by Kenner, J.
And it wasn’t even that she’d forgotten to use birth control. Even drunk, she’d insisted the guy wear a condom. And he had—but he’d been drunk, too, and, as Amanda had called it with rare humor under the circumstances, they’d suffered a “massive wardrobe failure.”
“But it’s not even that,” Amanda had said. “I’m mad because it wasn’t me. I mean, if I’d been with Dan,” she continued, naming a previous boyfriend, “then drunk just makes it fun. But I didn’t know this guy. So it was this talking.” She pointed to the back of her head. “Some hormone center. But that’s not me. And I didn’t really want him. I mean, I didn’t really know him.”
They’d sat there in the Student Health Center as she shared her regrets and her fears. And even though she wasn’t pregnant or infected, Nolan vowed right then and there to never, ever, sleep with a woman who was drunk, condom or not. He didn’t want to risk hurting her. More than that, he wanted a woman in his bed to be there for him, not because her hormones were on overdrive.
He was almost thirty now, and over the years, he’d walked away from more than his share of tipsy women. But, dammit, he didn’t want to walk away from Shelby. “A coffee maker,” he repeated. “Do you have one?”
She blinked, then nodded. “Um, I have a Keurig.”
“Great. Sit.” He pointed to the couch. “Cream? Sugar?”
“In the fridge and by the machine. But I just take it black.”
“You got it,” he said, then disappeared into a kitchen that was, remarkably, even more organized and tidy than the living room. He found mugs organized by size and color in a cabinet above the Keurig machine. A rack of pods sat beside it, and he selected Columbian for her, figuring that would be stronger than the Hazelnut. And decaf was completely out of the question.
He didn’t bother making one for himself, and as soon as the machine stopped sputtering, he grabbed the mug and carried it carefully back into the living room, only to find Shelby on the gray couch, her head back and her eyes closed, a bright green pillow clutched to her chest.
Well, hell.
“Here,” he said gently. He considered offering to help her into bed, but decided the risk was too high. Once in her bedroom, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to leave unless she kicked him out. And he was pretty damn sure she wasn’t going to do that.
“Coffee,” he said, bending to put it on the coffee table. She opened her eyes—green now, but hadn’t they been blue in the bar?—and smiled so sweetly that a lump rose in his throat.
Don’t sit. You’ll only want to stay.
“Thank you,” she said, then scooted over to make room for him before reaching for the coffee and taking a sip.
He shook his head. “I should go.”
Her eyes widened behind the rim of the mug. She swallowed, then shook her head. “Wait. What?”
He moved a few steps toward the door, not wanting to lose his resolve.
Immediately, she was on her feet, the coffee on one of her stone coasters. “But—I thought. I mean, we—”
“What?” he said, then wanted to kick himself. He knew damn well what. He was just stalling because he didn’t want to leave.
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and he saw courage flash in those fascinating eyes that now seemed greenish-gray. “It’s just that I’ve never brought a guy home before.”
Something like pride swelled in him, and he tamped it down. He really didn’t need his damn ego hijacking the situation. “Technically, I brought you home.”
She took another step toward him. “But aren’t we—”
She cut herself off, her cheeks pink. “I just meant I wanted … oh, hell,” she said, then leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss so unexpected and so delicious that when she finally broke the kiss, he kept hold of her arm out of the irrational fear that if he let her go, she might vanish like some magical creature.
With his hand clutching her arm, he drew in a breath to steady himself, all of his energy concentrated on not yanking her toward him for another, deeper kiss. “Is that what you wanted?” he asked.
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. And though she never wavered, he knew that she was calling on all her courage to make this moment happen. “No,” she said. “I want more.”
He considered his options—considered his rules—and then he said the only truth he knew. “So do I.”
“Nolan—”
He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her and made his choice. “Close your eyes, Shelby. Just close your eyes.”
Chapter Six
Shelby breathed in deep, her eyes closed, her body humming. Her lips were parted, and a sweet anticipation filled her, heating her blood and making her hyperaware of everything around her. The slight breeze from her ceiling fan. The low rumble of late-night traffic. The soft scrape of the miniature palm tree against the screen of her window.
Most of all, she was aware of Nolan. She couldn’t see him, but she sensed him. Right there, his eyes on her. And, soon, his lips. His hands. His everything.
She still didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she wanted this. His touch, his kiss. All of it.
She felt the shift in the air and heard the soft pad of his shoes on her carpet. “That’s good, Shelby. Now I want you do something for me.” She nodded. Right then she was willing to do pretty much anything. “Touch your nose.”
Her eyes flew open. “What?”
His mouth tilted sideways. “I told you, baby. I want you sober. Close your eyes and touch your nose.”
“I’m totally sober,” she protested. “Two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-three, twenty-ni—hey!”
He had her by the wrist, and his expression could only be described as baffled. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Prime numbers all the way to a hundred.” She tugged her wrist free and put her hands on her hips. “I bet you can’t do them drunk.”
“I can’t even do them sober. Just touch your nose.”
