by Kira Blakely
Nathan gives a puzzled look as he curls his lips. “Is something stuck between my teeth?”
I laugh as I grab my glass of wine. “I’m not telling.”
“Meanie.”
“I’m still not telling.”
“Though I’m glad to hear you laugh. Earlier, you looked… well, dejected.”
I set down my glass. “It hurt to find out they were getting rid of Jack’s truck.”
“You must have loved your brother so much.”
“Just as much as every little girl loves her big brother. Do you have a younger sister?”
“No. I was an only child.”
“If you had a younger sister, though, I bet you’d be spoiling her rotten by now. I bet she’d just say ‘please’ once and you’d do whatever she asked.”
He frowns. “Do I look like I can be easily made to do a girl’s bidding?”
“Not a girl. Your little sister.”
He shrugs. “Maybe she’d be the one at my beck and call instead.”
I can imagine that. A little girl running to fulfill her brother’s every whim, eager to please him.
“Then I’m glad I’m not your little sister.”
“So am I. If you were my little sister, I wouldn’t have been able to kiss you like I did last night. And the night before.”
The confession sends heat and electricity tingling through my veins, even more so when I see the look in his eyes.
Heat. Hunger. Desire.
It’s enough to make me shudder with excitement, enough to make me wet, but I get a hold of myself.
“Anyway, my older brother was the sweetest. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, from finishing my vegetables even though he hated them more than I did, to dressing up like a girl just so I could have another princess to play with. But my favorite part was when he’d tell me all about the different animals. He knew so much about them. Sometimes, he’d make up stories about them. Even when he went to Africa, he’d still write and tell me about the animals he’d see. He sent me pictures, too, which is what made me even more determined to become a wildlife photographer. I couldn’t wait to get his letters, and whenever I did, I’d light up like a kid on Christmas morning.”
“I’m jealous.”
I look down at my plate, finishing the last of my grilled shrimp. “You don’t have to be.”
“I can be crazy sometimes, wild even.” His eyes narrow. “Would you like to see how wild I can be?”
I pause with my fingers wrapped around my glass of wine. My heart seems to have stopped as well.
“I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” He gulps down the last of his wine. “Just forget about it.”
What? He isn’t serious?
I, too, finish my wine, letting the liquid wash down my mixed emotions — relief at the reprieve I’ve been given contrasting with annoyance and a bit of remorse at the withdrawn invitation.
“Are you done? If you want, we can stroll for a bit. They have lovely gardens here.”
“Sure.”
I get the feeling we both need some fresh, cool air.
“So, every time you cover a party, you imagine the guests are animals?” Nathan chuckles, walking slightly ahead of me with his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I’ve heard of some people pretending everyone in the conference room are potatoes so they don’t get so nervous giving their sales pitch, but a photographer imagining people as animals?”
“What?” I kick a fallen leaf aside. “It makes it more interesting.”
“Okay.” He turns around, walking backward. “So, what exactly is Helena Goodwin?”
I grin. “Do you want to guess?”
Nathan touches his chin. “A camel?”
“A camel?”
“Because she’s got fake eyelashes.”
“How would you know that?”
“Let’s just say female anatomy is one of my many areas of expertise.”
Okay. And why did I just get an image of him with a naked woman when he said that?
“Plus, she drinks a lot.”
“That she does,” I agree. “I think a camel describes her well, though I initially thought of her as a hyena.”
“A hyena. Why?”
“You know. She’s always looking for the weakest member of the herd, someone to pick on. Plus, she has a loud, annoying laugh.”
“Ah, yes. A camel and a hyena.”
I try to imagine the two animals combined but can’t, ending up laughing.
“What about me?” Nathan asks, facing forward again. “What animal do you think best describes me?”
I pause.
“Come on. You must have already thought of something.”
“Nothing particular, actually,” I tell him. “A lion. A wolf. A tiger. A bear.”
“Let me guess. A lion because I’m a womanizer.”
“No.”
He ignores me. “A wolf because I’m somewhat of a loner. I don’t really socialize, especially with other men. A tiger because I always wear sleek suits. Either that or because I have pointy fangs.”
He shows them.
“I never even noticed until now.”
“And a bear because I’m scary when I lack sleep?”
I chuckle. “I swear I didn’t know that.”
“Why then?” He stops to lean against the trunk of the nearest tree.
“Not telling.” I walk past him.
“Is that so? Well, if I was going to describe you as an animal, I’d say you’re a—giraffe.”
A giraffe? “Because I have long legs?”
“Because you stand out even when you don’t want to.”
I stop walking then turn around slowly. “I actually thought of myself as a squirrel.”
“Because you like nuts?”
I’m about to say yes, but I realize there’s a different gleam in his eyes.
“Because I keep forgetting where I put things,” I answer.
