He led her into the kitchen, where he set the Tupperware on a granite bar. Much like hers, the bar was piled with junk mail and paperwork. Sara scanned the room. Beside the back door were several pairs of Nikes that clearly had some miles on them.
“I was wondering about that.”
He glanced up from a drawer he was rummaging through. “About what?”
“You’re a runner.”
He opened the freezer and filled a baggie with ice cubes. “I do it when I can. Which isn’t as much as I should.” He pulled open another drawer and took out a hammer. “You run?”
She snorted. “No.”
He set the bag of ice on the counter and gave it a few quick taps. He stepped over and handed her the ice pack. “For your head.”
“Thank you.”
She couldn’t explain the sudden lump in her throat as he gazed down at her with those expressive brown eyes.
“I’ll be right back. Help yourself to anything.”
He walked out, leaving her alone in his kitchen. She leaned back against the counter and pressed the bag to the side of her head.
What was she doing here? Her nerves started up again, and she stepped over to the sink to wash her hands. She found some paper towels in the cabinet and was dabbing the cuts on her palms when he returned with a tackle box. He’d gotten rid of his leather jacket, and his badge and holster had disappeared.
“I still think you should get checked out.”
She didn’t reply as he opened the box.
“That’s a serious first-aid kit,” she said.
“Never hurts to be prepared.”
He took out an antiseptic wipe and tore it open, and her pulse picked up as he gently took her head in his hands.
“I can do it.”
“Let me.” He smiled slightly. “Gives me an excuse to touch you.” He tipped her head back with one hand and used the other to dab the cut. “Does it sting?”
“No.”
“You’re a really bad liar, you know that?” He dropped the antiseptic wipe on the counter and dug a Band-Aid from the box. Nolan peeled it open and carefully applied it to her forehead.
His gaze met hers, and her pulse picked up again.
She moved away from him and shifted her attention to the tackle box. She poked through the contents, looking for ointment for the cut on her leg.
Nolan turned and opened the fridge. “Can I ask you something?”
She shot him a wary look. “Maybe.”
He popped open a Sprite and set it beside her, then leaned back against the counter and watched her.
“Why are you nervous around me?”
“I’m not.”
His eyebrows tipped up.
“I’m not nervous, I’m just . . . I don’t know. Worried, I guess.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to select the right words. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
“What’s the wrong impression?”
Her throat felt dry, and she reached for the Sprite. It tasted cold and sweet, but he was still watching her and waiting for an answer.
“I don’t want you to think . . .”
“Think what?”
“That I want to start something right now. A relationship.”
He smiled. “And you think I do?”
Her stomach knotted. Damn, this was awkward. She was so out of practice with dating.
“Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
“Hey, I’m not denying it.” He stepped closer, and her skin suddenly felt hot. “But why are you so worried about giving me the wrong impression?”
“Because.” She cleared her throat. “You seem like a stand-up guy, and I want to be up-front with you.”
“A stand-up guy?” He sounded amused now. “That’s what you think?”
“I don’t know.”
But she did know. He was totally a stand-up guy. He was practically a Boy Scout. He did chores for his neighbors and rendered first aid and looked out for everyone in his town. He had roots here. He was a freaking pillar of the community, and he had to be one of the most eligible bachelors in Springville.
Her stomach did a little dance. To distract herself, she found a tube of ointment and several bandages and took them to the breakfast table. Sinking into a chair, she tugged up the leg of her pants.
“Damn, Sara.”
“It’s fine,” she said, cleaning the gash. It was long but not terribly deep.
He stepped over, and her heart thrummed as she felt him watching her movements. He knelt in front of her.
“That looks bad,” he said, and all the amusement was gone from his voice.
“It’s not.”
He gently took her ankle and straightened her leg. Then he tore open a new wipe with his teeth and started carefully brushing dirt from the cut. The wound stung, but she was too focused on his hands to care. His gaze met hers. He opened a bandage and applied it to her shin, and she slid the torn pant leg over it.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on hers as he knelt there in front of her. Slowly, he reached up and feathered her hair away from the cut on her face. Her heart was thudding wildly now. Her chest felt tight. He was kneeling between her legs, watching her with that look again, and there was something so carnal about it she could hardly breathe.
“Relax,” he whispered.
“I can’t—”
He leaned in and kissed her.
Every nerve in her body sparked. He moved into her, sliding his palms over her thighs and resting them on her hips. She kissed him back, and he tasted just like she remembered. She combed her fingers through his soft hair as she tangled her tongue with his.
She’d missed him. Which made no sense, because he’d only kissed her twice. But she’d been thinking about it, craving his taste and his scent and his hands.
