“I’ll loan you one of my favorites, if you’d like.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
He placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the small table set up by the window.
“We’re having dinner here?” The table was set with a white tablecloth, stoneware dishes, and crystal glasses.
“I wanted to be alone with you. That okay?” His eyes studied her, looking for what, she didn’t have clue.
“Did you cook?” she asked instead of answering his question. She didn’t know yet if it was okay or not to be totally alone with Avery. It left her apprehensive and, yet, excited too.
“I asked Leif to prepare something for us. He’s after adding fancier grub to the menu, so we are his guinea pigs tonight. Starting with what I’ve already approved for him to put on the menu.” Avery lifted a metal dome from a plate to reveal appetizers.
“Smoked salmon?” Her mouth watered, and she automatically sat when he pulled out her chair.
“With goat cheese and blackberry jam on toasted sourdough crostini.” He picked one up and pressed it to her lips. “Here, try it.”
She opened her mouth, and he fed her the appetizer. She bit down and a dollop of blackberry jam smeared the corner of her mouth. He wiped the jam off and then brought his finger up to his own mouth and slowly licked it clean.
It was by far the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced.
“Now try the salmon with this.” He uncapped two beer bottles with the Pump House logo and filled her glass.
“You know, I’ve never cared for beer, nothing personal.” She’d really given it a try since Avery brewed beer, but she’d come to the conclusion she just wasn’t a beer kind of girl.
“I know, which is why I’ve been working on this recipe. It’s a fireweed honey pale ale. I want your honest opinion. Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”
The beer had a golden pink cast to it with champagne-like bubbles and a lacy foam head. She brought the glass to her nose expecting to be put off by the beer smell, but the aroma was sweet and floral instead. Taking a hesitant sip, she let the liquid roll around her mouth. It was sweet and crisp with a surprisingly delightful floral finish when she swallowed. “Avery, this is good. Really good.” She took another sip. “I’ve never acquired a taste for beer, as you know, but I could get hooked on this one.”
He smiled and offered her another smoked salmon appetizer. “Now try it with the salmon.”
She did, and flavors exploded in her mouth. She moaned around the mouthful, her eyes closing in pleasure.
“Christ,” he muttered.
She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his expression pained. “What?” she asked, concerned.
“That’s the look you had on your face when you came in my arms the other night. That look has haunted me ever since, and I’ve thought of nothing but making you look like that again. I never thought it would be salmon and my fireweed brew that would bring it about.” He framed her face with his rough palms. “I have to get this out of the way.”
He kissed her, his lips brushing over hers, feather light at first, then harder, more demanding as though he couldn’t help himself. She parted her lips, and he groaned, his tongue diving deep into her mouth. She tasted fireweed honey on his tongue and kissed him back. Heat roared through her, igniting a low fire in her belly. His hand slid to her neck and he arched her head back giving him deeper access.
He possessed her with the kiss. Her soul sighed, and her heart pounded fast in agreement. Goose-bumps raced down her spine, over her shoulders, and down to bead her nipples into hard points. She wanted to press her body against his, but with him kissing her in this position, leaning over her, her head arched back, she was his captive in the chair.
Tearing his mouth free, he rested his forehead against hers. “God, you taste so damn good. I could have you for dinner.”
Then why don’t you?
She bit back the words before they flew out of her mouth. It’s too soon, the rational part of her brain piped in—the part of her who’d insisted she wear the plain, white, cotton underwear.
On an oath, Avery released her, grabbed his own beer, and drank right from the bottle, his throat convulsing with the hard swallows. He then walked into the small galley kitchen, grabbed a dish towel, and took a cast iron pan out of the oven, setting it in the middle of the table on a ceramic trivet. They didn’t speak as he spooned a tomato, cucumber, avocado salad with feta cheese and capers from a bowl onto her plate following that with the pan-seared halibut with pesto and pine nuts from the sizzling pan he’d taken from the oven.
The food was delicious but in a weird sadistic way so was the sexual tension humming between them. It made her feel more alive and on edge than at any other time she could remember.
Avery watched her eat, his eyes hooded, and she squirmed in her chair. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s a pleasure watching you eat.”
“Aren’t you enjoying the food?”
“Not as much as being with you like this.”
The tension thickened, and she knew she was in danger of asking him to take her to bed. Before that happened, there were things that needed clarification. “What did you mean yesterday? When you asked me to dinner, you said that staying away from me wasn’t working, and you wanted to start over.”
“Exactly that.” He picked at the halibut as if this thread of conversation made him uncomfortable.
“I’m going to need a little more explanation. You hurt me last time. I don’t want to feel like that again.”
He winced. “I never meant to hurt you, Cat, but if you’re after guarantees, I can’t give them to you. I also can no longer deny how much I want you.”
While his reluctant confession sparked something inside her, she still needed more assurances. “Where do you see this going?”
“I’m not good with seeing or planning into the future. Could we take whatever this is one day at a time?”
