Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1)

by Julie Olsen

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.” Our eyes locked and a shiver of arousal moved through me.

  “So am I.”

  He moved swiftly, capturing my hand in his and dragging me out the door.

  “Come on. I want to cook you dinner.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I never knew what was going to come out of that sexy mouth next. He always surprised me. And I loved it.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, I was seated at the breakfast table and he was placing a plate of ziti pasta with leftover asparagus, ham and Parmesan in front of me. As I’d sat back and watched, Damien scavenged through the fridge and pantry, coming up with a motley assortment of ingredients and once again surprising me with his cooking skills.

  Unlike the breakfast he had made Sunday, this time I got to watch as he chopped and sautéed and stirred. He put on a show for me, speaking in a silly French accent, twirling the sauté pan with a flourish and moving about with the finesse of someone who knew his way around a kitchen. It was quickly becoming apparent he had a way with many things, not just me.

  “We are out of wine. Hope you like mojitos,” I said, finding the remains of last night’s pitcher in the fridge and pouring us each a short glass before sitting back down and admiring the view.

  He sat down on the chair next to me. “Mojitos are fine. I hope you like my masterpiece.” He smiled and took a sip of his mojito. “I call this, Pasta a la Olivia.”

  “I’m honored,” I said, smiling sweetly. “A girl could get used to this, you know.”

  I took a bite, amazed at the subtle flavors that combined into full-blown deliciousness in my mouth.

  “Oh my God,” I mumbled, not caring that my mouth was full.

  “Good?”

  “Mmm,” I nodded.

  “I’ll give your compliments to the chef.” He grinned and dug in.

  We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, giving me the opportunity to steal furtive glances. We sat at a close angle at the table, his thigh dangerously close to mine.

  “So how did you learn to cook?”

  He set his fork down and reached for his glass. “Actually, Bella taught me the finer skills, like how to hold a knife, chop an onion.”

  “Oh?”

  He chewed the inside of his lip and looked at me warily.

  “I know you don’t like her. But you have to realize, she and I go way back. She was my best friend in high school.”

  I nodded slowly, an automatic trickle of possessiveness fighting for control over my common sense.

  “You said she’s like family,” I prodded, taking another bite.

  He smiled wryly. “Without all the drama.”

  I chewed slowly, feeling my claws retract, my posture soften. So he has family drama? It seemed most families did, although Lucy and I were blessed with a fully functional family with no petty differences to get in the way of our love for one another. In fact, our friends often treated us as their own surrogate family, as evidenced by our Easter dinner last night. Justine and Boone often escaped their own family dramas to spend time with us.

  “Speaking of family,” he said, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “While I was in Chicago I spent the afternoon and evening with my sister.”

  So he was visiting family‌—‌and attending church‌—‌while I was deciding he was through with me. I cringed at my foolishness.

  “I told her about you.”

  That I’m an irrational idiot with a recently discovered jealous streak? “What about me?”

  His soft green eyes sparkled. “Just that I’d met someone.”

  He had told his sister and of course, his best friend, Bella, about me. And here I was, trying my best to keep as many of my closest friends and family in the dark about him. He kept reassuring me at each of my missteps. I needed to try harder to let him in. And I knew what was necessary to do that.

  “I’m sorry you had to come all this way to talk to me. I’m an idiot.”

  “Whatever it takes, baby,” he said, caressing my knee and giving it a squeeze. “If you’re done, I’d like to take a bath with you.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, my thoughts immediately turning to his lean body, naked and wet and soapy in my tub, my hands and lips sliding over his hard, muscled flesh.

  Yes, please.

  CHAPTER 17

  While Damien retrieved his toiletry bag from my room, I began filling the antique claw-foot tub, adding a small amount of my Moroccan rose bath oil to the water. A gift from Weldon, I had never used it. I was a shower girl, but something told me I might be changing my bathing preference soon.

  He entered the bathroom and closed the door.

