“And then your aunt died and left you this place,” Nick said.
“Exactly. This house is the only real home I ever had, even if it was only for two years.”
He was still massaging her shoulders, pressing his thumbs deeply into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. Little by little, her body relaxed. Her guard lowered.
He eased forward, nestling her bottom between his thighs. She realized with a start that he was aroused. Hugely. Her body flooded with heat. She should have moved away, but she didn’t.
He kissed the top of her head. Nipped at her earlobe. Nuzzled her neck.
She felt herself falling.
“When I walked back into this house after so long,” she murmured, “it seemed like I…belonged. It’d been a long time since I’d felt that way. I was so glad Aunt Millie had never sold it.”
Nick didn’t reply. He moved his hands down her back, pressing, kneading all the tension from her muscles. She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the kitchen counter, giving him better access.
“That’s…” She drew a deep breath. “God, I can’t describe it. It’s incredible. Blissful.” She melted into an exhale. “Don’t stop.”
His breath caressed her ear. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
He ran a fingertip over her upper back, tracing the thin straps of her sundress and bra. His other hand covered her breast, stroking her nipple to a hard peak through the gauzy fabric. She shivered and covered his hand with her own.
Should she stop him? Let him stay the night? Tendrils of aching lust unfurled inside her. Her limbs were turning to jelly. She had the strangest feeling that it had to be all or nothing with Nick. She wasn’t sure there could be any middle ground.
He kissed her neck, just below the ear. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “Yes.”
His smile was soft on her skin. “I felt it the first minute I saw you, standing at your door, silver paint smeared across your nose.” He turned her in his arms and took her mouth in a long, drugging kiss. After what seemed like forever, he eased away and caught her gaze.
“I’m asking now,” he said softly.
She wasn’t sure of her answer. Her hands settled on his shoulders, not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer, either. She thought of the donor she’d selected, the man she’d decided would be the father of her child. It was insane, but she felt as if she were cheating on the anonymous guy. Or cheating on Nick, by not telling him about his frozen rival. Which, of course, made absolutely no sense at all.
Nick caged her with his body, his hands cupping the edge of the counter on either side of her hips. Her hand slid to his forearm. She teased his bare skin, stroking in circles on the light covering of hair.
“Tori…” His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. The muscles in his arms flexed. His lips brushed her forehead, her cheeks. The scent of him, spicy and male, enveloped her.
“Please don’t tell me to back off,” he whispered. “Please tell me you want this as much as I do.”
She searched his eyes. They were so dark, so beautiful, so vulnerable. He was afraid, she realized. Afraid she’d turn him down. That, more than anything else, made her do what she did next.
A single parent is on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
If Tori hadn’t been so crazed with lust, she might’ve remembered Aunt Millie’s maxim: Look before you leap. Right. As it was, she couldn’t even remember her own name.
She didn’t know what it was about her and Nick. Maybe it was a pheromone thing. Or his unassuming confidence, or how he poked fun at himself. Or maybe the way he’d moved into her house and started fixing things.
What ever it was, she was hooked. She wanted—needed—to be closer to him, and it had nothing at all to do with wanting a baby.
She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
His lips moved on hers, gently at first, then with increasing urgency. He nibbled and kissed his way from her neck to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her sundress down her arm. The stretchy bodice didn’t have a zipper, so it was easy for him to slide it to her waist in one smooth glide.
His hips pressed forward, trapping her between his body and the kitchen counter. Her bra, a barely-there pullover thing, didn’t have a hook. He ran his hands over it, but didn’t tug it over her head, as she thought he might.
Was all this a mistake? It didn’t feel like one. It felt incredibly right. Nick’s tongue tasting her mouth. His calloused palm stroking up her bare leg.
He moved back far enough to look at her. His hands shook slightly as he rolled the top of her dress down to her hip bones.
His voice nearly cracked. “God help me, your belly button is pierced.”
His hand closed on her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple through her bra. She felt the touch zing all the way to her toes.
She wanted to slow down, catch her breath, but he didn’t let her. He toyed with both nipples at once, doubling the blissful torture. Somehow, she found the hem of his shirt and dragged it up. He ducked and shrugged his shoulders, helping her. The garment slid into a white puddle on the floor.
His bare chest—it was the first time she’d seen it—was amazing. She spread her palms on his tanned skin. He was nothing but hard muscle. She kissed him there, dragging her tongue. He tasted salty, like the ocean. But he felt warm and solid, like the shore.
She explored his body, teasing her fingers through the curly hair on his chest, scraping one fingernail gently over his flat nipple. He caged her again, gripping the edge of the counter on either side of her hips. His skin was damp with the exertion of his eve ning’s work and his rising ardor. Heat and musk radiated from him in waves.
She touched him everywhere; she wanted to learn every muscle and line. She kissed a white scar on his shoulder, smoothed her thumb over a birthmark on his arm. He held himself perfectly still while she played, but she could tell by the roughening cadence of his breath and the way his arms trembled that she affected him deeply. The knowledge turned her on like crazy.
