by C. C. Gibbs
He dropped his hand and sat motionless. “I don’t know.” He took a deep breath because he’d never experienced such uncompromising feelings. “I wish I did. It would make the next fifty years a helluva lot easier.”
Suddenly aware of the huge changes he’d made in his life for her, ashamed of what she’d so thoughtlessly done, even more frightened he might decide to stop loving her, she whispered, “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” She readjusted her bra, covering herself, as though niceties of decorum mattered. Then she searched his face, wanting to know his thoughts, so she could make him understand how much she regretted her actions. What she’d naïvely viewed as casual was of marked significance to him.
He didn’t speak for a long time and when he finally did, he said simply, “You can’t kiss anyone but me. If you do, I can’t promise I’ll be sensible.”
“I won’t, not ever. And I’m not just saying it because your not being sensible is supposed to frighten me.”
“It should,” he said darkly.
“I understand. But I love you and you love me and that can’t just stop—can it?—because I did something thoughtless?” Her voice was grave, intent, as though this was a test she dare not fail; she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get up and walk away. “I didn’t know how much my kissing that guy bothered you but now—”
A blazing amber stare hit her so hard she flinched.
“Now that you know,” Rafe said, finishing her sentence, each word raw-edged and gritty, “we’ll have to find some salvageable area of agreement because gun to my head, I’ll never love you sweetly. I love you gut deep and burning hot with a mammoth side of crazy and that’s never going to change.” He pinned her with his gaze. “So take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” Nicole said, her smile breaking like sunshine after a storm now that she knew he was going to stay. “But on that same street of crazy love, I have a ground rule or two myself. If I ever find you with a woman, I won’t wait for some bullshit explanation that you’re just friends, or you bumped into her at the grocery store. I’ll do damage to the bitch first, then to you. Kate’s going to teach me to shoot. So you better be scared.”
Rafe laughed. “Goddamn you’re high maintenance, pussycat, but worth every second of angst. I don’t go to grocery stores though.”
“Then I’ll have to take you, show you how the rest of the world lives.” She smiled. “At least we’ll never be bored, right?” Taking his face in her hands, she leaned over and, taking charge, crowded in close and kissed him, teeth and tongue, hard and deep.
Her fine, lace-wrapped tits pressed into his shoulders were a fucking bonus and he was smiling when she relinquished his mouth. “I’m guessing it’ll be pretty tough being bored with the mind-blowing, breath-stealing, world-shattering sex.” Pulling her down on his lap, he unhooked her bra. “Now, one last question before my focus goes all to hell—when do you want to get married? Soon I hope. And if you want a hearts-and-flowers proposal, I’ll hire some violinists tomorrow—no? I didn’t think so, but you can be unpredictable. Anyway, whatever you decide, let me know because I have to tell some people in Geneva I might be taking off a few days.”
She grinned. “I’ll let you know. Depends on how nice you are to me now.”
“Tomorrow then,” he said, kissing her with a decisive energy. “Because I intend to be excessively nice to you tonight. Starting now.” Dropping the bra on the floor, he lifted her up, repositioned her on his lap so she was straddling his thighs, facing him, and gave her butt a little slap. “Up a little, sorry—would you mind easing up a little?” He grinned. “How’s that for nice?” And he helped her to her knees, smoothly eased his dick into place, circled her waist with his hands, then kept her from taking a kamikaze dive.
“Hey.” She pouted, fighting against his restrictive hold. “Are we ever doing it my way?”
“Sure,” he murmured, forcing her to descend slowly.
“Liar.”
“I just have a better memory than you. There now,” he said as she finally settled on his thighs, completely impaled on his dick, and uttered a blissful sigh. “Admit it, every sensation is purer, sharper, when you slow things down.”
She raised her lashes enough to take in his smile. “At the risk of augmenting your considerable ego, you might be right this once. Although it could just be your really huge cock that makes it so goddamn good.” She moved her hips in a slow undulation, shut her eyes, and softly groaned.
