by Lori Foster
Zane carried her into the tiny bathroom and stood her on her feet. He slipped his hand into her hair again, unable to stop touching her. "Towels?"
She looked shy and sweet, standing there on wobbly legs, wearing only a Gypsy skirt and a warm blush. Her breasts were lovely, small but perfectly shaped, her nipples flushed dark. He had no idea how much longer he could last.
She bent and pulled two towels from the cabinet beneath the sink. When she straightened, Zane dropped his slacks and stepped out of them.
The towels fell from her hands. Staring so hard he felt her gaze like a touch, Tamara said, "Oh my."
It hurt to smile. Hell, it hurt to breathe.
It seemed the Winston curse had a stranglehold on him, and he wasn't sure if he should fight it or embrace it. Tamara threatened him in every way he'd sworn a woman never would. Before she'd entered his store and whispered that she wanted him, he'd been doing an admirable job of staying on his given course. Most of his attention had been on growing his computer business. He'd balanced that with his responsibilities to his family. Family, in his book, always came first.
Between his business and his family he'd managed to fit in the occasional woman—like twice weekly—to keep his body sated. He was a very sexual man, and since there had always been willing women, he'd seen no reason to deprive himself.
But now other women didn't interest him at all, and more often than not, Tamara shattered his concentration on business and family. She lurked in his mind, crawled under his skin and into his dreams, and she was easily pushing her way into his heart.
He'd watched his brothers tumble into love, one right after the other. They hadn't fought it, as he'd always intended to. Hell, Cole had sought it out, and Mack had grinned his way to the altar. Even Chase, so quiet and deep, had accepted his fate.
Zane had thought he could keep Tamara in a neatly assigned slot, that he could accept her proposition, get her out of his system, and then get on with his bachelor ways.
It seemed she had the same intent: sexual pleasure, and nothing more. And being the perverse bastard he was, that drove him nuts.
He wouldn't allow it, damn it. Neither the Winston curse, nor any spell his little Gypsy might cast, was going to keep him from doing exactly as he pleased. And at the moment, it would please him to be inside her, to feel her climax while she was under him, moving with him and groaning out his name.
He could see the pulse thrumming in her throat as she stared at his groin. He could have sworn he got harder just from her interested gaze. "Have you come to any conclusions?"
Her focus lifted to his face, but not for long. "Yes."
Zane smiled. `"Well, I hope you like what you see, because you're going to be seeing it a lot."
Tamara's heart pounded so hard, she felt faint. Zane was ... more than she'd expected. She'd known he had a wonderful body; slim jeans and clinging T-shirts had revealed that even before she'd seen him without his shirt.
But now, standing in front of her in the raw, he was the most magnificent thing she'd ever seen. Her legs felt like butter, her skin was hot, her stomach dropped. She couldn't stop staring.
Surely no sane woman would look away from the sight
of him. His hips were lean and hard, his legs long and muscled, big feet planted firmly apart, as if prepared for a battle.
She nearly snorted. She had no intention of fighting him. She wanted him, and the pleasure he'd already given her hadn't diminished that desire one whit.
She licked her lips and perceived his slight movement. When she glanced up, his face had gone hard, his eyes dilated. "Can I touch you?"
Her fingertips pulsed with the need to feel him, all of him. His wide shoulders gleamed under the fluorescent light. Nearly hidden beneath dark chest hair, she saw his small brown nipples, and lower down on his abdomen, his navel was circled with the same dark hair. His stomach was flat, ridged with muscles, and she wondered how he stayed in such excellent shape with all the hours he worked. Genes, she decided, thinking of how gorgeous his brothers were, too.
"I want you to touch me," he told her, his voice dark and mesmerizing. One corner of his mouth kicked up. "Hell, I'm counting on it."
Tamara inched closer, but he stopped her, saying, "Let's get you out of that skirt first."
Her mouth went dry. It was silly, considering he'd already looked at her in great detail, but she blushed. "I hadn't pictured it going quite like this."
