by Whitley Cox
“We can talk about it more if you like,” she offered. “Or we can change the topic. I’ll take your cue. But just know, I’m here to listen if you like. I’m a pretty good listener.”
Suddenly caught up in a harsh strangle of emotion, he cleared his throat, wrinkled his nose and cracked his neck before turning to face the beautiful woman he’d insisted accompany him home. “Dinner will be in about thirty. I’ll show you to your room, then I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“You don’t shower at the gym?” she asked, slipping off the bar stool and curiously wandering around his open floor plan kitchen and dining room, her eyes wide as she took in his art and décor. He’d totally revamped the entire house when Loni moved out. He needed a fresh start, and that meant new paint, new everything. His vision, not hers.
“Sometimes I do,” he said. He made sure to set the oven timer so that their dinner didn’t burn. “But tonight, I didn’t. I had to finish up some paperwork before I left, so I did that in lieu of showering.”
She swallowed, the sexy line of her throat gently bobbing. “I see.”
While in his truck driving through the snow, she’d piled her sandy-blonde hair up into a messy topknot on her head, revealing several piercings in her ears—all studs or tiny hoops. He could count at least four on each ear.
He already knew she had a fit body, but when she pulled off her hoodie and tucked it under her arm, he was reminded of just how fit she was. He could also tell she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her black T-shirt.
She cleared her throat.
Shit! Had he been staring at her chest?
Yep. Yep, he had been. He lifted his gaze to her light brown eyes and smiled his famously flirty grin. Her smile back was small, but it seemed to be genuine.
Phew. No harm, no foul.
He grabbed her duffle bag off the counter and headed in the direction of the stairs. “Rooms are this way.”
He didn’t bother waiting for her to follow him and took the stairs two at a time. He hadn’t smelled it when they were out in the snow and she was all bundled up, but now that she’d taken off her coat, the woman smelled incredible. Spicy and feminine.
He headed down the hallway toward the guest bedroom. Each of the kids had their own rooms, and he had the master suite, but there was still another empty room at the end of the hall. That had been where he slept when things between him and Loni started to go south.
“In here.” He opened the door, flicked on the light and plopped her bag down on the bed. She entered behind him moments later.
“Your house is beautiful,” she said quietly.
“Thanks.”
Her eyes focused on the queen-size bed in the center of the room.
He had a king-size bed in his room. Not that it’d seen much action as of late.
She nibbled on her bottom lip and worried her hands in front of her waist.
What was up?
“Everything okay?” he asked, the sudden urge to rest his hand on her shoulder taking him by surprise and causing him to take a step back toward the door.
She lifted her gentle brown eyes to his, and that’s when he noticed the copper flecks within the iris. They were unlike eyes he’d ever seen before. They were beautiful. “This is weird,” she said quietly. “I mean … I don’t know you at all, and suddenly I’m in your truck, then your home, then your … ”
Ah, right.
He held his hands up in front of his body and shook them in protest. “This isn’t my bed, if that’s what you’re getting at. My room is across the hall. This is the guest room.”
“The guest room … ”
He exhaled in confusion. Fuck, he needed a shower. “Do you want to call or text a friend? Let them know that you’re here, where you are? Are you feeling unsafe?”
Christ, how would he feel if he found out Tia did something like this? Got into a vehicle with a man she didn’t know, went to his house, agreed to spend the night. Obviously, she wouldn’t do this at eight years old, but he wasn’t sure he’d be okay with her doing it at any age. How could he not think about how this looked? About how this woman felt? Had he cajoled her? He’d only been trying to help. Get her home safe.
Son of a bitch.
He took a few more steps back until he was completely in the hallway and not in the room with her any longer.
“I am not a bad guy, I swear. I have no plans to … ” Fuck, he couldn’t even say the words, let alone think them. He huffed in exhaustion. “Your virtue is safe with me.” His lip tilted up on one side before he bowed his head just slightly for good measure. “Ma’am.”
Was that a whimper?
His head snapped up from where he’d been staring at the floor. The look she was giving him was anything but unsure, anything but nervous or uneasy. The look she was giving him was pure lioness. Full apex predator.
Now he was just plain confused.
She’d switched on a dime from worried and unsure, to looking like she wanted to skip dinner and go straight to her own version of dessert.
Blinking, he took another step back toward his bedroom door. “I’m going to go shower. You call who you need to call, let them know where you are and that I’ll do my damnedest to get you home tomorrow when the roads are cleared. You can decide later if you want to come back for Christmas dinner. Who knows, you might be sick of me by morning and run back to the gym to cancel your membership.” He chuckled awkwardly. Then, before her looks could confuse him anymore, he turned around and headed into his room.
After doing as she was told and texting not only her parents, but her one and only friend-slash-work colleague, Colleen, Aurora sat on the bed in her temporary bedroom and listened to the shower running.
Zak was in that shower.
Zak was across the hall, only feet away, and he was naked and covered in soapy bubbles and hot water.
Yes, please.
Everything inside her tightened, including her nipples and pussy.