Closing his fist around her braid, Rafe tugged, forcing her head back so his gaze was full on her face. “Tell me it’s not just sex,” he whispered, when a good deal of his life had been about sex, when he had more reason than anyone to be skeptical, because he’d never been in love before and it mattered. “Hey, look at me.” Whether he was testing her single-minded focus, her fidelity, or his control, he flexed his hips, thrusting solidly, powerfully upward.
She gasped at the fierce, stabbing pleasure, dizzying sensation brought the world to a stop, and a moment later, when Rafe said, “Answer me,” she panted, “What?”
Clearly she wasn’t capable of an extended conversation right now. “Simple question. Are you mine?” Maintaining the tension on her braid, he rocked gently from side to side, slowly, slowly, magnifying the taut, blissful pressure, casually eliciting the answer he wanted. “Say it.”
The riveting sensation of his erection cramming her full, her distended flesh pulsing and throbbing under Rafe’s delicate shifting movement, obliterated all but a sliver of rational thought. “Yes—is that right?” she breathed.
“Pay attention, pussycat.” He forced his cock higher, deeper, gaining her attention in one area at least. “I want you to say, I’m yours.” And arching his back, he pushed into her that last shocking distance more where the world disappeared and the drama of life was purified into a single moment of all-consuming ecstasy.
“Yes, oh God, oh God, oh God, I’m yours!” Her rush of words rose into a wild cry as her orgasm slammed through her body, clawed through her senses, and jolted her brain with such intense, unbridled pleasure that her cry at the end turned into a shrill, ear-piercing shriek.
A few moments later, his ears ringing, a smile on his face, Rafe released her braid, bent his head, lowered his mouth to her, whispered, “Thank you,” and kissed her slowly, as though committing the satisfying moment to memory. Then, no longer prey to inchoate resentments, he lifted his head, brushed Nicole’s flushed cheek with the backs of his fingers, and smiled a warm, unhurried smile. “Now, how many more times would you like to come?”
“God, you’re a Neanderthal, although,” she murmured, with a flicker of a grin, still drifting in a soft sensual daze, “that’s not all bad. And I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough, okay?”
He laughed. “My darling no-limit girl.”
Moving her hips gently, she winked. “So, I’m getting my way?”
“Absolutely,” he said, his smile brilliant. And I’m getting mine.
Rafe brought her up to climax so fast, she gasped and was still basking in the tremulous afterglow when he fell back on the bed, rolled her under him without dislodging himself, and took them both over the edge that time with the practiced virtuosity of a man who’d done this once or twice before. Her fourth and fifth climax followed in quick succession, the fifth for both of them again and still on a roll, it took a few moments before he registered that the pounding on his chest was Nicole’s fist. He looked down. “What?”
“Do you mind?” Her eyes were luminous with affront.
His heart was hammering like a son of a bitch, his dick was rock hard, his libido was telling him two weeks had been way the hell too long; he needed a second to replay her question in his mind. Didn’t help. “What the hell does that mean?” he muttered, balancing lightly above her, trying his damnedest to be polite.
“It means I’d like to introduce myself.” A lift of her brows. “Nicole Parrish, and you are?”
He locked it d
own in a nanosecond, rolled off her, and lay in a sprawl, breathing hard. “I know who you are,” he said to the ceiling.
Sitting up, she stared at him. “Then I suppose the next question is, do you care who I am?”
He turned his head and tried not to look at her awesome boobs. “Jesus, Tiger, give me a break. I missed you like hell, okay? It’s been at least two shitty weeks and you said no limits. So you changed your mind, I get it. We could reschedule and watch TV if we had one.”
“You’re pissed.”
“You stopped me at a fucking inconvenient time.”
“Sorry.” It was going to take her a while to forget the scores of women with Rafe in all the tabloid photos, like he was going to have to forget about the guy she’d kissed. But at least his explanation for his nonstop screwing agenda made sense. “Really, I am sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
“It’s okay,” he grunted. “I’ll live.” But a moment later, he felt her fingers trace a slow path up his dick and living became a whole lot better. Then he felt her lips slide over the head of his erection, brush over the swollen, sensitive rim, and the world turned golden. His fingers threaded lightly through her hair as she drew his rigid dick into her mouth and every muscle in his body relaxed.
