Some Like It Geek: A Really Big Set of Romances

by Box Set

  “Don’t even talk about that.” His voice went low, rough, almost like a human growl.

  “Fine.” She sucked down a deep breath, breathing past the burning embarrassment. “All I’m saying is…I want you to kiss me—”

  “Cara—”

  “Because, if you’ll stop talking over me, you’d know that…I don’t want you to kiss me as a friend. I want you to kiss me like a man. And me a woman. I’ve always wanted that, Nate.”

  There. She’d said what she shouldn’t, because was there really any going back after this?

  Chapter Three

  Cara swallowed down her shame, her fears and stared right back at Nate.

  She’d said what she’d wanted to say since junior high. Since the homecoming dance when, despite being the center of ridicule for her dress and shoes, Nate had asked her to dance. With people pointing and laughing, he’d swayed in time to some song she couldn’t remember, and made her feel…special.

  Was it wrong that she wanted to be with him?

  They’d become default dance dates. Partners in class. Homework buddies. Maybe she was clinging to him because he was familiar and safe, but she’d tried falling for other men and they never measured up to Nate.

  “Always?” The one word sounded strangled coming out of his throat.

  She nodded. She’d said enough and now her words failed her.

  “Cara…” He said her name like he did when he was frustrated with her, and yet his face looked…anguished.

  Had she said something wrong? Was she not supposed to admit that sort of thing?

  Nate sat up and tugged at one of her braids. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her. Again.

  She slid her arm around his neck, willing herself to get lost in his touch. The taste of his mouth. How being with him made her feel.

  “I…Cara?”

  “Hm?”

  Nate wrapped his arms around her, hugging her so tight she could hardly breathe. His face pressed against her neck and she squeezed him back.

  She didn’t know where they were headed or what was going on, but something was happening.

  He pulled away enough to lift his head. This close she could see the bright flecks of gold between the browns of his eyes.

  “I love you, Cara. I always have.”

  She stared at him.

  Had she just heard that right?

  Did he say—

  “I love you, Cara.”

  “Pinch me?”

  “Seriously?”

  “What?”

  He cocked his head to the side the way he did when he had an idea that was going to get them in trouble.

  What in the—

  “Oh!”

  She jumped, swiping his hand away from her bottom and rubbing the cheek.

  “You said to pinch you.” He grinned.

  “Not on my butt!”

  “You never said where.”

  She couldn’t help it. She grinned back.

  Nate pulled her closer and kissed her lips, sweet, lingering touches that had her toes curling.

  “Do you mean it?” she asked.

  “Yeah, shortcake, I do. I just never thought…”

  “That the girl who followed you around everywhere and stalked you when you went away might like you more than a little?”

  “We were friends.”

  “And we aren’t now?” She swallowed and leaned against his shoulder.

  “I don’t feel this way about my friends.”

  “I…um…” Cara’s bravery was wrung dry. The words stuck deep in her chest and her throat wouldn’t work, leaving her stammering things that might be part of words. Or complete gibberish.

  “I’m going to kiss you again, Cara.”

  Was that a warning? Or a promise?

  She couldn’t quite tell.

  Nate grabbed her braids at the nape, guiding her chin up, exposing her neck. He started at her collar bone, dropping kisses and whispering words she couldn’t make out over the sound of blood pounding in her skull. He spent quite a bit of time going back and forth.

  She’d never considered her neck an erogenous zone. Just ticklish. But the way he was touching her, licking her, kissing her, was making her have second thoughts.

  Her toes wiggled back and forth. Her chest felt…heavy. Her bra, the most comfortable one she owned, suddenly seemed to be made of sand paper. She had the strangest urge to straddle his lap. To press against him.

  And he hadn’t even kissed her yet. Not her mouth at least.

  Nate sat back and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I need to stop,” he said, to her or himself, she wasn’t sure.

  “W-why?”

  “You’re still pretty tipsy.”

  “I am?”

  “You pounded at least four shots and then some.”

  “I’m fine.” The last thing she wanted right now was for him to stop anything. Except talking. They could do with less of that. “Don’t stop?”

  “Fuck, Cara.” Nate leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

  “What? We…feel the same way.” Her hands trembled at that much of an admission.

  She’d never told anyone she loved them, besides her parents.

  For her, Nate had always been it. The standard by which all other men fell short.

  They remained like that, his thumbs stroking her skin, his eyes closed, noses bumping.

  Did he understand what she couldn’t say? Was that a problem?

  “Okay,” he said as if in answer to a question she couldn’t hear.

  Nate opened his eyes, most of the gold gone. He hooked his arm under her knees and stood. She gasped and clung to his shoulders. He strode around the sectional and through the only other open door.

  Into his bedroom.

  Cara gulped down her fear. This was Nate. She loved him, and he at least thought he loved her, too. It couldn’t go wrong, could it?

  He laid her down on the bed and climbed on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the thick, plush comforter. He kissed her mouth, delving past her lips with his tongue while his hands stroked her sides. She gripped his shoulders, her head spinning too far out of control to do much more.

