Her frank gaze didn’t waver. But neither did she ask him for an explanation.
Nathan ignored the ripping sensation near his heart from her silence. He swallowed her gasp of distress with a determined kiss, using his body to convey the love and tenderness he didn’t dare put into words. She went from warm to hot. From tensed to yielding. His sex hardened at her sweet surrender even as he fought to be gentle. “Let me show you this is more than some Faustian agreement,” he murmured. “Let me make love to you in the most romantic way I know. With my heart.”
He removed her tattered T-shirt and the tiny pair of blue bikini panties. Nathan shucked off his socks, shuddering at the thrill of her small hands sliding down his boxers. His pants and underwear hit the floor in record time.
He moaned when she slowly rolled on a condom. His mouth took hers in a languorous kiss as his knee spread her thighs apart.
Tate bowed, circling her arms around his shoulders, letting their bodies connect chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. He immersed himself in her tight, wet heat slowly, to draw out the moment. He stopped moving to hold himself stiff-armed above her.
“What?” she breathed, teasing frantic kisses over his chin, his jaw, his neck, anyplace her eager mouth could reach.
“Do you feel that?” he growled. “How perfectly we fit like I was made to love you?”
Tate clamped down on her internal muscles. “I don’t need the words, Nathan. I need the action.” Her fingers dug into his backside, not-so-subtly urging him to get moving. “Now.”
He went completely still, ground his teeth and slowly pulled out.
Nathan sat back on his heels. He’d never believed he’d have the fortitude to back off when heaven summoned, but Tate had wrested control of the situation with harder-faster-now demands. This was not the special communing of bodies and souls he’d envisioned.
Damn. She was tricky.
Then again, so was he. This night he wanted to show her the other side of sex. The magic. The beauty. The romance. The rarity of what they shared. To make her understand the depth of his feelings before it was too late.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a hint of annoyance.
He absentmindedly ran his hand up her quivering thighs. “It’s too dark in here. Got any candles lying around?”
“Candles?” she repeated, alarmed by Nathan’s abrupt departure from her body. Had she done something wrong?
“Indulge me,” he said, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. “I want to make love to you by candlelight.”
She chose to ignore the make love comment. She watched his muscles ripple as he strode naked across her bedroom to the dressing table. “There’s a candle on the right,” she directed him. “Should be a light there someplace too.”
“Ah. Here we go.” A match flared, releasing a whiff of sulfur. The wick spit blue fire and began to glow. The sultry scent of vanilla drifted to her when Nathan placed the candle on the nightstand. He slipped back into her bed, and the flame flickered wildly, but not nearly as wildly as her pulse.
Twin flames of desire burned in his eyes, along with something else. Determination. She sensed his restraint, his control, but mostly the maleness that gave her a forbidden thrill.
Propped up on his elbow, he said, “Much better. Now…” He leaned over to drag his mouth over the tops of her breasts. “Where were we?”
Tate tried to slide beneath him, to feel every bit of his warm, hard flesh enveloping hers again. “Actually, we were already—”
“I don’t remember exactly.” The very tip of his tongue swirled maddening little circles over her nipple. “Guess that means we’ll have to start over.”
“Nathan,” she protested. Tiny puffs of air puckered the nub into a hot, tight point, and she gasped.
“Tate,” he teased right back, offering sweet torture on the other breast. “Relax. No hurry.” His warm breath flowed over her skin, sweeter than honey, thicker than syrup. His hands, usually eager and rough, caressed her like gentle waves. Yet he made no move to bridge the distance to her straining nakedness.
Need lashed through her. Images of his sweaty body plastered to hers. Skin slapping. Cries. Moans. Screams. Tate wanted that blinding rush. She craved it. Dammit, she deserved it because his tender side was far more alarming than his sexual hunger. That she could handle. This type of…reverence scared the bejeezus out of her.
“You are so soft,” he murmured, tasting the curve of her shoulder, sweeping his fingertips from the crest of a peaked breast to shaking knee. “In the rush to be inside you, I forget just how perfect the outside is. How perfect every part of you is to me.”
