For 100 Reasons: A 100 Series Novel

by Lara Adrian

  His sigh is ragged when I touch him. On a low sigh, he drops his head back as I run my fingers over his bare chest and abdomen. When I drift lower, palming the steely ridge of his arousal, a rough moan rumbles at the back of his throat.

  Gripping my hips, he drags me against him, the rain-dampened bespoke slacks pressing coolly to my nakedness. His pelvis grinds into mine. The pressure and the friction of his hard erection rotating against me makes my core clench greedily. His mouth captures the impatient sound I make, even as his hands clamp on to my backside and haul me deeper into his embrace.

  He slides his palms down the outsides of my thighs.

  The next thing I know, his hand is between them, teasing the wet seam of my body. My spine arcs when his fingers delve into the cleft of my sex. It’s been so long. To think I’d nearly had myself convinced that any sexual impulse I had was snuffed out the day I left Paris.

  It was only waiting for this. For Nick.

  “Oh, God.” I gasp, shuddering against him as his touch slides through my wetness, his thumb rolling deliciously, torturously, over my clit. Each stroke winds me tighter, driving me toward a pleasure I can neither slow down nor contain. I want to burrow my face into his chest, but Nick moves back, watching me. Studying every nuance of my response.

  As always, I’m stripped bare under his gaze.

  Because even after a year apart I am his.

  My climax breaks over me without warning. I cry out with the intensity of it, with the staggering force of everything I still feel for Dominic Baine.

  I open my eyes a moment later and find he’s still watching, still searching my face. And between my quivering thighs, his fingers are still moving reverently inside me.

  “Christ, Avery. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come.” His voice is ragged, tight with desire. With his free hand, he gently caresses my cheek and brow. “I want to be inside you.”

  I press against him, smiling up into his sober face. “I want it too, Nick.”

  “No. You don’t understand.” He withdraws his fingers from inside me, then lowers his forehead to rest against mine. “I want more than that. I want to be the only man you take inside you.”

  “You are.” I hold his serious gaze, unable to pretend with him now. I can’t lie by letting him think it’s been easy for me without him. Not after everything he’s told me.

  All the lies and pretending we’ve done with each other are part of our past now. If we’re going to move forward, there’s no room for anything but the truth.

  “There’s been no one else since you, Nick.”

  He grunts. “So, Professor Nice Guy. He really isn’t in the picture?”

  I shake my head. “He never was, just like you said. I broke it off with Brandon the day you and I talked at the gallery.”

  “And Jared Rush?”

  I frown at both the question and his jealous tone, although it shouldn’t surprise me. When we were together, Nick all but forbade me to get close to the charming artist even though the two men were on friendly terms in the past.

  “Jared and I are friends, that’s all. That’s all we’ll ever be,” I assure him. “There’s been no other men since you, Nick. No one. Not once. Not in all this time.”

  I see the jolt of astonishment flash across his face. I see the relief.

  “Damn you for letting me think they could have been.” He exhales, then mutters a quiet curse. “Do you know how badly I wanted to forget you? How many times I went to a bar or a party for the sole purpose of finding some nameless, faceless female that I could fuck instead of tormenting myself every waking moment with the thought of wanting you?”

  I’m holding my breath as he talks, yanked unwillingly back to reality. I’m terrified of what he’s going to tell me. I had no claim on him this past year, but if he confesses to screwing half the women in this city, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t bar him from my heart that easily, but if he felt so little for me that he could do what he’s describing, I don’t know how I’ll be able to look at him and not feel like I’m in love with a stranger.

  He lifts my chin, forcing me to give him my full attention. “I wanted to be able to fuck you out of my head, Avery. Out of my heart. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want anyone else. I still don’t.”

  Hope catches in my chest. “Then you didn’t—”

  “No one,” he says, brushing his lips over mine. “Not once.” A tender kiss to the side of my neck that makes my pulse race and my heart leap. “Not in all this time.”

