Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1)

by Kris Jayne

  "Damn. If you keep doing that, this is going to be over before it starts."

  "What am supposed to do? It's right here in front of me," she replied, before reaching out with her tongue to lick the head of his cock one more time.

  As incredible as it felt to have her wrap her sweet, soft lips around his dick, the urge to discover what it felt like to bury himself between her legs and kiss her mindless overpowered him. He'd never needed to feel a woman around him so badly. He released her hair and bent down to scoot her back fully onto the bed. It was his turn.

  First, he grabbed the foot of her knee-high boots and pulled one from each long leg. Then, he unbuttoned her jeans and gave small bites on her belly as pulled them down, along with her matching lavender lace panties.

  Nick paused to take in the sight of her. Her long dark hair spilled in waves on the duvet. Micky leaned back on her elbows, back arched, full breasts thrust upward—topped by the creamiest, dark peach nipples he'd ever seen. Her narrow waist sloped down to inviting rounded curves of her hips and the racy extension of her legs slightly spread.

  He slid his naked body onto the bed beside her. Her eyes darkened to burnished gold, and he took his calloused thumb and parted the apex of her legs, rubbing the taut nub he found there. Micky lifted her hips, pressing harder against his hand. Nick probed her willing mouth with his tongue, then took the swollen fullness of her bottom lip gently between his teeth, stroked it, and plunged into her mouth again with the same ferocity as he stroked firmly between her legs.

  Micky felt Nick slip two and then three fingers into her, finding the sensitive spot inside while continuing to press the palm of his hand against her clit. Her nipples hardened to pebbles while the rest of her felt like hot, flowing lava. Now she knew how crazy Nick had felt, but nothing would satisfying the craving she had for him like feeling his hard length deep inside her.

  "Now," she whispered to him. Nick moved to his knees.

  "Condom," he said, realizing he didn't have one. Micky gestured to the bedside table, where he found one and quickly refocused on her.

  Once sheathed, Nick slid between her knees, bringing his hips to meet hers. He dipped and seized her mouth with his as he positioned his cock at her opening. In one long stroke, he drove straight into her, crying out. His thickness stretched her. Tension sang throughout her body. She bit his shoulder and felt his hot breath in her hair.

  "You are so beautiful." Nick thrust into her again and rolled her left nipple firmly between his fingers. Micky felt as if the world was dissolving. His cock was thick, and hard, and hitting all the right spots. He fit her so perfectly, and she wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him, loving the pressure.

  "You feel so good," she said, then moaned and looked in his eyes, wanton and bold. All her hesitation evaporated. "Harder."

  Nick responded by shifting more heavily on top of her and pinning her legs open wider, driving into her faster and deeper.

  "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed with two quick thrusts into her. His body stilled. Then, he moved his hand from her breast and slipped it between them, his other hand tangled in her hair. His thumb found her clit again. Micky clenched around his cock as he took her to the precipice of fulfilling every wish she'd had since meeting him. Micky clutched at his back and began lifting her hips in unison with his thrusts. Then, in the most wonderful moment she could remember, she gripped him with her orgasm.

  "Nick!" She screamed his name he flooded her senses, leaving nothing but pleasure.

  Micky lay on her bed and let the heaviness of Nick's body envelope her. He'd stopped thrusting, but she could still feel him inside her, and she still wanted more. She'd never felt more insatiable. She wanted to feel like this every day, all day, forever. She hoped he would stay next to her, close enough for her to hide her face in the stubble of his neck and pull herself together.

  Nick rolled to his back, separating their bodies, but kept his arms around her. A tiny trickle of apprehension fluttered through her.

  He lifted his head and looked around.

  "You're still painting your walls purple?" he asked and kissed her forehead. Micky shoved the trepidation away for the time being as she looked into his sleepy green eyes. Here he was—sexy as hell and proficient in the sack—and she was borrowing trouble. Micky shifted over and onto her elbows, getting a full view of Nick who lifted his arms behind his head, resting on the pillow next to her. He gazed comfortably around her bedroom.

