by Carew, Amber
"Talking about games, I know how we can play without either of us losing." He stroked his finger over her mouth, tugging on the lower lip, then dipping his fingertip inside. Automatically, she flicked it with her tongue, then puckered her lips around him and drew his finger inside, stroking with her tongue.
"Vanessa."
Her name came out slippery sweet and she felt a thrill quiver through her. She released his finger and turned toward him, hooking her arms over his shoulders and around his neck and pressing her body against his. Their lips met with a hot, fiery passion, tongues tangling like frantic lovers separated too long. Which was exactly how Vanessa felt.
Hot.
And frantic.
For Nick.
He scooped up her legs to lay them across his lap. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer. She needed to feel more of him, so she tugged him gently, dragging him with her as she eased herself down on the couch, their mouths never parting. He pressed himself the length of her body, his breathing coarse and rapid. His ribs pressed against her breasts, a welcome weight to her aroused flesh.
This passion might be destined to end, but right now she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man before. A desperate need clutched her body, determined to squeeze away every last inhibition until the consuming urgency was met. She arched up to press her pelvis into the cradle of his. She could feel his hard, swollen flesh against her stomach.
More. She wanted more.
She smoothed her hand down his chest, along his taut stomach, and over his arousal.
"Vanessa, my God."
She flicked her tongue to lick the hollow at the base of his neck. His pulse, already racing, leapt a beat or two. She spiked her fingers through his hair, her skin quivering as she felt the softness of his locks caress the sensitive flesh between her fingers. Sliding her hand down his chest, she nibbled at the top button of his flannel shirt, releasing it then sliding the tip of her tongue down his chest to the next button. By the time she nibbled this one open, he pulled back and ripped open the shirt, his eyes dark and glittering. She giggled and lapped sideways until she reached his small, hard nipple then began to suckle. If she’d had any doubts, the catch in his sharply in-drawn breath told her he liked her attention. She dragged her tongue across his heated skin to his other nipple, brushing her cheek against the springy thatch of hair on the way.
"My turn," Nick murmured as he tugged off her sweater and pressed her down again, fiddling with the tiny buttons on her silky camisole.
With pure feminine satisfaction, she watched his eyes grow hungry as he drew aside the fabric. Her breasts, barely covered in blue lace, swelled against the covering. He released the front catch and the bra burst open. She gasped as his mouth captured first one swollen nipple in his mouth, then the other. He licked, suckled, and squeezed the sensitive flesh within his mouth, forcing her breath to come in raspy puffs.
"Oh, Nick."
She arched her lower body upward, demanding attention. Unceasing in his devoted attention to her breasts, he released her belt and unzipped her jeans, slipping his hand inside. The feel of his strong fingers against her soft flesh made her melt with honeyed passion.
"Oh," she gasped, pressing herself against his hand in blatant need. She squirmed out of her jeans then started to fumble with his fastenings.
"Here, sweetheart. Let me," he murmured, sliding her hands across his chest so they were out of the way.
She took the hint and stroked his nipples, then traced the curly locks of his chest hair down, and when his beautiful arousal sprang free from his jeans, she caught it with both hands and wrapped her fingers around it, squeezing gently.
"If you keep doing that, darling, this will be over too soon, and I want us both to enjoy it."
He dipped his finger in the wine glass she’d abandoned on the coffee table and smeared the burgundy liquid across the white skin of her breasts, then leaned over and lapped it up with his tongue. She reached out and dipped two fingers into the glass, then dribbled it on her nipples and grinned.
"I see you know what you like." He suckled her nipples, making her absolutely wild with wanting.
"Nick." She moaned, a yearning sound from deep inside.
"Yes, sweetheart. What do you want?"
His fingers stroked her intimately. He knew what she wanted, and how much. Why did he keep her waiting?
"Nick, please. I need you. Now."
"Not yet, my love. First we need more wine."
She felt cool, damp droplets splash onto her belly, followed by the warmth of his tongue. She watched in wicked anticipation as his drenched finger dipped into her navel, then stroked downward, leaving a ruby trail. When his tongue descended and followed the path, her eyelids fluttered closed. She’d never felt so comfortable with a man that she’d allow this. With Nick … with Nick everything felt right. She felt safe and cherished and … right. As his tongue penetrated the silky folds of her flesh, conscious thought fled. His tongue flicked and cajoled and she felt herself swept away on a torrential wave of passion. Her breathing, deep and labored, mirrored the rhythm of her mounting urgency.
"Let it happen, sweetheart. Let go."
At his words, she released the thread of control that linked her to reality and, on a cry of ecstasy, she felt the world spiral away as she reached her first sexual climax ever.
She lay gasping for breath, eyes closed, and felt Nick slide up beside her. She knew he watched her. She opened her eyes and reached for him, pulling him close to her body, clinging to him, overwhelmed with feelings of elation and wonder that he could bring her such joy. She pulled him tight to her body and felt his arms slide around her, warm and tender. Pressing her cheek to his chest, she wished she could pull him tighter still, could dissolve into his body and become one with him.