Taking her hips, he slid her to the edge of the chair, parting her thighs with his body, and she gripped his sides with her knees. He was so warm and solid, and she felt like she was falling into him as he pulled her against him. Sliding his fingers under her T-shirt, he tugged it up over her head and tossed it away. His heated gaze landed on her black lace bra. She didn’t want him to notice her bruises, so she dragged him close for another kiss, brushing her fingertips over the stubble along his jaw.
Dipping his head down, he trailed kisses over her throat as he reached around for her bra clasp. He deftly unhooked it, then slid his hand around to cup her breast. He looked up at her as his mouth closed over her nipple, and she nearly shot off the chair.
Sara arched against him, moaning. This was crazy. They were in his kitchen, practically on the floor, but all she could do was tip her head back and enjoy the intoxicating heat of his mouth on her skin. Just a moment ago, she’d called him a stand-up guy, but he flatly rejected that, and now he was on his knees in front of her, proving her wrong. He was setting her on fire with his mouth and his hands, banishing every worry, every logical reason not to do this, as he slipped her bra from her arms and dropped it to the floor.
He kissed her neck. “Mmm. You smell good.”
“I do?”
“Always.”
His breath felt warm against her skin as he slid his lips to her collarbone, and she shivered. Everything he did was so sensual, so hot. And it had been so, so long since she’d felt anything like this. His palm glided over her knee and came to rest at the top of her thigh, and she squirmed closer.
“Nolan.” She clamped her knees against his hips and pulled his head up to kiss her.
He eased back, and desire flashed in his eyes. “Can we—”
“Yes.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet, and she glanced down to see half her clothes on the floor. She started to reach for them, but he slid his arms around her, wrapping her in his amazing scent. She rested her head against his chest.
“Come on.” He took her hand and led her—topl
ess—through his living room and into a dim hallway toward the back of the house. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. It was exhilarating. The air was cool against her skin, and she felt a heady mix of nerves and anticipation as he pulled her into his dark bedroom. She couldn’t see, but her leg brushed against something, and she knew they were standing beside his bed as he kissed her again. She savored the taste of him, loving his fingers on her bare arms and back.
She pulled away and watched him as she sank onto the bed and scooted back. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness as he bent down and took his boots off. Then the mattress creaked as he stretched out beside her.
“This better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He eased on top of her, and she yelped.
“What?” He pulled back. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing. Just my rib.”
He switched on the lamp. “Jesus, Sara.”
She blinked down at her torso, where a red-purple bruise stretched from her sternum to her hip.
“It’s from the seat belt. It’s nothing.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Nothing? Are you crazy? You’re all banged up.”
“I’m fine.”
He reached a finger out, trailing it down her body, barely grazing her skin. He looked at her. “We don’t have to do this right now.”
She scooted over on the bed. “Lie down.”
“Sara.”
“Lie down,” she said with command in her voice. She wasn’t going to let this moment slip away.
He didn’t move for a few seconds, but then he finally stretched out on his side, facing her. He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, and the gesture was so sweet it made her throat tighten.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
“You won’t.”
She pulled her hand loose and nudged him onto his back. She got on her knees beside him and tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. He sat forward and pulled it over his head, then tossed it away. The muscles in his torso rippled as he leaned back on his elbows to watch what she did. She pushed her yoga pants down her legs, hopefully distracting him from her bruises, because all she had on now was a pair of black bikini panties.
“Sara . . .”
“Shh.” She straddled his lap, resting her weight on the hard ridge of his erection.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “You’re going to kill me.”
“How?” She leaned forward, kissing him ever so lightly as her nipples brushed against his chest.
“You are so sexy. Everything you do. I’ve been thinking about this.”
A thrill went through her. “What have you been thinking about?”
He sat forward to cup her breast, and the hard pull of his mouth sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. She combed her fingers into his hair. He was so good at everything he did, as though he knew just what she wanted and how she wanted it, and she felt a rush of excitement about what was coming. She brought his head up for another kiss, tracing her fingertips over his stubble. Then she shifted her position, grinding against him, and he made a low sound in his throat.
She loved the way he kissed her and touched her. She loved being in charge. And she loved the intense look in his eyes when he watched her. He slid his hands around her and kissed her deeper, harder, and she rocked against him as the kiss went on, until her body throbbed and she felt dizzy with need.
Sara moved off him and looked him over, taking in his perfectly sculpted chest. She’d always known he looked good in jeans, but he looked especially good in just jeans. She trailed her finger down his muscular body and let it rest on the snap.
He lifted a brow. “Need help?”
“No.”
Heat flared in his eyes as she traced her finger farther down, then back up again.
“Sara . . .”
“What?”
He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, watching her as he stripped off his jeans and his briefs and lay back on the bed.
Sara’s heart skipped a beat.
