No answer.
As his eyes adjusted, he crossed through the living room and dining area into the kitchen. He half-expected to see Tate standing at the back door, a filmy white gown frothing at her ankles, a tiny nymph mesmerized by the powerful beauty of the storm.
No sign of her downstairs as he moved through the main floor in silence.
A damp breeze blew through the opened windows at the far end of the hall. Her erotic scent beckoned him up the staircase.
He paused at the doorway leading to Tate’s bedroom. He watched the curtains billow and curl against the wind, sending humid air swirling into the room. Small puddles glistened on the wood floor as raindrops pelted the screen.
His fingers fumbled against the wall, searching for the light switch.
“Don’t,” she warned in a hoarse voice. “Leave it dark.”
“Tate?” he said, striding toward a muffled sniff beneath the rumpled covers. “What’s wrong? Honey, are you sick?”
He eased onto the bed. Only the top of her scalp was visible beneath the down comforter. His fingers swept the blonde spikes from her forehead. “If you’re cold, I can shut the window.”
“Leave them open. I’m not cold. I like the smell of rain.”
The soft sounds of falling water mixed with the quiet hitches in her breathing. Gently, he peeled the covers back. When he glimpsed her tear-stained face, her sadness sliced straight through him.
“What?” he asked, holding her chin, letting his cool fingers brush her damp cheeks. He ignored the rapid beat of his own pulse. “You afraid of the storm?”
“No. The storm will blow over.” Tate’s head nestled farther into the pillow, but her lips trembled. “I’m afraid this won’t.”
The room stayed silent except for the beat of rain on the windowsill. It felt like Chinese water torture, the steady drips of rain against the agonizing wait for Tate to speak.
She exhaled. “I heard from the agency today.”
Nathan’s stomach turned at her flat tone. He didn’t have to ask to know it had been bad news. After kicking off his boots and removing his shirt, he slid in beside her, ready to offer any kind of comfort she needed.
She moved into his arms automatically, clung to his neck and sobbed. Great gasping breaths followed a torrent of tears that soaked his chest and broke his heart. He held her, murmuring calming words, stroking her, kissing her until finally she settled down.
Tate’s breath floated over his chest in a hesitant stutter. “Nathan. Please. Don’t go.”
“Ssh. I’ll stay right here.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Just rest.” A few hiccups later, her breathing slowed. When had Tate ever allowed herself to need him? To need anyone? Nathan’s hold on her tightened. With Tate snuggled against him, he drifted, content in ways he’d never dreamed possible. Wishing for things he’d long forgotten he had ever wanted.
A crack of thunder jolted him awake. Disoriented by the tickle of silky hair under his chin, Nathan glanced down and saw Tate trying to sit up. She couldn’t move with his arms banded around her stomach. “Relax.”
“What time is it?” she said groggily.
“I don’t know.” He lazily stroked the soft bare skin above her abdomen. “I think the power went out. You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Tate shuddered. “I’d rather not relive my blubbering-idiot routine, thank you very much.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, drawing in her sweet, warm fragrance mixed with the clean scent of rain. “Although I had fantasized that the first time I was invited into your bed your cries would have been from pleasure.”
After a second of silence she placed a small kiss on his biceps. “It could be pleasure. But as you can see, my bed is not exactly seduction central. Plain cotton sheets, not satin. A goose-down comforter, not a silk duvet. And I don’t look the part of a temptress in this ratty old T-shirt. Maybe if I wore a slinky scarlet negligee, I’d appeal to your romantic nature?”
Nathan rolled on top of her, silencing her protests with a scorching kiss. “Look at me. It’s never been about that, and you damn well know it.”
Her eyes widened. “That coming from Mr. Romance? I thought you’d be appalled at my utter lack of frills and imagination for the boudoir.”
“No.” He seized her gaze. “The appalling reason you haven’t invited me into your boudoir, my sweet Tate, is because you knew once I’d been in your bed, I’d never leave it. And then you couldn’t deny what is between us.” He kissed her thoroughly, with a measure of harshness, melding their mouths until their very breathing became one. Until she shifted restlessly beneath him.
“Fine. Now that you’re here, make yourself useful and touch me,” she said, provocatively arching her hips.
Nathan pinned her hands above her head to ensure he held her undivided attention. “Make myself useful? My, aren’t we flip. Why are you so scared?”
Tate squirmed, but not from arousal. “I’m not scared.”
“Uh-huh.” He kissed the frown lines between her eyes before relocking his dark gaze on hers. “Physically no, you’re very confident. We’ve made love in every conceivable place, in every conceivable way, in the last few weeks, and it’s been phenomenal. But emotionally, it’s a different story.”
“What more do you want?”
“This.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I’ve fantasized about this, Tate. You, under me.”
She tried pushing him away. He held firm.
“Let me get this straight,” she said crossly. “After all the Kama Sutra stuff we tried and the damn near contortionist ways we’ve done it, this is what you fantasize about? Sex in missionary position?”
