“You are quite the hermit,” Camille quips, her statement laced with a bit of awe.
Smiling, I rev the engine. “You like the ocean view. I prefer the woods. Except this morning.” I turn toward her just in time to watch her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of crimson as I remind her of our version of sex on the beach, which causes my heart to swell with pride.
I want to fuck her, even now. I want us to get a hat trick, or two. Possibly more. I’ve lost count since last night. With Camille, anything’s possible and I am totally game.
“Wow.” She whistles as we come to a stop in front of my house. I guess it’s impressive. Unlike most of the opulent Colonial homes in here with stone, and gas lamps, mine is a posh-looking two-story Craftsman. Sure, it has the expensive stone this neighborhood loves, but that stone jets into rustic pillars, a tall roof with several peaks, and a wraparound porch.
The backyard is my favorite place. I’ve got a large covered porch, an in-ground pool, jacuzzi, and huge lawn nestled within acres of trees. I pull around to my three-car garage and park beside it. “Want to see my toys?”
Camille removes her sunglasses. “That depends.” She eyes the detached building that I’m pointing to. It matches the Craftsman style of my home, except there are no windows. “What’s in there? Is this some fifty-shades-of-sex-toys building?”
I laugh as I open her door. “Would that be so bad?”
She stands, sliding her arms around my neck. “I knew there must be a reason behind your nickname.” Camille nips my ear with her teeth, where she seems to like nibbling and sucking. Then she bites a little harder. Just hard enough to increase the blood flow to my cock. “Show me what you’ve got, Dominator.”
It’s on as I unlock the door and escort her into my private play area from the back. The lights automatically turn on when we enter, and she eyes my garage filled with classic cars with awe. Focusing on my pepper-gray 1967 Ford Mustang “Eleanor” fastback, she whistles.
“This is way better that any fifty-shades sex toys!” She smiles, her expression flirty. “Can I touch it?”
She can touch anything she wants. As my erection hardens, I manage to nod. Watching Camille fondle my shiny classic car turns me on. “This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?” Camille asks, straightening to a standing position, her back to me as she removes her jacket and tosses it onto the floor. She then turns toward me, eyes locked with mine. “That’s sad, considering all that you saw last night. I may need to up my game.”
Tugging her turtleneck over her shoulders, then head, she tosses it onto the floor, too.
“That’s incredible. But I think you can do better.” My tone is dire as I ditch my own jacket and shirt.
Camille follows up by unzipping her jeans, then removing her boots, kicking them to the side, and shimmying out of her jeans. She’s down to a lace bra that allows me full access to her dark, taut nipples and matching black-lace thong undies. Sliding into the passenger seat, she teases me. “This is comfortable. A little hot, maybe.”
“There is no way I can fuck you in that car.” Even though I want to, there isn’t enough room, and she knows it.
“That’s a shame.” She sighs, holding out her hand, which I grab to yank her to a standing position. “You’ll need to remove my bra. If you’re going to fuck me anywhere near the exterior of this car. We don’t want to scratch the paint job.”
My fingers toy with the clasp between her breasts, as I tease her nipples through the lace. When it comes to Camille, I love front-closure bras. So does she, based upon her deep intakes of breath and audible gasps when I pump and tease her nipples. I want to remind her that her bra is a front closure, but she knows it. And I want her naked far too much to ruin this moment. My fingers free her breasts and I cup them in my palms as she shrugs out of her bra. My palms then travel down to her hips, and I lift her until she straddles me.
Placing her on the hood, I let her open my jeans and tug them down past my ass, along with the boxers she insisted I wear today. Camille then strokes my cock, her fingertips cool, yet arousing me in record time.
“Is this sexy enough for you, Nick?” Her tone is seductive. Not that it’s all she’s got. No, Camille fists her breast with her free hand, and it ignites me, ignites my hunger for her. My body is molten as I seize her lips with mine and she slides off the hood, wrapping her legs around my waist. I devour her lips until they are swollen with my kisses, my beard, and my teeth.
