by Faye Avalon
Unsure what to do or what to say, Naomi walked to the oven. She’d been focused on whether or not he’d pounce on her, maybe grab her in another hormone-inducing kiss or simply strip her naked and toss her on the floor. His acting all domestic had knocked her off balance.
She peered at the plethora of dials and tiny digital numbers. “For someone who seems to live on pizza, Nathan certainly has some complicated cooking apparatus.” She tapped a button and lights flashed up displaying a clock. “Obviously not that one,” she muttered.
Tynan came up behind her. His scent whipped through her already sensitive nerve endings, but she held her ground, determined not to let him see how he affected her.
He reached past her and, after a moment’s deliberation, tapped a different button. Oven temperatures flashed up. “There you go.”
Thankful he moved away, Naomi managed to suck in air. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. “What number should I put it on?”
Tynan emptied potatoes from the bag into a bowl and rolled up his sleeves. “Not exactly a domestic goddess, are you?”
She continued to peer at the display. “I don’t pretend to be. Cooking bores me silly.”
He laughed. “You and Talia both. Why don’t you try putting it at two hundred? We can turn it down if everything starts to burn.”
She complied and moved back to the counter. It was only fair she help prepare whatever meal he planned. “What can I do?”
He nodded toward the carrots still in the grocery bag. “Give those a wash and cut them up.”
She could do that. After rummaging in one of the cupboards below the unit, she found a bowl similar to the one Tynan used for the potatoes. “I didn’t know you cooked.”
“Can only take a couple of days on takeout or fast food, then my taste buds start to complain.”
She smiled. “Did you teach yourself?”
Like Caleb, and Nathan to a degree, Tynan had lost his mother when he was a young boy. He had been raised by his beloved father until he’d died of heart problems following a stroke.
“Pretty much. But don’t get your hopes up. My cooking tends to be hit and miss.”
“It has to be better than mine.” She tipped the carrots into the bowl and took them to the sink to wash. “My freezer’s mostly stocked with TV dinners. I can rustle up an interesting salad, though.”
“Interesting?”
Back at the unit, she stood beside him and started chopping. “Nuts, seeds, apricots, raisins. That sort of thing. And I can mix a good dressing with lemon juice and…something else. I forget what it is.”
Tynan laughed and cut the potatoes into quarters. “Nope. Definitely not a domestic goddess.”
She laughed too, and for a few moments, they fell into companionable silence with only the chop, chop, chop of their tasks breaking into the silence.
Tynan walked to the oven, slid the tray of potatoes onto the middle shelf and then returned to the central unit. He glanced down to where she was still painstakingly slicing the carrots. “Why don’t you try cutting them this way?”
He moved behind, wrapping his arms around. With one hand, he took the carrot she was ineptly dissecting, and with the other, he took the knife.
At his touch, awareness rocketed up her arms, and the press of him against her back caused her chest to squeeze painfully. She couldn’t get air into her lungs, so she held her breath.
With adept ease, he sliced the knife through the length of the carrot, his long fingers skillful, his flexible wrists and steady hands holding the vegetable firmly while he worked. He’d held her firmly too, those strong and steady hands sliding over her heated flesh, the long, adept fingers pushing deep inside her until she had been on the point of begging for mercy.
She swallowed, snatching a breath when her lungs demanded air. Mesmerized by the play of muscles along his arms, not to mention the warm and heady feeling of him pressed against her, Naomi wished to heaven they had a whole bucketload of carrots to chop.
“Want to give it a go?” His murmured question seeped through her frazzled brain, his breath brushing teasingly against her ear.
“Hmm?”
Releasing the knife, he raised his hand to sweep hair away from her neck, baring her throat. His mouth brushed against her cheek, sliding to her ear. When her head began to spin, Naomi closed her eyes. This was so not a good idea. Yet she was powerless to stop him. He caught her earlobe gently between his teeth and bit down.
Sensation rocked through her body, pooling at her breasts and her pussy. Dampness spread between her legs, and she had to brace her hands on the counter to stop herself crumpling against him.
His fingers trailed up her arm, so lightly he left tiny goose bumps in their wake. The press of his mouth at her throat made the room spin even more, and she let her head roll to the side to offer him every centimeter of exposed flesh.
Come to that, he could have every unexposed part too.
