“Is that your TV?”
Naomi glances out from the kitchen, where she’s fetching a vase.
“Do people still have TVs these days? I just stream shows online, so I just needed a screen.”
“I still have a TV.”
“You also have a bread making machine.”
“What’s wrong with a bread making machine!”
“Have you ever made bread?”
“Fair point,” I concede.
Naomi laughs. She comes out with the flowers arranged in a small vase. She puts them down on the coffee table and steps back, smiling.
“They’re gorgeous.”
“Just like you,” I say before I can stop myself. She’s wearing a tight green top that makes her skin looks like it’s made of porcelain. Her eyes shine as she glances at me, and a blush warms her freckled cheeks. She looks back at the flowers, tucking a strand of wavy red hair behind her ear. Sliding her hands over her short black skirt, she nods to the door.
“Should we go?”
“Sure.”
Not that I want to. I’d rather pull her close to me and feel her arms hook around my neck. I’d unzip those tall, black boots of hers and peel the black tights off her perfect legs. I’d worship her body and kiss every inch of it.
Instead, we step back into the chilly New York streets. Autumn is well and truly here, and I can feel the winter chill in the air. I open the car door for her and she smiles as she gets in. We ride to the restaurant in silence, and Naomi reaches over to put her hand on my thigh.
My heart jumps in my chest, and I curl my fingers around hers.
We’re both quiet, but it’s nice. It’s companionable. Neither of us talk about things that don’t matter or fill the silence with useless chatter. We’re just comfortable with each other.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way.
Or rather—it’s been a long time since I’ve let myself feel this way. Ever since Farrah left me after my injury, I haven’t really let myself be comfortable with a woman. Even when I almost got married to Heather, it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like this. I was just going through the motions.
As if she can read my mind, Naomi squeezes my thigh and smiles at me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Just… that this is nice.”
Her smile widens and she dips her chin down slightly. “Yeah,” she says. “It is.”
Conversation is easy when we sit down for dinner. She tells me about growing up in the country, and about going to college. I tell her about boarding school, and about football. We drink too much wine and eat too much food.
“You’re going to make me fat,” she says as she finishes her plate. “All these dinners out are not good for my waistline.”
“Well you’ve cleared me for jogging, so we can start going for runs together in the morning,” I laugh.
“Oh, can we?” She grins. “Bit presumptuous, isn’t it? Why would we be doing anything together in the morning?”
I just laugh and pay the bill. She slips her hand into mine and we turn down the street toward Central Park. The night is clear, and we can see a couple stars through the light pollution of the city.
Naomi sighs. “At my mom’s place, there are thousands of stars. It’s not like this.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Living out there? Yes and no. The city has a lot more opportunity, but I always think I’d rather end up in a small town in the country.”
She leans into me, her body fitting perfectly beside mine. My heart feels light as we walk, and I can’t keep the smile from my face. Naomi glances around and then grins at me.
“Is this another photo op that I don’t know about? Should I be worried about photographers hiding in the bushes?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Only when my mother is around.”
“That must have been tough, growing up,” she says, almost to herself. “Being in the public eye.”
“It wasn’t that bad. I was at boarding school with other kids like me for most of my youth. And then when I got older, people started paying attention to me because of football, not because of my parents.”
“Still, you didn’t exactly have a quiet, normal childhood.”
“What, one where my mother has nude models walking around the living room every Thursday night?”
She laughs, pushing her shoulder into mine. “She’s an artist! She and her artist friends had sittings on Thursdays. It wasn’t sexual or weird or anything.”
“Just organic, crunchy, granola-eating dicks in full view.”
“Granola-eating dicks?” She laughs. “I can assure you there were no dicks eating anything.”
I laugh, glancing at her as we walk. I stop, putting my hand on her hip as she tilts her chin up toward me. The tip of her nose is bright red, and the cold is making her cheeks a rosy pink color. She smiles and her eyes twinkle. Her hands circle around the back of my neck and she tilts her head to the side.
“So are you just going to stand there talking about organic dicks, or are you going to kiss me?”
Warmth blooms in my chest. She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I lean down, taking her soft, pink lips between mine. I press my hand on the small of her back and feel her melt into me as she kisses me. Her arms pull me in for a deeper kiss as too many layers of clothing separate us.
I run my fingers along her jaw and tangle them into the hair at the base of her neck. She moans into my mouth and leans into me, kissing me fervently as her fingers sink into my shoulders.
When we fall away from each other, her cheeks are bright pink and her lips are glistening. Her hair is like a wild red mane around her head, and her eyes are sparkling brighter than ever before.
“Come home with me,” I growl, my eyes low as I pull her closer to me.
“Okay,” she says, laying a soft kiss on my lips. “Let’s go home.”
24
Naomi
By the time we get to Max’s apartment, my heartbeat has mostly gone back down to normal. We shuffle out of our coats and shoes, and he takes out two long-stemmed wine glasses. Producing a nice bottle of red wine, he grins at me as he uncorks it.