  "Absolutely. A little darker than when I was kid."

  "More sophisticated now I see."

  "I hope so."

  "Well, it suits you. Sophisticated, sexy, fun. I like it."

  "You don't think it's girly?"

  "Of course, it's girly. But you're a girl. Or, more accurately, a woman." Nick brushed her lips with his before deepening the kiss and reaching to pull her closer.

  "A sleepy woman," Micky clarified.

  Nick murmured, "Mmm," into her hair. Her body relaxed as her mind let go, and she fell asleep entwined and content.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Micky woke up with pleasant soreness in her muscles that signaled having had wonderfully enthusiastic sex the night before. She reached across the bed before she even opened her eyes. The other side was cold and empty. Would he have left without saying goodbye? She sat up. Nick's shirt was in a pile on the floor next to his shoes. Micky exhaled and hugged the sheets to her body before falling back against her pillows and pulling the sheets over her face.

  "Are you still asleep?" Nick's voiced rolled over her just before she heard the pit-pat of Ophelia coming into the room and felt the thump of her jumping up on the bed. When Micky lowered the sheet, she was face to snout with her usual bedtime companion, who was panting, tailwagging, and starting to whine in that way she did to get Micky out of bed on the weekends.

  "Someone needs a breath mint," Micky said, sitting up and petting the brown-eyed hound on her domed head.

  Nick laughed. "I made breakfast." He looked proud. And hot. His bare chest narrowed to tight, hard abs that lead her eyes to the jeans slung low on his strong hips. She was hungry. For what, she couldn't determine. Two urges tugged at her psyche. She could peel those jeans down like she had the night before. She wondered how long it would take to get him hard again. Nick cleared his throat as he leaned over the bed. "I said, I made breakfast. You keep looking at me like that, and it'll get cold."

  Micky blushed as her eyes met his. The electricity between them could power her house for a year. The sound of her rumbling stomach filled the silence.

  Now, she laughed. "Just like me to let my need of a meal ruin a good thing."

  Nick grabbed her arms and pulled her up. The sheet fell away and Micky heard Nick's sharp intake of breath as he looked down at her breasts.

  "Let me grab my robe." She stepped around him, but not before giving him a sharp slap on the ass.

  Nick had indeed made a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Micky sat at the small, four-top table in her bright white kitchen. He'd managed to find everything he needed and make two plates of food which he picked up off the creamy granite countertop and brought to her.

  "I hope you're okay with eggs. I got a little hungry, and I didn't want to get too fancy since I didn't know where everything is. Come to my place, and I'll make you the best pancakes."

  "Impossible. Because I make the best pancakes," she countered. "With blueberries. And real maple syrup."

  "Real?" Nick asked.

  "Has to be real. No Log Cabin. No Mrs. Butterworth's."

  "You feel very strongly about your syrup. You're a fan of vodka martinis and olives. What other food proclivities should I know about?"

  "I'm enjoying your scrambled eggs. Thanks for making breakfast." Nick had chosen to sit next to her at her light green, country-styled table. He looked at ease and comfortable, which made Micky smile, but also made her stomach twist with nerves—or maybe it wasn't nerves. He was still shirtless. She refocused on their convers
ation. "What about you? Your own stance on the question of syrup? Favorite breakfast food?"

  "I'm withholding my decision until I taste these blueberry pancakes."

  "Not fair."

  "I'm intrigued." Nick grinned.

  "You've got to give me something," Micky demanded.

  "Bacon. I love bacon. I looked for bacon, but all I saw was turkey bacon."

  "Yeah, that's not real bacon. I think that's left over from when one of my college friends came to visit a few months ago. Just as well you didn't cook it. It probably would have sent us to the hospital. I should throw it away. You've caught me with strange old food in my fridge."

  "At least you have food. I have to admit that if you were at my place, we might be having a breakfast of ketchup and beer."

  "When do you make these famous pancakes?"

  Nick laughed. "Not that often. I have to prepare them for when I have special company. The last time I made them I got rave reviews from a couple of very discerning little girls."

