Spice

by Seressia Glass

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of her hand.

  Her shoulders tightened. She wanted to draw her hand away. She wanted to hold on forever. “No, I don’t. Not to you.”

  A muscle in his cheek flinched. She knew she’d hurt his feelings when he released his grip. “Okay.”

  “Kane.” She blew out a breath, wrapping her fingers around his hand and bringing it to her chest. “The Los Angeles me was completely different from the Crimson Bay me. I like that you don’t know that other version of me. That you only know this Nadia, the café owner. The reality show me wasn’t very nice at the end, and I’d rather that you not know too much about her because I don’t want you to look at the current version of me differently. Does that make sense?”

  “It does.”

  She squeezed his fingers. Even though she held his hand against her chest, she still felt the same warm tingles resonating throughout her body whenever he touched her. “I like this current version of me. I think this is the real me, the way I was before I went to Hollywood. I also really like the way you look at me now.”

  It seemed to take an effort for him to tear his gaze away from where his hand lay folded against her cleavage. “What way is that?”

  “Like you could eat me up.”

  “I can. You’re a smorgasbord of pleasure, Nadia, and I want to take my time with you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. “Spend the weekend with me.”

  The request punched her low in the gut. She wanted to say yes immediately, and that alone made her pause. “Spend the weekend with you? At your place?”

  He nodded, confirming she hadn’t misheard him. “If you can’t do Friday night because of working the café Saturday morning, then spend Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday with me. I promise not to keep you up too far beyond your bedtime. But if I do, I’ll make sure you’re so exhausted you’ll fall asleep immediately.”

  “Kane . . .” His name was half whine, half plea from her throat.

  “Do you not want to spend the weekend with me?”

  “Are you kidding? My lady parts are still jumping for you and are all heck yeah. But the rest of me is thinking there’s no way I can keep this up. I think I’m going to have to change my multivitamin to an oyster blend or something.”

  He laughed. “I’m pretty sure that’s only alleged to work on the male of the species, but it’ll be interesting to see the results.”

  He nibbled at her fingertips, making her moan. “I don’t know if you noticed or not, but I didn’t mention the words sex, garden, or orgasm in my invitation. In fact, it’s entirely possible that I simply want to show you my kitchen. My mother has a ramen recipe that will make you cry tears of joy, and I’m not talking about the stuff that’s fifty for a dollar and in every college student’s pantry.”

  Cooking with Kane. The idea was certainly tempting. If he approached the culinary arts with the same dedication with which he approached sexual pleasure, cooking with him was sure to be a decadent, fulfilling experience. The man knew how to appeal to her most basic needs. Still, “Somehow I doubt that we can be in the same room alone for more than half an hour and not end up having sex.”

  He sucked her forefinger into the warmth of his mouth and she nearly slid off her chair. “You may be right. Or we could challenge ourselves and go for a whole hour before having sex. So does that mean yes?”

  She closed her eyes, the only way she could manage the sensations churning inside her. “It means I wish I could, but I already have plans.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment filled his voice.

  A twinge of guilt spiked through her. Or was that her own disappointment? “If you recall, you and I just started a couple of days ago.”

  “That’s true.” He pressed a kiss to her wrist, leaving thrills in his wake. “I suppose I’m being greedy, but I haven’t finished my very thorough exploration of you yet.”

  “One Friday a month Club Tatas hosts the Crimson Bay Bombshells. They’re a burlesque troupe, and Sugar is one of the performers. The show’s this Friday. I’d like it if you would join us.”

  His brows lowered in confusion. “I thought Club Tatas was a drag joint?”

  She snorted. “I should be surprised that you know that, but for some reason I’m not. Yes, Club Tatas is mostly a drag revue. But on the second Friday, they add a burlesque show. Sugar performs in that.”

  “You mentioned Sugar before. Which of your friends is Sugar? Siobhan?”

  “Bingo. Sugar Malloy is Siobhan’s stage name. She’s really good.” She traced his eyebrows with her free hand. She hadn’t realized how pleasurable the simple act of touching another person could be. Then again, she hadn’t had an overwhelming need to touch someone like she felt with Kane. “Will you come? We get dressed up in costumes and just hang out. Even Vanessa comes, and it’s not usually her type of scene. The core—that’s me, Audie, and Jas, my assistant baker—sit with Vanessa because we tend to not drink when we’re out, so she has a safe buffer around her.”

  Those fathoms-deep eyes watched her as he digested that information. “Does Vanessa need that buffer because she’s still in recovery for alcohol?” When she nodded, he added, “Will she mind that you told me?”

  “I don’t think so. If you’re going to hang out with me, you’d eventually end up hanging with my friends. You’ll need to know what you should and shouldn’t do around them, like ordering a round of tequila shots for our table.”

  “Makes sense.” His expression remained thoughtful. “Is she the only one?”

  “All of us are recovering from one thing or another. It’s part of why we stick together and have one another’s backs. But we also like the hell out of one another.”

