The band breaks out into “Auld Lang Syne” and a bunch of the guests begin singing along, drunkenly and with gusto.
And then, there’s us. Just looking at each other. Lost in each other’s eyes. We might as well be the only people in the room. In the world.
“Happy New Year,” I mouth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear me even if I raised my voice.
“Happy New Year, sweet Dawn.” He pulls me in, eyes searching mine, and my heart just about stops. I can hardly stand it. Is this really happening to me? Things like this don’t happen to me. Men like him—perfect, sexy, masculine, rich as hell—don’t come into the lives of women like me.
And if they do, they sure as heck don’t want to hang around for long. Maybe just a drunken one night stand.
But here he is, holding me, and staring into my eyes while he strokes my back with those strong, skillful hands of his and God, I think I’m am falling in love with him. By the time he leans down to brush his lips against mine, teasing and tempting, I’ve fallen all the way down.
Chapter 18
Dawn
We don’t say much in the car.
What is there to say after a night like the one we’ve just had? It’s past one o’clock, which for me might as well be dawn. My feet hurt and I’m tired.
But it’s more than physical fatigue, much more. I’m all mixed up so it’s a good thing all that champagne went to my head, or else I might start overthinking and that’s probably the worst thing I can do. I always end up making a mess of things when I do that.
He’s so solid. So strong. So steady. So real. My head rests against his shoulder, his arm around me with his hand cupping my thigh. It’s the most natural gesture in the world, the sort of thing he might do if we knew each other for years. A simple touch. The reminder that he’s here.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, kissing the top of my head. His lips linger there. Another simple, gentle gesture, but the sort of thing that makes a girl feel wanted. Cherished.
The sort of thing I always wanted James to do. He never would. Thank God, he didn’t or I would never have had the chance to experience this. Even briefly. I know now why they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved.
Just like he never would’ve asked me how I was feeling after a party.
“A little sleepy,” I admit. “But good.”
“Happy?”
“As happy as I can imagine feeling.”
“I think we can do better than that.”
“We can?” I love the way he uses the word we, even as I tell myself not to read too much into it. I shouldn’t. I can’t. I wish my heart would listen. Stupid heart, always rushing into things that only gets it kicked around and bruised.
He shrugs. I feel the muscles moving under his clothes when he does. “Why should we ever just stop at as good as? Why not try to do better? If I had the chance, I’d be certain to spend every day making damn sure you were happier than you could imagine.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Sexy. Very sexy. “Something tells me, from what you’ve told me before, that you haven’t spent much time imagining what could be.”
That’s the truth.
“I guess I’m setting the bar pretty low then, huh?” I grin, glancing up at him. “I mean, if you had the chance to make sure I was happier than I could imagine, and I never imagined much…”
“I’ve never been one for just clearing the bar,” he murmurs.
Immediately I remember the way he treated me last night, how good he was to me, how he didn’t settle for just good enough.
“I hope you don’t expect me to drop you off at home tonight.” There’s no question there. No wondering if I want to go home with him. Because he knows I want to. I need to. If he were to drop me off at home right now, I’d cry myself to sleep out of raging disappointment.
“No. I don’t expect you to.” My voice is quiet, but there is something mysterious throbbing in it.
Chapter 19
Dawn
We’re hardly through the front door before he’s on me.
I don’t even have the chance to catch my breath. He pins me to the closed door with his body before crushing my mouth with his own. His tongue thrusts inside, sweeping around my lips and sliding against my tongue, and I have no choice, but to clutch his shoulders to keep from hitting the floor.
Sounds I’ve never heard coming from me or coming from anybody are coming from me right now, from deep inside my throat as he kisses away every bit of reason left in my brain. His hands slide down my sides, gliding over the satin. It’s his turn to groan, fingers tightening on my hips before he pulls them to him to grind against me.
I wrap my leg around his thigh, the dress sliding up to my hip, and he explores my skin with such a skillful touch it makes my knees shake. His deep grunt, much of the sound lost in my mouth as we kiss, tells me what the feel of my body does to him.
And that only pushes me higher, makes me more desperate to feel him, taste him. I work the suit jacket over his arms, letting my hands take in the bulge of his muscles through the thin dress shirt, before winding his tie around my hand and pulling him in for another deep, long kiss.
“Mmm…” he groans, pulling back, a slight smile touching the corners of his lips.
“I love a man in a tie,” I groan. “I’ve been wanting to grab you by the tie since the moment I first saw you tonight.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind for later,” he promises before lowering his head to run his tongue over my throat. I close my eyes, as sensation takes over rational thought once again. I just want to feel. I want to go as far as he’s willing to take me.
His hair is so thick. I run my fingers through it, sighing, whimpering encouragement as his hands find my breasts and squeeze before opening the dress, freeing them.
“Oh, God!” I cry out, arching my back when his tongue swirls in a hot, wet circle around my nipple before teasing it into a tight point. He does the same with the other, almost growling possessively like a male animal fighting over a female, and oh, my God, I melt inside. He’s as into this as I am.
