One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  The softness vanished from her face. “Who are you to tell me what I’m doing?”

  The man who loves you.

  His hand flexed on the small of her back, and he shut his eyes. She stopped dancing immediately, probably assuming he was hurting. He was, but not the way she thought. He’d finally fallen in love. And though it didn’t make any sense time-wise, emotionally, everything fit.

  Kiki didn’t put up with anything from him, but she gave him so much. She made him laugh. She listened. And she actually cared. Not because she wanted anything from him, whether it was a ring or a spot filled on her dance card at Comtek’s stupid Christmas ball.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, she had feelings for him, too, beyond attraction and the general concern someone might have for a person who’d taken a bullet for them. Even so, she took skittish to a whole new level. Thanks to the infamous Nico, no doubt. So he would tread gently while he figured out what move to make next.

  He slid his right arm around her waist. She hadn’t relaxed from her earlier question, but he’d quickly deduced how to move his hips to erase most of her annoyance.

  Looked as if she wasn’t the only natural around here.

  “You really thought it was good?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yeah. The next one just needs a little more.”

  He tangled his fingers in her hair and tilted her head back for a kiss. She’d been sucking on a cinnamon hard candy when she arrived, and he still tasted the spice on her lips. Every time his tongue twirled around hers, his cock throbbed. And his blood burned.

  She eased a whisper away, her mouth already swollen from his kisses. “More?”

  “Yeah. More.” Deliberately, he pressed his erection against her stomach. Her smile bloomed slowly, turning the burn inside him into a wildfire. “It needs a little more us.”

  Her smile flickered. “I’m nervous.”

  Vincent laid his cheek on her hair, wondering how the thump of his heart could seem louder than the saxophones bleeding through the speakers. “You make me nervous, too.”

  “Not about you, silly, though I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I’m nervous about writing tonight’s scene.”

  “Ah, yes. The scene.” Of course.

  “Writing the rest together has been so much fun, even the sexual tension, but I dunno.” She slipped her hands into his jeans pockets and gave his ass an absent stroke. “I’ve decided you might be right. Maybe I am a prude.”

  “I’m right? Does that ever happen?”

  While she laughed, he stroked the small of her back. He loved kissing her there, sliding his lips up between her shoulder blades to the glittery fairy tattoo at the base of her neck. He’d never liked tattoos before, but Kiki’s two tats—and that damned bellybutton ring—did him in every time.

  “I need to loosen up if we’re going to get that scene written right.”

  “Should we start with whips or chains or both?”

  That she grinned proved how far they’d come in a short time. Not that he needed her confirmation. The minor artillery fire in his chest every time he saw her or touched her or envisioned her tangled in his sheets told the tale succinctly enough.

  One steamy book was on its way to being written. And one steamy affair, Vincent mused as he scooped his fingers through her hair, was going places neither of them could have imagined.

  “My idea was more along the lines of porn.”

  He eased her back to arm’s length. “Still look like Kiki Wyatt. Don’t sound like her though.”

  “Nico used to be really into it. Subscribed to a couple channels, bought Playboy. It wigged me out then, it wigs me out now. But I need to get over myself.” She sucked in a breath and rubbed her palm over his stomach, her gray gaze devouring his. “You’re the only one I trust enough to try it with.”

  Something moved through him. Not something. Love. A simple, uncomplicated emotion, even if everything that went with it wasn’t nearly so neat and tidy. “Kiki.” He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “You know I don’t expect you to be into that, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly why I want to see if I am. Maybe I haven’t tried it enough to say for sure it’s not for me.” Her hesitant smile transformed into one much more confident and sexy. “C’mon, Vincent. Get me hot.”

  Kiki stayed resolute for all of ten minutes. Just long enough for Vincent to load her DVD and turn up the sound.

  Even as she settled on his lap in his oversized recliner, her mind fumbled for an escape hatch. Surely they could write a perfectly serviceable love scene—he’d be doing most of the, uh, heavy lifting, anyway—without resorting to watching oiled, big-breasted blondes beg overly muscled, long-haired guys to “ram it in, ram it in, eeieyah!”

