement party?”
She waved him off, then grabbed the salad and the bread, and took them to the table. “Nah.” There was no reason to lie.
He flashed her a smile filled with bad intentions. “I’ll go with you.” She tilted her head in his direction, as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
The infamous Devon Wilder wanted to be her date? “What? Thanks, but you don’t need to rescue me from them.”
“I won’t. You will rescue yourself. I’ll just watch you kick ass.”
“Let me think about it,” she said. How incredibly sweet and terrifying that he would offer to come home with her. She’d love to have him as a distraction from the tension that had been persistent ever since her divorce. It would be her way of showing her family she had moved on.
However, when Devon went his own way, she’d have to deal with all the questions from her mother. Why the CIA and the FBI hadn’t discovered her mother’s talent as Master Interrogator she would never know.
“Not now. Don’t think about it now. What do I have to do to keep your mind off other things while you’re with me?” he asked, and tipped up her chin.
Did he really have to ask? Her stomach clenched. “I never knew you were the possessive type.”
“I wasn’t.” He traced her lips with his index finger, and on cue, her lips parted. He gazed at her intently, and a rush of blood blasted straight from her pounding heart all the way down the back of her knees. She blinked, as if his nearness was an illegal drug about to give her a high. And she wanted that high. Wanted…him.
For once, her desire was more suffocating than her fear.
She stood on her tiptoes, and pulled him into a kiss. Delving her tongue into his mouth, she swallowed a groan from his lungs. Their teeth clashed, and she stroked his chest. His hot length pulsated against her, and she lowered one hand to caress the bulge over the jeans. “I want you, Devon. So much.”
“Me too, baby. Where is your bedroom?” He scooped her up in his arms, and she laughed.
She stretched her finger in the direction of her bedroom, and realized it trembled a bit. Like the rest of her. “Second door to the left.”
He stopped in his tracks for a moment, a smile filled with bad intentions forming on his full lips. “How about dinner?”
“Screw the food,” she said, stung by an amazing sense of empowerment. This was about to happen. And she was the one calling the shots. What could go wrong?
Holding her tighter against him, he picked up his pace. “You’re sounding a lot like me.”
“I’m a fast learner.” “That’s what worries me.”
He walked into the room, and she squeaked. Even though she had set the atmosphere thinking they would visit this area much, much later, she sighed with relief. Besides the dim light of a nightstand lamp, there was a welcoming eeriness in the room. Clean sheets were on the Tempurpedic mattress, and she had sprayed enough air freshener in the place that it smelled like they just walked into a freaking body lotion store.
He sneezed. Okay. So maybe she had been too generous with the spray. Next time, take it down a notch, girl.
The moment he sat her feet down on the carpet, she bit the inside of her cheek. She smoothed her hands over her cobalt dress, and noticed her palms were clammy. Of course they were.
He stroked her jaw line. “Are you okay?”
“Can you take your clothes off first?” she asked, her voice wavering. “Absolutely. If that will get me closer to seeing you in your birthday
suit,” he delivered playfully, but she detected uneasiness too.
Interesting.
Was she such an oddball? Most women he slept with were certainly far more experienced and liberated. He pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it to the foot of the bed. She rubbed the corner of her mouth to wipe her imaginary drool. Or was it real?
His skin was dark marble ridged and chiseled, with enough tangents to drive any woman crazy. A man that hot belong in an underwear ad, or a Madonna music video. He undid his zipper and pulled down his jeans. She trailed her gazed up his long, muscular legs, then eyed the black brief underwear, the erection straining against the fabric.
Elena flushed and fanned herself. Unless underwear companies made male boxers with special padding, she was in for a special treat. Teasing her, his fingers played with the hem of the boxers.
“All of it. No cheating,” she said. “Go big or go home.” A tremor rippled through her. From the looks of it, she was definitely going big.
“Tit for tat, Elena.” He smiled. “It’s time you show me your goods.” She licked her lips, and started to unbutton the front of her dress. Looking
him straight in the eye was hard, so she focused on the wall behind him, coward that she was.
“Eyes on me. Otherwise I’m walking. I need to know you’re with me.”
Where else would I be? Nodding, she lifted her gaze to his, and a frisson zapped down her spine. Damn. Silver specks gleamed around his dark irises. She had fought for three years to be there, emotionally and physically, and she wouldn’t fail. Didn’t want to.
Willing her trembling fingers to cooperate, she fumbled and continued to undo the buttons, one by one, until the dress slid off her skin. Now left with her dark blue bra and panties, she fought the urge to cross her arms over her body.
Squaring her shoulders, she closed the distance between them. “I’m with you, Devon,” she whispered.
He kissed her, and her body molded to his. Heat radiated from his skin, in waves, each time pulling her closer. Her nipples tightened against her lacy bra, and instinctively she put one leg between his two powerful, large thighs. Her sex throbbed, and she reveled in the delicious sign of what was about to happen. Yes. She was with him, and with no one else.
Gently, he rubbed the small of her back with the palm of his hand. She expected him to have an urgent touch, much like before, however he kissed her like they had all the time in the world. His tongue teased her, swirling against hers, in a sweet game of agony that had no losers.