  Joy surges inside me, along with renewed desire. I can’t contain either one. Throwing my arms around his neck, I leap at Nick, my bare legs encircling his waist. Our mouths meet with abandon, with ferocious hunger.

  He holds me aloft, his palms and forearms supporting my weight. And then suddenly we’re in motion, ascending the staircase that leads to my bedroom on the second floor.

  Nick’s never been in my house before. Never been in the queen-sized bed that seems very small as he sets me down on the edge of it and stands before me to finish undressing.

  He strips with elegant efficiency while I watch with eager eyes and a watering mouth. He’s so heart-stoppingly handsome I nearly forget to breathe. I know every muscled ridge and plane of his body, yet he’s never looked more virile than he does now.

  He pushes me down on the mattress, his body covering me. His weight on me is a comfort as much as it arouses me. I cling to him, arching beneath him and yearning to have him buried deep inside me.

  He knows what he does to me, even now. A year of distance between us, yet he still knows just how to touch me, how to kiss me. His tongue delves deep into my mouth, thrusting and withdrawing, stoking the fire that’s barely banked from the orgasm he gave me downstairs.

  I want to kiss him all night, but Nick has other plans.

  Moving down the length of my body with his wicked hands and mouth, he leaves a trail of fire along my neck and across my breasts, then down to the shallow dip of my belly. I moan with the bliss of it, my spine arching off the mattress as his trek continues downward. He pauses at my hip bone, tracing the delicate edge of it with his tongue.

  “I’ve been dreaming of tasting you again for too long,” he murmurs harshly, his breath rolling hot and heavy over my sensitive skin. “Open for me, baby.”

  I comply with a shivery exhalation, every nerve ending riveted on Nick and the pounding need that’s pulsing between us. As soon as my thighs part, he sinks down between them.

  “Oh, God.”

  The first fleeting lick of his tongue against my sex spirals through me like liquid fire. Then another kiss, one that lingers much longer, his tongue cleaving into my center, driving me to the brink of glorious madness. He finds my clit and the tender, unrelenting assault he wages on that tight bundle of nerves is almost my undoing.

  But he knows just how much to give me and just when to retreat. This dance is a familiar one for us. Give and take. Submission and demand.

  Nick is a master at everything when it comes to my pleasure. He knows precisely how to prolong my torment and when to set me free.

  What I need right now is him inside me.

  On a deep, approving growl he kisses my pussy once more, stroking and nipping, then drawing the tender bud of my clit against the hot, wet heat of his tongue.

  His hooded gaze lifts to mine in wicked promise as he licks his lips, which now glisten with my juices. “As sweet and hot as I remember,” he murmurs darkly.

  He moves back up now, every inch of him hard and hungry and so very beautiful. I clutch the solid bulk of his shoulders as he covers me, propped on his fists on either side of me, his thighs wedged between mine. His cock has always been impressive, but tonight it looks immense.

  “I’ll try to take it slow, but—” His words cut off on a hissed curse. “I just have to be inside you, Avery.”

  “Yes. Now, Nick.”

  I reach up to him, tunneling my fingers into his silken black hair as he penetrates me. The
invasion stretches me nearly to the point of pain, even though I can feel how rigidly he’s holding on to his control.

  “Ah, fuck,” he grinds out through clenched teeth, shuddering with the first deep thrusts. “You feel so damn good.”

  “So do you.” I arch to take him fully, to meet every soul-shattering drive of his body into mine. “Nick, don’t stop.”

  “Never.”

  His eyes are rooted on mine, refusing to let me go. I surrender completely to the tempo he sets for us, taking comfort in his control. I feel safe when we’re together like this. I feel protected.

  Even after everything we’ve been through, I feel cherished.

  I open to his kiss, meeting his tongue with mine as he claims my mouth in a hotter, hungrier joining that leaves me feeling drunk with pleasure and need.