  She paused, wondering if he was having second thoughts. Equal parts relief and disappointment welled inside her. She wanted to keep seeing Kane. And, she realized with surprise, she wanted to be with him outside of a bedroom. She liked talking to him. Would Kane want to interact with her and her friends in a social setting, though? She and her friends had issues they were in various stages of managing, and some were managing better than others. Sometimes things went great and sometimes they got messy.

  “None of us are perfect, and we try our best to accept people as they are, without judgment, since we’re all works in progress. Do you think you can handle that? It’s no big deal if you think it’s too much trouble. It can be a bit much at times for outsiders to take on.”

  “I can handle it.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Thanks for inviting me. I know exposing your circle of friends to me, to us, has got to be a big deal for you.”

  How the hell did he know that? “Have you been talking to Siobhan?”

  “Why would I be talking to Siobhan?”

  “You’re being very accommodating,” she noted, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “Of course.” He kissed her shoulder, then her collarbone, then her throat. “You’re not too much trouble. Even if you were, you’re worth it. Besides, I have the best incentive to be accommodating.”

  She laughed. “I appreciate that. I do have the early shift at the café this Saturday, and prep work to do on Sunday. But I trade out with Jas, and he’ll work next weekend.”

  “Are you telling me that you’re free next weekend?”

  “Yep, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  He rose to his feet, gathering their plates. “Great. Why don’t I clean up while you finish making the cards? Then you can have the honors of the inaugural draw.”

  “All right.” She took her wine then returned to the breakfast bar to finish writing out the notes, conscious of Kane moving around her kitchen with casual assurance. It should have bothered her, the easy way he had, but instead it gave her a sense of calm. His confidence relaxed her. He wasn’t trying to prove anything. He simply was what he was.

 
; He held out a canvas shopping bag to her. “I found this under the sink. Will it work to hold the notecards?”

  “Perfect.”

  She scooped up all the folded cards and dropped them into the bag. He shook it, tumbled the cards together, then held the open bag out to her. “Ready?”

  With her nerves dancing with excitement, she reached in, pulled out a card. Kane leaned in close as she unfolded the card. “El keurchi,” she murmured, sure she’d butchered the pronunciation. “The fifteenth manner.”

  “Belly to Belly.” Kane pulled her to her feet. “‘The man and the woman are standing upright, face-to-face; she opens her thighs; the man then brings his feet forward between those of the woman, who also advances hers a little.’”

  With his hands to her hips, he subtly guided her into the proper stance. “‘In this position the man must have one of his feet somewhat in advance of the other. Each of the two has the arms round the other’s hips; the man introduces his verge, and the two move thus intertwined.’”

  Nadia’s breath stuttered in her chest as she settled her hands on his hips. “This might be a little difficult to do, since I’m a few inches shorter than you.”

  “Then you need to make sure you’re wearing heels,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers. “When I see you on Friday.”

  He stepped away. It wasn’t until he replaced the books in his satchel that his words registered. “Friday? But today’s Wednesday!”

  “I have a late class tomorrow, and since you have to get up before the roosters do, I won’t come by tomorrow.” He cupped her cheek before kissing her again. “I don’t want your work to suffer. I take my responsibilities seriously. Besides, you’re my sole supplier of sticky buns.”

  His concern touched her, even if it didn’t make her happy. She could go a couple of days with little sleep, but she knew she was at her best with at least six hours of rest. “I appreciate the concern, but we don’t have to go—”

  “Oh, and no masturbation without my permission.”

  “What?”

  Sternness hardened his features. “If you need self-gratification, you have to call me first. Though your reward will be greater if you wait until Friday.”

  “But . . .” Two whole days? He’d ended her sexual drought with a thunderstorm of pleasure and now he wanted her to abstain for two whole days?

  She opened her mouth to protest again, but he cupped the back of her neck with one hand, drew her closer. “You promised your orgasms to me, Nadia. Can I trust you?”

  She stared up at him, one hand on his chest. She hadn’t expected that he needed to trust her just as much as she needed to trust him. Trust had to go both ways, didn’t it? “Does that mean you won’t masturbate either?”

  “It does. We’re in this together.”

  Well, as long as she didn’t have to suffer alone. “All right then. Until Friday.”

  She just hoped she could last until then.

  NINE

  Nadia and her friends made their way into the show level of Club Tatas on Bay Street, aiming for the left side of the stage. A sizeable crowd already clogged the floor, waiting for the Crimson Bay Bombshells to take the stage.

  Siobhan had joined the group about a year and a half ago. Her vivacious personality, dangerous curves, and beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed looks made her a hit with the crowd. Why she didn’t capitalize on the adulation and indulge in a steady stream of lovers was a continual topic of discussion in their Bitch Talk sessions. Nadia knew her friend still bore scars from her ruined marriage and estranged relationship with her daughter, but she didn’t like that Siobhan thought she still had to do penance for that. Hopefully Nadia’s affair with Kane would inspire her friend to move forward.

  If Nadia didn’t kill Kane first.