She reached for his belt.
He stopped her. “Wait.”
She looked up, a question in her eyes. He held her gaze as he slid his fingers under the elastic of her bra. He tugged it up, over her breasts, over her shoulders and head. Then, with a neat, efficient twist, he tangled her hands behind her back.
His hot gaze raked over her. She jerked her wrists; the bra held.
He gave her his slow, sexy smile.
She nearly melted into a puddle on the floor.
“Let me go.” She tried to lever her butt away from the counter, but his hips held her pinned in place.
“In a minute. I want to look at you first.”
His gaze dipped to her bare breasts. He looked his fill, taking his time about it. Tori shivered. Standing there, trapped, while he looked and looked and looked was very likely the most erotic moment of her life.
“Finally,” he murmured. “You’ve stopped moving.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
He touched her. He ran his hands lightly over her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach.
“You’re beautiful, you know.”
“I’m not. My breasts are too—”
He silenced her with a kiss. “They’re perfect. Don’t say they’re not.”
She watched as he palmed her breasts, lifting and squeezing, his expression reverent. She felt like a goddess, bound as a sacrifice on his altar. He bent his head and worshiped one breast, then the other.
His tongue was like velvet. She moaned and moved her hips against him. His lips trailed down her torso to her navel. At the same time, he lifted her skirt, bunching it at her waist with the top half of her dress.
His eyes went dark as he took in her pink panties.
“Nice.”
“Glad you like them.” She tried for sassy, though she was feeling anything but. What she was feeling was…needy, aching, and desperate. And so, so empty.
He slid one hand behind her knees, the other beneath her bottom, lifting her onto the counter beside the sink. Easing her legs open, he stepped between them.
His gaze dropped. Another intimate inspection. His hand followed, and he stroked her through her panties. She shuddered. Then he slid his fingers under the elastic, and touched her skin-to-skin.
And, God, it was good.
She tried to free her arms. “Nick. Please. I want…I want to touch you, too.”
He cradled her face in his hands, threading his fingers through her hair. Separating the curls, he spread them over her shoulders.
A small smile touched his lips. “I love your hair, you know that? It’s so curly and wild. Every time I look at you I want to touch it.” He toyed with the end of one curl, using it to dust her cheek and nose. Then his lips moved in for a slow, wet kiss.
She closed her eyes. It was the only thing she could do to control her onslaught of emotion. A tingling like a thousand stars spread through her, the sensation heightened by the helpless feeling of having her wrists caught. She squirmed on the counter, trying to rub against him with her hips, but he held himself just far enough away to elude her.
Spurred to creativity, she leaned forward and touched him with the only part of her body he didn’t have control of—her mouth.
He inhaled sharply, and held himself still as she rained kisses over his chest, his throat, his shoulders. She kissed his jaw, rubbing like a cat against his day-old growth of beard. She bit his neck and he groaned.
His hands began moving again, smoothing over her body, touching, teasing. Nick loved like she’d known he would—slow and steady. Not a glimmer of haste. He was completely and utterly focused, as if she were the center of his universe. And for those few, sweet moments, maybe she was.
He dropped to his knees and licked a circle around her navel. His tongue explored, hot and wet across her belly. Moving lower, he suckled her through her panties, using his teeth to lightly nip the silky fabric.
Her hips arched; she gasped. He must have been anticipating the movement, because in a flash he slid her panties over her hips, down her legs, and onto the floor. His dark eyes smoldered with an almost pained expression as he gazed between her spread legs.
“Christ,” he said.
She twisted her wrists and this time managed to yank herself free. One wrist still trailing her bra, she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled him up for a kiss.
“My God, you’re hot,” he murmured against her lips. “I knew you would be. I’ve been dreaming of this every damn night since I met you.”
“You have?”
“Yeah.”
She took a breath and breathed a confession. “So have I.”
He drew back and smiled at her. It was just a brief flash of teeth, but she could tell she’d pleased him enormously. She shook the bra off her wrist and ran her hands over his shoulders and arms. Leaning close, she inhaled his unique scent of salt air, soap, and sawdust.
He was so unlike any man she’d been with. So unlike Colin. Colin, it seemed to her now, had been an overgrown, hyperactive adolescent. He hadn’t wanted anything to interfere with his fun or his freedom—not Tori, not the child they’d created together. He’d been glad when Tori had miscarried. Glad! That had hurt perhaps worst of all.
But Nick…he might not be many years older than Colin, but he was light-years ahead in maturity. He was a serious worker, a business owner. Watching him day after day, Tori could tell that Nick, unlike Colin, wasn’t a man who ran from his problems.
It made what they were doing now seem all the more real. As if this were truly
life
, and all Tori’s previous sexual experience had just been juvenile playacting. The notion scared her no end. What was she getting into here? A part of her urged caution, told her she needed more information before continuing on this breakneck course, but Nick’s kisses had turned almost brutal, and her body was beyond caring.