  His name is a tremulous whisper on my lips as he increases his rhythm. Each long push goes deeper than the last, adding to the fire that’s roaring back to life inside me. His mouth covers mine as the first jagged cry of my orgasm erupts from the back of my throat.

  There is no mercy in him now, only need.

  He rocks into me feverishly, violently. His body goes tense, shuddering with each rapid pound of his hips against mine.

  “Ah, Christ, baby. I’m close. I need to come inside you.”

  I nod, beyond words now.

  His release rips loose from him in a coarse shout and a violent buck of his body.

  “Avery.” His arms hold me tight beneath him as he empties within me in wave after spasming wave. When he says my name again, he utters it like a mantra. Maybe a curse.

  There is a part of me that recognizes what I’ve done here. The threshold I wasn’t sure I was ready to cross has now been obliterated.

  I don’t know if Nick will hurt me again.

  I only know that I need him. I needed this.

  Tonight I needed us.

  The look in his eyes tells me he does too.

  And for now, that’s enough.

  Chapter 12

  It’s just after daybreak when I open my eyes and realize Nick is gone.

  Disappointment jolts me, sharper than I care to admit. I push myself up to a sitting position on the cool sheets, my chest gone suddenly hollow.

  That is, until I see Nick’s shirt draped with his dark suit pants over my reading chair in the corner. His polished black leather shoes are still here, too, parked neatly beside my dresser.

  So, where is he?

  A quick glance toward the adjacent bathroom tells me he’s also taken the time to shower. Jesus, how hard had I slept? Granted, Nick and I spent much of the night making love. I lost count of the times one of us woke the other with the insatiable urge to begin all over again. All I know is that my body is sore in several places, each tender ache a sensual reminder of everything I’d been missing since Nick and I had been apart.

  I slip out of bed and pad into the bathroom to check my hair and brush my teeth. Water still beads on the glass enclosure of the shower. The humid air carries the faint vanilla fragrance of my soap and the fruity scent of my shampoo. There’s something gratifying and familiar, even erotic, about the idea of Nick using my toiletries as if he lives here. I smile in the mirror, taking probably a bit too much satisfaction in my bedraggled, well-pleasured reflection.

  After I freshen up at the sink and twist my hair into a hasty knot on top of my head, I snag Nick’s shirt from the chair and slip it on. The crisp cotton is dry now, but there’s no fixing the lack of buttons down the front of it. I smile with the memory, feeling playful and sexy as I roll the overlong sleeves up on my forearms and head out of the bedroom to look for Nick.

  The low timbre of his voice carries out from the kitchen.

  “I thought I made myself clear on this the last time we spoke.” Although he’s speaking quietly, there’s no mistaking the irritation in his tone. No, he’s pissed as hell. “Yes, I understand the situation and I don’t give a damn. Then tell the son of a bitch I said as much. No. There’s nothing more to say on the matter. You have my answer and it’s final.”

  My steps halt just outside the room. I stand there silent, feeling awkward and uncertain if I should interrupt. He pivots at that same moment, perhaps sensing that he’s no longer alone. His call is ended without a goodbye, then he sets his phone on the counter.

  I feel my brow furrow. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone. Everything all right?”

  “Just some business I needed to handle.” His mouth curves in a sinfully hot smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No. I slept like a rock until a minute ago.”

  He’s practically naked, dressed in just his black boxer briefs. Now that I’m seeing him in the daylight, he’s leaner than I recall. But still fit and strong, every inch of him roped in honed muscle sheathed in flawless golden skin. Desire pulses in me just to look at him.

  I drift toward him, drawn as ever by the magnetism of this man but also by the memory of another morning after—our first—following my unplanned sleepover in his penthouse. We’d ended up in the kitchen that day, too, with Nick clad only in boxer briefs and me feeling awkward and twitchy, eager to make my escape before I was tempted to fall any deeper under his spell. There had been no hope of avoiding that, even then.