He buried his hands in her hair, and her scalp tingled with lusty awareness. All her nerve endings sizzled like melted butter in a hot pan. She ran her hands down his chest, her fingertips feathering over his sculptured muscles. God. How many times a week did he go to the gym?
Finding his taut nipple, she circled it, which earned her a groan from him. Venturing her other hand lower, she glided it past his washboard abdomen, and rested it at the hem of his boxer briefs. Hhhhmm… Her finger toyed with the hem, examining her own conundrum. Should she pull down his underwear? Eventually it would come off—it had to. But that boldness was as foreign to her as the Japanese language. What if she touched him intimately, and he expected her to be this sort of sex vixen?
He shushed her, and tipped up her chin. “Ssshhh…look at me.”
She followed his command, and the moment her eyes found his, her heart slammed against her rib cage. She bit back a smile, unable to yank her gaze from him, to stop contemplating that gorgeous man who looked at her like she was the most fantastic thing on Earth. Or like she was a strange animal he was befriending.
He caught her lips in a languid, passionate kiss. She matched his need, also pacing herself, as if she never wanted to break that intimate moment. Her hands dropped about him, and he held her in a warm embrace. There was something painfully ethereal about their time together, and emotions welled up inside. This was really happening—she was making love to a man. Didn’t matter if he didn’t love her, or if she didn’t love him either. It wasn’t just wham bam, thank you ma’am. At last, she was closing the creaky door to the past and opening a flowery, sun-bathed window to her future.
He laid her on the mattress, and she shifted on the soft linens. With a grin, he pulled down her underwear, and a cold draft hit her skin and gave her goose bumps. Despite the sudden cold, heat filled her cheeks because of the desire rushing through her. One glance at the marveled look on his face, and she fumbled with her bra to remove it.
Bare to him, she saw him coming on top of her. She leaned in for a kiss, but instead he planted a few on her neck and collarbone. Her hips swayed uncontrollably, undulating in a senseless dance, already asking for more.
When he neared her full breasts, she drew in a sharp breath. He blew over her nipple, and the hardened peak ached in response. So did she.
She slanted him a look, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver through her. A smile formed on his lips before he slipped out his tongue, and traced it along her nipple. Throwing her head back again, she clutched the bedspread, sinking her fidgety fingers into the thick fabric.
He grazed his teeth on her flesh, and a shot of arousal surged through her. Each goose bump carried an electric wave, piercing through her skin…and cutting right into her soul.
“Devon…” the name fled from her lips.
Groaning, he brought her breast to his mouth, and began sucking her. With his free hand, he cupped and caressed her other globe. His tongue lapped at her nipple, the warm suction sending glorious tingles down her sex. Her breath caught in her throat, and she let go of the bedspread and anchored both hands on his super broad shoulders.
“I want you inside me,” she blurted, her eyes widening at her own surprise. Wasn’t there a time in her life that the own idea of saying those words was beyond terrifying? Not anymore. Not now—and screw it, she wanted to know just how far she would, could, go. “Now.”
“We don’t have to—”
“We don’t. I just want it. To know I can do this,” she added, and could have kicked herself because of her squeaky voice. With you.
“You’re the boss.” He moved away, and reached down for the condom in his jeans. Damn if she could interpret the look in his eyes as respect, or mockery. She started to worry her bottom lip, but when he dropped his boxers and his gorgeous cock sprung free, her jaw dropped. She wasn’t a small chick or anything, but…
Mesmerized, she started at how he put the condom on—rolling the latex over his thick length effortlessly. When he returned to her, he kissed her, and while their tongues mingled, he flipped her over so she would be on top of him. Then, he sat up right and took her with him, so she sat on him. Naked.
“Hey,” he whispered. “You’re still good? If not—”
“I am.” To remove any doubt he might have, she reached for his length, and her fingers trembled at the touch of his pulsating member. She could feel the rush of blood traveling in his side veins. The amazing evidence he wanted her, too. And he was determined to make this about her, and for her.
Emotion gushed inside her, but she refused to let a single tear trickle out. It wasn’t just sex. It was her new life. And she deserved it.
“I am,” she repeated, this time louder. The tip of his cock rubbed against the opening of her sex, and she quivered, like that single contact irradiated something far deep into her. It was delicious.
She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye, before he even had to ask if she could handle this again. Because she was as sure as the Earth was round. He thrust into her, and she gasped, the walls of her pussy clinging to him. “Yes.”
He continued, slipping out and then returning to her. Even though she was on top of him, seemingly in full control, he dictated the rhythm and drove her crazy with a raging need.
Suddenly, her body hit a breaking point, and she closed her eyes. Little tremors shifted into a big wave of pleasure washing over her. She had wanted that wave—and every little ripple that swirled alongside it. She called out his name, and finally opened her eyes to watch him. He planted kisses on her face, his breath heavy, his body slick with heat. She gathered the strength she didn’t know she had, and linked her arms around him as tight as possible. Freedom.