She knew what she’d done was reckless—jumping into the vehicle of a man she hardly knew and agreeing to go back to his house and stay the night—but it was Zak!
She’d never done a one-night stand in her life. Never left a bar with a guy, spent a night tangled up in the sheets as they explored each other’s bodies. She’d had all of four boyfriends her entire life. One for two years in high school, one for two years in college, one for two years in law school, and … Pressley.
And they’d all dumped her. They’d all called it quits with her.
Although none of her ex-boyfriends had been bad guys, they hadn’t been bad boys either. They’d been kind, smart, funny, sweet and attractive. On paper, they were perfect. The kind of guy any girl’s parents would be happy to see their daughter marry.
Only Aurora had never come close to marriage with any of them.
None of them wanted her for life.
Truth be told, she hadn’t wanted any of them for life either.
Perhaps they were too perfect. Too squeaky-clean and her affections had been simulated. She said she loved them because it’s what she thought she should say and feel, not how she truly felt. They were not what she truly wanted.
Because what she wanted was a bad boy. A buff, tattooed redhead with scruff and muscles for days who wasn’t afraid to get a little dirty.
And there was such a man across the hall.
The sound of the water shutting off drew her from her thoughts.
Straining her ears, she waited for a bathroom door to open.
Could she?
What would he do? Reject her? Shoot her down? Toss her ass out into the snow?
She shifted where she sat on the bed so that her view out her bedroom door was directly into his room—because he’d left his door open.
His. Door. Was. Open.
Was that on purpose?
Had he done that as an invitation?
Her nerves ratcheted up to eleven, and the hair along her arms began to tingle. Her stomach did an enormous som
ersault.
She had to try.
If he dropped her off at her apartment tomorrow and she hadn’t at least let him know how she felt about him, she’d never forgive herself.
The bathroom door opened and out he stepped, wearing nothing but a towel.
A.
Fucking.
Towel.
It was slung low on his hips, revealing that Adonis line in an erotic V that pointed at all the goods hidden beneath the white terry cloth. Abs upon abs, muscles rippling and dripping wet, glistening because he hadn’t bothered to towel off—thank fucking God. He had more tattoos than what she saw at the gym on his arms. They were across his chest, down his sides and over his belly. The man was covered. The man was perfection.
The lump in her throat tripled in size.
He was perfection.
The perfect bad boy.
And boy oh boy, did she ever want to be bad.
For once in her life, in her perfect, law-abiding, straight-A-student life, she wanted to throw caution to the wind, let her inhibitions scatter in the gusts with the snowflakes and give herself the Christmas gift of a lifetime.
He was the only thing she wanted. The only thing on her list.
The only question was—would he play Santa Claus and let her unwrap her present, or would he turn her down and kick her to the curb with nothing more than a broken heart and a lump of coal in her hand?
4
Whistling Jingle Bells, Zak pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and grabbed a pair of black boxer briefs.
The timer on the oven would probably beep soon. He needed to get down there and check dinner.
His stomach grumbled at the thought of finally getting food.
It was Thursday. Could he break his rule and have a beer?
He normally only drank on the weekends. Stayed clean and healthy during the week and indulged on red meat and alcohol Friday and Saturday.
It was these rules that kept him fit. Kept him healthy. Kept him in line.
He was about to toss his towel onto the floor and pull on his boxers when a knock at the doorjamb gave him pause.
He turned around.
Shit, he hadn’t shut his bedroom door.
He wasn’t used to having anybody but the kids in his house, and even then, nudity had never really been an issue with them.
She stood there on the threshold of his bedroom, her nipples making points form at the front of her T-shirt, her chest practically heaving.
Was everything okay?
He was about to ask as much when she moved toward him, her pace full of purpose. She grabbed his face and kissed him.
And it wasn’t just a peck on the lips. No, this woman knew how to kiss. She knew how to throw her whole body into it. A low and pleasant hum warmed him from the center outward.
Her soft, slippery little tongue pushed its way into his mouth. Then she started to suck. She started to fucking suck on his tongue. He moaned as his cock stirred beneath the towel, his hands moving to wrap around her back.
This had been so unexpected, and yet he couldn’t get over how much he suddenly wanted it—wanted her.
A shrill beeping sound from downstairs made them both still. She was the first to pull away.
Her light brown eyes were glassy, and her cheeks held an adorable pink flush. He dropped his gaze to her plump, wet lips and he swept his thumb over the bottom one back and forth. He stilled when she pressed the tip of her tongue to his thumb, then parted her lips and lunged at it with her teeth, nipping the pad.
He tugged it away, grinning.
Oh, she was a wicked little thing.
Grabbing her around the back of the neck, he crushed his mouth to hers, taking control of the kiss this time, forcing her lips to part for his, to mold to his. She gave over all the power and melted against him, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to her. He was about to push the hem of her shirt up to explore her lack of a bra when the loud beeping of the oven timer downstairs had them pulling a part once again.
Her ample chest rose and fell rapidly, his did too.