  He leans casually against the counter, allowing me to drink in my fill of him. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

  “Yes. It was a very nice shirt too.” I glance down at the open front that exposes as much of me as it covers. “Shame it’s ruined.”

  “Ruined? Not from where I’m standing. It’s never looked better.” His blue eyes darken as he takes a handful of the finely loomed cotton in each hand and pulls me against him. His arousal is unmistakable, pressing shamelessly into my belly. “You look good enough to eat in my shirt. Or out of it.”

  He lowers his head to mine and kisses me, his lips warm and intent and unhurried. His hands slip down my sides and around to the loose hemline that skims the backs of my thighs. I moan into his mouth as he palms my ass, his fingers firm and possessive. His bare skin feels hot everywhere we touch, his hard erection grinding against me in a slow rhythm that only makes me crave more.

  “Hungry?” He murmurs against my parted lips.

  “God, yes.”

  “Good. So am I.” He chuckles darkly. It’s not until I open my eyes that I realize he’s talking about food. With a smirk on his lips and an amused arch of his brows, he lifts his head from our kiss. “I thought I’d round up some breakfast for us. If you don’t mind.”

  “You mean take over my kitchen?” I feign an affronted look. “That’s rather bold of you, Mr. Baine.”

  “I seem to recall you like my cooking. Do I need to remind you I make a mean eggs Benedict?”

  “I remember. But my pantry is a bit more pedestrian than yours. In this kitchen the breakfast specialty is scrambled eggs and toast.”

  He grins. “That would be great. Do you trust me enough for coffee duty?”

  “Only if you know how to use a French press.”

  “Do I know how,” he mutters. With a light smack on my backside, he releases me so I can go fetch what he’ll need from the cabinets. He takes the glass carafe and coiled plunger from my hands with a smirk. “Ms. Ross, you’re about to have the best cup of coffee of your life.”

  I laugh, finding it so natural to slip back into a state of normalcy with him. It’s unnerving how effortless it is to banter and tease with him. Surreal to glance over and find him working beside me in my kitchen after spending most of the night in my bed upstairs making love.

  I put the bread in the toaster, then busy myself at the stove with the pan of eggs while Nick comes over to retrieve the steaming teapot. After pouring hot water into the press on the counter, he comes back to replace the kettle on the extinguished back burner.

  He lingers beside me, watching me grind salt and pepper on the eggs. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I want to look in on Kathryn
this morning. If she’s feeling well enough for company, I’d like to visit with her for a while.” I nod in the direction of the cupboard next him. “Will you grab a couple of plates and mugs?”

  He places the dishes on the counter. “Will you see Jared there today?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly.” He grunts unhappily, but says nothing. I can’t imagine how he could be worried about Jared or any other man after last night. But Nick is a possessive man, and I’d be lying to myself if I try to pretend I don’t remember what it’s like to be the recipient of all that primal male attention and focus. I glance at over at him, more amused than I should be. “How’s the coffee situation?”

  “Totally under control,” he says without even checking. “What are your plans after you check on Kathryn?”

  “I thought I’d go into the studio. I’m making good progress on a piece I hope to finish this week, but I’m also hoping to see Lita. She said something to me at the event last night that’s been bothering me.”

  “Lita, your friend who’d caught the eye of Derek Kingston.”

  “That’s right,” I say, struck by the fact that he remembers a conversation he and I had more than a year ago about my friend and the former rockstar. “But it was her art that caught his eye.”

  Nick smiles. “I’m sure it was. What did the asshole do to her?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to make her walk off the project yesterday.” I turn the flame off the pan of cooked eggs, then butter the toast that popped while we were talking. “Lita’s been living and breathing that project for months. I’ve never seen her so consumed by anything else she’s worked on before, yet suddenly she just decides to quit?”

  “The guy’s got a reputation for being difficult,” Nick says. “I’m sorry if your friend got the brunt of it.”

  “Me too. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  He nods, considering. “And after you do that, what’s next on your list for the day?”

  “I don’t know.”