She crashed. Burned. Utterly melted.
Tate closed her eyes and knew she’d lost the battle for control as she’d lost herself in Nathan’s potent words. She hadn’t allowed this unhurried meeting of bodies for good reason. The journey would undo her, especially when the route he’d mapped out was torturously slow. He meant to imprint his soul to hers so she’d never forget him. Her body ached for this surrender. Could her heart remain firmly out of his reach, or was it already too late?
“I love your hands,” he said, nibbling the knuckles. “Small, yet strong.” He sucked her pinky into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Nathan nipped and licked every digit.
Good God. Even her hands were putty in his hands. She went limp. Only then did he move on.
And there was no rushing him, no matter what signals her body screamed. If she arched closer, he retreated. If she touched him frantically, his leisurely touches stopped entirely. Her only action was inaction. Regardless if it felt like her flesh was unraveling from her bones with every lingering sweep of his tongue, every provoking nip of his teeth, every calculated caress, he controlled the pace.
Candlelight flickered, deepening the mysterious planes and hollows of his masculine face. No cocky smile. No smug gleam in his eye. Just Nathan engrossed in providing her pleasure. Tate was spellbound. Helpless. Completely lost in the way he made her feel. The tight rein she held on her heart slipped a notch.
Where Nathan’s mouth touched, paths of fire exploded over her skin. He didn’t dally over one particular spot, preferring to nibble, lick and stroke everywhere.as he seduced her with unhurried bliss.
Drugged by his heated touches, she floated in myriad sensations. His hot mouth suctioned to her neck while he used all ten fingers to massage her scalp. Thumbs teased her lower abdomen into a rolling quiver as his teeth playfully tugged at her earlobe. His callused fingertips stroked the sensitive underside of her arm, from the erratic pulse thumping in her wrist to the ticklish bend in her waist. He used the tremendous strength in his hand to tame her, to gentle her to his pace.
His scent, her scent, mingled with the vanilla candle and the cool aroma of rain. He’d steeped her in an erotic pool; she was drowning in him.
A husky groan rumbled from her throat. “Please, Nathan. Enough. I want you.”
“I know,” he breathed in her ear. Fiery shudders turned chaotic inside her, extracting another whip of desire. “We’ll get there. But I’m not done. Other side.”
Tate was long past arguing. He rolled her over on her stomach and stretched her arms high above her head. Briefly, his heavy erection dipped between her thighs. She instinctively bowed back to reach his cock to show him how much she burned to have that thickness buried deep inside her.
“Naughty, naughty,” he growled near her temple. Nathan rocked his pelvis forward, brushing the stiff length firmly in the cleft of her rear. “I am not giving in to you this time.”
“Please.” Her voice wobbled as she glanced over her shoulder, believing he’d reconsider when he glimpsed the wildness in her eyes.
“No.” Abruptly he pulled away, using his strong thighs to urge her legs wide open as he knelt between them.
First, he curved his large fingers through her smaller ones, his rough-skinned hands clasped to the softer backs of hers. Simultaneously he drew those work-roughened pal
ms down the outside of each arm. Moisture dripped from her sex at the unexpectedness eroticism of his simple caresses. He’d trapped her in a veil of sexual awareness, blinding her to anything but the knowledge that every loving stroke, every tender touch, bound her to him; body, heart and soul.
The bed shifted and butterfly touches danced down her back to the dimples above her buttocks. Tate gasped the second his tongue replaced his fingers. He flicked, teased, until she trembled violently. “Lift your shoulders,” he commanded.
Her compliance was immediate. Nathan’s hands slipped beneath her to knead the plump breasts hard, the way she liked it. He twirled, plucked, pulled the nipples into tight points that begged for his tongue to ease the sharp sting.
Several agonizing seconds ticked by when he didn’t touch her at all. Finally, a silken stream of hair meandered down her spine. Once. Twice. Followed by a slow, warm tongue gliding up from tailbone to the base of her skull. When his teeth sank into the nape of her neck, Tate nearly came off the bed.