  She’d tried to pick a porno with normal-looking people. But there were no guarantees.

  Luckily, the couple who appeared onscreen weren’t oiled or ridiculously well-endowed. “Leah” had red ringlets and liquid brown eyes she used to gaze longingly at “Todd.” He was built like the average Joe, and not only was his hair a cropped light brown, he wasn’t wearing a wife beater and leather pants.

  Kiki exhaled a grateful sigh. She’d picked well. These were relatively normal people who just happened to enjoy performing sexual gymnastics in front of a camera. Not so weird. Uh huh.

  Leah and Todd talked in muted voices, smiling and laughing and stroking each other in discreet places. Vincent was doing the same. He massaged her calves, then briefly cupped her knee before he slid his hand between her legs to touch her inner thighs.

  Though his mouth hovered beside her cheek, he’d yet to attempt to kiss her or even do anything more than caress her through her clothes. He was easing her in. Coaxing her into the shallow end of the pool.

  If she hadn’t been half in love with him already—fine, three-fourths—she’d be sunk now.

  As Todd’s hand wandered to Leah’s bare breast—when had she lost her shirt?—Kiki glanced at Vincent, only to see he was studying her. To say he looked aroused didn’t quite cover it. His dark eyes were hooded, his features drum-tight.

  Her breath caught. “You’re not watching.”

  “Watching you’s more fun.”

  She didn’t mind that he thought so, but she was having a hard time dragging her gaze from the TV. “We can’t have sex till tomorrow, you know. Rules.”

  “So you’re turned on.”

  She couldn’t smother her snort. “I may be a prude, but I’m not dead.”

  Todd unzipped Leah’s pants with his teeth and removed her panties the same way. When the camera zoomed in to show the action between Leah’s thighs as Todd went to work with his tongue, Kiki clenched her fingers. She thought she’d grabbed the arm of the chair, but the rigid bunch and flex of muscles told her she’d clamped her hand around Vincent’s leg.

  “Sorry.” Her voice sounded rough, as did her exhalation as he lifted her hand and sucked her fingertips into his mouth.

  She’d never understood the whole finger sucking thing, but that was before she’d experienced the sensation of Vincent’s warm lips slithering all the way down to her knuckles. Combined with the ecstasy on Leah’s face as she arched against Todd’s eager mouth, Kiki figured the metaphorical flames between her own thighs would disintegrate her panties at any moment.

  Every part of her pulsed with the need for release. She shifted, seeking relief, but Vincent’s heavy erection nudging her hip hardly quenched her desire. Her nipples strained against her bra and her chest hurt with the force of her breathing, but she still couldn’t stop staring at the screen.

  He withdrew her fingers from his mouth with a teasing, slurping sound and opened the bottom couple buttons of her cardigan. Then he used her fingertips to circle wet patterns around the ring in her navel while she fought not to squirm.

  God, what had happened to her? Was it sex writing or porn that had torqued her libido so much? Or was it the man beside her, silently driving her wild?

  When their gazes c
ollided, she nearly groaned. She wanted his lips on her breasts, pulling on her nipples as he’d pulled on her fingers. Wanted him everywhere. Licking her, touching her, making love to her with his mouth and his cock….

  “Watch.” He flicked his tongue under her jaw in subtle warning. “The TV, not me.” His voice drenched her senses like heated maple syrup as he glided his hand over her ribs. When he shifted and arched his hips to grind against her, the remote went flying, along with her inhibitions.

  Turned on? Oh, yeah. She’d beg if she had to continue watching Todd pumping into Leah, his gorgeous butt flexing with each stroke, or if she had to endure another second of Vincent’s leisurely exploration as if his eyes weren’t blazing darker than she’d ever seen them.

  Screw the no-sex rule. Hell, she’d do all the work. He could just lie there. She was about to say as much when he gave her a kiss hard enough to bruise.

  She wound around him, drawing his tongue deep into her mouth. Was it possible to come from a kiss alone? Because she had a feeling she was about to find out.