"What is it, sweetheart? Are you okay?" Concern etched his words and she realized her behavior was not what he would expect.
She nodded. "I’ve never … I mean, no one’s ever…." Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. Why had she admitted that to him? Nick, a wealthy bachelor who could take his pick of beautiful women to bed, would probably find her naiveté ridiculous.
The thought was swept away as soon as he pulled back and stared at her, his eyes tender and loving. "You’ve never climaxed before?"
She shook her head timidly, wondering how she could feel so shy at a time like this.
"My God, the men you’ve been with must have been fools. How could anyone take pleasure from you and not want to give so much more in return? What man wouldn’t want to watch you in that moment of release, joy folding your features into blissful abandon?" He stroked his hand across her cheek, then kissed her lightly on the lips at first, then with mounting passion. "Are you ready for more?"
She dragged her fingertips along his stomach, then toyed with his navel.
"Absolutely. Do you think we’ll be twice lucky?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it."
"Are you sure?" she teased.
He laughed, a very smug male grin on his face. "Honey, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet."
With that he plunged inside her and started thrusting with a compelling determination. She wrapped her legs around him and matched him stroke for stroke. Almost immediately, she felt an impossible longing fill her, demanding to be met, the need overwhelming in its intensity.
"Nick," she cried, lost in a driving desire. She felt like a locomotive gone amok.
"Vanessa."
Racing over a bridge.
"Nick, I want … I want…."
Engine full of smoke … puffing.
"Yes, Vanessa. Yes."
Flying off the edge.
"Oh, Nick," she wailed.
Airborne.
Chapter 10
Vanessa lay in the warmth of his arms, listening to the gentle beat of his heart against her ear. So much had happened so fast. When they’d started out, she’d believed they had no future together, that their relationship would last a few wee
ks at best. Nick wanted a woman so different from her. They came from different backgrounds and lived different lives. At least, that’s what she’d thought--but after tonight the differences seemed superficial. What they wanted out of life was really the same.
She was surprised at what she’d learned about Nick. That he preferred jeans to tuxedos. That a simple hand-knit sweater meant more to him than an expensive store-bought garment. That a quiet evening at home won out against the lure of fancy evenings and glamorous dates. That what he really wanted from life was a woman he could have a lifetime commitment with--and children.
In reality, the two of them couldn’t be more alike.
And he’d admitted that he wanted to be with her. He liked her for herself, he admired her talents.
And the attraction between them was cataclysmic.
The stereo played softly in the background and she heard the strains of Celine Dion singing "When I Fall in Love".
When I give my heart
Maybe they had a chance together after all.
It will be completely.
Vanessa hoped so, because she realized that the feeling growing within her had twined around her heart, blooming into full-blown love.
Or I’ll never give my heart.
She loved Nick.
And he wanted Vanessa for herself. Not because she was some fantasy woman. When she’d first met him as his secretary, he’d been so hung up on finding his mystery woman from the masquerade that she knew he would never have fallen in love with her--even though she was the same woman he sought. To him, Cinderella represented mystery, intrigue, glamour. Vanessa was none of those things. Thank heavens he’d forgotten all about her.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she stared at him. His fine features serene in sleep, he looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. She traced the line of his nose with her index finger, dragged it across his cheekbone, and spiraled around his ear.
"Mmm." His arm slid over her thigh to catch her around the waist.
She blew in his ear, then nuzzled his neck.
"Come here, you," he commanded, his voice sleep-roughened. He still hadn’t opened his eyes as he pulled her against him and stroked her hair. "You know, I had the most wonderful dream … of a beautiful mystery woman who made my every fantasy come true."
She stopped herself from pulling back, kept her body pliant against his. "Nick, are you awake?"
He didn’t answer, just mumbled on in his sleep-ridden voice. "But I know it wasn’t a dream. It was you." He nuzzled her temple, her hair wisping in gentle waves from his soft breath. "My sweet Cinderella," he whispered. "I’m so glad I finally found you."
Her breathing stopped. She couldn’t find a way to inhale. Pushing herself gently from him she sat up, shock slowly permeating every part of her body.
"Where you going?" he asked sleepily.
"Bathroom. Go back to sleep."
"Mmm. Don’t be long."
She stumbled to her feet and scooped up her clothes, being careful not to make too much noise. As she clutched the bundle to her chest, she stared at the dwindling fire, mesmerized by its dying light.
When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I’ll never fall in love.
Had she been fooling herself? Did he still wish for his fantasy woman?
In a restless world like this is,
Love is ended before it’s begun,
If that were true, then maybe Vanessa would never be able to completely satisfy him.
And too many moonlight kisses
Even if he decided he loved her--which he never said he did--he might always wish for that intangible magic she could never provide.
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun.
Maybe he could never accept just plain, ordinary Vanessa.
When I give my heart it will be completely,
Or I’ll never give my heart.
The line in the song clutched at her. Too late.
"Vanessa, where are you going?" Nick’s arms encircled her waist and he pulled her around to face him. His mouth descended on hers in a smoky, smoldering kiss.