"Like this how?"
He stared at her breasts, which throbbed, her nipples pulling tight. She waved a hand at the bathroom. "Here, where the light is the brightest."
"I want to see you," His gaze snared and held hers. "And you want to see me, too, remember? Your book said we should get comfortable naked."
He looked plenty comfortable to her. And with good reason. A man couldn't look any better than Zane Winston. "You can be proud of your body."
His gaze heated, moving over her bared upper body. Stepping closer, he caught the waistband of the skirt and worked it over her hips. He brushed it down her thighs, and when he let it go, it dropped to rest around her feet. He stared, swallowed hard as he looked at every naked inch of her.
His voice gentled. "And you think that you can't?" She wouldn't cower in front of him. "I didn't mean that. But I'm . . . average."
Sliding both hands into her hair, Zane tilted her face up so he could rub his mouth over hers. "No average woman could make me shake with lust, or keep me up at night, or wake me in the early dawn with a wet dream."
She blinked at him. "Wet dream?"
His thumbs brushed the corners of her mouth. He made a low rumbling sound. "Yeah. Not since I was a teen, damn it." His expression was wry, even faintly amused. "But I've been going to sleep wanting you, and I guess that carries over. I walk around with an erection all the damn time lately."
His solid, warm chest beckoned, and she opened her hands on him. "I think about you a lot, too."
He kissed her temple, her jaw, the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "Maybe we've been sharing our dreams. What do you think?"
"Are your dreams about ... different ways for us to have sex?"
"Yes. And more often than not, they're too damn real for comfort."
She nodded, intrigued by the idea that they might in fact have shared a dream. "I wake up in the middle of the night, hot and tight and achy."
"Do you touch yourself, thinking about me?"
Tamara pressed her face into the curve of his shoulder. She didn't know people talked like this, that such things were discussed. Face burning hot, she admitted, "A little."
A slight shudder ran through him, and his tone was gruff when he asked, "But not to climax?"
Good God, did he need every detail?
"Tamara?" He reached for her breast, his palm rough-textured. His mouth opened on her neck, placing soft wet love bites here and there. Just that easily, he began fanning the fire all over again.
Feeling unsophisticated and clumsy, she whispered, "I don't know how."
Zane froze. The heavy slamming of his heart against her breasts told her how surprised he was. Then he hugged her so tight he lifted her off her feet. "Are you saying," he rumbled against her ear, "the climax I gave you is your first?"
Clinging to him, glad that the way he held her made it impossible for him to see her face, she nodded. "It's .. . it's kind of an elusive thing. At least, it always has been for me. And now, well, it's not at all what I expected."
The words had barely left her mouth and he was there, kissing her voraciously, his tongue in her mouth, his teeth nipping. He was like a wild man turned free. Tamara found herself hefted onto the sink counter, her back against the cold wall while Zane moved her legs apart and continued to kiss her silly.
His hand fondled her breasts, then down between her legs. He cupped her. "You're mine."
She tried to rear back, not at all certain what he'd said or how he'd meant it. Surely he hadn't just staked a claim, not when she'd had to fight for h
is initial agreement, not when he knew she'd be moving away soon. "Zane."
His long fingers probed, stroked, sank deep.
Overwhelmed with the suddenness of his touch, the air left her lungs in a whoosh, forcing her to pant. Her body arched, her thighs opened almost of their own volition, and with a groan Zane went to his knees. Through a haze of searing need, Tamara stared, nearly incoherent with shock as he parted her gently and leaned forward. Seeing his dark head between her thighs went beyond anything she'd considered, anything she'd even fantasized.
His tongue touched her. "Zane!"
"Be quiet, sweetheart."
He teased, came closer and closer, and then his mouth opened on her most intimate flesh. Arms rigid, she braced herself with her palms flat on the sink counter so she wouldn't slide onto the floor, a puddle of scandalized excitement.
"Ohmigod." If his fingers had been wonderful, it was nothing compared to his mouth, the wet rasp of his hot tongue.