She frowned, but closed her eyes. The trouble was, she could recite prime numbers in her sleep. Drunk. Sober. Anesthetized. But what if she missed her nose? She didn’t think she was drunk. Maybe back in the bar, but she felt fine now. But if she was wrong…
She opened her eyes, grabbed the mug, and took a long swallow, ignoring the way he laughed at her. She put the mug back, stood up, and took a long, deep breath.
Then she closed her eyes, thrust out her free hand, and before she could talk herself out of trying, brought the tip of her finger right smack against the end of her nose.
“There,” she said triumphantly, opening her eyes and smiling at him. “Now kiss me, dammit.”
And, thank God, he did, moving closer to slide his hand around to cup the nape of her neck. Then he tilted her head back so that when he bent down, his mouth fit perfectly over hers, and the intensity of the electrical connection that arced between them rocked her to her core.
They touched only at lips and hands, and yet it felt as if they were connected at every possible point.
“You taste so good,” he said. “I don’t ever want to stop kissing you.”
“Then don’t.” She was fine with that plan. Forever kisses seemed perfectly reasonable under the circumstances.
But then his other hand joined the party, skimming down the skintight dress and finding her nipple, stiff under the stretchy black material. A new kind of shock shimmied through her, and she revised her position on kisses. They were fine as part of the meal, but she didn’t want to stick to just one item.
“Come here,” he said, then tugged her to the love seat. He nodded to the book on top of the stack. “Any tips for us in there?” he asked, his mouth curved into a tease.
She followed the direction of his gaze and saw that he was looking at Of Human Bondage. “Definitely not,” she said. “It’s a classic. Have you read it?”
“I’m more a graphic novel sort of guy,” he said, lifting her up and settling her
on his lap so that she straddled his hips, making it impossible for her to ignore the fact that he was clearly having at least as good a time as she was.
“Oh,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, in a tone that suggested he thought her little sound of surprise was in response to his comment about graphic novels, when it was actually about his cock. “Do you read them?”
“Never have.” Should she continue this conversation or tell him to shut up and kiss her again? Did he think she wanted to talk because she was nervous?
“Start with Watchmen,” he said, and as he spoke, his fingers traced her collarbone and her shoulder, starting a fresh round of magic in her body and making her nipples harden painfully. “It’s my favorite.”
He bent forward and pressed his lips to her shoulder, right where it still burned from the heat of his finger.
“Okay,” she agreed, melting beneath the heat of his mouth—then melting even more when he trailed his kisses down, finally closing his mouth over her breast, still covered by the thin material of the little black dress.
He teased her breast with his mouth. His tongue tracing the v-neck before his teeth grazed her nipple through the material. At the same time, his hand was still holding the base of the neck, ensuring that she arched back enough to give him access but not so much it felt as though she was falling.
His other hand was busy on her thigh, slowly inching higher and higher.
“Nolan,” she gasped, the onslaught of his attentions making her wild. With both legs straddling him, the material of her dress had been pushed up to her hips. Now she was wide open and vulnerable. She didn’t feel shy, though. On the contrary, she rocked her hips, wanting to feel his erection hard beneath her.
She was so incredibly wet, a fact he discovered as his finger explored the soft skin of her inner thigh, slick with the evidence of how very much she wanted him. “I like that,” he said, with such raw honestly she felt her sex clench and wished that he was inside her.
“Please,” she begged as he slid his finger under her panties then teased her core. “Please,” she repeated as the fingers at the nape of her neck moved to her cleavage, stretching the material until a breast popped out, and Nolan’s mouth closed over it like a man who was starving.
His teeth tightened on her nipple, and she arched back, crying out as two fingers thrust inside her core at the same time that he sucked on her breast, sending an arc of electricity racing between her sex and her tit and taking her so close to an orgasm she wanted to weep.
Shamelessly, she writhed against him, trying to finish herself, but he nipped at her earlobe and whispered, “None of that.”
“Then fuck me. Please, Nolan, I want you inside me.”
“Christ, baby, I thought you’d never ask.”
He unfastened his jeans as she started to rise enough to get out of her panties. “No, leave them on. Just pull them aside. Trust me,” he added in response to what must have been a look of confusion on her part.
“Condom?” she asked, relieved when he pulled out a wallet and then sheathed himself.
“Fast or slow?” he asked with a playful grin.
“Both,” she said, and then before he could take charge, she positioned herself over him, and in one hard thrust downward, impaled herself on him, crying out both because he was big, and also because she was wet and ready enough that it felt so ridiculously good.
“That was the fast,” she said as he laughed and pulled her in for a kiss. “You’ll have to help with the slow.”
He understood what she meant, and he took her hips in his hands, helping keep a steady motion as she rose up and down, riding his cock as the intensity built and built between them.
“I’m so close, baby. Can you come for me?”
She shook her head, and he released one hand, moving it to cup her, his finger teasing her clit as she continued to ride, more frantically now that she could feel the explosion rising in her.
“Now,” she cried, as she felt his body start to release. And as if she’d made it happen, every cell in her body seemed to shatter in an explosion of pure, white stardust.
Her core tightened around his cock, taking him even further, and when they were both spent, he shifted on the small sofa so that she could collapse on top of him.