  “For a bath to work properly, you need to be naked,” he said softly.

  “I’ve heard that.” I was shy again. It was strange having him in my bathroom. I remembered the last time he was here, after we’d had sex for the first time on the couch. The memory sent a rush of heat straight to my belly.

  “Nervous?”

  I met his gentle gaze. “A little.”

  “Then I’ll go first.” He toed off his shoes and removed his socks, placing both neatly by the door. “Your turn,” he said with his Cheshire cat grin. “Two items per turn.”

  Oh, a game! Mimicking his opening move, I removed my Mad Rocks and socks and placed them to the side of Damien’s pile.

  “Actually, that’s four items, but who’s counting?” I said smartly.

  “Technicalities.” He winked. “No harm, no foul, Ms. St. Clair.” He removed his watch, then unclasped his belt and pulled it free, placing both on top of his shoes.

  “I suppose my earrings only count as one.”

  “I believe that’s the precedent we’ve set, so yes.” His eyes danced in anticipation.

  I removed my silver stud earrings, then reaching back, I pulled my ponytail holder free and placed them all on the vanity, smirking at him as I did so.

  “Saved by elastic,” he chuckled as he pulled his shirttail free and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  I watch transfixed as one by one, the buttons came undone. He paused to roll down his sleeves and then shrugged out of his shirt. To my disappointment, he wore a white undershirt underneath, and he grinned at my apparent frown, then in one swift motion he pulled his undershirt off.

  “Ogling is only allowed while stripping.”

  Reluctantly, I dragged my eyes away from his statuesque chest. “Do you always change the rules as you go along?”

  “Absofuckinglutely,” he said and smiled that stunning smile of his, the one that made me melt into a puddle at his feet.

  God, he disarmed me so easily. I needed to step up my game. Raising my eyes to his, I swallowed my shyness and grasping my shirt, I pulled it up and over my head. Then, with my eyes locked to his, I boldly unfastened the front clasp of my bra and let it slowly drop to the floor.

  His eyes darkened and he broke eye contact, letting his gaze travel the length of my body before coming to rest on my exposed breasts.

  “More stripping, less ogling, Stone.”

  He smiled wickedly and gave an imperceptible shake of his head. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  Still smiling, he reached to unfasten his pants and as the button popped free, I reached up with both hands and ran my fingers through my ponytail-free hair. The motion pushed my breasts out, and I took my time as I finger-combed through the thick locks.

  His hands had frozen mid-zip and he exhaled audibly. Oh, Damien, I love playing games with you.

  The tub was full and rose-scented steam wafted up from its surface. Moving scant inches from him, I leaned over and took my sweet time in turning the faucet off, finding every opportunity I could to shake my yoga-panted butt in his direction.

  Concealing my grin, I stood and faced him, anxious for his reaction. His eyes were smoky slits and he wasn’t grinning anymore.

  He took a step to
ward me. “Oh baby, I think the bath can wait.”

  My breath quickened as my pulse skyrocketed, his erotic expression surging through me from my breasts to my core. Lowering my eyes to his sculpted pecs and ribbed abdomen, I saw he was breathing heavily also. I let my gaze travel farther south…

  “Damien,” I breathed, as my eyes zeroed in on his cock, swollen and straining above the waistband of his half-zipped pants to lie tight against his rock-hard abs.

  He kissed me fiercely, angling his mouth over mine and staking his claim. His hands were at my waist, pulling me against his hard body, and my hands went automatically to his hips, pushing his pants and underwear down with frantic movements. His pants slipped to his ankles and he kicked them off, producing a little thrill inside me at the knowledge he was completely naked.

  My hands slid up over ropes of muscle until my arms were wrapped around his neck. The little breaths and moans and sounds we made as we devoured each other’s mouths were amplified inside the enclosed bathroom. I was breathless and weak, but still he continued his hungry assault, effortlessly holding me when I slumped against him.