And the moment that you feel that
you feel that way too
As passion swirled around her, hazing her brain, she realized that the insecurities driving her to distraction were just that … insecurities. They had nothing to do with Nick and what he felt for her.
Is when I fall in love
With you.
* * * *
She awoke the second time to the feel of Nick kissing the back of her neck. His hand stroked her short hair behind her ear as he kissed around the side, then nuzzled the hollow of her collar bone.
"Are you awake?" he whispered in her ear.
She giggled. "I am now." Sometime during the night they’d moved into the bedroom. The feel of smooth Egyptian cotton caressed her skin as she turned in his arms and looped her hands around his neck. Nipping his lower lip, she smiled. "So I wonder what you want for breakfast?" Her voice lilted in a provocative manner. From the feel of his body pressed against her, they both knew exactly what he wanted.
"You, sunny side up," he growled, flipping her on her back and prowling over her. She found herself trapped beneath a fully aroused male--and loving every minute of it.
The thought of breakfast gave her an idea she simply couldn’t resist. "Hold that thought." She eased him back with the light pressure of her hand against his chest.
She climbed out of bed and scooted into the kitchen, returning minutes later with a small bowl of syrup. Leaning against the door, she grinned at him. "I thought of a way to make breakfast a little sweeter."
She walked toward him, adding a slight sway to her hips. As she perched on the edge of the bed, she dipped her finger in the bowl and dribbled thick, sticky droplets on her breasts, then slowly licked her finger with a long stroke of her tongue. His eyes gleaming with sensuous hunger, Nick took her hand and drew her finger into his mouth while his gaze trailed a sticky droplet around the curve of her breast. The feel of his hot, moist flesh surrounding her sent chills through the rest of her body. She lay down on the bed, wanting his mouth to warm all of her. He leaned over and lapped the syrup from her breasts with slow, steady strokes. His tongue swirled around her nipple and he drew it into his mouth, alternately licking and suckling. He cleaned the other breast in the same deliberate manner.
"Mmm. Sweet." He kissed her and she could taste the syrup on his tongue.
"Your turn." She pushed him flat on the bed and gave his nipples the same treatment. Tasting the maple sweetness under her tongue as his flesh pebbled to life was sinfully pleasurable. A melting hot moistness flowed within her.
Remembering how Nick had pleased her last night, she dipped in the bowl again, this time smearing the amber syrup onto his hard male flesh, swirling it with her finger then following with her tongue.
"Sweetheart, I’m more ready than I’ve ever been," he warned.
"Me, too."
She proved it, joining their bodies in one swift movement. Pleasure filled her as he gasped in agonized appreciation. She squeezed him, then started a steady rhythmic motion that brought them both to climax with the suddenness of a champagne bottle bursting open. Effervescent, exciting, explosive.
Later, as they showered together, Vanessa mused that the heated steam matched the heat of their earlier passion. After drying each other off with meticulous care, they dressed, then fixed breakfast, sharing the task with an easy camaraderie. I could get used to this, Vanessa thought, watching Nick flip pancakes in a frying pan. The thought of doing everyday things with Nick all the time held an appeal too strong to resist.
As Vanessa poured syrup over her pancakes, she was caught for a moment in amber images of their sticky-sweet lovemaking. She’d never again be able to eat pancakes without picturing Nick covered with syrup. Knowing they had to get to work, she tried to keep her mind off arousing thoughts by engaging Nick in mundane conversation.
Sunshine poured i
n the kitchen’s huge picture window, and the ravine outside glistened with dew-drop crystals. The light reflected brightly off the oak hardwood floors, which looked recently refinished, and off the brass pans hanging from the ceiling over a very modern centre island. She wondered if Nick had made renovations in other parts of the house since her stepmother had lived here.
"When did you buy this place, Nick?"
"It’s been in my family for generations."
She paused, a forkful of food halfway to her lips.
"But… I thought a family named Devon owned it about fifty years ago." Could Nick be related to her stepmother? The sweet maple syrup became cloying in her mouth.
"No, one of my great-grandfathers several generations back built it and it’s been owned by a Powers ever since. Who is this Devon family and why did you think they lived here?" he asked with mild curiosity.
She didn’t want to ruin her wonderful mood by talking about her stepmother, but she’d brought up the topic.
"Well, you see, a long time ago my stepmother told me she grew up in Erin Gate mansion. The first time I came here I was fascinated to finally see the inside of the house she had always raved about."
"Your stepmother? Here?" He watched her speculatively. His eyes narrowed. "Devon. You know, the name does sound familiar."
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating stare, even though she knew he was concentrating on where he’d heard the name, not on her.
He snapped his fingers. "I’ve got it. We used to have a housekeeper named Devon. She had a daughter called Elaine, I think."
"Elena," Vanessa corrected distractedly. A housekeeper? She fixed her gaze on his. "Are you saying that my stepmother was the daughter of a housekeeper who worked here?"
"It sounds like it." He placed his hand over Vanessa’s, concern carving tiny lines around his eyes and mouth. "Does this upset you, Vanessa? Have I disillusioned you about your stepmother?"