“We’ll have to be fancy tonight,” he grins. “I don’t have any twist-offs for you.”
“I’ll allow it.”
The wine glugs as it pours out of the bottle, and he slides a glass toward me. We clink our glasses together, watching each other over the rim.
He’s too far away. He’s all the way over there, on the other side of the kitchen island. I slide off my seat and walk over to him, leaving my wine on the countertop. I trail my fingers over his waistband, looking up at him and biting my lip.
I can feel the heat of his skin against my fingertips. His powerful lower abdominal muscles ripple as he moves toward me. His hand circles my waist as his other hand tucks a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear. He rests his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
Finally, we kiss. Fireworks explode in my chest as our lips touch. It’s like the rain starting when a thunderstorm breaks—sweet relief floods through me while the air is still charged with electricity. His hands leave trails of sparks as they trail down my sides, sinking into my hips and pulling me closer.
A growl rumbles through his chest and sends a shiver through my body. I lean into him, the noise making my body respond instinctively. His lips brush against mine as my fingers crawl up his chest, exploring every ridge of his muscled body.
We move slowly, deliberately. He squeezes my waist with his hand as he cups my cheek, and then lifts me up onto the counter in one smooth motion. I rest my arms on his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he moans. I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my center toward him.
I know he can feel the heat between my legs—how could he not? I claw at his shirt, pulling it off over his head so I can finally, finally see his body. He looks like he’s been carved from stone. His skin is stretched over the smooth curve
s of his shredded body. My fingers trace his muscles, falling down the muscular ’V’ that leads me straight to his belt buckle.
He groans as I fumble with it, pushing his hips toward me.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says, resting his hands on my hips as his eyes search mine. “Before, you said…”
“I know what I said,” I interrupt. “I was an idiot. I want this.” My fingers unlatch the buckle and slide his belt loose. “I want you.”
He growls again, closing his eyes as I loosen his belt. When I reach down for his fly and shimmy his pants down, he kicks them away and opens his eyes to watch me.
“Your turn.”
His hands are warm and strong as he pulls my shirt off over my head. As soon as it’s off, his arms are wrapped around me and his lips are on my lips, my jaw, my neck. His kisses tumble down to my collarbone as he slides my bra strap off my shoulder.
His thumb traces the line of my bra, sinking in the soft flesh of my breast as my chest heaves with every breath. When he unhooks the clasp of my bra and slides it off my shoulders, his mouth opens slightly and he groans. His thumbs brush my nipples and I shiver.
Every touch is electric. Every sound is heady and intoxicating. Every kiss sends me closer and closer to the edge.
Yes, I want this. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.
In this crazy week, with everything that’s happening, with all the uncertainty and the lying and pretending, this is the first things that’s felt real. It’s ironic, but it’s true.
He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up off the counter and carrying me toward his bedroom. I can feel his length through his boxers, pressed up against my hip crease. I wish I wasn’t wearing all this clothing.
Max lays me down on the softest bed I’ve ever felt, leaning his body over me. He crushes his lips against mine, groaning into our kiss. I pull him closer, arching my back and rolling my hips to feel his hardness against me.
I’m drenched. I’m dripping for him, and all I want is to feel him—all of him.
He fumbles with my skirt and tights, kissing me as his fingers work the zipper open. He trails his kisses down my chest, pausing to take each breast in his mouth before moving his kisses down over my stomach. He pulls my tights off slowly. His eyes are low as he takes in my nearly-naked body. All that’s left are my thin, black underwear clinging to my wet lips.
Max’s eyes flick up to mine, and he shakes his head slowly. He takes a deep breath, running his fingers gently over my hips.
“You’re so fucking perfect, Naomi.”
I roll my hips toward him as I bite my lip. He groans again, peeling my underwear off, sliding it inch by inch down my legs.
The heat is making my cheeks burn. I can only imagine how red they are.
But Max doesn’t seem to care. He leans his body down and kisses me again, swiping his tongue across mine and groaning as my lips part. He reaches between my legs and moans when he feels my wetness.
My head is spinning. The instant his hand touches my slit, my whole body shivers. He presses his chest against mine, working his fingers ever so gently back and forth until they’re as wet as I am.
“You like that?” He growls in my ear.
“Yes,” I gasp as his finger twirls over my bud. Yes doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s like a sensory overload. His scent is filling my nostrils, and the weight of his chest against mine is making my head spin. I can’t even tell what he’s doing with his fingers, because it just feels like one hot ball of pleasure between my legs.
It feels like I’m going to explode.
I reach down toward his boxers and gasp when I feel his throbbing erection. When he was carrying me, I thought it was big. Feeling it in my hand is something else altogether. Max’s breath gets heavier as I touch him. He pushes his boxers down his legs and kicks them away.
I wrap my hand around his hardness and he groans. He stays there for a moment, unmoving, as I work my hand up and down his shaft.