  "That's so sweet. You're a good uncle."

  "I wish I had more time to spend with them," he said. "I was so focused on making partner over the past couple of years, I let some more important things slide."

  "You're on your way, though."

  "I am."

  Nick's words clipped and his lips pressed into a thin line. Micky could tell that he took his work as seriously as she did hers.

  "That determination comes at a cost, doesn't it?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. Regrets." Micky sighed and wished she hadn't dragged the conversation down. Nick poked uncomfortably at his scrambled eggs.

  "I have a few of those. Getting my name on the door has taken over me life." Micky saw the rueful look in his eyes and sensed him drifting away.

  "Is that what ruined your engagement?" she ventured.

  Nick shrugged. "A lot of things went wrong there."

  "You regret it?"

  "No. I don't regret that it's over. I regret that I didn't stop to notice that we were both unhappy."

  "I know what you mean. Work takes over and you get blind spots."

  "That's exactly it. Blind spots." For a brief moment, Micky considered telling Nick about Eric, but couldn't do it. The weight of the conversation threatened to suffocate the pleasure of the moment. Bringing up his fiancée? What had she been thinking?

  "You know what we need?" she asked, changing the topic as quickly as possible.

  "What?"

  "Mimosas. I think I have a bottle of champagne and some OJ in the fridge."

  "I didn't peg you for a morning drinker."

  "I'm not, but if this conversation gets any more depressing, you may never come back. And I have to get a taste of those pancakes."

  "I'll be back. No question," he stated. Resolution jolted in his voice and electrified the tension in the air. He stared at her with an incomprehensible look in his eyes.

  Micky had wanted to lighten the mood. Instead, the air felt thick with unspoken desire and the weight of the past.

  "Good. I still want mimosas. You want one?"

  An easy grin spread across his face. "Sure."

  Micky jumped up and busied herself mixing a pitcher of the morning cocktail. She poured the golden results into two highball glasses and set them on the table.

  Nick sipped his. "You make a mean mimosa."

  "I take brunch seriously."

  "Then, you'll definitely have to come to my place one weekend so we can have our pancake battle royale. You can mix up another batch of these."

  "Deal."

  Micky warmed at the easy way he included her in his future plans. The apprehension she felt when she'd awakened alone was gone. Nick was a good guy. Straightforward. It made her realize how blind she'd been about Eric. This is what it looked like when a man wants you in his life.

  After they finished eating, she picked up their dishes and headed for the sink.

  "I can clean up after myself," he said. He grabbed the pan off the stove, turned and walked up behind her, sliding the pan into the sink of bubbly water Micky had started to prepare.

  "I'm not going to make you cook and clean. The chef gets a break."

  Nick wrapped his arms around her waist and bent down to kiss her neck.

  "Let's both take a break."

  Micky leaned back into him as he untied her robe. Nick slipped his hand inside. The gentle scrape of his palms on her nipples made her toes curl. She sighed and pushed away from the sink. As she turned around in Nick's arms, drops of water flew everywhere. The rubber gloves she'd put on dripped on the floor. She held them up.

  "I don't suppose I'm going to need these."

  "No, that's not the glove we're going to need." He kissed her as she peeled them off, letting them drop to the floor. Micky grabbed both sides of his face, reveling in the taste of him. By the time, they got back to her bedroom, her robe was gone—somewhere in the hallway.

  "How is it I'm always naked before you are?"

  Nick swept his hands up the backs of her thighs and squeezed her ass.

  "I'm just lucky, I guess." He tumbled her backward onto the bed.

  Micky felt pretty lucky herself right about now.

  Nick's knees trembled as he drove home, going extra slow to compensate for the angst in his limbs and the restlessness of his mind. Maybe it was some kind of spirit possession. That alone would explain how he'd run headlong into this shitstorm.

  He didn't regret sleeping with Micky. He'd never regret it no matter what happened. He regretted that Micky thought he was free and clear since his engagement was over. Worse, he'd happily used her. For that, he had regret. Sure, that was before he knew her, but she wouldn't see it that way.