  He continued teasing her, flicking open her buttons with maddening slowness until he exposed her navy lace bra. Then he opened the clasp.

  He rubbed his lips against hers, creating a delicious friction as she moaned at the sensation of the cool air teasing her breasts. “Touch yourself,” he murmured, his gaze searing hers.

  She didn’t hesitate. She touched herself exactly as she’d fantasized about him touching her, not holding anything back. Looking into his eyes, she saw her own reflection, and it staggered her as much as the violent longing carved into every plane of his face.

  Right now, she had no doubt about what he was feeling. He did need her. Just as much as she needed him.

  When he tugged her up a little too fast, she opened her mouth to admonish him, but he didn’t cart her off to the bedroom as a proper romance hero would. Instead, he nudged her down in his chair and turned off the movie.

  She stared up at him without moving to cover herself. They’d gone way past the point of barriers. “Vincent?”

  His breath hissed between his teeth as he retrieved his laptop. “Now we write.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  To some, the transition from watching a porno to writing to spending time around the Christmas tree might seem odd. To Vincent, it proved Kiki was precisely the woman he’d been looking for. Had he acknowledged said search, which, of course, he had not.

  He sat on the floor while she fussed at the tree, his dog in his lap and a beer at his side. He didn’t plan on drinking much, but chocolate milk just wouldn’t cut it tonight.

  Finally she turned off the lights and turned on the partially decorated tree. She stepped back, smiling. “Is this okay?”

  Christmas lights glimmered over her dark hair and her porcelain skin, casting her in flashing blue, green, and red. If he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight, he couldn’t remember it.

  He sent Bathsheba trotting off with a nudge, then crooked his finger. “C’mere.”

  There weren’t drinking wine, but lukewarm Molsons. The only music was the sound of snow pelting the windows, and the candlelight and silk sheets he’d used to seduce in the past had been replaced by chaser bulbs and nubby carpet.

  Nothing had ever seemed more romantic. More right.

  She wandered toward him, her smile playing over her lips as she toyed with the buttons of her sweater. She’d never fully re-buttoned it after earlier—and Lord knows, generating enough heat while they were writing hadn’t been an issue—so with a couple flicks, her snowdrop skin was on full display. Then she unbuttoned her jeans, her eyes beguiling him.

  Come to me.

  He came. Hell, he would have crawled on crushed glass to get that first punch of her taste. His hands framed her face, spanning her delicate cheekbones. The lights silvered her hair, flamed her eyes with a rainbow of color. And the jolt that went through him had nothing to do with sex.

  “We’re breaking all the rules tonight,” she murmured, finding his mouth with her own.

  Desire exploded inside of him, swallowing everything else whole. She unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry, then trailed her palms over every inch of his torso.

  God, the way she touched him, as if she couldn’t get enough. He’d never been touched like that before, in or out of bed. Never hungered for another the way he hungered for her.

  Buttons popped and zippers plunged, but she kept her mouth on his, not pulling away even long enough to breathe. Her cottony, fresh-scrubbed scent enveloped him, twining around the aroma of pine needles and sap. He’d hated the smell of Christmas since he was a kid. But now he knew he’d never smell a tree without remembering Kiki with lights dancing in her eyes and a secret smile teasing her mouth.

  They lay back on the carpet, laughing breathlessly as the kiss went on and on. Her jeans disappeared as fast as the shirt she fought to remove. When she realized what she’d done, she did a quick pat and check, but he submerged her concern in another endless kiss. His mind had no room for anything but pleasure tonight.

  She shimmied down his body, drawing his pants with her, the blade-sharp tips of her hair skimming his nipples and sending a tremor through him. Watching her straddle him wearing nothing but her see-through lace bra was almost too much. Then she plucked a condom from between her breasts, explaining why she’d saved that piece of clothing for last.

  He grinned. “Nice storage place.”