“I thought it’s because you scurry off at the slightest sign of danger.”
“I don’t,” I argue.
“So, you’re saying you’re not going to scurry off now?”
He backs me up against the tree, his arm above me.
I swallow. “Am I in danger?”
His blue eyes narrow, clouded over with lust. “Yes.”
Once more, I can feel the desire rolling off him in waves, waking mine. It’s stirring the flames inside me, bringing the heat out to my skin and my breasts.
Shit.
“Well?”
What am I afraid of? Of being hurt? Of falling short of his expectations? Or is it the consequences? The possibility that he might discard me afterward? That other people might find out and change their opinion of me?
“If you’re going to run, you better run now.”
I don’t answer. I’m cornered prey, and everything is at a standstill. One move could change everything.
How should I move? Flee? Fight? Or stay and allow myself to be captured?
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But if you don’t, I promise I’ll be gentle.”
And I know he can be gentle.
Oh, to hell with the consequences.
I surrender, closing my eyes. The moment I do, his mouth claims mine, robbing me of breath.
Damn.
He’s sucking whatever resistance is left inside me, filling me with desire as he pushes me harder against the tree, the bark rubbing against my clothes and my heels sinking into the moss. His lips crash down on mine over and over, his tongue exploring my mouth as he places his hand on my arm, stroking.
I can feel fire in my veins all the way down to my toes but especially in my full breasts that are threatening to burst out of my clothes and between my legs, where something else threatens to explode.
And the quivering bulge that presses against my leg lets me know that the sensation isn’t mine alone.
Suddenly, he pulls away, and as our gazes meet, I can see the lust in my eyes reflected in
his, his pupils dilated under half-closed eyelids.
He grabs my hand. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
7
Claimed
We get to his apartment in record time.
At least, I think it’s his apartment. He hasn’t told me. Actually, he hasn’t spoken much and neither have I. I’m too nervous to speak. I haven’t had sex in a while, after all, and I’ve only experienced it twice before. What if I’m not good enough? What if I mess up?
My excitement is stronger than my fear, though, and my heart races as I run across the lobby of the building with him, rushing toward the elevator.
The doors close and all heaven breaks loose.
He kisses me fiercely as he wraps his arms around me, pushing me against the wall as I lose my balance. Just like that, my nerves and fears disappear. I’m not afraid of being in an elevator; the amazing feel of his mouth on mine drowns every other sensation.
When the doors open again, we stumble out. Lips locked and arms around each other, we manage to get to his apartment. Somehow, he finds his keys and opens the door, closing it once we’re on the other side by pushing me against it, his hands on the hem of my sweater.
He pulls it over my head then kisses me again as he works on the buttons of my dress. I gasp as his hand brushes against my breast.
When he’s popped the last button, I slide off the sleeves, letting my dress droop to my waist. He’s unfastening my bra now, my breasts bouncing free, nipples growing stiff as they come in contact with the cool air.
I toss aside my bra and step out of my dress, pausing when I realize he’s staring at me through half-lidded eyes. Staring at my breasts, to be precise.
I make a half-hearted attempt to cover them with my arms but he grabs my wrist and pulls them away. His gaze lingers on my breasts for a few moments more before drifting down past the curve of my belly to the only piece of clothing I have left on.
That small piece of cotton that’s now soaking wet.
“Are you just going to stare at me all evening?”
He grins. “I’m just savoring my meal before I dig in.”
“Well, this meal will get cold if you keep it waiting too long.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I can warm it right back up.”
He carries me to the bed in his strong arms, setting me down on it.
For a moment, his gaze holds mine then he descends on me like a bird of prey. He bites the lobe of my ear lightly then pecks my neck. I moan. He kisses the valley between my breasts then my breasts, first showering them with reverent kisses and then sucking on them, taking my pebbly nipples between his lips. I shudder.
He moves lower and just in anticipation of his wicked mouth, my sex tingles beneath the drenched cotton, weeping even more when he plants a kiss right on top of it. That’s all he does there, though, moving on to giving me tickling kisses along the insides of my thighs all the way to my ankles.
It’s good but it’s not enough.
“More,” I demand hoarsely.
“Are you sure?” he asks, tugging a pert nipple between his teeth.
I gasp. “Yes.”
Nathan pulls down my underwear, leaving me completely naked. Again, he stares and, for the first time, I become aware of the fact that maybe I should have shaved, something I’ve never done.
He doesn’t seem to mind, though, burying his head between my legs as he utters a single word.
“Mine.”
The next thing I know, his mouth is there, his tongue delivering caresses that make me tremble before it slips in.
Shit.
I throw my head back, burying my fingers in his soft brown hair.
His tongue slips in and out, exploring, stroking, tasting more and more of me. His fingers join in as well, rubbing my engorged clit.