  In two short steps, he pushed me up against the wall, and his hands moved under my waistband and around to settle on my butt. He kneaded my cheeks as he continued to lick into my mouth with his skilled tongue. Scorching heat gripped my insides, my nipples hardening to stiff peaks, and I arched my back to press them against his chest, moaning his name at the sweet contact.

  Bending his knees and pulling back, he looked down on my breasts, his mouth latching onto first one nipple and then the next. His hands continued to stroke and massage my butt, keeping steady time to the rhythmic pulls of his mouth on my nipples until I was gasping for air.

  With a last lick of a rosy bud, he pressed his hips sharply into mine, angling himself so that his erection rubbed against the apex of my thighs.

  “Oh God,” I moaned against his mouth, momentarily ceasing my desperate need to eat him alive. Over and over, he rolled his hips into me, my own hips shifting in helpless answer. All my thoughts were fixed on what was happening below, and I lifted a leg to give him better access, the unravelling of my inhibitions complete.

  With a groan, he tore his mouth away from mine and dropped to his knees. He moved his hands to my hips and slid my pants down my thighs to the floor where I hurriedly stepped free of them.

  He looked up at me with such longing in his eyes that my own knees nearly buckled. He ran his palms down my thighs, switching when he reached my feet to run the back of his hands slowly up the inside of my legs, encouraging me with the gentlest pressure to open them wider. His touch left a fiery trail and my pelvis undulated shamelessly, opening me to his exploring hand. A spasm tore through me, and my hand darted out to grasp the towel bar to steady myself, not trusting my legs to hold me when he reached the flesh between them.

  “Don’t let me fall.”

  “Never.”

  And then his tongue was sliding inside my folds, lapping and licking. My head rolled back, and I was distantly aware of his grip tightening on my thighs as his hot mouth moved over my quivering flesh. Up and down, over and over, he snaked his silky tongue against me, his soft moans vibrating against my sensitive flesh. That delicious pressure built and ascended so rapidly that I could not control myself. When he sucked hard on my clit, I splintered with a surprised cry, mindless pleasure arcing through my entire body.

  He stood without losing his grip and kissed me, his tongue lapping over my lips, spreading the saltiness of my arousal.

  “I love how good you taste,” he said huskily. “Can’t get enough of it.”

  My body still jerking with the after effects of my orgasm, he lifted me with his arms under my butt and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Releasing my death grip on the towel bar, my arms circled naturally around his neck.

  “Tell me if it’s too deep,” he whispered in my ear, and I felt his erection nudge against my opening before he breached me. I was so wet he slid in easily and fully, and we both cried out at the luscious sensation.

  “Okay?” The deep rumble of his voice had my nipples tightening as they dragged deliciously across his chest.

  “Oh, fuck yes,” I moaned.

  His muscles rippled as he supported my weight. My back was against the wall, and I tightened my thighs almost painfully against his hips as he arched into me. The fullness was indescribable, and I contracted my inner muscles, knowing he loved it when I did so. He filled me so perfectly. I couldn’t take any more of him if I tried.

  “You’re mine. Tell me you’re mine,” he growled into my neck.

  “Yes. Yes, yours.”

  He moved his arms until just his hands supported me, each hand under my bottom at the juncture of my thighs. His lips pressed against my neck as he began to move, or rather, as he began to move me. He lifted me and then let gravity pull me back down again. He did this over and over, his cock sliding out to the tip before plunging back in to the hilt, driving me closer to sweet release. I wanted to writhe and buck against him, but this position rendered me nearly helpless, and at that knowledge, that he controlled my pleasure, this beautiful man who held me so effortlessly and with such surety, I burst apart at the seams, inarticulate as I cried out his name.

  Damien stopped suddenly, and groaned with a muttered curse, then moved me faster. He impaled me over and over until at last he buried himself deep inside, his cock twitching as he came with a primal growl.