His sweet, hot breath at her shoulder echoed as a shudder in her soul. “I love touching you. Tasting you. Making you want more.”
“No more teasing,” she gasped when his hands massaged her butt.
“Just a little,” he said, drawing one long finger down the cleft, delving that finger into the wetness between her thighs. He groaned. “You are so hot when you’re wet and ready for me. I don’t want to go slow.”
“Then don’t. Go fast. Go hard. Right now.”
“Fast has its place, but slow and steady wins the race.” He pushed firmly against her core. “Am I winning, Tate?”
A “Yes” wrenched from her lips as he added another finger. Nathan’s bristly beard rubbed back and forth on her shoulder blade, increasing her anticipation. The more she writhed, the stiffer her nipples became, scraping against the sheets. Tate contracted her internal muscles, attempting to pull both fingers higher, deeper.
He removed his hand with acute gentleness and then eased her onto her back.
Tate’s lungs were devoid of air; she couldn’t breathe for wanting him.
“Now I’m done teasing.” Rising above her, he created space between her legs. The intense fire burning in his eyes had softened. A ragged sigh ripped from his mouth, and he paused, looking completely forlorn.
“What?” She framed his rugged face in her hands. He was so sweet. So damn perfect. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just… Looking at you startles me sometimes. You’re beautiful.” Nathan lightly touched his lips to her trembling mouth. “You steal my breath, Tate.” He broke eye contact, turning his head into her small hand still cradling his face. He placed a delicate kiss in the center of her palm.
For the first time, Tate realized Nathan was equally unprepared for this connection between them. Whatever he’d set out to prove to her tonight had gotten lost in the emotion they brought out in each other. At that moment, whether she liked it or not, or even if she understood it or not, she belonged only to him.
“Show me,” she whispered. “Make love to me with your heart, Nathan, like you promised.”
Without another word, he lowered to her until they met body to body, skin to skin, heart to heart. Her belly quivered when his fingertips breached the thatch of wet curls. “Let me in,” he said, brushing his lips across her forehead. “I need you, Tate. I need to feel everything that is you surrounding me.”
His welcome weight pressed her to the mattress. For a moment they merely stared into each other’s eyes.
When Nathan slid inside, Tate knew she’d finally found what she’d been missing.
The next morning, Tate leaned against the doorframe of the back porch, letting her coffee cool as she inhaled the fresh summer breeze. She loved days like these, sun on her face, birdsong ringing in her ears. The stench of smog and the constant hum of traffic seemed light-years away.
Was that her reality, back to the city? The layout she’d created had been a smashing success. The company president had been ecstatic enough to reinstate her and put aside the ugly business with Malcolm. Everything she’d worked to achieve in the unpredictable business was finally within her grasp.
So why wasn’t she reaching out with both hands for that brass ring? Why wasn’t she celebrating? Why had she curled up in bed and cried as if her life was coming to an end?
Because she suspected it was.
To achieve her professional dream, she’d have to leave the personal fantasy behind. And it had been fanciful, thinking she could maintain physical intimacy without involving her heart. The deal she’d made with Nathan now seemed selfish. A childish whim.
Nathan. Why had he waited until the most vulnerable time of her life to show her lovemaking at its deepest, its finest, its sweetest? Oh Mr. Romance had impeccable timing. Waltzing in, stealing her will, marking her soul his. The electricity of the storm had only heightened the sensuality…and the burden of her decision.
She’d woken up this morning, wedged against his body. Lying in her bed, feeling his deep exhalations drifting across her skin, his strong arms banded around them in the ultimate lover’s embrace had felt right beyond imagining.
Tate loved him. She wanted more than sex. She wanted the whole messy side of love. Dogs, kids, in-laws, fighting and making up.
So, she’d made her decision. If he asked her to stay, she would. But he had to ask. Nathan had to tell her with words—not with his body—how he felt. No way would she throw her heart out there without a clear sign from him that it wouldn’t bear the mark of his work boots as he strolled out the door.
His heavy step squeaked the floorboard. This was it.
