One Wrong Move (22 page)

And look how well that was working out for her. It had been over a year since her last attempt at sex. Though she hadn’t been aware of any feelings of deprivation. Not until she met Aaro.

Yes, this attack of mad, mindless lust was totally Aaro-specific.

The shower stopped hissing, and she was still wearing the glasses and tent dress he so despised. This was her chance to re-cline naked, be a seductive siren. But she could hardly breathe, let alone undress.

The bathroom door opened. A cloud of steam swirled around him as he emerged, like stage smoke wreathing a rock star as he stepped into the spotlight. He was naked to the waist, and God, he was fine. Black cotton trousers hung low on his lean hips. She drank him in, breathless. That chest, those shoulders, that belly.

Solid, massive, ripped. Some scars, here and there. Perfect. In every last detail.

Their eyes met. The energy level roared up and got hotter with every step she took toward him, like the very air would explode. She inhaled deeply as she moved toward him.
Mmm.
Perfumed. He’d washed his hair. And shaved. His long hair was combed straight back from his forehead. Minty toothpaste, shampoo. Aftershave. Deodorant.

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Why, Aaro,” she said demurely. “Look at you. You primped.”

Those massive, gleaming shoulders twitched. “Least I could do.”

“You look awesome. And you smell delicious. I’m touched.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” he replied. “Soon, though.”

Her mouth had been open, some smart remark on the tip of her tongue. It vanished, melted away in the heat of his penetrat-ing stare.

“You’re still wearing your bag,” he said.

Her face went hot. “Um. It . . . it doesn’t come off so easily.”

“Tell me about it,” he murmured. It sounded almost as if he had admitted that she was right, about his own masquerade. His own mask.

“Stop that,” he said suddenly.

She jumped. “Huh? Stop what?”

“That thing with your lip. Stop doing that.”

She bristled. “I know this lip thing is your pet peeve, Aaro, but you’re going to have to get over it, because I have no idea—”

“So make it conscious.” He grabbed her shoulders, and swung her around so that they faced the mirror. “Look at your mouth.

See how the top is soft and pink, but the bottom is squashed flat.

Feel the tension?”

“You’re a fine one to talk about tension,” she said sourly.

“See?” he said, triumphant. “You can’t do it when you talk.

Whoops, there it goes again! Back into the cage. It got spooked.”

“You’re making me self-conscious,” she snapped. “That’s the kiss of death, you know. Freezes me right up.
So
not in your best interests.”

“Just look in the mirror.” He reached around, touching her lower lip. She jumped, at the intimate contact. Her lips trembled.

“Try to relax,” he urged.

She laughed in his face. “With you? Now? Hah!”

He looked pleased. “Look! See? When you laugh, it comes out to play. See? Pillowy soft. And that sexy crease in the middle.”

They both stared at her mouth. It hung slightly open, her breath coming ragged and fast. Her lip gleamed, moist from having been sucked inside her mouth. He began to stroke it. Barely touching it.

The glancing touch was a match to a fuse. She closed her eyes, shuddering. Sensations jolted deep into the most sensitive, secret parts of her body. He put his mouth to her throat. A delicate drag of his teeth down her tendon, a slow lick of his tongue. She whimpered, and drew his fingertip into her mouth. A suckling swirl of lips and tongue.

He made a choked, shocked sound. “Oh, my God.”

Nina reached up, took off her glasses with a trembling hand, laid them on the telephone table. The world blurred, leaving just a small bubble of clarity. It was enough. As long as he was inside the bubble.

Aaro kissed her neck hungrily, and fished up the end of her thick braid. Slowly, as if it were some sacred rite, he teased the elastic off and unraveled it. The curly strands slid and wound around his long fingers.

It was like the hair itself had nerves. As responsive as skin, each stroke of her hair against his hand. Every point of contact reverberated through the vast energy field their two bodies had become. His lips were so soft against her throat. The faint nip, the scrape of teeth. A reminder of the depth of his animal hunger. And his immense self-control.

I won’t lay a hand on you unless you tell me to. And I would never,
ever hurt you.

She believed him. This guy did not tell lies. He didn’t know how. He didn’t gloss over anything ugly. There was nothing ugly to gloss over.

She felt like an eye had opened up inside her that could see light shining out of him. It relaxed her like sunshine. Unraveled her, like her braid, making her wanton and luxurious. Loosening taut knots of tension with a warm glow of . . .