  His big hand cupped her breast and he rocked against her, his thigh between her legs now.

  She gasped at the feel of friction against her mound.

  That—that—was what she needed.

  “Nate…”

  He shifted, palming her other breast.

  She fisted his shirt and panted. He had her trapped under him, unable to move. She wanted more. Him. Something. There was an emptiness inside of her that was meant for him. A hole in her soul only he could fill.

  Nate’s fingers slid under her shirt, across her stomach.

  Yes!

  She wiggled her hands between them, grasped the T-shirt, and tugged it off. Nate levered up, watching her, lips parted, eyes a bit wide. She tossed the clothing off into the darkness and lay there.

  She wasn’t a sexy vixen, that wasn’t her. She’d always be weird, off-beat and awkward, but Nate had never seemed to mind. She hoped he wouldn’t not.

  “Cara…” He trailed his fingers down from her collar bone to the shallow valley between her breasts.

  “What?” She wanted to wring the words out of him. All these sentences starting and stopping. She didn’t know what to think, if she was doing something wrong. Were her breasts too small? She didn’t really need a bra. It was more a formality. Like business cards. No one wanted business cards. So why would he be interested in her tiny boobs?

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” One side of his mouth hitched up.

  “Thank you?” Beautiful wasn’t a word she was used to. Cute, maybe, but she wasn’t a devastating beauty. Still, she wasn’t about to argue with him. Not now.

  Nate leaned down, his lips caressing hers in slow, sensual passes that had her bones melting. The fingers between her breasts plucked at
the center catch. She arched her back, wanting the damn thing off.

  There.

  The cups fell aside and the soft material of his shirt slid over her bare skin.

  He cupped her breast again, and this time his thumb swiped over the tight bead of her nipple.

  Cara’s gasp turned into a moan. Her eyes snapped open, her vision went a little fuzzy and she arched her back.

  “Fuck, Cara,” he muttered.

  “Yes, please.”

  Nate chuckled against her neck. He scooted down her body, leaving kisses in his wake.

  What was he going to do down—oh…

  Cara palmed the back of his head, her fingers sliding over the close-cropped hairs while his mouth paid homage to her breast. Who knew her nipples were this sensitive?

  “Nate,” she drew his name out.

  “Hm?” He glanced up from between her breasts.

  She wanted him.

  Now.

  He crawled back up, taking her mouth. His hand slid between their bodies and he cupped her mound. She could feel the heat of him through the thin material of her skirt and panties. She whimpered and shifted, moving against his hand.

  “Cara, stop, please?” He sounded almost pained.

  She froze, barely daring to breathe. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, both of them panting for breath.

  “What’d I do wrong?” She hated how her voice rose in pitch, but damn it, she wanted him.

  “Nothing, nothing.”

  “Then why am I stopping?” She wasn’t entirely sure of what she as doing in the first place.

  “You keep moving like that and I’m going to make a mess in my pants.”

  “Oh. So…not a did-something-wrong-stop?”

  “No.” He chuckled and kissed her neck in that magic spot that made her bones feel all liquid inside. “I should do more.”

  “More?”

  “I want you too bad, Cara.”

  “Me, too.”

  Nate pushed up, off the bed and stood at her side. She stared up at him, rather impressed with his ability to be upright at a time like this. He pulled his shirt off and let it drop to the ground.

  Cara didn’t much care one way or another what he looked like. She’d fallen in love with Nate long before the kids ridiculing his bigger size drove him to work out. He’d lost the chubby cheeks and found out he liked lifting weights. She stared at the rungs of muscle working their way up to his ribs, the smooth, solid definition of strength under his clothes.

  “Shortcake, you sure?” He stood frozen, his hands at his belt.

  She glanced back up at his face, the lines of worry etched on his brow.

  “Yes.”

  He loosened his belt buckle and his pants sagged several inches. The deep slashes of muscle at his hips pointed down, to the way his jeans tented.

  She swallowed, unsure of what to expect or do. Should she be doing something? She was still wearing socks, a skirt, underwear. If he was getting undressed, shouldn’t she?

  Cara reached down, hooking her thumbs in the top of her socks.

  “Stop.” Nate grasped her by the wrist. “I want to do that.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Her stomach went all wibbly wobbly. “Do you…want me to…uh…”

  “Lay there.” He bent forward and kissed her mouth.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Shortcake, the only thing I want you to do is grab hold of the headboard and hang on.” He rubbed his thumb over her nipple.

  Cara reached blindly overhead, grasping the wooden spindles.

  Nate muttered curses she didn’t take personally. She felt too…good, alive, for this to be wrong.

  By the time she caught her breath again and looked for Nate, he was naked and pulling her sock down her leg. Such a strange thing to want to do, but she wasn’t going to pretend she understood male attraction.

  In the dim bedroom it was hard to make out more than smooth planes of muscle and a general size of him. The vague memories of girls in college discussing penises and fitting trickled in. What if they didn’t fit? Nate was rather large, so it was logical to assume the rest of him was…big. And she was small. What if things didn’t…work?