Then, as if he remembers himself, he starts touching me again. His touch is faster, more insistent. He rolls my clit between his fingers as I stroke him. His breath is short and hot as it washes over my shoulder. He groans as his hot erection throbs in my hand, and then he pulls my hand away.
“Stop,” he growls. “Not yet. Not like that.”
Before I can protest, he crushes his lips against mine and kicks my legs apart. With his hands, he holds my thighs wide and moves down between them, glancing up at me only once before diving his head between my legs.
When his tongue touches my slit, my body arches. I gasp, tangling my fingers into his hair. I lean into the pleasure. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bite my lip and let the waves of warmth and ecstasy wash over me with every flick of his tongue.
He groans, glancing up at me. “You taste so good,” he growls, and a flicker of heat flashes through me. The thought of him enjoying what he’s doing is almost too much for me to process. His hands run over my stomach and he dips his head back down between my legs with a moan.
Every time his tongue twirls around my bud, he urges me closer to orgasm. When his fingers slip inside me, my body contracts around them and I know I’m past the point of no return. It only takes a few more seconds, a few more touches, a few more noises, and I’m flying over the edge.
I squeeze my legs around his head and arch my back as my orgasm explodes. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into me until I’m screaming Max’s name. I tangle my fingers into his hair and roll my hips toward him, gasping with every new sensation.
He holds me down. His tongue doesn’t stop and his hands keep moving until my body has quieted down. The only movement between us is the soft kiss he lays on my mound and the heaving of my chest. Little thrills pass through my body as I try to recover.
Finally, Max lifts himself up and comes to lay beside me. I can see his shaft, hard as rock, throbbing against his belly when I turn toward him. He lays a heavy, muscled arm across my body and chuckles.
“You liked that?”
“It was okay,” I grin.
“Just okay?” His eyebrow quirks.
“Maybe a bit better than okay,” I laugh, and he pulls me in for a kiss.
25
Max
I’ve been thinking of Naomi like this for a long time, but reality is so, so much better than my imagination. I can still taste her on my lips when she rolls toward me. Running my hands up her sides, I brush my fingertips along the edge of her breast and watch her shiver.
“I like making you come,” I growl.
Her eyes flutter open and she looks at me, grinning. “Well that’s lucky for me.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
I kiss her again, letting her taste her own juices on my lips. My whole body is vibrating. I’m harder than I’ve ever been, and every time she moves or moans or touches me, I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m like a tightly wound spring, and I don’t know what’s going to set me off.
She moves closer to me, running her soft hands up my chest. My bronzed skin makes her arm look like porcelain. She rests her head on the pillow and I lean over to kiss the spattering of freckles across her nose.
She smiles and runs her fingers through my hair. Then, her eyes flash and she moves her hand lower. My heart thumps. When she wraps her delicate fingers around my girth, I groan.
This is heaven.
It has to be. How else could I explain it? It feels too good to be true. It’s like I’m drunk off her touch. My head is spinning and my heart is hammering against my ribcage. She moves her body closer to mine, pressing her skin against me. I inhale deeply, filling my nose with her scent.
It only takes a moment for me to get a condom from the nightstand. Naomi sits up, stradling my hips, and rolls it down over my shaft. Her emerald eyes flick up toward me, and she bites her lip seductively. Does she even realize how good she looks right now?
My eyes run down her body until I see what she’s doing with her hands. Sh
e positions her hips above me, gasping gently as the tip of my cock brushes her slit.
Then, she sits down on top of me.
It’s like an out of body experience. I watch her mouth drop open as she moans, her head falling backwards she sinks down on top of me, rolling her hips to accept every hard inch of me. I groan with her, my hands on her hips pulling her down deeper. When I’m sheathed to the hilt, she opens her eyes and places her hands on my chest.
Her breaths are short as she opens her eyes wider, moving her hips on top of me. I moan again, wrapping my hands around her hips and pulling her on top of me. Her fingers curl into my chest and I lift my head, watching as she rides me.
From there, I lose control. It feels too good. I can’t think straight, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except roll my hips toward her over and over as she bounces on top of me. Her hair falls around her shoulders like a mane as her mouth falls open.
She looks like a fucking angel.
My angel.
My hand flies to her cheek and I pull her down for a kiss. She falls on top of me, her mouth devouring mine as her body opens up for me. I push myself deeper inside her, groaning as she shifts to take all of me. I wrap my arms around her tighter.
It’s her moan that sends me over the edge. Her whole body shivers and I feel her contract around my shaft, and then her back arches. She screams, throwing her head back with her eyes squeezed shut.
“That’s it,” I groan, pulling her hips down on top of me. “Come on my cock.”
My words seem to spur her on. She pants in my ear, riding the waves of pleasure that I can see crashing into her.
Fuck, I love making this woman orgasm.
I can’t hold back any more. I explode. Her walls contract around me, milking me until I fill the condom. I shudder, shivering and convulsing as my fingers sink into her flesh. She’s breathing heavily, her skin sticky with sweat and pleasure as we finally relax.
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 11