Her thong gives me just enough slack to slide my cock deep inside her. She gasps, digging her nails into my shoulders as she arches her back. I pump within her as she tightens around my cock, the pressure mounting as her wall tightens more, then further still.
Camille is unlike any woman I’ve ever known, and her body reacts to mine like none before her. Her depths seem endless, and just when I’ve reached what I think will be a climax for us both, she adjusts another little bit, tightening even more around my dick until I gasp for air…gasp for release.
Her thirst meets my own, and I pump harder, faster. Until Eleanor is rocking against us. Camille rides me, claws me, and I all but scream her name when together we reach a climax that lasts forever. Or at least it seems to.
Together we pant, and we kiss. There’s lots of kissing. Camille strokes my tongue with hers, prolonging my climax and her own. She’s still tightening against my cock, and I’m riding a euphoria that’s foreign to me.
Sure, I’ve had sex. What I considered to be great fucks. But nothing compares to Camille. She is my only. I keep coming back to what I agreed to at the beach. This woman is my only, in every way that counts.
I’m in deep.
Spasms wrack our bodies long after our climax, and we ride them together. Our kisses have become almost as intimate as the sex we just shared, maybe more. While our sex was hot and heavy, dousing us in perspiration, our kisses are rich with promise. The promise of a future, a commitment. Her heart and soul are in these kisses. Along with her insatiable hunger. And I match all of it. Tenfold.
We’ve gone from sexy wet dream to real commitment in zero to sixty. At least I have. I still have no idea if Camille is as into me as I am into her. I think she is. I know she wants something more. She voiced it. And the meaning behind her kisses is off the charts. At least I think so. But what if she gets a job offer out of state? Then what?
Still riding me, with her legs wrapped around my waist, Camille rests her forehead against my chin. “You’re making this hard, Nick.”
Tell me about it. It’s hard for me, too, but I let her speak.
Breathless, she swallows hard before admitting her feelings in a ragged whisper. “I’m falling way too hard for you, much too fast.”
I place her gently on the hood, my fingers combing through her windblown hair. “I am, too.”
“I fear we’re going to combust. Then where will that leave me?” Camille tugs me tighter to her. “I was safe before I met you. No one could hurt me. Now, we’re a we and things have gotten dangerous.”
My first thought is to promise to protect Camille. I want to, but I fear it will scare her away. Instead, I’m honest with her. “I’ve already fallen for you. It sounds completely insane, but it’s true. I thought I was in love once or twice. But I now know I was never in love, not like this. Not the way I’m in love with you, Camille Benetti. Deeply, recklessly in love with you. And you’re still deciding, which scares me shitless.”
Her mouth claims mine, her bare breasts heaving against my chest as she probes and traces my tongue with hers. She’s in control now, I’ve released all control to her. I’m hers for as long as she wants me. That’s what’s become of the Dominator. Who would have thought I’m a romantic at heart? I never would have guessed.
Breathlessly, she tears her lips from mine. “I’ve loved before, and lost everything. For me, love means loss—it means
hitting rock bottom. That’s what I fear. I know that loving you is easy, losing you won’t be.”
We’re new. Neither of us can promise forever. Not now. Not yet. “Can knowing I love you be enough for now?”
“Knowing you love me is everything to me.” Camille’s eyes hold mine, that warm topaz now a deep fathomless brown.
She’s still worried. So am I. Forget the Indy 500, I’m in Armageddon territory. Falling this hard and fast is like a star burning bright and dying out. How do we keep up this momentum? Something’s gotta give, or something will crack. It always, inevitably, does. I know it and so does Camille.
“Here’s an idea. No matter what happens, we deal with it together.” It sounds easy enough, but I’ve seen my share of divorces. Lots of couples have been torn asunder. None of them, at least none that I’ve been witness to…be it my parents, or friends, or teammates…have dealt with things together. “By always being honest, we’ll get through this together.”