It’s enough to drive me insane.
When he cups my butt with both hands and lifts, I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist. I allow him to carry me to the darkened bedroom. We fall onto the bed.
I wriggle under him liking the feeling of being able to relax against the bed and feel the weight of his body as he settles over me, and love being able to focus on the way he feels on top of me, the way his muscles flex under my hands while he continues his slow, wet exploration of everything he can get his hands, or mouth on. He working the dress up around my waist.
“What’s this?” he asks looking at my thong.
“Do you like it?”
He bends his head and licks my navel. “Yeah, I like it.”
I gasp.
“Do you rub fresh fruit on your skin or something?” he asks.
I still. “No, why?”
“Because you taste fucking incredible,” he breathes. “Even better than I remember. We should’ve stayed here tonight. I could have eaten you all night.”
I bite my lip so the smartass comment which I know would only come out sounding awkward doesn’t get out, but when his tongue sweeps along the inside of my thigh, my hips leave the bed and a guttural cry leaves my lips. He chuckles, taking the opportunity to hook his fingers around the waistband of my thong and work it down over my thighs.
I raise my legs, allowing him to remove my underwear. He parts my thighs, settling between them with a wicked smile. “Your pussy is so wet it’s driving me crazy,” he growls before inhaling deeply of my scent, then burying his face between my legs.
I’m gone.
There’s nothing left of me but a writhing, screaming, begging animal. I never felt comfortable being loud before. I never really had a reason to, either. There’s freedom in letting loose, letting him know how good he makes me feel so he’ll keep making me feel good because ye
s, yes. As long as this never ends. Yes, I want more.
He holds my thighs steady before flicking the tip of his tongue over the tip of my clit and I lose it completely, riding his face as I come with a shuddering, broken cry. But he doesn’t stop. I can’t take any more. He’s going to kill me, doesn’t he know he’s going to kill me if he doesn’t stop?
But I don’t die, and the pulsing spasms don’t end. They go on and on, spreading through me, setting off explosions behind my closed eyelids. When will it end? I don’t know. I don’t know if I want it to. It keeps going, rolling through me, and my voice eventually cracks and breaks from the strain as my body stops arching and finally falls back against the mattress in an exhausted heap and Ace comes up for air.
“My God,” he groans, as though he’s the one whose entire body just shattered from the inside out. “You have no idea how sexy you look when you come.”
“Really?” I mumble, my brain still mush.
“So… fucking… hot…” He punctuates each word with a kiss to my inner thighs, then raises himself up on his knees and unbuttons his shirt. “Lose the dress.”
I do as I’m told, even though my hands are a little shaky and I’m still halfway to the moon. He has no idea what he just did to me feels like, obviously, or he’d not be in such a hurry.
His cock springs free as he lowers his pants and shorts, and he unrolls a condom before sliding into me without a word. I’m still coming down from the longest, biggest orgasm of my life, so the first thrust is yet another explosion of pure sensation.
He doesn’t take his time, and I don’t want him to. I want him to ride me, to let loose everything he’s been holding back all night. There’s something primitive in his thrusts, in the way he grunts every time he sinks himself deep into my pussy. I let the animal in me meet the animal in him, raking my nails down his rippling back and smiling when he hisses in pain and pleasure, all mixed up together.
He must like it, because his thrusts speed up and his breathing becomes harder, more ragged, his rhythm already getting lost in the frenzy of his passion. All I can do is hold on, my muscles tightening around him as we both approach the edge.
“That’s right… come for me again…” He looks down at me, grinding now, teeth gritted. “Come for me, Dawn.”
If I wasn’t going to before, I’m about to now. I start to feel that familiar pressure in my core, the tightening that signals something big is about to happen. I go with it, working my hips to thrust against him as he thrusts into me. Our bodies crash together, harder and faster, our eyes locked as we push each other the edge and beyond.
Just before I close my eyes, I see him throw back his head. His victorious cry mingles with mine. Mixed in with my pleasure, not to mention the smell and feel and taste of him as he collapses on top of me, is knowing that we came through from the other side together.
Our groans quiet to heavy breathing, which finally quiets to nothing more than the occasional sigh before he rolls over, onto his back. “You bring out something in me,” he whispers, his voice touching something deep inside me.
I turn my head to the side to look at him. God, he’s beautiful. In the dim street light coming through the half-drawn blinds, his body is perfection. I can make out every line, every plane, every muscle standing out against his taut skin. “I know what you mean,” I breathe.
“That wasn’t the long, slow session I wanted to give you tonight,” he laments. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“Do you honestly think you have anything to apologize for, after what you just did to me?” I ask tiredly. The session took every last ounce of energy out of me. I can barely keep my eyes open anymore.
“I spent the entire night imagining your body under that dress… getting the chance to finally touch and taste you was too much to resist. I guess you bring out the greedy little boy in me.”
There was nothing boyish about what he did to me, and nothing like what any other man has ever done. I doubt he’s even capable of a mediocre performance.