He was excellent at planning the future. The success of his business spoke to that, but she understood that taking what was between them one day at a time seemed wise, given their history.
“Okay, I can agree to that.”
A slow, satisfied smile splayed over his lips. He stood and he held his hand out to her.
Nervous, shaking a little, she placed hers in his. “I didn’t come here to sleep with you,” she stated.
“But you’re going to anyway.” He tugged, pulling her body in close to his.
“That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”
“All you have to do is say no. Please don’t say no.” He waited a beat, which was all the time he obviously would allow her. When she didn’t say anything, his mouth crushed hers, hungry and desperate, drinking in her answering moan.
She swayed against him, her knees buckling, and he swooped her up into his arms.
“What are you doing?” She clutched at his shoulders. No man had ever carried her before. It was disconcerting to be cradled like this with no solid footing.
“Don’t be obtuse.” He carried her into his bedroom, tossed her on the bed, and followed her down. She didn’t even get a good look at the room before his mouth captured hers again and his hands went to work on the tie of her top.
“I’ve wanted to unwrap you the moment I saw you sitting in the bar tonight. This top, with its gaping neckline, has teased me cruelly through dinner. Did you plan that?”
She hadn’t, but Zoe must have known this would happen, that the top would drive Avery to the breaking point? Her little sister had some explaining to do—mainly how she knew so much about the workings of the male mind.
“You said to wear something comfortable,” she answered on a gasp as he bared her to his burning gaze.
His gaze raked her in, taking in the black lace cupping her breasts, his eyes hot and dangerous. A wild sound vibrated up his throat causing his voice to go dark and husky. “This doesn’t look comfortable.”
His fingers traced the line of the lace. Suddenly he sat up, straddling her, and pulled her into a sitting position. He swiped off her top and tossed it aside, and then dragged the straps of her bra down her arms, anchoring them in place. Freeing her breasts from the restraining cups, he pulled the bra down farther, immobilizing her. Next, his lips closed over one pebbled nipple while his fingers plucked and teased the other. His mouth was hot—so hot—as his tongue twirled her nipple. She cried out when he clamped down and sucked hard.
Excitement, dark and edgy, flared low in her belly. Her head fell back on a gasp, and she badly wanted to touch him, learn what drove him to distraction like he was driving her. She couldn’t think, could only feel as he lavished attention from one breast to the other.
He released her and gazed deep in her eyes. A satisfied smile appearing when he found whatever he’d been searching for. Not breaking eye contact, he eased his shirt from his pants in deliberate, unrushed movements.
She raised her hands to help, and he shook his head. “It’s not a good idea for you to touch me right now.”
“But I want—”
“Trust me,” he interrupted, yanking the shirt off and throwing it somewhere to land unheeded on the floor, revealing an impressively muscled chest, arms, and abdomen. Muscles like his weren’t created in a gym, they were honed to sharpness on the ice.
“Lay down,” he commanded.
Surprising herself, she did as she was told. Her bra kept her arms restrained to her sides, the tight fabric pushing up her bare breasts to his heated gaze.
“God, you are beautiful.”
Climbing off her, he stood at the end of the bed. Without preamble, he slid off her boots, and then unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. Hooking his fingers around the waistband, he stripped them from her with one yank, leaving her in the flimsy slip of her panties. A groan escaped him as he stared at her displayed on his bed.
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a condom securing the wrapper in his teeth. He removed his jeans, taking his boxers with them, leaving him gorgeously naked in front of her, his erection jutting forward large and proud. Ripping open the condom, he sheathed himself and then placed a knee on the mattress, climbing up her body. Running a hand over her leg to her hip, he traveled up her body until they were breastbone to hipbone.
Everything about him was hard, his mouth as he took hers again, his hands as they grasped her breasts, his body as it pressed hers into the mattress.
She went molten and couldn’t help writhing her hips under him, trying to ease the ache that begged to be possessed, to be taken by him. She’d never felt this way with any other man. Granted, there hadn’t been many, but being with those other few had never brought her to this level of mindlessness. He could do anything to her right now, ask anything of her, and she’d gladly give it.
He broke the kiss and stared down at her, and by the predatory glint in his eyes, he knew it too.
He’d more than stripped her of her clothes, he’d stripped her down to her soul. It scared her, heightening the sensations coursing through her bloodstream, causing her heart to pound so hard, it would surely kill her.
“I’ve got to have you,” he rasped out, kneeing her legs apart to make room for him to settle between them. “I’ll take more time next time.”
Desire coiled and tightened low in her belly at his words. More time? Any more of this delicious torture and she didn’t think she would survive it. She moaned and twisted desperately beneath him, telling him with her body what she couldn’t express with words.
He’d stolen her voice along with her heart.
Taking her hips in his hands, he angled them to receive his heavy thrust. A cry escaped her as he drove all the way home, stealing her breath. She gasped, trying to breathe. He was so much—too much—filling her, consuming her. He held himself there, his eyes shut tight as though he were in pain, blessedly giving her body time to adjust to the invasion of his.