  She tossed aside her bra and braced a hand low on his stomach, poising above him so she could taunt him with her liquid heat. Grinning back, she tore open the package with her teeth and sheathed his length. “I figured we’d need one in a hurry.”

  He entered her in one smooth stroke. “You were right.”

  Kiki moved with him, her pale neck and the line of her shoulders a feast for his lips, her supple back a playground for his hands. Urgency coursed through him, but he didn’t rush. He intended to savor every moment he was inside her if it killed him.

  And it just might.

  She knotted her hands in his hair as he reared up to suck on her nipples, and her head fell back when his hips went wild. Nothing was enough. He wanted more kisses, more of her driving down to meet his thrusts. More of her nails digging into his arms, more of her unfocused gaze latching on to his while she pushed him back onto the carpet.

  She surrounded him. Wet, hot. Indescribable. Spasms rocked her, and she lost herself in their rhythm, riding him so fast she was nothing but a blur. But as much as he wished it would never end, no times tables and no images of grungy linoleum floors could keep the flood of her orgasm from inciting his own.

  When she collapsed on his chest, keeping her weight on his right side, he turned his mouth against her temple. Every breath she took shook her body, and her pulse hammered under his lips, duplicating the frenzied beat of his own.

  What a rush. If this was what it felt like to make love, why had he waited so damn long?

  “Mmm.” She brushed a sleepy kiss over his bandage. “Writing sex is fun.”

  His lips curved. “It’s never been quite that fun before.”

  “I figure you probably had an affair to coincide with the writing of each of your books.”

  “You think you know me that well, huh?” Lazily, he opened an eye. The pisser was, she was more right than wrong. “Too bad I can’t say the same.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  He could tiptoe around or he could get to the meat of the story. No decision really. “Tell me about Nico.”

  She crossed her arms over his chest, being careful to steer clear of his shoulder. “We dated for two years. When he found someone else, we broke up. It happened a long time ago.”

  “How long were you engaged?” he asked quietly.

  Even in the flickering glow from the Christmas lights, he saw her eyes narrow. “Who told you?”

  “No one did. They didn’t have to,” he said as her body stiffened, degree by degree.

  “Let me guess. You’
re psychic. You took one look at me, the poor messed-up girl with relationship issues and intuited I’d been dumped at the altar, right?”

  Vincent’s thoughts shot to Nathan and Julia and the scenario he’d chosen for their breakup. Kiki had argued long and hard for him to change it, but he’d held firm. Her insistence, along with a few choice comments, had led him to believe she’d once been engaged, but even he hadn’t guessed how close the parallels were.

  “Asshole,” he said under his breath, not knowing when he’d ever meant a sentiment more.

  But she didn’t relax. “He fell out of love with me. That doesn’t make him an asshole. When he cheated on me, lied about it, and embarrassed me in front of a church full of our family and friends, that’s what made him an asshole.”

  “Are you—”

  She shook her head before he’d even finished the question stuck in his throat. “No. I’m over him. Long over. But the humiliation from having given so much of myself to him so freely hasn’t completely gone away. So yeah, I still have issues. But they’re getting better.” She gave him a brief grin. “One of these days, I might even be normal.”

  “I’m sorry it happened, Kiki.” He rubbed her back, still damp with sweat. “But I’m not sorry I asked.”

  “Of course you’re not.” She let out a low laugh. “What about you? What about Stacie?”

  He’d bristled at the question, but not for the reason she’d probably think. She didn’t know enough about him to know where his sore spots were. If they continued along the road they were on, he’d have to tell her. “What about her?”

  “How long did you date?”

  “A few weeks.” He shrugged it off. “Nothing serious.”

  “Not to you. To you, it was just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” She rolled off him and sat up, pushing both hands through her hair.

  Thinking they both needed a moment, he rose to get rid of the condom. When he again joined her on the rug, he rubbed her back, unable to stifle his need to touch. To soothe. “You think I take advantage of situations and people. I do, sometimes. If an opportunity presents itself, sure, I might finagle things to get what I want. But I’ve never lied about my motives. From the start, a woman knows what she’ll get with me.”