She wanted him. It was as simple as that.
Her hands went to his belt and fumbled there, working the leather through the buckle with trembling fingers. Nick held himself still, watching as she undid the button on his pants. His huge erection strained against the zipper, and she had trouble easing the pull over it. She gave a disbelieving gasp as the zipper teeth parted, but it wasn’t because of what he was packing.
No, it was his underwear that had her staring.
“Red silk boxers?” She couldn’t believe it. “I would’ve bet money on tighty whities.”
His lips twitched. “What can I say? I have hidden depths.”
She laughed. “Apparently.”
He left her briefly to untie his work boots. He dropped his khakis and boxers in one smooth, heart-stoppingly sexy motion. His body was a work of art. His chest was tanned and dusted with dark, springy hair. His stomach was flat, his hips lean, his thighs long and sinewy. His erection jutted toward her, hard and proud.
Her breath evaporated. She couldn’t seem to catch another one. He stepped close and she took his length in her hands and stroked.
His smile vanished, transformed into a grimace. He flexed his hips, then eased away with a whispered curse.
He positioned her hands on the edge of the counter, on either side of her hips. “Hold on.” He curled her fingers over the edge. “Just like this. And don’t move, or everything will be over before it’s started.”
“Too late for that,” she said, but she did as he asked. Nick stepped between her legs and skimmed the tips of her breasts with his fingers. They puckered.
“Ah, Tori. I could look at you all night.”
It wasn’t a line. He wasn’t playing her. The hoarseness of his voice, the vulnerable flash in his eyes—no way could he be faking this. At least, that was what she fervently hoped.
He bent his head and gently bit one nipple, using his teeth to tug on the tight nub. Her legs convulsed, unable to close, the inside of her thighs pressing on the outside of his. The sensation sent streaks of fire shooting through her belly.
“Condom,” she gasped.
“Got one in the pocket of my shorts,” he murmured against her breast.
He did? “Should I be flattered?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
She reached for him; he caught her hand and guided it back to the counter. “Stay still for once. No moving. Not until I say.”
“Bossy,” she breathed as his mouth closed again on her nipple.
She felt his amusement. Clamping her legs around his hips, she wriggled forward until her bottom perched on the very edge of the counter. His hot breath fanned her stomach, swirled past her navel. Her skirt had fallen over her legs. He gathered the folds and bunched them at her midriff. Then her legs were on his shoulders and his mouth was hot and alive between her legs.
She cried out. Nick’s name, she thought, though she couldn’t have said for sure—the sound didn’t quite register in her fevered brain. She tried to think, tried to breathe, as he continued his erotic onslaught. She felt her climax mounting. Just as she thought she’d fly over the edge, he left her.
She anchored her fingers in his hair and tugged. “Come back.”
“When I’m ready.” He blew a cool stream of air across her heated skin.
She shivered. “Touch me again.”
He caught her gaze, gripped her thighs, and blew another puff. She wiggled her butt and tried to use her legs to urge him closer. He didn’t allow her to get far.
“Sadist,” she accused.
He laughed. “Please. You’re loving this.”
“God. I’d have to be dead not to.”
His gaze raked over her body. He wrapped her legs around his waist. Their eyes met as he touched her intimately, right where she needed him most. His eyes were dark and watchful.
She gripped his arms and moaned. “Faster.”
He increased the tempo. “Come for me, Tori.”
“I want you inside….”
“No. Now. I want to watch.”
She arched her hips. Her bare bottom slid past the edge of the counter. But she didn’t fall. Nick’s palms slid under her, lifting, supporting.
He set her back on the counter, urging her to open even wider than before. He slid in one finger, then two. She floated on the relentless tide of his urgency, was helpless as it pulled her under. She surfaced, only to hang, suspended, for what seemed like an unbearable slice of eternity.
The tide broke.
Her body convulsed. She clung to Nick, gasping, as a stunning climax washed through her.
“Oh, yeah.” Nick’s fingers pulsed.
He didn’t let up. He went on and on until he’d wrung every drop of pleasure from her body. Until she slumped forward, limp and sated, in his arms.
He covered her with kisses—her lips, her forehead, her nose—as his warm hands smoothed over her damp skin. She pressed her forehead to his and shuddered.
“That was…” A shaky laugh escaped her. “My God. I don’t know what it was.”
“It was you.” His voice shook. “It was all you.”
Her breath caught. She looked up, into his eyes. What she saw there made her heart contract.
All at once she felt empty again. She wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her. To fill all the lonely places in her soul.
“Nick, I—”
A faint electronic melody interrupted.
Instantly, he stiffened. “Shit.”
Her head came up. The melody, vaguely familiar, sounded again. Disoriented, she searched for the sound. It was coming from the front room.
“My cell phone.” His voice was tight.