“No.” He nipped the corner of her pouty mouth, nuzzling the pulse beating erratically near her temple that gave away her panic. “I’ve fantasized about making love to you while looking into your eyes, face-to-face, heart-to-heart. Since you can’t escape from me in this position, you can’t help but see the way I feel about you.” Every emotion, fear especially, clenched his gut hard at his admittance, but for once he didn’t try to hide it from her.
Her frank gaze didn’t waver. But neither did she ask him for an explanation.
Nathan ignored the ripping sensation near his heart from her silence. He swallowed her gasp of distress with a determined kiss, using his body to convey the love and tenderness he didn’t dare put into words. She went from warm to hot. From tensed to yielding. His sex hardened at her sweet surrender even as he fought to be gentle. “Let me show you this is more than some Faustian agreement,” he murmured. “Let me make love to you in the most romantic way I know. With my heart.”
He removed her tattered T-shirt and the tiny pair of blue bikini panties. Nathan shucked off his socks, shuddering at the thrill of her small hands sliding down his boxers. His pants and underwear hit the floor in record time.
He moaned when she slowly rolled on a condom. His mouth took hers in a languorous kiss as his knee spread her thighs apart.
Tate bowed, circling her arms around his shoulders, letting their bodies connect chest to chest, belly to belly, thigh to thigh. He immersed himself in her tight, wet heat slowly, to draw out the moment. He stopped moving to hold himself stiff-armed above her.
“What?” she breathed, teasing frantic kisses over his chin, his jaw, his neck, anyplace her eager mouth could reach.
“Do you feel that?” he growled. “How perfectly we fit like I was made to love you?”
Tate clamped down on her internal muscles. “I don’t need the words, Nathan. I need the action.” Her fingers dug into his backside, not-so-subtly urging him to get moving. “Now.”
He went completely still, ground his teeth and slowly pulled out.
Nathan sat back on his heels. He’d never believed he’d have the fortitude to back off when heaven summoned, but Tate had wrested control of the situation with harder-faster-now demands. This was not the
special communing of bodies and souls he’d envisioned.
Damn. She was tricky.
Then again, so was he. This night he wanted to show her the other side of sex. The magic. The beauty. The romance. The rarity of what they shared. To make her understand the depth of his feelings before it was too late.
“What’s wrong?” she asked with a hint of annoyance.
He absentmindedly ran his hand up her quivering thighs. “It’s too dark in here. Got any candles lying around?”
“Candles?” she repeated, alarmed by Nathan’s abrupt departure from her body. Had she done something wrong?
“Indulge me,” he said, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. “I want to make love to you by candlelight.”
She chose to ignore the make love comment. She watched his muscles ripple as he strode naked across her bedroom to the dressing table. “There’s a candle on the right,” she directed him. “Should be a light there someplace too.”
“Ah. Here we go.” A match flared, releasing a whiff of sulfur. The wick spit blue fire and began to glow. The sultry scent of vanilla drifted to her when Nathan placed the candle on the nightstand. He slipped back into her bed, and the flame flickered wildly, but not nearly as wildly as her pulse.
Twin flames of desire burned in his eyes, along with something else. Determination. She sensed his restraint, his control, but mostly the maleness that gave her a forbidden thrill.
Propped up on his elbow, he said, “Much better. Now…” He leaned over to drag his mouth over the tops of her breasts. “Where were we?”
Tate tried to slide beneath him, to feel every bit of his warm, hard flesh enveloping hers again. “Actually, we were already—”
“I don’t remember exactly.” The very tip of his tongue swirled maddening little circles over her nipple. “Guess that means we’ll have to start over.”
“Nathan,” she protested. Tiny puffs of air puckered the nub into a hot, tight point, and she gasped.
“Tate,” he teased right back, offering sweet torture on the other breast. “Relax. No hurry.” His warm breath flowed over her skin, sweeter than honey, thicker than syrup. His hands, usually eager and rough, caressed her like gentle waves. Yet he made no move to bridge the distance to her straining nakedness.
Need lashed through her. Images of his sweaty body plastered to hers. Skin slapping. Cries. Moans. Screams. Tate wanted that blinding rush. She craved it. Dammit, she deserved it because his tender side was far more alarming than his sexual hunger. That she could handle. This type of…reverence scared the bejeezus out of her.
“You are so soft,” he murmured, tasting the curve of her shoulder, sweeping his fingertips from the crest of a peaked breast to shaking knee. “In the rush to be inside you, I forget just how perfect the outside is. How perfect every part of you is to me.”
She crashed. Burned. Utterly melted.
Tate closed her eyes and knew she’d lost the battle for control as she’d lost herself in Nathan’s potent words. She hadn’t allowed this unhurried meeting of bodies for good reason. The journey would undo her, especially when the route he’d mapped out was torturously slow. He meant to imprint his soul to hers so she’d never forget him. Her body ached for this surrender. Could her heart remain firmly out of his reach, or was it already too late?
“I love your hands,” he said, nibbling the knuckles. “Small, yet strong.” He sucked her pinky into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Nathan nipped and licked every digit.
Good God. Even her hands were putty in his hands. She went limp. Only then did he move on.