Trust?
Him? Oh, please. Wake up!

She batted the voice of reason away. She wanted to live this fantasy. She’d never melted in a man’s arms. Her sexual experiences had all been carefully planned. And they had all gone exactly nowhere.

But Aaro, his teeth sliding delicately down her throat, made ticklish thrills lick over her skin, and damp heat rush into her face, between her legs. Her nipples went taut, her knees went weak.

Aaro could take her anywhere . . . and everywhere.

His arm tightened, pulling her back against him. His erection prodded her bottom. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Air would only come into her chest in little jerky starts. She felt dizzy. She opened her eyes, barely recognized herself. So pink. Eyes glowing and dilated.

He loomed, a raptor guarding its prey. His hands slid up, cupping her breasts. Even through two layers of cloth, with pockets and buttons and embroidery and stitching, the soft, stroking contact sent licks of fire curling through her. She leaned back against him, craving more.

And suddenly, his hands dropped.

She almost stumbled, without the support. What the hell?

Had he changed his mind? One glance at the loose, revealing pants draped from his hips showed that whatever might be going on in his mind, his body was still hugely enthusiastic. His erection tented out the fabric as far as it would stretch. “Ah . . . are you OK?” she asked.

He shook his head. His hands fisted, opened, fisted again. “I just need to know the rules, that’s all.”

She was baffled. “Rules? I didn’t know there were rules.”

“Usually, there aren’t. I follow my instinct, and it works fine, so far. I’ve gotten no complaints. But you . . . you’re different.”

Different?
That quenched some of her glow. “You mean, a woman like me? With all the baggage and expectations and whatnot?”

“No,” he said, with a sharp sigh. “That’s not it. Not at all.”

“I don’t have any expectations of you,” she said. “Really, I don’t. Please, don’t flatter yourself, or insult me. I’m not that stupid.”

“It’s the stepdad thing,” he blurted.

That doused her buzz completely. Her belly clenched. “Ah.

So, that’s, um . . . a turnoff for you?”

“Fuck, no! It’s not like that! My head and my dick are both about to explode. Look at me. Do I look turned off to you?”

She looked him over, and her lips twitched. “Um. No, not really.”

“That’s my problem.” His hands began to open and close.

“I’ve never been this wound up. I’m on the edge of a . . . a fucking cliff.”

“Oh. I see,” she said, though she didn’t, really. “Well, don’t worry so much. What you were doing was fine. Super-deluxe, in fact. Go ahead, fall off the cliff. I think we’ll, um . . . catch each other.”

“I’m afraid of scaring you.” His voice was raw. “Because of your . . . because you have . . . you know.”

“Issues?” she supplied.

He waved his hand impatiently. “I don’t want to fuck this up.

All that bullshit about my sexual skill set, fuck it, Nina, I didn’t know you would have this effect on me! You suck on my finger, and I practically came in my pants. I am this far”—he held up a thumb and forefinger—“from doing that. If you look at me funny, I’ll come.”

Her heart did a painful little somersault. “It’s better that way,”

she offered. “I prefer it, actually. To not be the only one who feels unsure of herself. I like you that way.”

“Yeah? You think you’ll like me that way when I’m pounding away on top of you? All two hundred and thirty pounds of me?”

Her thighs squeezed together, and her heart tripped quadru-ple time. “Um, yes, actually. I think I’ll like you just fine,” she said, touching his bare chest. “No one’s ever wanted me that much.”

“You didn’t want anyone to,” he said. “You didn’t allow it.”

She acknowledged that with a nod.

“But you want it from me,” he went on. “Why?”

Her hand splayed out, feeling the buzz, the heat, the powerful throb of his heart against her palm. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a mystery. You showed me yours. So now I’ll show you mine.”

She shook her hair back as she slipped off the broad linen shoulder straps of the jumper smock. The weight of all the skirt fabric tugged the loose garment down. It caught on her hips, then fell.

Aaro’s breathing became an audible rasp. “Ah, Nina.”

She looked down, so very glad she’d shaved her legs. It had been a random impulse, an excuse to stay under pounding hot water a little while longer before work. To think she’d been humming, depilating her legs without a care, oblivious of the terrors the day had in store for her.

It was hard to undo the blouse. She’d never tried to undo buttons while her fingers trembled. But one after the other, she tugged them loose, took as deep a breath as her lungs would accept, and shrugged it off her shoulders. Ta da. Her tits. There they were, in all their glory. She shut her eyes, overwhelmed by it. She’d never felt so seen. So known.