His face still against her, he said, "I want you to come for me again."
Even his hot moist breath made her shudder. Nowhere in the journal did it say this might happen. At least not this soon. There had been a vague reference in the eighth chapter . . . ohmigod.
Her thoughts scattered again when he found that ultra-sensitive spot and suckled. She nearly bucked away from him.
Zane lifted her legs over his shoulders and his strong hands gripped her hips. "Just relax, baby. I've got you," he murmured, and then he was drawing on her again, his tongue flicking, his teeth holding her gently, securely, and she couldn't stop the long, ragged groan of release, hitting her fast this time, like a tidal wave.
The way he pleasured her now was more intense, almost painful as her already ravaged senses exploded again.
"Mmm," he said with so much satisfaction, Tamara almost found the strength to smile. Almost. She felt drained and wrung out and for the first time in ages, totally devoid of tension.
After several lingering tastes, he whispered, "That was nice." Zane kissed her inner thigh, her hipbone, before lifting her legs from his shoulders and allowing them to dangle over the edge of the counter. He stood and touched her chin, his gaze direct. "You're incredible."
Slumped against the wall, more boneless than not, Tamara said, "Ah, it was nothing."
Zane laughed, and in his laugh she heard sexual excitement and male triumph, mirrored by the naked hunger
in his eyes. He scooped her up and stepped with her into the shower.
The first blast of icy water revived her before he adjusted the temperature. Watching her, still fully aroused, he soaped his hands while she stood there, concentrating hard on keeping herself upright.
"The book," Tamara interjected, knowing she had to do something, "made it clear that both partners should give. I don't want to be selfish."
A devilish gleam entered his eyes as he worked the soap into a lather. "Believe me, honey, when a woman moans as nicely as you do, she's not selfish."
The water was deflected by his broad back, and only a misty spray reached her. She drew a deep breath and inched closer to him. It wasn't difficult because her tub was short, leaving them little room to maneuver. Tamara touched his shoulder, traced her hand through the water beaded there. "Tell me what to do."
His soapy hands settled on her breasts. "Touch me," he advised. "Any place, any way that you like."
Concentrating, which wasn't easy considering his soap-slippery fingers now rolled her sensitized nipples, she put her hands on his biceps. She loved how hard he was, how his muscles flexed and bunched as he moved.
He wasn't overly hairy, like Uncle Thanos, but a neat diamond of dark hair stretched over his chest, from pec muscle to pec muscle, then made a very distracting trail down his abdomen to his navel, and on again to his groin to frame his large sex.
Tamara chewed her lips, screwed up her courage, and gave in to her curiosity. She reached down and clasped his penis in her fist. He moved to lean against the tile wall. Water sprayed in her face and she wiped it away, intent on examining him. Everything about Zane fascinated her, but his body was of special interest.
She thought he probably had to be larger than average. Surely not all men were that big. She considered asking him, but he'd gone curiously still the second she'd touched him, and now he almost looked in pain. "Am I hurting you?"
"No."
She gentled her hold, stroking him carefully from base to tip, and heard his low curse.
His size intimidated her. Just having his fingers inside her had been vaguely uncomfortable, though pleasure had quickly followed the discomfort.
This though, this was entirely different. He was long and thick, solid, with a velvety soft covering, and her fingers could barely circle him. She squeezed experimentally and watched a drop of fluid appear on the broad head.
Zane's eyes closed as a raw sound of pleasure rumbled from deep inside him. The shower spray pulsated down around him, water streaming over his lean, powerful body. Watching his face, Tamara detected every emotion, every nuance of pleasure that he experienced. And more than that, she absorbed it. Zane was so open to her, sharing each and every sensation, it was almost frightening. He relished her touch, quickly spinning out of control, and she felt it all.
"You like that," she said with awe, amazed at how she affected him.
"Yeah." His voice was hoarse with strain. "I like it. Too damn much." He caught her upper arms and pulled her to his muscular frame. "Kiss me, Tamara."
