“Please say something,” I whisper when it feels like minutes tick by without a peep from him.
“I don’t like it.” His voice is quiet and cold, and my stomach clenches in fear.
“That’s understandable,” I mutter, my head down. I focus on the tablecloth, running my fingers over it, steadying myself for him to say he’s done. This is a deal-breaker for him. He thinks I’m a whore.
I’ve heard all those things before.
“I think you’re incredible.”
What? I whip my head up, my eyes searching his. My mouth is open in shock.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You don’t think I’m a whore?” Seriously?
His eyes go arctic. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again.”
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“Just what?” he snaps.
“I’ve heard it before,” I whisper and look down again.
“Look at me.” His voice is softer, calmer, and I raise my eyes to his again. “You are a brilliant, lovely woman, Julianne. You had a wild streak in college. That’s something I can identify with.” He raises an eyebrow, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“The problem I have,” he continues, “is that other men have seen your beautiful body.”
“I wasn’t a virgin when I met you,” I remind him.
“No, you weren’t, and I can deal with that, although I admit it makes me a little crazy. But knowing other men have seen you, and fantasized about you, makes me want to put each and every one of them in the hospital, starting with our young waiter.”
Oh. I don’t know why that touches me, and I’m mortified to feel tears prick the backs of my eyes. I blink rapidly and try to find my equilibrium. He never fails to surprise me.
“So…” I swallow and grip his hand in mine. “So, you still want to see me?”
“Of course.” He frowns like it’s an absurd question.
I nod and look down at my chocolate cake. “Can we get these to go?”
“Great idea.” He signals for the waiter and requests boxes for our delicious-looking desserts.
He’s quiet on the ride back to his apartment, but he keeps a hand on my thigh, as though he just can’t stop touching me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
He still wants me!
I glance at his sexy motorcycle when I climb out of his car, and I smirk, remembering this afternoon. He smiles down at me and kisses my hand. “I’m looking forward to doing that again,” he murmurs.
Oh, me, too!
“Do you want dessert?” Nate asks me once we get inside the apartment.
“Yes,” I respond and smile up at him, running my fingers through his soft black hair.
“I’ll plate these for us.” He starts to turn away, but I grab on to his shirt and turn him back toward me.
“That’s not what I meant,” I mutter. Those beautiful gray eyes darken and look down at my lips as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
“No?” he whispers back and runs his fingers down my cheek. I shake my head and take the bag containing our dessert out of his hand. I walk over to the fridge, my pretty pink shoes clicking on the hardwood, and my gray dress floating around my thighs, making my skin hum. I stow the containers and turn back around, and Nate is standing right behind me.
“Oh!” I gasp, startled.
“Dessert should be eaten in the kitchen,” he murmurs and cups my face in his hands, nibbling my mouth and pushing me back against the stainless steel fridge.
“It should?”
“Yes, no food allowed in the bedroom.”
I smile and tilt my head to the side as he slides those amazing lips over to my ear and down my neck. I run my hands down his back and pull his shirt out of his pants, gliding my hands up his smooth, warm skin.
“You feel good,” I whisper.
He groans and lifts me, pivots and sets me down on the countertop, stepping between my thighs. My fingers find their way into his hair, and I gaze up at him, a smile tickling my lips. “You’re so handsome.”
He smiles shyly and shakes his head and leans down and nibbles my bare shoulder.
“Hmm.” Oh, that feels good.
He pushes his hands under the hem of my dress and up my naked thighs, to my hips.
“You’re not wearing panties?” His eyes are wide as they search mine, and he grins wolfishly.
“I figured, what’s the point? You’ll just rip them off me anyway.” I giggle, and he drops to his knees, hitching my legs over his shoulders.
Whoa!
He scoots me to the very edge of the counter, and I have to grip it so I don’t fall. “I’m going to fall,” I gasp.
“No, you won’t, baby.” He hikes my skirt up around my hips and parts my thighs. “Jesus, look at you.”
“Nate.” I squirm, and he smiles up at me.
“I think I’ll have you for dessert, Julianne.”
And with that he leans in and runs his tongue up over my labia and to my clit, then back down again and sinks into me, kissing me deeply, those talented lips kissing and coaxing my most intimate lips, his tongue working its way in and out of me in a perfect rhythm. I clutch his hair in my fingers and throw my head back, reveling in the way his amazing mouth feels on me.
God, I missed having him do this to me, and he only did it once before!
I feel his thumb on my clitoris and push my pelvis against his mouth as electricity shoots through me, through my limbs to my toes, and up my spine.
“Oh fuck, Nate.”
He sucks my lips into his mouth and presses harder on my clit, and I unravel, completely coming apart at the seams. He rains soft kisses on my inner thighs, then suddenly he’s standing before me, his pants unzipped, and his beautiful cock is hard and ready for me. I reach down and run my finger around the head and over the silver balls that I’ve grown to really, really love.
Really fucking love.
He sucks air in through his clenched teeth, and I push him away from me to hop off the counter, still fully clothed. I push him against the refrigerator and kneel, taking his cock in my hands and pushing up and down, loving how smooth and hard he is.