Then he began to move, and her world as she knew it ceased to exist. Everything revolved around him and the sensations he drove to the surface with each thrust of his powerful body. He was relentless as he pounded into her.
Mewing sounds escaped her, and her head rolled side-to-side on the pillow. Pleasure built upon pleasure, and it sharpened until it became almost painful. Her release hit her hard, and she screamed his name, the name becoming a chant—a prayer—on her lips. The climax hit her like an avalanche, tumbling fast and fierce, an unstoppable force that left her dizzy and limp, fighting for breath.
He didn’t stop, refusing to allow her mercy as he drove her up that peak again, his thumb finding the center of her sex and stroking it until she capitulated again, and this time he plummeted over the abyss with her, shouting her name.
Chapter 17
Avery laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. He’d known sex with Cat would be amazing, but what had just happened between them wasn’t amazing sex, it was in the realm of epic sex, mind-blowing sex. Life-altering sex. It staggered him, humbled, and shocked him. Part of him wanted to run, the other wanted to cuddle.
God, he did not cuddle.
Catriona moaned, turning toward him. Anxiety spiked. Had he hurt her? He hadn’t been gentle. He’d planned to be, but watching her across the table from him in that top which gave him a peek of black lace every time she forked food into her lush mouth—a top that could be undone with one pull of the tie, leaving her bare to his eyes—had stripped away any semblance of his control.
“Are you okay?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Hmm,” she hummed, her hand stroking his chest. “Okay, doesn’t even come close. I can’t believe you have denied us this kind of pleasure for two whole years.”
He barked out a laugh and turned to look at her. Her expression was everything and more than what he’d glimpsed the night he’d brought her to orgasm in her shop. Desire and something more, something deeper, shined in her eyes, making them almost iridescent green in the low light.
She raised her hand and cupped his cheek, gazing deep until it felt like she saw right into his soul. “I love you, Avery Dawson,” she said, her voice soft and dreamy.
Panic flared in his chest, and he stiffened at her declaration. “Listen, Cat, don’t confuse sex with love.”
“I’ve had sex before you. Believe me, I know the difference.”
Why couldn’t she keep things simple? Why did she have to bring love into the picture?
He disengaged from her touch and got out of the bed, giving her his back. Searching for his jeans, he yanked them on. “I told you, I’m not looking for marriage. Damn it, I thought you understood that.”
He heard her sit up. “Again, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Did I say anything about marriage?” she asked, her tone much sharper than before.
“This is why I called things off two years ago. I can’t give you what you want, what you need. What you deserve.”
“And just what do you think I deserve?”
He should have taken heed of the dangerous pitch of her voice and the hard glint in her eyes. “A husband. I cannot and will not fill that role, even for you.”
“No one asked you to. Tell me, what do you have against marriage?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Marriage is fine for some people but not for the Dawsons.”
“Ahh, this has to do with your dad and his three ex-wives. You’re afraid.”
“The hell I am.” Her words hit too close to home. “I am not afraid. I’m a realist.”
“You’re a coward. You need to deal with your past and realize it doesn’t have to be your future.”
She climbed off the bed, readjusted her bra that was still bound around her middle, and covered those gorgeous breasts. His mouth watered, remembering how they’d felt in his hands, against his lips.
He wanted her again. “What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed, what’s it look like?” She found her
jeans and put them on without her panties. Searching for her top, she gave up, slapping her hands against her thighs. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”
“Over there.” He pointed to the other side of the room.
She brushed by him, and he wanted to reach out and haul her into his arms, but he stood there like a tree, its roots planted deep in the soil.
“Cat, you don’t have to go.”
“Yes, I do. It’s for your own good. I’m mad enough to say or do something I’ll regret later, like kill you.”
They could put her mad to good use, he almost suggested, but the hurt in her eyes stopped him.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
“I know. I need some time to figure out what I really want and being around you muddies the water.”
“We can be good together. What just happened between us doesn’t happen very often.”
“You’re right. It was special, but what are you really offering me? Am I to be your booty call?”
“No.” God, yes. “Why can’t we be together, sleep together, without adding labels?”
“So, you were thinking, what? We’d sleep together for a while until it no longer worked for you? Well, that doesn’t work for me. I guess I do need those labels.”
“You’re complicating this.”
She found her top and slipped it on, tying the wrap closed. “No, I’m clearing it up, making it easy for you. I love you, Avery. I have for a long time. What you’re suggesting will set me up for a lifetime of heartbreak. I won’t cheapen myself, even for you. I’m worth more than that.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Cat—”
“Let me go, Avery.” She didn’t look at him, her head bowed as though defeated. He’d done that to her, and the realization hurt more than he’d like to admit. He released his hold of her arm.
“Goddammit, I want you.”
“I want you too.”
“Then why can’t we forget about all this. Stay.”
“I can’t. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep with you tonight. I didn’t want this to go this far this soon.”
Wild Cat (Alaska Wild Nights Book 2) Page 8