When she heard his soft sigh, she almost stopped to ask, “Feeling good?” But obviously he was feeling good, so she concentrated instead on seeing how much of his fine tattoo she could swallow. Considering the huge uninked crest of his erection was an added extra to the colorful artwork sliding toward her throat, she remembered it was half at best. In his more-bossy-than-usual mood tonight, she thought about asking him if half was okay but decided against it. He was kinda softly purring now, the throaty resonance coming from deep in his chest, so everything was probably going well for him. Such a nice sound; she hadn’t heard it before—part growl, part mellow. Like a big jungle cat having his dick sucked. She’d have to ask him about that feeling later too. Really, she had a ton of questions. But right now she’d better concentrate. He’d just made her come five times. The least she could do was pay him back once.
What, what? He was slowly unbraiding her hair. Talk about multitasking, because he was beginning to breathe hard now too, and his stomach muscles were doing that little flutter that meant he was getting where he wanted to go. Okay, now, take a big breath, relax, see how deep you can take him.
She choked.
He laughed. “Thanks for trying, pussycat.”
She looked up at him, mouth full, her brows raised halfway between a query and a frown. But then he slid his hands over her cheeks gently and set the pace. In her current accommodating mood, she jettisoned all irrelevant thoughts and paid close attention to the rhythm. There was another question she’d have to ask later. Did he have a preference?
It was fortunate she didn’t ask because Rafe couldn’t have said—twenty or so out of fifty or more options. He also couldn’t have said he really didn’t care one way or the other. He absolutely could not have said there had been a woman once in Japan he’d never forget. But the Japanese experience had been about technique not love. Nicole did this for love and that made it the best ever.
He said as much afterward. Then he lifted her up on his chest and added, “You didn’t have to swallow. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“I wanted to,” she replied, smiling, with a trickle of cum on her chin.
He found some towels stacked under the bedside table, wiped her mouth, wiped himself, pulled her back into his arms, and said, “Seriously, that was stellar, pussycat. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.” Her smile was sunny and warm. “It was my fault you were left, well—”
“Not a problem. We have a lifetime to figure out who likes what, when. Yeah?”
She nodded. The solid feel of his hard, muscled body beneath her, his strong arms holding her close, was unalloyed happiness. Life was sweet. “Tell me we can just stay here forever,” she whispered. “Like for a thousand million years.”
He smiled. “Whatever you want, pussycat, it’s yours.” He could do that too; he could give her anything. “For instance,” he added softly, brushing her lower lip with his finger, “whenever you’re rested up, just let me know. It’s your turn again if you’re interested.”
Was he a mind reader or what? “You don’t have to.”
He laughed. “Jesus, so polite. What happened to hey it’s my turn first?”
“It’s just that you’re making a lot more changes for me than I am for you. I feel I should be more appreciative and understanding.”
“If ‘making changes’ is code for all the women, forget it. You found me or I found you and I couldn’t be happier. You know how close we were to never meeting?” He held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger only a sliver apart. “Like that. I was getting bored that day at the party. There was a good chance I would have gone ashore within the hour. You saved me and I’ll be forever grateful.”
She smiled. “So I’m your angel of mercy?”
“No, you’re my pain-in-the-ass angel, but I love you for it. You make my life interesting in a whole lot of good ways,” he added, reminded of the various ways his life was interesting in negative terms—his recent trip to Thailand a case in point. “So what do you say? Feel like screaming the house down?”
“How did you know?”
He grinned. “It’s a gift.”
Much later, after numerous orgasms, after an impressive recitation of Hafiz poetry, they were lying in bed, the debris of the picnic food Rafe had ordered, as well as an empty bottle of sparkling wine and a half-drunk bottle of Macallan, pushed to the foot of the bed.