“Oh God, Jules, you don’t have to do this.”
I look up into his blazing gray eyes and frown.
“You called me Jules.”
He gives me a cocky grin and shrugs, and I reward him with a grin of my own.
I resume massaging his cock and swirl my tongue around the tip, then over, tasting a small bead of dew. I like the way the apa feels against my tongue. I look up at Nate’s face, elated at the raw lust in his eyes, and lick his shaft, from his scrotum to the tip, then sink my mouth over him.
“Holy fuck.”
It takes me a second to get accustomed to the piercing, but then I find a rhythm, up and down, pushing my lips over him, sheathing my teeth behind them.
I push down until I feel those silver balls at the back of my throat and thank God that I don’t have much of a gag reflex. Pulling back up, I swirl my tongue around the shaft, over the head, then sink back down. I repeat this over and over. Nate’s breathing is labored and ragged, and I feel so sexy.
Finally, I feel him start to tense, and I move a bit faster.
“Stop, baby, I’m going to come.”
Fuck that!
“For fuck’s sake, Jules, stop.” He pulls me up into his arms and kisses me voraciously. I can taste me and him on our lips, and I groan.
“In me. Now,” I murmur, and he pivots so I’m now against the fridge, and he lifts me, his hands cupping my ass, and pushes swiftly into me.
“Oh God, baby.” His face is buried in my neck, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He sets a fast, punishing rhythm, rocking in and out of me, and I know this won’t last long. My muscles tense and clench around him, and my legs grip him more tightly to me, and I bear down, coming again, gripping on to his shoulders for support. He
slams into me, hard, twice more and then tenses, and I feel him erupt inside me.
“Fuck,” he whispers and rests his forehead on mine.
“Wow,” I respond.
“Jesus, you have an incredible mouth.” He’s still panting, and I run my fingers through his hair and offer him a Cheshire cat smile.
“So do you, ace. You make me crazy.”
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure you have to go home?” Nate asks as he leans against the doorway of the spare bedroom, watching me pack my bag. I wrap my pink Louboutins in tissue and place them in the suitcase.
“Yeah, I do. I have laundry to do, and I need to get ready for my workweek.” I smile over at him and am caught off guard at how gorgeous he is. I’m still getting used to seeing him dressed casually. He’s in a soft gray T-shirt that shows off his muscular biceps where they cross over his impressive chest. God, I love that tattoo on his right arm. His faded blue jeans hang low on his hips. He’s barefoot, and his hair is loose.
I catch his gaze, and a slow, sexy smile spreads across those beautiful lips. He knows I appreciate what I see.
Boy, do I.
“When will I see you again?” he asks.
“In about twelve hours, ace.” I smirk as I add the last of my things to my suitcase and zip it up.
“You know what I mean, smart-ass.”
“Dinner tomorrow night?” I ask.
“I have that business meeting late tomorrow.” He runs his hand through his hair with a scowl. “Do you have plans for your birthday?”
My gaze shoots back up to his in surprise, my eyes wide. “How do you know when my birthday is?”
“Jules, we work in the same office. A birthday card circulated around for you last week. Not to mention, I have access to your personnel file.”
“Well, that’s just…creepy.”
“Birthday cards are creepy?” His silver-gray eyes are laughing at me, and I can’t help but giggle.
“No, you reading my personnel file is creepy.”
“I love your laugh.”
“Don’t try to sweet-talk your way out of this, ace.” I plant my hands on my hips and try my best to look stern. Nate pushes away from the door and saunters to where I stand by his spare bed. He takes my face in his big hands and tenderly kisses my forehead.
“I just wanted to know more about you, Julianne.”
Oh.
“So do you have plans for your birthday?” he asks again.
“No.”
“Good. I’d like to be with you for your birthday.”
I rest my hands on his jean-clad hips and lean my forehead on his sternum. His hands glide back against my cheeks and into my hair, and we stand like this for a long moment, neither of us wanting me to go.
“I would enjoy that. Thank you,” I murmur.
I feel him grin against the top of my head, and I straighten to look up at him. “Would you like to come to my place Tuesday night for my birthday? We can just stay in, watch a movie, or whatever.”
He frowns and brushes his thumb across my lower lip, sending electricity through me. “You just want to stay in?”
“Yes. I just want to spend it with you. I don’t need anything else.”
Nate leans down and kisses my lips softly, then rests his forehead on my own. “If that’s what you want, baby, that’s fine with me. I’ll bring dinner with me.”
I grin up at him. “Okay.”
“Are you sure you have to go?” he asks again, brushing his fingers through my messy hair.
“I’m sure. But I’ll see you in the morning.”
He frowns and looks down at my lips, then back up into my eyes. My breath catches at the vulnerability I see there. “What is it?” I ask.
“Work’s just going to be different tomorrow. Thank you for giving me this weekend, Julianne. I’ve wanted it for a long time. I don’t think I want it to end.”
I run my fingers down his stubbled cheek. “Thank you, Nate. For everything. I had a great time.”