“Hold that thought,” he murmured, grabbing hold of his towel and heading downstairs toward the kitchen. “Be right back.” Then he took off as fast as his legs could carry him, hoping that his chicken wasn’t burning, but even more so that the woman in his bedroom would still be there when he returned.
Aurora’s face hurt from how hard she was smiling.
He wanted her.
Zak wanted her.
Oh my God.
She heard him bounding back up the stairs and toyed with the idea of throwing herself provocatively onto the bed.
What would that look like?
She had no time to even consider a position because he was back. In all his naked, tattooed glory.
Like a proud male lion, he stalked toward her, his fist holding his towel in place, but the fact that he was turned on pointed right at her through the terry cloth. His grin was wide and salacious, making every ember of arousal inside her flicker into raging, licking flames. “Now, where were we?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her.
She licked her lips at the thought of tracing her tongue over his abs, over his ink and down to his …
“My, those thoughts are dirty, Rory,” he purred, tucking his finger beneath her chin and tilting her eyes up from his towel to his face. “They’re written all over your face, darlin’.”
Her top teeth snagged her bottom lip.
His thumb pulled it free. “I’m not reading into this wrong, am I?” Unease flashed across his face. “You’re not … here because you think you owe me something, right?”
His thumb slid along her bottom lip, and she flicked her tongue out to lick it like she had before. Heat flared in his intense blue eyes. “I’m here because it’s all I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on you over six months ago.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up at the same time he pushed his thumb past her lips into her mouth. “Six months, huh? Now I feel like a right fool that it took me this long to notice you.”
A slight sting singed her heart. She pushed it away and welcomed his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, nipping it with her teeth. Lust burned in his eyes.
“What do you want, Rory?” He removed his thumb, and she had to suppress her whimper.
Her breathing was already erratic, her nipples achingly tight and her panties saturated. All her fantasies were coming to fruition. Could she have him in all the ways she’d imagined these past six months?
His brows rose in query. “Hmm, Aurora, what is it you want?”
She was having a hard time keeping her gaze on his face and not letting it roam his perfect torso. It was an even bigger struggle not to reach out and pull the towel free.
Unless …
She lifted her arm, extended her hand forward and gripped the towel, pulling him closer. Then she tugged harder, until the towel slipped off his body and she was face to face with an image she had only dreamt about. And her dreams had in no way done him any kind of justice. He was spectacular. A bead of pre-cum glistened like a shiny pearl on the plum-hued crown. Her mouth flooded with moisture as she realized she was finally going to get to taste him.
She dropped to her knees, lifted her eyes to his, gripped him by the base of his cock and brought her head forward. “I want this,” she said, never breaking their eye contact as she slid him into her mouth. He tasted incredible. A flavor she could easily find herself craving. She shut her eyes and went to task, taking him to the back of her throat and then back out to the tip, swirling her tongue around and around, using her hand to help pump.
His hand landed on top of her head, and a sigh above her fueled her fire, causing her to push him deeper down her throat, suppressing her gag reflex as best she could. She cupped his balls with her other hand and massaged them in her palm.
In addition to being ripped as hell, the man took care of himself downstairs as well. His balls were shaved and his
pubic hair trimmed short. He really was fucking perfection. And for the night, he was hers.
She released his cock from her mouth and dipped her head, taking a ball into her mouth and rolling it around on her tongue while still using her hand to stroke him.
“Fuck,” he breathed, bucking his hips and pushing himself into her palm. “Mouth again,” he grunted, cupping her cheek and guiding her head upward again. His thumb landed on her bottom lip again, and he pushed down. “Open up, baby.” She lifted her eyes to his once again and did as she was told, opening up her mouth.
His eyes were hooded, his cheeks a sexy shade of dusty rose.
He batted her hand away from his cock and gripped the base with his own hand, guiding it into her open mouth. He released his shaft, grabbed her hand and put it back where it had been. His other hand remained cupping her jaw though, his thumb resting just beneath her lip.
“Love seeing and feeling my cock slide into your mouth, Rory. Fucking love it.”
She loved it too. Loved watching his reaction as she took him deep, brought him to the edge.
She blinked up at him, widened her mouth and bottomed out again.
A growl rumbled low in his chest. His grip on her jaw and cheek tightened. “Gonna come soon, babe.”
Yes.
She pulled him free and ran her tongue over the tip as if it were a popsicle on the hottest day of the year and she needed to catch all the drips. Can’t waste a drop. Not when it tasted that good—she’d never met a man whose cum tasted good, let alone delicious—not until Zak. With Zak she’d never waste a drop.
“Fuck, babe,” he groaned. His thumb pulled down on her bottom lip. “All the way to the back. Take it all.”
Yes.
She slid him back into her mouth, slow. She knew it was torture for him. His grip on her jaw told her he was struggling. The cadence of his hips faltered too. He was close.
“Deeper, baby. Know you can take me deeper. Gonna come.”
She did as she was told and pushed him just a little deeper. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she managed to get him down without gagging.