Mint-scented breath teased the nape of her neck. “Morning, gorgeous,” he said, pressing his warm lips to the back of her head. “You smell good. You’re up early.”
“It’s past eight thirty,” she said dryly.
“You are a bad influence on me.” The waistband of his jeans brushed the tiny patch of bare skin in the small of her back. “Usually I would have already put in a solid two hours.”
“You work too hard.” Tate reluctantly moved away from his roving lips. “Sorry. That was uncalled for. Not your fault I couldn’t sleep.”
“Did I snore?”
“I don’t remember.” She sipped her coffee calmly as if her heart and throat weren’t being crushed by the weight of her unspoken words. “When will the inspectors be here?”
“Any minute. I’ll be stuck in Deadwood until midnight finishing up that septic system to compensate for this meeting today. Why?”
“Just curious. Will they let me know right away if the improvements pass inspection?”
“I assume so. Are you worried?”
Tate nodded.
“Don’t be. We’ve followed their guidelines.” He hesitated. “If you want, I’m used to dealing with this type of thing. You can hang out in here, and I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Something about his tone wasn’t right. He looked…guilty. “What else is going on? You seem anxious. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just ready for this to be over.”
It took a second for Tate to realize the series of loud knocks wasn’t her heart thumping, but someone hammering at the front door. “The inspectors must be here.” She tried to sidestep him.
But Nathan clamped on to her arm. “We need to talk. Later?”
Without answering, she scooted to the door, cursing her thin veneer of calm. Then again, telling a man you loved him and planned on changing your whole life to include him should make a woman skittish.
Tate exchanged polite, perfunctory greetings with the two inspectors. Once they’d begun wandering around the property, she left Nathan to detail the required changes he’d made. She followed along, half-listening to their words of praise.
But the unyielding line of Nathan’s back captured her attention. The tight smile and the curt, professional way he dealt with them showed a side of him she hadn’t seen. Didn’t he interact with inspectors all
the time? So why the bout of nerves? Another thought jarred her. Unless…his anxiety wasn’t about the inspection at all. Maybe he had regrets about opening up to her last night? Talk about being paranoid.
When the ordeal ended, the elderly woman beamed and put forth a glove-encased hand. “Well, Miss Cross, you’ve done a fine job here. Needless to say you passed with flying colors.”
“Thank you,” Tate said, ignoring Nathan’s quizzical stare. “But Mr. LeBeau deserves the credit. He did all the work.”
“You provided the inspiration,” Nathan added with false modesty. “Miss Cross didn’t balk at some of my…bolder suggestions.”
Tate colored scarlet upon recalling some of his suggestions.
Neither the woman nor her rotund male companion noticed her discomfort. Sunlight gleamed off the man’s balding head. “I must agree with Florence. I am impressed. Marvelous things can happen when vision is mixed with a little imagination. I’ll admit that design for the new fire station was even more of a knockout than the plans for here.”
“Yes. You are quite the artist, Mr. LeBeau. And it was a shrewd business decision to use it to sway our opinion. We only want what’s best for our city.”
Nathan drew in a quick, harsh breath. “Actually, the final proposed sketch in your office is Miss Cross’s design.”
Her design? On a fire station? What fire station? Tate’s head snapped his direction.
“Regardless.” The woman waved dismissively. “I’m so pleased we accepted this property as your entry into the Maxwell Competition. We killed two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
Competition? What competition? Tate frowned at Nathan, who all of a sudden was avoiding her probing gaze.
“I was under the impression that entry in that competition remained confidential,” Nathan said cautiously.
“Of course it is. But I’m sure that’s not something you’d keep from Miss Cross,” the woman chided. “That would be highly unethical. Besides, I’ve done some checking on you, and I’ve heard nothing but praise.” The powdered wrinkles on her forehead drew into a frown. “I must say, after denying your entry request last year, this surprised me. Especially when I checked your accreditations—seems you’ve been busy learning the trade. Now I can see why you’d want to branch out into landscape design.” She gestured to the renovated property. “You have quite the knack for it.”
Dirty Deeds: Standalone sexy romance Page 22