I step closer to him, wrapping my arms around his torso, and rest my belly against his pelvis. I have to lean my head back to look up into his sober face. He continues to hold my head in those amazing hands, his fingers threaded in my hair. He stares into my eyes for a long time, a wide array of emotions passing over his face, and I’m mesmerized by him.
Finally, I lean in and kiss his chest and rest my cheek against him, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rocks me back and forth, kissing the crown of my head and breathing me in.
“Drive safely on your way home,” he murmurs, making me smile.
“I will.” I pull away and reach out to grab my suitcase, but Nate waves me aside and lifts it himself.
He takes my hand in his empty one, and we walk through the apartment and down to my car. He stows my bag in the back seat and kisses me chastely. “Call me when you get home.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow, ace.” I flash him a sassy smile, start my little car, and wave as I pull away.
Traffic is light on this Sunday evening, so it doesn’t take me long to get home. I unpack my suitcase and start a load of laundry and then grab my phone out of my handbag.
A text is waiting for me.
I had a great time this weekend.
I grin and respond. Me too.
After a few moments, he responds. Are you home?
Yes. Home safe. Laundry in. What are you doing?
I walk into the kitchen and grab an apple and a bottle of water and settle on the couch, flipping on the TV to watch one of my reality TV shows.
Just working for a bit.
I smile as I picture him sitting at his desk, all sexy in his T-shirt and jeans. I’d love to distract him while he works. Yes, that makes the to-do list for the not-too-distant future.
You work too much. I send the text and watch in fascination as a fight breaks out on my TV between two annoying housewives. I don’t know why I watch this shit. I’d never admit it to anyone, and the only reason Natalie knows about my housewives addiction is because she shares it with me.
We will take this secret to our graves.
My phone chirps. I wouldn’t be working if you were still here.
I grin. No? What would you be doing if I were there?
He responds almost immediately. Kissing every inch of your amazing body.
Oh my. My face splits into a wide smile, and I curl my feet up under me as I settle in for some sexting with my man.
Only if I can return the favor. I would love to trace your tattoos with my mouth.
I love to trace your pussy with my mouth.
Holy fuck!
Mmm…you’re good with your mouth, ace.
The housewives are still screaming at each other on the TV, so I mute it. My phone chirps.
Come back here, and I’ll show you just how good with my mouth I can be.
Oh, I’m so, so tempted.
I thought you had work to do?
You are always more important than work, baby.
Damn, he can be so sweet.
I don’t really want to sleep without him, with or without the sex, but I need a little distance. This is so new. I don’t want him to burn out on me. And I have to get my head on straight for work tomorrow.
Ditto, I reply. And then: Heading to bed early to recover from the amazing sex this weekend, and to dream of you. Will see you in the morning.
Good night, beautiful. Sleep well.
But I don’t. I toss and turn most of the night, wishing I were with Nate.
Fuck, I have it bad.
***
It’s Monday morning. My five-mile run this morning before work did nothing to calm my nerves of going back to the office after my amazing weekend with Nate.
I fire up my computer, and while it wakes up, I go in search of coffee to try to wake myself up, too. I walk into the employee lounge, and standing by the coffeemakers, pouring himself a cup, is none other than Nate. Fire surges through me, and it’s
a shock to see him back in his sharp business suit, hair pulled back, looking all professional and…hot.
I’m thankful that his back is to me so I have a moment to paste a neutral look on my face and approach him as I would have seventy-two hours ago.
“Good morning,” I say, proud of myself for maintaining a pleasant, normal tone.
Nate turns to look at me, and a moment of heat flares in those gray eyes before they go cold. He stirs his coffee, throws away the tiny red and white straw and nods at me, not meeting my eyes. “Julianne.”
With that, he turns on his heel and walks to his office.
I face the coffee, my back to the room, and close my eyes tightly. Okay, that hurt. I know I have to get used to it. Nothing can change for us here. But seeing the chill in his eyes, knowing I can’t touch him…fuck.
I pour my coffee and head back to my own office to find an e-mail from Nate waiting for me, asking me to compile some data on an account and ship it back to him ASAP.
Then I pull my phone out of my handbag to check for any messages, and there is a text, from Nate, received two minutes ago.
Good morning. You look amazing in that black dress. I wanted to fuck you in the break room, but I think that would be frowned upon.
Oh my God! I giggle, and my hurt feelings disappear.
You look delicious this morning. Almost forgot how hot you are in your suits. Of course, you’re hot out of your suits, too, ace.
I missed you last night.
I sigh at this last text.
Missed you too. Did you sleep okay?
I bring up the Internet on my computer to start the work Nate requested when my phone chirps.
No.
Oh.
I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have any available time around lunch? I’d ask Mrs. Glover, but this isn’t a professional request.
I dig into my research, then realize it’s been at least ten minutes since my last text. I frown, wondering if he’s going to respond, when my phone chirps.
I just cleared thirty minutes at 12:30. Told Jenny I need a lunch meeting with you.
My desk phone rings.
“Jules Montgomery,” I answer.
“This is Mrs. Glover, Jules. Mr. McKenna is requesting a lunch meeting with you at twelve thirty.” She sounds polite and brisk.
“Thank you, Mrs. Glover. I’ll be there.”
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