Together, they deliver a well-orchestrated assault, driving me to the edge of madness and ecstasy. I grip the strands in my hand tighter, pulling, wanting more, wanting release.
When it comes, my whole body shatters into pieces, my mind blown away.
I lie still, breathless and eyes sealed shut.
When I open them again, Nathan is standing over me, peeling his clothes off.
Just like that, the haze fades. I sit up, staring at him.
It’s my turn to savor him.
And I do, my gaze burning into every inch of skin revealed.
His broad shoulders.
His sculpted chest.
The dips and curves of his chiseled stomach.
And the eight inches curving up from between his legs.
The thickest, longest and hardest erection I have ever seen.
Shit.
My eyes grow wide.
If only I had a camera right now to capture that perfect body, though something tells me I don’t need a camera to remember it.
It’s embedded in my memory.
Magnificent.
At the same time, though, I feel a pang of worry.
Can my body take it?
Nathan touches my cheek. “Shh. It will be fine. You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
I want to tell him that I’ve never had anyone this big before. Not even close. There have only been a few, after all.
But I just nod. “Yes.”
“Just open up to me. You want me, don’t you, Sam?”
In answer, I reach out to him, placing one hand behind his neck and wrapping the fingers of the other around his cock.
It quivers, sending a ripple through me.
“Sam, if you do that—”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. I know what he’s trying to say.
Reluctantly, I let my captive go, gripping his shoulders as he kisses me.
While his mouth keeps mine busy, his finger slips inside me.
I squeeze it, wanting it deeper.
He pushes in.
I gasp.
He pulls away, grinning. “Now, I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.”
I can’t bring myself to laugh at the pun, my mind turning to mush along with my body.
He slips another finger in, and I lose all control.
I fist the sheets, writhing in delight as his fingers — those wicked fingers — plunge in and out of my core, making me wetter.
Hotter.
“Nathan.” His name escapes my lips as a hoarse whisper.
Like a command, it spurs him into action. His fingers leave me, reaching for the rubber on the nightstand and hastily rolling it on before biting into my thighs.
He lifts them, the tip of his cock nudging the hole he has prepared.
“Let me in, Sam.”
And he pushes in slowly.
I gasp. I cry. I cling to him.
He begins to move. Even through the rubber barrier, I can feel his heat and his thrusts.
My heart races.
The pleasure climbs.
“Shit.”
The curse is the only word I can manage, my mind growing blank as he moves faster.
Deeper.
Harder.
I come, my lips parting to let out a silent scream, my nails and heels digging into his back as my body arches beneath his and trembles around him, shattering into even smaller fragments than before.
Vaguely, I feel him still moving but suddenly, he stops, burying himself deep inside me as he lets out a groan.
And just like that, the pieces of me that are being put back together scatter again, his orgasm causing me to have one more, like an earthquake causing another.
After, I lie still, gasping for air, waiting for my body to feel again, for my mind to start thinking again.
By then, Nathan already has his pants on. He has his back turned to me, and I frown as I see the scars from my nails on either side of his tattoo.
I summon enough energy to get out of bed so I can kiss them.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“The squirrel has claws,” he says.
I run my fingers over the black ink. “Wh
at’s this?”
“Just a souvenir from my time in the Army.”
I blink. “You were in the Army?”
“Just for a year. My dad was in the Army, and I wanted to experience it for myself. But it’s not for me.”
“Where is he now?” I ask bravely.
Blame the courage on the afterglow.
“He died when I was still a teenager,” Nathan answers. “My mom’s gone now, too. She died before she could see me become successful.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
I suddenly remember my own parents. Will we ever be okay again?
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning around.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Just tired.”
“Go to sleep.” The words sound more like an order than a request. “I still have some things to do.”
I want to ask him what, but I yawn instead.
Being tired isn’t a lie, after all. All the exhaustion from the arguing, crying and the sex are sinking in, and I suddenly feel exhausted.
I crawl back into bed, pulling the blanket up to my shoulders. “Good night.”
“Night.”
8
Curiosity and the Cat
In the morning, Nathan is gone.
No note on the pillow.
No note on the nightstand.
No breakfast in the kitchen.
Nothing.
And absolutely no sign of him.
It’s almost as if last night never happened, except that the soreness between my legs is proof it did.
Have I just been discarded?
I can just imagine Pam saying ‘I told you so’ and I frown. Surely, it can’t be true.
Or maybe it was true before with other women but not in my case.
Are you sure?
There’s that annoying voice again. It didn’t get the chance to speak up last night so now it’s rearing its head and giving me a lecture.
And it’s even worse than Mom’s lecture.
Because try as I might, I can’t seem to ignore it.
Are you sure he hasn’t discarded you?
I look around the apartment. It’s even more spacious than the hotel suite we went to before, the bedroom in a loft.
A luxurious apartment.
And right now, it’s empty.
Empty.