“Open your eyes, Nina.”

Her eyes opened as he shoved the loose pants down over his protruding erection. It sprang up, bobbing and swaying.

Bigger than her initial estimate. Long, broad, the gleaming head a flushed purple, a tangle of dark veins throbbing on his thick shaft. She wanted to grab, squeeze. Feel his vital energy pulsing in her hand. At her service. Oh, boy. So beautiful. Heavily muscled legs, the lean, perfectly modeled dips and curves of his hips and ass.

She stumbled forward, grabbed him. Pressed her face to his chest. Hot, smooth, and he smelled so good. His skin was supple against her lips, springy chest hair tickling her nose. His nipples were small, tight, and puckered. She loved his taste, when she took the nub into her mouth. The hint of salt. She licked, drawing a strangled sound from him with each flicking caress. His fingers dug into her bottom.

She grabbed his cock, stroked, squeezed. Just as good as she’d thought. That hot, vital throb. Vulnerability and power. His skin was so soft and smooth, sliding over the pulsing, steely hardness.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “Nina. Please. Didn’t you hear what I said?

About self-control? About coming in my pants? Did that sink in?”

“Sure it did. It inspired me. Besides, you’re not wearing pants anymore. Come whenever you want.”

She sank to her knees, and took him into her mouth.

Half of her was shocked to her toes. The other half cheered like a sports stadium gone mad. Their tangled clothes padded her knees. She gripped his shaft, stroking. His pubic hair was thick and springy. She inhaled soap and hot man musk, licked off precome. Salty, perfect, magic. He stared down at her, his face a mask of tension. A man driven to the edge. And she wanted to be the one who set him soaring.

She sucked him deeper. He made a sound like air escaping from a truck tire, and grabbed her hair, trapping her in place.

Sound seemed amplified; the rattling hum of the air conditioner, the buzz of the bathroom fan. Televisions babbled in the guest rooms on either side of them, voices in the hall swelled in volume and receded. Aaro’s panting. The soft, wet sounds of her mouth. His shaking fists, wound full of her hair, next to her ears.

Light from the wall sconce hit one side of them and left the other in shadow. Her knees wobbled on the snarl of discarded clothing.

Her own heart thudded.

She couldn’t boast of much technique, but he seemed to enjoy her efforts. And oh, he was delicious. She loved his taste, his texture, the metallic flavor of his shaft against her tongue. The broad, flushed cockhead, the tracery of swollen veins beneath her hands. Salt, sweet, slippery. She stroked his long, slick shaft two-handed while she licked his glans, tongue swirling, teasing.

So excited, she felt faint.

“Oh, God. Oh . . .
fuck.
” He flung his head back, and came, with a guttural sound, thrusting even deeper into her mouth.

She clutched his thighs. Powerful jets of come pulsed out of him. A lot to contain. He clamped her in place until the shudders tapered off to delicate flutters. She struggled to breathe, until Aaro unwound his fingers from her hair, pulled his gleaming cock from her mouth.

With her guard down, fear and uncertainty made a surprise attack, whammo. She’d felt so connected, but suddenly he felt like a dangerous stranger again. She couldn’t look up, once fear had rushed into that vast space that had so inexplicably opened up inside her. Fear that he would look smug, triumphant. Or worse, contemptuous.

It felt strange, being naked. On her knees. She hadn’t felt submissive or ashamed while it was happening. She’d felt like a goddess. Not now. It had all slipped away, and left her nervous and small. She tried to get up, knees wobbling.

She wiped her mouth. Swallowed, with some difficulty. Her face felt hot, buzzing. Her throat, melted and shaking. Defenseless.

And so damned nervous and self-conscious. She heaved upward, on wobbly knees. “Give me a hand up. I need to go rinse my—”

“No.” He sank down next to her. “Not yet.”

She squeaked in surprise as he jerked her closer, tight against his body. He cupped her face in his hand, and kissed her.

She had about as much experience kissing as she did with fel-latio. Which was to say, not much. But it wouldn’t have made any difference if she had been an expert. Aaro was in absolute control, and her body knew it. She responded instinctively to his every silent, implacable demand. Her lips parted when he wanted them to, his tongue thrust, seeking, tasting, exploring her. Pleasing her.