“Hey.” He took her hand. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
He pulled her in for a kiss that went on and on until her heart thrummed wildly and her skin felt hot. And suddenly, it hit her that it had been two long years since she’d done this, and she needed to slow things down.
He seemed to sense her hesitation, even if he couldn’t possibly know what it was about. He stroked his hands softly over her arms. And then his fingers were at her hips, tugging the thin straps. She sat back so he could slide her panties off and toss them away. His gaze moved slowly over her, following the path of his hand over her calf, her knee, her thigh, to finally settle at her bare hip.
“You are so beautiful.”
Her skin flushed at the words. Maybe he’d said it to put her at ease, but it worked. She braced a hand against his shoulder and straddled him again, then closed her eyes and kissed him.
He tasted so good, and she lost herself in the kiss, pressing her body against him and running her hands over his strong arms. He started to ease back, and she brought her hands to his face.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered against his mouth, tracing her fingertips over his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. She loved everything about touching him and feeling his hard, powerful body beneath her.
She kept kissing him and kissing him, and she heard the drawer beside her open and close and the tear of paper. Then he guided her down on top of him, and she gripped his shoulder as she felt pressure, followed by pain. Then he shifted her hips, and the pain turned to shocked pleasure as he filled her completely and every nerve in her body sang.
For a moment, she didn’t move or even breathe. But then the warm stroke of his hands down her back made her relax, and she started moving against him. He held her by the hips and let her set the rhythm, and everything felt so amazingly, intensely good she never wanted it to end. His body was so strong and powerful, and she felt his energy rocking into her with every move.
“Sara?”
“Hmm.”
“Babe, look at me.”
She opened her eyes, and the raw need on his face made it better. Stronger. Brighter—if that was even possible. She kissed him deeply and felt like she was burning from the inside out, and she surged against him again and again until their skin was slick with sweat and she couldn’t wait anymore.
“Nolan, please.”
“Come on.”
“Please.”
He thrust into her, reaching a place so deep that she cried out and came apart. And then his hips bucked hard, and he pulled her even tighter against him as he came, too. For an endless moment, they were fused together, and he held her tightly through the aftershocks.
Her head fell against his shoulder. His skin was hot. Damp. For a moment, she didn’t move, she just absorbed the feeling of his arms around her as her mind reeled.
She eased back, panting, and he brushed the hair from her eyes and looked at her.
“You okay?”
She smiled.
“Did I hurt your ribs?”
“No.” She leaned back, trailing her hand down his chest. She shifted up and off him, then flopped back on the bed, closing her eyes. The bedspread was cool against her skin, and the room seemed like it was spinning.
“Be right back,” he said gruffly.
She didn’t move. She felt lax. Liquidy. Like if she drifted off right now, she might never wake up.
Everything dimmed as he switched off the lamp, and then the mattress sank as he stretched out beside her. He smelled so good. His skin. His bed. His room. She wanted to stay here all night, but she couldn’t. Sleeping here would contradict all that she’d told him about not wanting to start something.
Of course, everything she’d just done contradicted that.
A sharp noise had her bolting upright. “What’s that?”
He sighed heavily. “Someone’s at the door.” He snagged his jeans off the floor and pulled them on. He pi
cked up his T-shirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out.
Sara looked around and spotted the clock on the nightstand. Ten fifteen. She leaned close to the window and parted the blinds. But the window faced a fence, and she couldn’t see the street.
Sara listened. The front door opened and closed. A moment later, he was back. She watched his shadowy silhouette as he got rid of his clothes again.
“Who was it?”
“Brad dropping off my truck.”
“By himself?”
“Talia brought him.”
He stretched out beside her as she propped up on her elbows.
“So . . . they know I’m here?”
“I’m guessing they noticed your car.”
She fell back against the bed and sighed.
He stroked a hand over her hip. She moved closer and rested her head against his chest. It was easier to be beside him without eye contact. He caressed her hip, his fingers sending warm ripples over her skin.
Two years.
No, two years, one week, and . . . four days.
She wondered what he’d think if he knew she’d just broken a long streak of celibacy. Maybe he did know. It might have been obvious when she’d practically begged him not to stop.
Sara rested her hand on his chest. His skin was warm, and she nestled closer, because even now, even in his bed, she still couldn’t get enough of him.
What was she doing? She hadn’t planned this. Fantasized, yes, but she hadn’t planned what would happen if she threw caution out the window and had sex with him, even though this couldn’t go anywhere, and she didn’t want a relationship.
Hey, I’m not denying it.
She’d been right. He’d basically told her he wanted to start something, something she was sure would get thorny and complicated. It was already complicated. His coworkers knew she was here.
She pulled her hand back and sighed.
“Sara.” He took her hand and put it back on his chest. “Stop worrying.”
“I can’t.”
Stone Cold Heart Page 18