  Still, of all the messes he sunk himself into, none made him as giddy as this one. He thought back to the last time he'd spent the night with a woman besides his ex-fiancée.

  Despite accusations from sister and his friends that he'd been a work-obsessed hermit, Nick had seen a few women regularly for mutually enjoyable, but miscellaneous, sex to ease his stress. He contrasted that with his sex life with Vivienne. Sleeping with her had fizzled more often than sizzled. Somehow throughout that relationship, he forgot how much women could enjoy sex. Or how much more satisfying it was when they did.

  With those other women, however, the second he felt release, he would eye the door and countdown the seconds until he could leave. Not that he had any problem sticking around with the right woman. He just didn't have the capacity to pretend those liaisons were ever going to be any more than one or two night stands.

  He was polite and never lied, but mentally, he left the bed so fast, there were virtual skid marks. Luckily, most of them seemed relieved to see him go, which only depressed him more.

  Nick pictured Micky's soft cheek on his shoulder. He could practically feel her warm breath on his neck and how the curve of her hip fit neatly against him. He'd have stayed there for weeks if he could have.

  But he couldn't.

  No. He had to go to work and somehow extricate himself from the unethical maneuvering that had been his idea in the first place. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal as if he could outrun the shame chasing him home.

  Nick ached when he thought of how she'd looked at him in her kitchen. Micky deserved better than who he'd been, but Nick knew he could be the man she needed—the man she thought him to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After having such a great weekend, Micky found it hard to plow back into work on Monday, but she had an incredibly busy week with the countdown to Paris now under three weeks. Unfortunately, this meant she would have little time to see Nick.

  When she got into the elevator at work, she half hoped to run into him—although she knew the likelihood of his being in the building before 7:00 a.m. was pretty low. She pressed the button for her floor and remembered his tousled hair, the light morning stubble, and his crystal green eyes gazing at her from the pillow next to hers after they
'd had sex a second time.

  Her body tingled, filling her with an absolute craving for him. She thought about the pace of things and vowed to keep getting to know him outside of the bedroom. She wanted to build something more than just the sexual relationship before the oxytocin made her any mushier than she was already getting.

  The elevator doors opened, and she found Taryn in the lobby just ahead of her carrying two containers of coffee.

  "Hey, hey, Taryn! How was your weekend?" Taryn turned and launched into work mode.

  "Good, I suppose. I went back and forth with Larry to get all of the keynote presentations in the right format and find the right videos. I know the guys in France said they uploaded them to the Dropbox, but some are missing, and…" Taryn stopped. "Wait. What's wrong with me? How was yesterday? How's the man?" She delivered the last question in low tones as Micky caught up with her, and she handed the other woman one of the cups of coffee in her hand. Taryn was the best. She always stopped to get Starbucks for two before these early mornings in the office.

  "Good. Really good. Maybe too good," Micky replied. "No, not too good. Just the right amount of good."

  "You look happy."

  "I am. Scary I know."

  "Stay positive," Taryn said. "You should invite him to France. What better place to have your first official rendezvous?"

  "Tempting," Micky admitted, not commenting on the "first" part. "There's no way he could just take off for a week."

  "You've thought about it?" Micky stayed silent and twisted her mouth to the side. "You have!"

  "A girl can fantasize. You'll be there with Jeff. And it's Paris! If one more person tells me how romantic it is, I'm going to pass out."

  "Ask him."

  "You're out of your mind."

  Taryn laughed. "Maybe."

  They hunkered down in the largest conference room on their floor to go over everything that needed to be shipped, everything that was being sourced locally to avoid shipping and customs delays, and finalize the layout for the demonstration area to be set up in the ballroom adjoining their large general session area. Micky loved coming up with the event themes, creating the multimedia, scripting presentations, and many of the other high-level activities, but the hundreds of tiny details involved with an event always drove her crazy. Thankfully, Taryn was there to dot all the "i's" and cross all the "t's."