  As our breathing evened out, my faculties slowly came back online. My hands smoothed his back as he held me aloft, and I pressed soft kisses into his sweat-soaked hair. The wall was cold and damp against my back, a combination of steam and sweat.

  “I’ve got you,” he said softly, and I instinctively tightened my grip around his shoulders as he turned me from the wall and seamlessly stepped into the tub.

  “Water’s still warm.” He gently slipped us down and into the warm water, and my knees automatically straddled him as he leaned back. He was still semi-hard inside me.

  The tub was an antique and therefore not built for two, especially not when one occupant was a six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, muscle-bound man such as the one beneath me. My knees were snug between his hips and the sides of the tub, preventing me from going anywhere. And he apparently was aware of my helpless state as he wickedly focused his green stare on me and flexed his hips. I gasped at the feeling of him thickening and lengthening inside me.

  “You’re insatiable.” My palms splayed across his chest while my hips grinded against him, showing they had a mind of their own.

  “You make me that way,” he growled.

  The water sloshed in the tub, some overflowing the edge. “We’re going to make a mess on the floor,” I pointed out breathlessly.

  When he cupped my breasts, I was past caring.

  “Life is messy, baby.” He hooked a hand at my nape and pulled my head down, tenderly kissing me. “I’ll be there to clean it up for you.”

  * * *

  I leaned back against the far end of the tub, scooting down in the still warm water, my feet in Damien’s lap. I was enveloped in his long legs as we lazed opposite each other.

  “How’s that, baby?”

  “Mmm…‌if you ever decide to give up your day job, you could make a killing as a masseuse.”

  Damien kneaded and massaged my feet, treating them to the same luscious experience he had just given to my shoulders and back. For my part, I could only lean back, close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of his hands on yet another part of my body.

  “If somebody paid me for rubbing your feet, I’d quit my job in a heartbeat.”

  “I’d pay you. You’ve got magic fingers.” A long exhalation escaped me, and I sank down even further under the sudsy water.

  “It’s settled then. I’ll give my two-week notice tomorrow.” Lifting a foot, he kissed the pad of my big toe.

  I opened an eye to peek at him. “So long as you’re rub
bing my feet, and my feet only.”

  He tilted his head and grinned. “Deal. Although I might need to occasionally hone my masseuse skills on other body parts, not just your feet.”

  “Occasionally?” I teased as I ran my hands over his lean calves and softly yanked on his hair.

  “Okay. Regularly. Probably several times daily. Whenever my vixen would allow.” His grin disappeared and his eyes turned dark.

  My own teasing smile faded at the change in levity. His fingers continued their sensuous treatment on my feet as we locked gazes.

  “So tell me what you wanted to talk about,” he said softly.

  He had made it easy for me, I realized with a grateful pang. I was relaxed and sated in a warm tub, his strong fingers wringing what was left of the tension of the last few days from my body. I swallowed hard. It was now or never.

  “We all have our sad stories,” I began, sitting up a little until the water just covered my breasts. Damien’s hands stopped working. He placed my feet on either side of his hips, opening my legs to him, but his gaze remained locked on mine.

  “I need to tell you mine.”

  Sitting here, naked and open to him, immersed in the warm water, the last of my emotional veneer splintered away. I knew my heart should be about to leap from my chest, but I felt calm and collected. It was strange, but after feeling such anxiety about revealing my past, I suddenly had an overwhelming need to tell him everything.

  Damien was completely still as he looked at me, and the only sounds were the noises my hundred-year-old house made. I could almost hear the proverbial pin drop. I took a deep breath.

  “I was in a relationship which ended three years ago. Like most relationships, we started out happy. How we ended was anything but.”

  I paused a beat to gather my thoughts. “Travis had always exhibited jealous tendencies during the year we were together. At the beginning it was sort of endearing the way he showed up constantly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He made himself indispensable. He’d mow the yard in summer, shovel the snow in winter, fix stuff when it broke. He was charming and sweet and I thought I was in love.”