  He stripped her socks off, then ran his palms up her legs.

  Should she say something?

  He seemed to know what he was doing a lot better than her. And he had said to just lay back and hold on…

  Nate hooked his fingers in the waistband of her skirt and tugged. The elastic stretched. He eased her skirt down her hips, catching her panties along the way. She held her breath as he stripped both off her.

  Cara pressed her thighs together. The few times she’d been with a man, it’d been dark. They’d fumbled around. And that was it. Nothing like the romances she read, no quivering limbs or pleasure so potent it made her drunk. She hadn’t much liked it if she were honest with herself.

  But this? With Nate? It was already different.

  “Cara?” He laid his palm against her ankle.

  “Y-yes?”

  “You sure?”

  “What?”

  “About this?”

  “Yes.”

  “We don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  He crawled up the middle of the bed to lay next to her. He cupped her cheek and stared down at her, a slight smile curling his lips.

  “I want to, too,” he whispered. “You want me to stop, just say so, okay?”

  “What do I tell you if I want you to hurry up?” She was burning up from the inside out.

  “That.” He grinned and leaned over her, his body covering hers.

  “Wait!”

  Nate froze.

  “What about—um…p-protection?” She could barely take care of herself, much less a kid.

  He chuckled against her cheek and tugged her hand down between them.

  “You watched me put it on.” He pressed her palm against the thick erection prodding her stomach. There was a distinct difference between the feel of his…his…penis, and the rest of him. Was that what latex felt like?

  “I did?”

  “You did.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.”

  He let of her hand and she grasped the headboard again.

  Nate’s hands slid over her body and between her legs without hesitation. He shifted, replacing his fingers with the blunt, smooth head of his erection.

  “Easy,” he whispered.

  He pressed against her and her body trembled, quivering at the intrusion.

  “Damn, Cara.” He kissed her cheek, then her mouth.

  She squeezed the spindles harder, then eased her grip. Some of him was inside of her, but not all of him.

  Nate flexed his hips and she sucked in a deep breath.

  Oh—now that was different. A good different. Stretching, but not hurting.

  “Cara, Cara, Cara,” he whispered over and over again. “Hold on tight.”

  He pushed up and thrust, driving all of the air out of her lungs, her vision went a little fuzzy, but she was…full.

  “That’s it.”

  Nate rubbed his fingers over one breast, then the other. She whimpered and shifted under him, feeling that touch all over her body. She needed…something. She didn’t know what, but Nate could give it to her if he…if he…she didn’t know.

  “You feel so damn good.” He pushed his hips against hers and she gasped.

  They fit? That easily?

  He ducked his head and kissed her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. She whimpered, her brain going to mush.

  His hips moved, drawing apart, withdrawing from her body. She sucked down a deep breath, only for it to whoosh out as he drove back in. She felt the joining in her toes, in her finger nails. All over her body.

  Nate kissed her, invading her body and soul, fitting himself into that empty part of her heart. He thrust, in and out of her, her arms jarring with each pass. She could feel something building deep within her. A tightly wound bundle of emotions, feeli
ngs, propelled forward on a tide of anticipation.

  Sweat dampened their bodies. The bed squeaked. She whimpered. From time to time, Nate released her mouth long enough to mutter her name or something she couldn’t make out, and then he was kissing her again.

  “Cara, are you close?” he muttered against her lips.

  “I—I think so?”

  “God, I want you to come.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and thrust, the motions rougher.

  “Ooh.” She tipped her chin back as he stroked a new spot. “Oh—Nate!”

  She let go of the headboard with one hand, digging her nails into his shoulder as the world around her blurred and the anticipation broke. Pleasure so deep and wide swept over her, drowning her in bliss.

  Nate groaned and stilled, his arms wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe.

  Her body throbbed, in a good way though, and her heart felt…too big.

  “Nate—I love you.”

  Chapter Four

  Nate lay awake, staring at the reflection over the dresser. Most of Cara’s hair had come free from her braids. It was so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight coming through the top of the old, arched windows.

  This was bad.

  And good.

  Holy shit, she’d waylaid him in the best way possible. At least there at the end. He had no idea things had gotten so rough for her over the last few years. She’d hidden it well. Then again, had he bothered to really ask? All those hours spent talking about nothing at all, was that because she couldn’t tell him the truth?

  He stroked her back and kissed the top of Cara’s head.

  His whole life, for all of the good parts, Cara had been there. When his dad had moved them into that ratty little apartment after mom passed away, he’d thought things couldn’t get worse.

  And then, there was Cara.

  This strange, weird girl from next door. She smiled when everyone else frowned. She’d offered him friendship when he hadn’t deserved it.

  God, could he get any more fucked up?

  What was he going to tell Ellie?

  His heart was always Cara’s. He’d long since accepted that, but his body…he had needs. Particular needs that Ellie understood. They were friends. With similar likes, which had easily turned into benefits.

  How the hell was he going to manage this?