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One Taste

Page 97

by Cari Quinn


  Fear had muted everything for so long. The here and now was so rich and real that her shock halted him. His gaze locked on hers as his thumb swiped under her nipple. “I don’t want this to be about sex,” he said roughly. “Everything we are can’t be boiled down to that again.”

  She cupped his face, slowing the crazed touching until it was just them, not adrenaline and hormones gone wild. “It’s right—can’t you feel it? You knew it before I did. And God, Nate, I need to be a part of you.” She scraped her fingers through his hair and palmed the back of his head, drawing him back down to her mouth. “I want to feel close to you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I want it to be just you and me and the beginning of forever.”

  His lovely eyes softened and the storms settled for a moment before he gathered her in once more—the kiss drugging, the taste of him unlike anything she’d known before or since—the touch of him was everything. She struggled out of her dress, letting it hang between their linked wrists. He did the same with his shirt before he shucked his jeans and boxers.

  She gasped as their skin kissed. Where she used to be soft, there were angles and muscle from months of running. So afraid he’d find her lacking, she pulled back. His head snapped up, his eyes intense with so many emotions. Without a word, he lifted her until his mouth had complete access. She hooked her knees at his hips and held on as her world tilted with each scrape of his teeth at her throat.

  He walked her down a dark hallway to a surprisingly open room. A king-sized bed took up most of the room. Wide windows gave a breathtaking view of North Beach. The setting sun highlighted tangled sheets, a sketchpad; wispy curtains and a dresser with a bedside table were the only furniture. A guy’s room…unadorned and Nate in every way.

  Settling her in the center of the bed, he laced their fingers together as he drew her arm up and over her head. The bite of metal was cushioned by their shirts. Stubble scratched and heightened every bit of skin he tasted. The ultrasensitive skin of her underarm, the curve of her breast and finally her puckered nipple were only the beginning.

  Caught up in the endless sensory overload, she rolled him, rose over him and took over. She wanted to show him what pleasure could be when it was real. That he was exactly what she’d been waiting for her whole life. She cupped his face gently, his hand over hers with the clink of cuff that had started out as a way to shock him into talking to her and had become so much more.

  She wanted to be tied to him in every way. His gaze burned into hers as she surrounded him, both body and emotion. Taking him inside her slowly, skin to skin, she sighed as every moment of emptiness she’d forced on them faded. Pleasure chased love and instinct took over as her hips glided in a rhythm designed to drive him insane.

  Instead of relying on technique she looked for cues that were individual to the man—her man—the quickening of his breath, a sighing moan and the grip of his fingertips on her hip. Her body listened to his and learned what was right instead of what her experience said should work. And in its place they became a dreamy roll of fluid exploration.

  He surged up beneath her and a voracious kiss tipped her closer to that place where the overwhelming crashed into fear. She tried to focus, to relax into him, but like every time before, when the pleasure ripened she couldn’t fight her way out of the old ways of MJ’s excess. She didn’t want to be that woman again—not ever.

  His fingers speared into her hair and held her tight to him. “Don’t leave me, not now.”

  Tears blurred his patient and beautiful face. Giving everything to him was amazing in theory, but a lifetime of holding back bound her to the past. The tide of pleasure receded as she gripped his shoulder in protest.

  “Nate.”

  “It’s just me, just us. Look at me. No, don’t lock up, just look at me. See me.”

  She closed her eyes, frustration strapping her emotions into a tight ball of dread and fear.

  “No, look at me.” His voice told her just how close to the edge he was. And he was going to talk her down after she ruined everything.

  Again.

  His voice was sure and calm as he drew their tethered hands together behind her back until she was flush against him. With short, pulsing thrusts, he kept up the endless connection. With his other arm he braced her back and lightly stroked his fingers along her nape.

  “It’s just us.”

  She slowly opened her eyes and his perfect face swam into focus. Gray eyes so clear and focused on her. The unwavering love was there for anyone to see. How had she missed it before? She followed his rhythm, her nails dug into their joined hands, and she gasped as he slid deeper. So close, so full of him and the love she never thought was possible, she let the hiccupping sob free. She wasn’t sure she deserved any of his generosity, but she couldn’t stop herself from taking it.

  When the crest came, she wasn’t prepared. Her body finally took over and they strained against each other, eyes locked until the last possible second. She arched up and bowed back. Her skin was on fire and felt too tight for her body and still he drove into her. Words rained down on her though she couldn’t comprehend their meaning.

  They were his words and his voice and his love and she trusted him enough to destroy her and put her back together again until she was whole. His name was a litany of praise within the shuddering release.

  He fell back, dragging her up until her face was tucked in against his neck. “Son of a—” He lifted their cuffed hands.