Still holding him in her hand, she tipped her face up and gave him her mouth. The kiss was lush, slow, consuming. His erection pulsed in a rhythm that matched her racing heartbeat.
"What you did to me?"
"Which part, honey?" He labored for breath, and his legs were locked, braced apart to support them both. Moving back a little, she brought her other hand up to close around his heavy erection, circling him with both hands now, tracing each vein, cuddling his testicles. She slipped her thumb over the head to test the slippery secretion there.
His expression burning, Zane watched her, so he understood when she said, "You kissed me."
A fine trembling passed through his limbs. "You want me to do it again?"
She looked up, and their gazes locked. "I think I want to do it to you."
"Damn," he groaned, "I can't take it. I've waited too long."
Experiencing her first surge of feminine power, Tamara said, "Yes you can."
Zane laughed and caught her wrists. "No, little Gypsy," he answered emphatically, "I can't."
He easily controlled her as she did her best to convince him. When she realized he intended to get them to the bed first, she quickly washed the makeup from her face and shampooed her hair. Zane scrubbed himself, but not without touching her every so often, slicking a soapy hand over her breasts, trailing his fingers down her spine on the pretense of helping her rinse. He wouldn't let her touch him, catching her hands each time she tried. But that didn't stop him from doing as he pleased to her body, and making her crazy in the process.
When they'd both finished washing, he turned the water off and pushed the shower curtain aside. "I hope you're satisfied that we've met the standards of the book, sweetheart," he said as he reached for the towels, "because I have to get into you. Right now."
The way he spoke so openly about his need for her, and how he wanted to touch her, only added to her growing desire.
In a near daze, Tamara found herself hustled out of the shower, a towel briskly rubbed over her body and her hair, and then Zane picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. He kissed her nose seconds before he tossed her onto the bed.
Tamara only had time to open her arms and Zane was moving over her, his mouth covering hers, his damp body sliding against hers.
She still didn't think she'd done her fair share. And she wasn't at all certain he'd fit. But he gave her no more time to worry about it.
Fourteen
Zane forced himself to let her go long enough to crawl to the
side of the bed and snag his slacks. It wasn't easy, considering what she'd been doing right before he'd ended the shower. Tamara in a curious mood was more exciting than consummation with other women.
He fumbled for his wallet, cursing and sweating, his body in a fever. He was good at donning a condom at the most frantic times; he never took unnecessary chances on parenthood and always wore protection. But now, he felt like an awkward schoolboy and he deeply resented the need to wear a rubber.
It didn't help that Tamara was busy kissing him, trying to pull him back to her. She kept up a rambling monologue that would probably make him laugh after he'd sated himself and could conjure rational thought again.
"You're so big, Zane," she said with breathless wonder, in between hot kisses to his shoulder, his spine. "And so hard."
Her soft hands reached around him, and she attempted to assist him with the condom. "Baby, wait." Zane knew he was on the verge of exploding. One small touch was all it'd take. He felt her breasts on his back, her pointed nipples rasping him. He felt her breath in his ear, her damp hair tickling his jaw. Damn.
"I know I'm not supposed to like it this first time." She spoke into his ear, breathless and anxious. "I mean, I'm new at this and you're not and you're sort of on the enormous size, so it'll probably—"
In one movement, Zane turned to her, carrying her back down to the mattress and pinning her in place with his body. "It'll be fine, you'll see." The things she said, and how she said them, made him both wild with lust and tenderly amused. "I'm barely bigger than average," he lied. "Trust me."
"I thought"—she gasped as he kneed her legs apart—I thought men always bragged on their size!"
Zane caught her face. "Shhh. Look at me, Tamara. There's no reason to be nervous. I'm not going to hurt you."
Solemn now, her eyes wary, yet still ablaze with excitement, she nodded. "I know you wouldn't on purpose. You're a very gentle, considerate man. But you're so--oh."