And there was no rushing him, no matter what signals her body screamed. If she arched closer, he retreated. If she touched him frantically, his leisurely touches stopped entirely. Her only action was inaction. Regardless if it felt like her flesh was unraveling from her bones with every lingering sweep of his tongue, every provoking nip of his teeth, every calculated caress, he controlled the pace.
Candlelight flickered, deepening the mysterious planes and hollows of his masculine face. No cocky smile. No smug gleam in his eye. Just Nathan engrossed in providing her pleasure. Tate was spellbound. Helpless. Completely lost in the way he made her feel. The tight rein she held on her heart slipped a notch.
Where Nathan’s mouth touched, paths of fire exploded over her skin. He didn’t dally over one particular spot, preferring to nibble, lick and stroke everywhere.as he seduced her with unhurried bliss.
Drugged by his heated touches, she floated in myriad sensations. His hot mouth suctioned to her neck while he used all ten fingers to massage her scalp. Thumbs teased her lower abdomen into a rolling quiver as his teeth playfully tugged at her earlobe. His callused fingertips stroked the sensitive underside of her arm, from the erratic pulse thumping in her wrist to the ticklish bend in her waist. He used the tremendous strength in his hand to tame her, to gentle her to his pace.
His scent, her scent, mingled with the vanilla candle and the cool aroma of rain. He’d steeped her in an erotic pool; she was drowning in him.
A husky groan rumbled from her throat. “Please, Nathan. Enough. I want you.”
“I know,” he breathed in her ear. Fiery shudders turned chaotic inside her, extracting another whip of desire. “We’ll get there. But I’m not done. Other side.”
Tate was long past arguing. He rolled her over on her stomach and stretched her arms high above her head. Briefly, his heavy erection dipped between her thighs. She instinctively bowed back to reach his cock to show him how much she burned to have that thickness buried deep inside her.
“Naughty, naughty,” he growled near her temple. Nathan rocked his pelvis forward, brushing the stiff length firmly in the cleft of her rear. “I am not giving in to you this time.”
“Please.” Her voice wobbled as she glanced over her shoulder, believing he’d reconsider when he glimpsed the wildness in her eyes.
“No.” Abruptly he pulled away, using his strong thighs to urge her legs wide open as he knelt between them.
First, he curved his large fingers through her smaller ones, his rough-skinned hands clasped to the softer backs of hers. Simultaneously he drew those work-roughened palms down the outside of each arm. Moisture dripped from her sex at the unexpectedness eroticism of his simple caresses. He’d trapped her in a veil of sexual awareness, blinding her to anything but the knowledge that every loving stroke, every tender touch, bound her to him; body, heart and soul.
The bed shifted and butterfly touches danced down her back to the dimples above her buttocks. Tate gasped the second his tongue replaced his fingers. He flicked, teased, until she trembled violently. “Lift your shoulders,” he commanded.
Her compliance was immediate. Nathan’s hands slipped beneath her to knead the plump breasts hard, the way she liked it. He twirled, plucked, pulled the nipples into tight points that begged for his tongue to ease the sharp sting.
Several agonizing seconds ticked by when he didn’t touch her at all. Finally, a silken stream of hair meandered down her spine. Once. Twice. Followed by a slow, warm tongue gliding up from tailbone to the base of her skull. When his teeth sank into the nape of her neck, Tate nearly came off the bed.
His sweet, hot breath at her shoulder echoed as a shudder in her soul. “I love touching you. Tasting you. Making you want more.”
“No more teasing,” she gasped when his hands massaged her butt.
“Just a little,” he said, drawing one long finger down the cleft, delving that finger into the wetness between her thighs. He groaned. “You are so hot when you’re wet and ready for me. I don’t want to go slow.”
“Then don’t. Go fast. Go hard. Right now.”
“Fast has its place, but slow and steady wins the race.” He pushed firmly against her core. “Am I winning, Tate?”
A “Yes” wrenched from her lips as he added another finger. Nathan’s bristly beard rubbed back and forth on her shoulder blade, increasing her anticipation. The more she writhed, the stiffer her nipple
s became, scraping against the sheets. Tate contracted her internal muscles, attempting to pull both fingers higher, deeper.
He removed his hand with acute gentleness and then eased her onto her back.
Tate’s lungs were devoid of air; she couldn’t breathe for wanting him.
“Now I’m done teasing.” Rising above her, he created space between her legs. The intense fire burning in his eyes had softened. A ragged sigh ripped from his mouth, and he paused, looking completely forlorn.
“What?” She framed his rugged face in her hands. He was so sweet. So damn perfect. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just… Looking at you startles me sometimes. You’re beautiful.” Nathan lightly touched his lips to her trembling mouth. “You steal my breath, Tate.” He broke eye contact, turning his head into her small hand still cradling his face. He placed a delicate kiss in the center of her palm.
For the first time, Tate realized Nathan was equally unprepared for this connection between them. Whatever he’d set out to prove to her tonight had gotten lost in the emotion they brought out in each other. At that moment, whether she liked it or not, or even if she understood it or not, she belonged only to him.
Dirty Deeds Page 24