“Happy New Year,” he says with a soft chuckles. He pulls my body close to his before wrapping me up in his strong arms.
“I can’t wait to see what the rest of it has in store,” I murmur, already half-asleep as my eyes slide shut.
Chapter 20
Dawn
I wake up slowly, one part of my body at a time. I can feel the silky sheets against my skin, the pillows beneath my head. I hear him breathing behind me. The warmth of his body is evident on my back. He’s close, but not touching.
Gosh, and I thought I would wake up in my own bed for a moment there. I truly did. How could last night have been real? How can anything that happened actually be real? I didn’t even know I was capable of multiple orgasms, or extended orgasms, or whatever the hell happened to me last night.
But it is real, because here I am. In his bed. For the second morning in a row.
He stirs behind me, one arm creeping over my side. “Good morning,” he whispers against the back of my neck. He sounds like a man completely content with his choices in life. Which include me. Needless to say, I’m okay with this.
Which is why I wriggle a little against his body. “Good morning.”
His low laugh stirs the hair on my neck. “Careful now. I don’t know if you want any of this before I’m cleaned up. You made me work up a little bit of a sweat last night, remember.”
“What, I can’t brush up against you without you thinking it’s a come-on?” I ask, all innocence. “You need to clean up that dirty mind of yours, sir.”
“I didn’t catch you complaining about my dirty mind last night.”
“I didn’t say my mind isn’t dirty, too.”
His laughter warms more than just my skin. I feel like I’m glowing inside as he wraps me in his arms. “I think a shower is called for. Would you care to join me?”
What kind of question is that?
But it doesn’t go the way I expect it to. Who could blame me for thinking the two of us being in a steamy, wet, slippery place would end up rather… well… orgasmic?
Instead, it’s sweet. Playful. Silly even. He lets me mold his hair into a mohawk. He attacks me with the handheld showerhead, spraying me until I laughingly beg him to stop.
In the end, I lean against him and allow him to wash my hair. My eyes close on their own, without my meaning them to. The feeling of his fingers on my scalp is pure magic. He’s gentle and slow, massaging me with a tenderness that still surprises me.
I would never have expected him to be so gentle if we had crossed paths on the street or some other random place. In fact, I would assume he was a meathead, a brute, even with his good looks and nice clothes. I guess that’s what I get for judging the book by its cover.
When it’s over, I’m more confused about him than ever. Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to leave and get it over with? But he doesn’t seem to want that. I know I don’t. I’ll freaking move in with him today if he wants me to, caution be damned. I could definitely live with this.
But he can’t want that. Can he? Don’t unattached men want the girl out the door as soon as possible the morning after?
I dry my hair with the same sort of thick, soft towel wrapped around my body. Even the towels are top-notch. It’s not enough that I’ve spent the past two nights in a bed that reminds me of what being cradled in angels’ wings might feel like, or that the sheets on that bed are the most sumptuous thing I’ve ever felt.
The sight of him with a towel slung around his waist is nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes. The good Lord knew what was up when it was time to create this man. Does he even know how incredible he is? If I was him, I’d never get anything done for staring at myself in the mirror all day.
“What?” he asks with a grin as he passes where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Nothing.”
He glances over his shoulder at me as he goes through his dresser. Darn it, he’s going to get dressed. Would a little more
time in the towel be too much to ask for?
“You sure? Because you had a funny smile there for a second.”
“I was lusting over you, okay? Jeez. Let a girl have some private thoughts.”
“Is that all I am? Just a piece of meat?” he pouts, teasing. At least I hope he’s teasing.
“No, of course not!”
“Good.”
“You’re a pretty face, too.”
He throws his towel at me before grabbing me and throwing me on the bed. Yes, he gives me a screaming climax, before he gets off the bed and steps into a pair of shorts. He’s like a study in the human physique, every muscle perfectly defined, and that grace I noticed on the dance floor last night is evident even when he performs the most mundane actions.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” I groan before sinking onto the bed, moaning like a dying woman. “You expect a girl to do all these things you like to do on an empty stomach.”
“How about some brunch? My favorite spot should still be serving, even on New Year’s Day. They bake this brioche that will curl your toes, and they offer bottomless mimosas,” he adds with a grimace, “after last night, I don’t know if champagne ought to be on the menu this morning.”
“Oof. I don’t think so, either.” But mimosas? Bottomless or otherwise? House-baked brioche? This hardly sounds like a casual place, and I can’t wear last night dress to a place that serves brunch.
“What do you say?” he asks.
“In this?” I motion to the towel. It’s either this or the dress I wore last night. I didn’t exactly think about packing for the evening. Maybe I should have.
“Hmm. Good point. We could always stop off someplace and get you something new.”
I have to raise an eyebrow at this. “Just to have an outfit to go to brunch in? Doesn’t that seem like sort of a waste?”
He shrugs it off, flopping back on the bed with both hands behind his head. “A waste of what? We’re not talking about disposable clothing. I was talking about buying something for you. A gift.”
Sweet Revenge_A curvy girl romance Page 9