Cami’s heartbeat is fast, I feel it pounding against my chest. Just when I think she’s going to bolt as soon as she can, Camille runs her nails through my beard at the base of my jawline. It sends tiny pricks up my spine. “Together. You and me. It’s a deal.”
I kiss her once more to seal our deal. This time, my lips are gentle, my every emotion that I feel for her is on full display. This kiss, gentle yet possessive, is my promise to Camille. My promise that she is my only…
Something tells me, deep in my gut, that I should be the concerned party, not Camille. It’s my infallible intuition and, on this, I desperately pray I’m wrong. My instincts are screaming at me to protect myself. I’m more invested than Camille. I’m the one in danger of being hurt.
This is the first time that I hope I’m wrong. That my instincts have failed me. But my heart…that same heart that skipped a beat, maybe two, at the sudden and sickening realization races, along with my pulse. My spine is prickling, not with pleasure but with dread.
It’s my heart that will break if I’m not careful.
It’s inevitable. I learned that when I was a kid.
I want Camille to prove me wrong, I’m so desperate for it that I hold her tight before we head into my house. Before I make her dinner, and make love to her again. I’m pulling out all the stops to make her love me as much as I love her.
What would her Magic 8-Ball say now?
Chapter 15
Camille
“Something smells delicious!” I approach Nick from behind, splaying my hands on his waist and kissing his shoulder. He’s standing at the stove shirtless, wearing faded jeans. It makes me smile, so I plant another kiss, then lean against the island behind us.
Nick slams a lid on a pot, fidgets with the burner knob, then turns to face me. “I’m making dinner.”
If he didn’t look so damn sexy making said dinner, I’d deliver some snarky comeback referencing the fact that it’s obvious. But he does look sexy. And he’s pleasured me in every way today, so I swallow hard and let my comment slide.
“Shrimp scampi?” The aroma is familiar.
His smile fades a bit. “Was it that obvious? I wanted to surprise you.”
This man is so damn irresistible. “Between home-cooked Italian dinners and a family Italian restaurant, I know my Italian dishes. I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. No man has ever made me dinner before.”
Swooping me into his arms, Nick kisses my palm. “I want to be many firsts for you. It’s my goal.”
“You’re succeeding.” He is. Not only is he sexy, but he’s smart, and sweet, which makes him even sexier. He’s also passionate…so very passionate. My stomach grumbles. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”
“Worked up an appetite?” It’s Nick’s subtle way of saying he’s sexed me up so well that I need sustenance.
My response is a kiss, spontaneous and sensual. “I need my strength. So do you,” I add, slapping his ass as I walk to one of the wrought iron barstools and take a seat.
“I like the sound of that!” He turns to the stove.
As for me, I enjoy my view. Of Nick. Shirtless, barefoot, and cooking for me. Yeah, the beach view was gorgeous, but this view I’ll take any day of the week.
“Wine is in the fridge. Why don’t you pour us some?” Nick hums something completely out of tune while I grab the wine bottle and use the corkscrew he laid out. He’s set placemats and stemware on the counter. This will be a casual dinner, which I like. It means we’ll be close, we’ll be intimate. All of it’s fine by me. Especially when Nick dims the lights, accentuating the pair of already-glowing candles on our counter, and announces: “Dinner by candlelight!”
By the time the chilled white wine is in the glasses, Nick has placed our dishes and silverware on the counter along with napkins. It’s a good thing I’m not some woman obsessed with her looks who orders salads on dates, because he has made mouth-watering linguini in a white wine and caper sauce, which means I’m diving in. It’s a tricky dish to maneuver if you’re trying to impress someone, and I wonder if, just if, this is Nick’s test for me. Will I dive in, or be delicate?
We toast and I take a sip of wine. It tastes heavenly. Because Nick chose it, I think. “Thank you for making me dinner.”
“We needed to eat sometime.”
His jokes put me at ease, but I want to stay in a deeper state of mind. Just for a moment. Placing my hand on his thigh, I pause while placing pressure on it. Just a little, to let him know I’m serious. “I mean it. Thank you for doing all of this for me. Dinner, wine, candles…you are a romantic.”