“Happy, happy?” Rafe murmured, holding her in the crook of his arm.
“Times a gazillion,” Nicole whispered, reaching up to brush his cheek.
“More.” Contentment echoed in Rafe’s voice.
A small silence fell.
“What about children?”
No matter Nicole’s voice was pitched low, it burned into Rafe’s brain like white fire. He tensed. “What do you mean, what about children?”
She moved a little, propped her chin on his chest. “That’s not an answer. That’s another question.”
“I don’t know how to answer.” He remembered Carlos asking about children. Maybe he should have read the dossiers on Nicole that Gora and Carlos had assembled. On the other hand, he was the last person in the world who wanted to dwell on the past. Count his goddamn blessings, that was his mantra.
“Come on, relax,” Nicole said. A tiny smile. “You must have some opinion.”
Relax, my ass. “How about I don’t want to think about it?”
“Then the decision is mine?”
“No, I didn’t say that.” He felt like he was walking a tightrope without a net. “Look, we have a wedding to plan. First things first, okay?”
“Okay.”
But there was something in her tone that instinctively raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “No argument? Okay—just like that?”
“Why would I argue?” she said sweetly.
Deal silence for a moment while he gauged the possible complications in that sweetness. “Because you always argue, that’s why.”
She smiled. “Seriously, we do have a wedding to plan. And in case I haven’t said it lately,” she adde, quietly, “I love you madly, madly.” She took a quick breath. “Pearly pink and burning hot.”
Rafe’s expression lightened. “Wonderful,” he said simply, rising up enough to kiss her forehead. “I love you with all my heart, pussycat. And when I screw up, as I surely will, just let me know and I’ll set it right.”
Her smile was irresistible. “Same here if I screw up, okay?”
His grin was shamelessly hot. “Perfect. Now where were we?”
Want to see how Nicole and Rafe’s story began?
See the next page for a preview of
POWER AND POSSESSION
the first installment in the Reckless series.
; Chapter 1
Monte Carlo, Monaco, August 1
Nicole Parrish squinted against the sun pouring in through the bedroom windows, her uncle’s penthouse apartment curtainless for some ungodly reason. Or more practically because it was forty stories above the ground. “I’m up, I’m up, okay. I heard you.” Her friend, Fiona, was standing at the end of the bed, looking fresh and bright, every golden hair in place. “Seriously, you’re sure it’s not a problem?”
“God, no. It’s a mega yacht. I Googled it. Two hundred fifty feet, six decks, helipad, swimming pool, hot tub, gym, spa, crew of thirty-three, built two years ago of aluminum for speed and fuel economy—how’s that for an oxymoron. And the guest list is always huge, the invitations allow for escorts, partners, friends—whatever. So it’s not a problem.”
“Still.” Nicole pursed her lips. “It feels like party crashing.”
“You’re too sober. That’s your problem. My cousin says this is a not-to-be-missed party.” Fiona Kelly, dressed in a green shimmering bikini that matched her eyes, lifted her mimosa. “Want some of my breakfast? Your uncle has one kick-ass champagne selection.”
Almost lost in the huge bed, Nicole lazily stretched. “It was a late night—actually morning, by the time I got home. I need food.”
“The buffet is set up in the dining room as usual thanks to the food fairies.” Nicole liked her privacy so Dominic Knight, her uncle, had given his staff orders to be discreet.
“Any breakfast tortillas?”
“Of course. Your uncle runs a tight ship. Or maybe you’re his favorite niece.”
“He’s good to all of us. Did Mom call?” While her uncle was laissez-faire in his oversight, her mother wasn’t.
“Only three times.” Fiona grinned. “She must get up at dawn.”
“Yoga at sunrise,” Nicole muttered. “I didn’t inherit those genes.”
“Don’t I know it, Miss Night Owl. Anyway, I didn’t tell your mom you rolled in at seven. I told her you were busy Skyping with your new grad counselor at Columbia. A mix-up with your fall class schedule.”