  She snuggled into him, her personal bliss too complete to deal with petty annoyances such as stainless steel accessories. He rolled her enough to reach into the bedside drawer. She moaned her displeasure until she heard the snick and then a thud to the floor.

  “Just because they’re off doesn’t mean you can slip away,” he said on a mumble as he adjusted them into a tangle toward the middle of the bed.

  She peeled open one eye. The scruffy, rumpled man under her was exactly what she needed and he’d been under her nose for years. “Actually, I was wondering why you had a key in your drawer.”

  “Stick around and you’ll learn all sorts of things about me.”

  She propped her chin on her hand, the reassuring beat of Nate’s heart luring her into closing her eyes and sleeping like a human for the first time in ages. Instead she reached up to touch his lips with her forefinger. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He nipped the tip. “I want to believe that.”

  She wiggled her way up until she could replace her finger with her lips. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it for the next few dozen years. That is, if you can stand to keep a reformed socialite party girl with more baggage than Coach, Louis Vuitton and Prada combined.”

  He tightened his hold. “Don’t joke, Miranda.”

  She cupped his jaw, stroking her thumb from his stubble to the bloom of purple and yellow skin around his eye. “I think some humor will be necessary to deal with what’s beyond your front door, but everything else is one hundred percent serious. I know I have a lot to make up to for—”

  “Is that what the front door thing was?”

  She was used to his teasing eyes and making light of everything to draw her out and into a laugh. This Nate was a little more wary. She’d done that to him. Screwing with his head and pushing all her issues on him was so unfair. She gnawed on her lower lip. “Actually, that was probably a bit of my MJ coming out.”

  Instead of more serious Nate, she got a huge smile and flipped onto her back again. She gasped and made room for his solidly muscled body between her thighs. He loomed over her, his bad boy bruises heightening the wicked smile. “So this means I get three girlfriends?”

  “Uh…” Shock left her fumbling. No, that definitely wasn’t what she meant.

  He leaned down, sucking her lower lip between his teeth. “I get the wild MJ Lyons sometimes.” He deepened the kiss, running a possessive hand down her belly where her tattoo lay. “Then I get my sexy librarian Miranda Woods.” He dragged his lips along her neck, buzzin
g behind her ear with a growl. “Your glasses drive me crazy by the way.”

  She arched into him with a laugh. “And who’s the third girlfriend?”

  “The Miranda Jayne Lyons who’s brave enough to be both. The one that’s here with me and willing to put up with a guy who loves all the different facets of her. I love you, Miranda, whatever name you want to go by.”

  She looped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck. “Don’t you get me crying again.”

  “I can probably cure that.”

  “Oh yeah?” Given his close proximity and the obvious recuperative powers of a little down time, and she had an idea of what kind of cure he had in mind.

  “Maybe I should get the handcuffs first.”

  “I had no idea you were so kinky, Nathan Cross.”

  He nipped her clavicle. “As I said, there’s lots for you to learn about.” She rolled her hips and breathed in the anticipation of having him again. “And you said you were willing to take a couple dozen years to make it up to me, right?”

  She stilled under him. “Are you looking for a sex slave, Nate?”

  He laughed and hugged her tight to him. “That could be a nice side benefit, but I was thinking more of a family picnic I’m required to go to on Sunday. Think you’re brave enough to face all of the Crosses?”

  Her little world went black and she struggled out from under him. “Your what?”

  He trapped her, kissing her into a stupor. Distracted by the haze of lust and being back in Nate’s focus, she found herself agreeing to meet his entire family.

  And just before she drifted off in his arms, she nudged him. “Very sneaky, Nate.”

  “You’re not the only one with powers of persuasion.”

  Let Your Voice Be Heard

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  About the Author

  Taryn Elliott is a USA Today Bestselling Author of contemporary romance that has made it her mission in life to get as many rockstar stories out of her head and onto the page as possible. She never knew that her fascination with everything music could be translated into the perfect way to make a living. And with that wide-open playground she gets to mix in tattoo artists, winery entrepreneurs, book owners, billionaires and anything else she can think of.

  She comes from upstate NY and grew up with parents who passed on their love of television and movies, so writing stories seemed like a natural progression. She falls in love with every hero as she writes him and there’s always an eclectic soundtrack to match.

  Would you like to know more?

  www.tarynelliott.com

  taryn@tarynelliott.com

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  coming May 12, 2017

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  The Boss Vol. 2

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  Music kept them going. Now it's torn them apart… Guitarist Nick Crandall lost the most important thing in his life—his band—just as he was falling in love. A year after going on hiatus, Oblivion is returning to the studio and he’s about to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Simon has spent the past year trying to find his way back to the thing that sustained him in his darkest hours, then grew to be his biggest demon. With Margo’s help, he’s ready to admit it’s showtime. It’s do or die, one more time. (more)

 

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