“I am for you. I’ll be your everything, if you allow me.” He claims my mouth in a gentle kiss, featherlight, which sends my senses reeling. I thirst for him, so I deepen our kiss, devouring him. He tastes like wine, he tastes like sin, he tastes like heaven…This man is so complex, with so many layers. I yearn to unlock each one.
He nips my earlobe, his warm breath fanning my exposed shoulder. My T-shirt reveals one shoulder, and I wear black boy-short undies. Not the sexiest I’ve ever been, but I’m a little unprepared because I didn’t expect to stay the day and night after the wedding at Nick’s place. I should have expected it, though. Who am I kidding? I hoped this would happen. Deep down inside. I packed what I did because I’m keeping it real. This is me.
“Let’s eat. We’re both famished.” Nick kisses my shoulder once more, then digs in.
I follow suit, studying the interior of his home. It’s accentuated with wood planks in the tall peaks of the ceiling and hardwood flooring. There’s a fireplace glowing in the great room, casting the large space in an amber hue. His furniture is masculine, two dark leather sofas back to back, dividing the large space. One faces the fireplace, which is surrounded by what looks like natural quartz. It takes up the entire wall in natural earth tones straight to the high ceiling, while the other sofa faces a wide-screen TV. There are a couple of wooden coffee tables, matching. They’re unstained and look rustic. What there isn’t a lot of is clutter, or knickknacks. The room appears unfinished.
“Are you a minimalist?” I ask.
Nick nearly chokes on his pasta. Taking a gulp of his wine, he clears his throat. “Am I a minimalist? What gave you that idea?”
“Your home.” I point toward the great room with my fork. “It’s beautiful, but there are no personal items at all. At least not in there.”
Cocking his head to the side, he grunts. “I never noticed until now. You’re right.”
“So, is it intentional?” I continue to prod in a desperate need to understand Nick better.
“I don’t think so.” His eyes meet mine. They’re troubled. I see it in their turbulent blue depths. “Maybe. I don’t know. But when you point it out, I begin to wonder…”
His words trail off. I want him to finish that thought, but I don’t think he will. He’s wrestling with something.
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br /> Placing my fork down with care, so I don’t make a sound, I smooth those worry lines in his forehead. “What are you thinking?” I whisper, hoping for an answer.
Seconds pass in silence, until Nick utters in a rough baritone, “You make me see what’s been missing in my life—who has been missing. It’s you. All the unfinished décor—perhaps I was waiting for you or a promise of you and never realized.”
My lips part and I sit, speechless, inhaling a sharp breath. “You’re fearless.” It’s true. Nick admits everything to me, opens his heart to me. I don’t think I have such courage. I’d be too fearful of the hurt, or at least I would have been, once. But now—
I slide off the barstool, then stand beside Nick. His stool swivels toward me, and I step in between his legs. Standing on my tiptoes, I tug his face toward me and kiss him. Slowly, softly stroking his tongue with mine, exploring his mouth. Claiming him as mine, with gentle caresses and an overriding hunger for him.
My pulse spikes as it always does when I’m with Nick. I’ve grown accustomed to it and am certain the feeling isn’t going away. Not now. Not ever. “I wish I was fearless like you. I wish I could forget what it’s like to be hurt, to be left heartbroken.”
“Camille, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” His embrace is strong and unwavering, it grounds me and eases the restlessness that comes over me every time I want to confess how deep my feelings run for Nick. Because that restlessness makes me twitchy and ready to bolt.
Our challenges begin once he’s on the road. When he’s doing his job, and he’s wanted by all. That’s when my imagination will run wild. “When you hold me like this, my worries are eased. When you go…Nick, I’m frightened. I’m afraid my insecurities are going to get the best of me.”
He listens to me, his expression kind. Too kind.
“I should suck this up. I should grow up. My insecurities are ridiculous—”
Ice Hard Page 15