His eyes were closed, but he opened them to kiss her. Then said simply, “Wow.”
She could only nod agreement, and then she put her head on his shoulder and fell into a warm, blissful sleep.
* * *
They woke once during the night, and Nolan carried her to the bed, then climbed in beside her, something he never did. Usually, he bolted as fast as he could. But there was something about this woman that called to him. That clicked with him. And when she opened her eyes and sleepily said, “What?” he told her that he wanted to make love to her again since he’d have to go to work before she woke up in the morning.
She nodded with an eager smile, and they made love slowly and sweetly before falling asleep again, twined in each other’s arms.
He woke at four-fifteen when Connor texted to ask where the fuck he was. Nolan bolted out of bed and yanked on his clothes. As he headed toward her front door, his body shook from the force of a massive yawn, and he was struck by the realization of how little sleep he’d had.
With a self-satisfied grin, he backtracked to her kitchen, then selected a travel mug from the neat row in her cabinet. He hoped she didn’t mind, and he was grateful for the excuse to see her again and return it. He drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited for the machine to finish brewing, then added some cream to cool it off. Then he was on his way again, shutting the door firmly behind him and double-checking to make sure it locked.
The station was in north Austin on the I-35 access road, but he didn’t have to worry about traffic at this time of the morning, and he rolled into the booth at five after five.
“What the hell?” Connor began, but Nolan just held up a hand.
“Hot date,” he said, with a grin and an eyebrow waggle.
Connor just shook his head and handed Nolan a binder. “Sponsor information. Manny emailed it to me last night. He wants you to read through, and try to work a few references into your schtick. Apparently ad revenue is dropping so we’re trying to set ourselves apart from the other stations. Be more organic with our product placement.”
“Great.” Nolan flipped through the text-filled pages of the binder with distaste, his stomach twisting into knots as he thought about having to read through the whole damn thing.
“Here.”
Nolan looked up in time to catch the USB flash drive that Connor tossed his way. “I went through and dictated some highlights of the first five sponsors. Just a quick and dirty run-through, but I figured it would give you material for today. Should take you ten minutes to listen to.”
“Yeah?” Nolan stared at the drive. “Thanks.”
Connor lifted a shoulder, suggesting it was no big deal. “I figure you’ve got better things to do than waste your time reading through that tome.”
“Damn right,” Nolan said, clutching the flash drive like a lifeline. Nolan hadn’t told Connor he was dyslexic. Hell, he’d never told anyone except Amanda and the folks at the Dyslexia Reading & Tutoring Room, a nonprofit organization focused on helping kids with dyslexia learn decoding and other skills to help with both reading and self-esteem.
He’d been quietly working with the organization for years, but while he didn’t keep his involvement a secret, he also didn’t advertise it.
Maybe Connor had simply realized that it took Nolan forever to work his way through a pile of papers. All Nolan knew for sure was that Connor hadn’t complained when Nolan asked him to summarize the daily news. And whenever Manny dumped a lot of reading on him, Connor always said it was the producer’s job to keep the talent’s slate clean.
He shot a glance toward Connor as he plugged in the drive, but he didn’t ask. Better not to know. It wasn’t like Nolan wanted to talk
about it. He just wanted to do his job. And think about Shelby.
And when six o’clock rolled around, that’s exactly what he did. “Gooooooood morning, Austin! It’s Thursday morning, and this is Mornings with Wood. And, yeah, it’s one of those days where that show’s title is pretty damn appropriate. Welcome, listeners, to my new favorite day. Yeah, that’s right, I got me a little somethin’ somethin’ last night, and I’m bouncing off the walls with all the good vibes.”
He hit the button on the console, and the sexy female voice crooned, “Oooooh, Nolan. Tell me more.”
“Now, you know a gentleman never kisses and tells, but maybe this will give you a hint. Back with the morning traffic after a little AC/DC.”
As he finished his riff, he faded into Shook Me All Night Long, then sat back in his chair, shot Connor a self-satisfied grin, then spent the next three minutes and thirty-two seconds lost in some damn sweet memories.
Chapter Seven
The sharp buzz of her cell phone interrupted Shelby’s NSFW dream. Still half asleep and smiling, she groped for it, accepted the call without paying attention to the screen, and murmured, “Nolan.”
“What?”
Alan.
She was upright and wide awake in an instant, the sheet gathered around her hips, revealing how very naked she was. She yanked it up and covered her breasts.
“What did you say?”
“I said Alan,” she lied. “Sorry, I was asleep. What did you think I said?” Idiot. She banged the heel of her hand against her forehead, then looked around her bedroom, but all signs of the man whose name she’d really spoken were gone. For a moment, disappointment warred with mortification in her belly. Then she remembered that he’d warned her he’d be leaving before she woke.
Which meant he hadn’t walked out without a trace.
Which was good for her ego.
On the whole, though, it really didn’t much matter. He hadn’t suggested they go out again, and they’d made no plans to see each other after work or on the weekend. And why would they? He was a local celebrity, after all. He was probably booked with a different woman every night from here to eternity.