  It had been the longest two days of her life. Thursday morning, the repercussions of her sexual acrobatics had come back to haunt her with long-unused muscles lodging a protest as she went about her duties at the café. Thursday night she’d indulged in a long soak in the tub, then distracted herself with a touch-base phone call with her fathers and entries in her recovery journal. While she did talk to Kane, their conversation had been brief, with neither taking the other up on the request to self-gratify. By the time she’d gotten dressed and met up with her friends, Nadia was spoiling for a fight and the need to come.

  “I thought you were coming with the professor,” Jas, gorgeous in a black patent leather bustier and blue-black wig, said as Nadia slipped into one of the chairs that had been commandeered for their group. His girlfriend Tracy, wearing a black suit, smiled a welcome.

  “She was,” Audie quipped. “Several times from what I heard.”

  “That’s what you get for hanging around outside my door,” Nadia snarked before turning back to their laughing friends. “Kane had some last-minute stuff he had to do. He’s going to meet us here later.”

  “You did let him know what kind of club Tatas is, right?” Jas asked. “I’m surprised you’re not standing at the door waiting to claim him as soon as he walks in.”

  “He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.” Nadia looked around for a waiter, wanting to dodge the questions she knew were on the way. “Besides, I don’t need to stake a claim. It’s not like that.”

  “So you’re saying you’re not exclusive?” Audie wondered, her eyebrows shooting skyward in surprise. “That doesn’t seem like the kind of relationship you would go for.”

  “Kane and I are sexually exclusive,” Nadia explained, trying to capture a waiter’s attention. “That’s about as relationship as this thing is going to get.”

  She could tell herself that while sitting here with her friends. She could tell herself that at work or when she was alone. When she was with Kane, when they were breathing the same air, her brain seemed to short-circuit. All she could think about was having more of him as soon as possible. Even now she could feel the desire rising up in her, a craving that overrode everything else. Just like—

  No. She shook her head. Craving Kane was nothing like craving a drug-induced high. She wasn’t hurting anyone by having sex with Kane. Her eyes were wide open, she knew what she was doing. And what she was doing was having the best sex of her life with a man who wasn’t going to try to break her to make her more dependent on him. Who wasn’t going to complicate things. The moment it became more than that, she’d walk away. She’d have to.

  “It’s just sex.”

  “Okay,” Vanessa said, her tone soothing. “It’s just sex, not a relationship. At least the professor is living up to his nickname.”

  Nadia pressed her thighs together. “He most definitely is.”

  Audie leaned close. “Have y’all done anything kinky yet?”

  “Audie!” Nadia turned. “Where is the waiter for this section?”

  “Don’t try to deflect the conversation!” the redhead exclaimed. “You know I had to ask you about that. The professor wouldn’t have the nickname he does just from the missionary position.”

  “I’m not giving you guys any more details,” Nadia insisted, looking around to avoid eye contact with her friends. They talked, they shared, they bullshitted each other, but she wasn’t feeling it at the moment. Probably not ever, not about Kane. It was one thing to talk about having sex, but the details, the other . . . it was too intense, too everything to share it. “Screw the waiter, I’m headed to the bar. Anybody want anything?”

  Audie ordered two tequila shots. Vanessa gave Nadia a sympathetic smile before ordering a bottle of water. As a recovering alcoholic, Vanessa was the de facto designated driver. Nadia usually stayed sober with her, if only so she could cock-block for Audie to help her with her mission to limit her one-night stands.

  Nadia made her way to the bar, holding down her flouncy skirt along the way. Everyone dressed up for the burlesque shows, the costumes ranging from saloon girls to
steampunk to fifties rockabilly and mobsters. She’d chosen an imperial red corset with a cherry blossom pattern atop a black ruffled miniskirt that was more petticoat than skirt. Thigh-high red and black striped stockings, platform Mary Janes and a red and black fascinator completed her look. She hoped Kane would swallow his tongue when he saw her. She hoped he’d show up. She hoped he’d regret not coming over after his class ended.

  Not wanting to examine her thoughts on the matter too closely—keep it light, keep it light, girl—she caught the bartender’s attention and placed her order. Kane filled her mind, and only a few of her thoughts were charitable.

  He’d sent her a text saying he’d meet her at Tatas. He hadn’t mentioned a time and she hadn’t wanted to ask. That wasn’t what keeping things casual was about. She wanted to be cool and collected and prove that she wasn’t sitting around waiting for him even if that was exactly what she was doing.

  “Heh. I sure would like to steam her punk.”

  Nadia rolled her eyes at the large brown-haired man laughing with one of his friends. How unoriginal. She inhaled, torn between ignoring the guy and offering a pithy comeback, when another voice said, “That’s not how you pick up a lady.”

  “Kane.” Nadia’s heart did one heavy thud as she turned around, then promptly forgot her anger as she caught sight of him sitting on a barstool.

  He’d dressed to the theme of the night. Wine-red shirt beneath a black pinstriped vest complete with pocket watch and chain. Loose-fitting black trousers, shiny black shoes, and a black Fedora with a red satin band completed his look. Oh yeah, she’d be his gun moll any day.

  Not that he needed to know that. Yet. “How would you pick me up?’ she asked, ignoring the frat guy and his friend.

  “I’d appeal to your sense of daring while offering a better alternative than steaming your punk.”