Oh hell. What sort of trouble was she in?
“Tynan?” She managed to crack her eyes open against the sensual onslaught. “This is such a bad idea.”
“It’s not.” He ran his fingertips along the inside of her arm. “I want you.”
The husky tone of his voice was her undoing. With just a brief hesitation, she turned in his arms. Gold shimmered around the green of his eyes, and she was totally lost. Why bother even trying to fight something so inevitable? She could lie to herself until the cows came home, but the fact would remain. She wanted Tynan.
All she had to do was remember what this was. Sex. Two people, bound by friendship and affection, who had recaptured a moment from their past and transmuted that disastrous moment into something sensational. A laying of old ghosts. A reworking of history. She could forever put to rest his view of her as a naïve, inexperienced girl who had cowered and whimpered her way through her first sexual experience. She could confirm that she was now a woman, capable of pleasing a man while enjoying her own sexual needs.
She touched her palms to his chest, reveling in the hard, muscular breadth and the heat that radiated even through his shirt. “I want you, too.”
Tightening his hold, he drew her close. She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. His kiss was soft and inviting, and Naomi responded immediately. She kissed him back.
He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her so close she couldn’t miss the hard length of his erection. She ground against him, moving her hips and making him groan into her mouth.
She wanted to smile, relishing the power she seemed to have over him. But she also delighted in his control, his ability to tantalize and tease and string out the pleasure for them both.
Her thoughts drifted languidly to that first time all those years ago. Right now, it was hard to believe they were the same two people who had been so wrong for each other. Now they seemed so right. Correction, Naomi thought dazedly. They were so right sexually. It could never be more, no matter how much she might want it to be. This was all they could share. Ever.
* * * * *
Tynan wasn’t sure which way was up right then, with Naomi’s sensuous hips grinding against his cock, her mouth pressed tightly to his, and her tongue moving in an erotic sway of sensual delight. All he knew was that he wanted her. With a fucking passion.
Unable to bear one more gyration of her sumptuous hips against his pounding erection, he hoisted her up onto the counter. Grabbing the edges of her top, he swept it up over her head and her outstretched arms. She wore a light-blue bra with lacy edges. It seemed to push her breasts together and he had the overwhelming urge to bury himself in her deep cleavage. Unable to deny himself, he dipped his head and drew in her scent, floral and earthy all in one, before running his tongue up the center of her chest and across her collarbone.
He drew the straps of her bra away, reached around with one hand and unsnapped
the clasp. Seconds later, the bra lay discarded on the counter, and he bent his head and feasted on the plump mound of her breast. He licked around her nipple, feeling the bud tighten. Laving one breast with his tongue, he used his fingers on the other.
She dropped her head back and whimpered, which hitched his libido to the stratosphere. Shit. He wanted her. Needed her. She ran like lifeblood in his veins, pushing him to taste her, claim her, mate with her. Mark her…
It fired through him, this need to make her his. When his mouth hovered over the base of her neck, he felt his molars extend, and a primal urge to take her coursed through his veins. But he was more than a primitive beast intent on satisfying his needs at any cost, especially when the price paid might be losing her again. No way would he scare her off so soon after she’d returned to his life. To his bed.
Except it wasn’t his bed. They’d be using Nathan’s.
Tynan felt his tenuous control snap. He swept his arm across the worktop, sending half-chopped vegetables, pans and utensils clattering to the floor. He pushed her back, and she shimmied a little, positioning her backside at the edge of the counter, her palms flat against the granite. With little finesse, he tugged at her skirt. She hiked her hips, and he yanked it off. The tops of her milky white thighs, visible above the lacy edge of black stockings, called to him like a siren’s song.
He trailed a finger across the soft mesh. “Did you wear these for me?”
She looked at him from beneath heavy eyelids. “Maybe.”
From nowhere, his temper flashed. When she’d arrived, she’d expected to see Nathan. Had the black stockings been for his benefit? Well, before the night was through, he’d make sure she had no thought for any man but him. She’d have to rack her brains to remember she even had a fuck-buddy, let alone his name.
He pushed his irritation aside and set to work on his vow to drive thoughts of any other man from her head. Stepping between her legs, he focused on the light-blue panties barely covering the top of her mound.
She gave a little moan and stretched her arms overhead, her stomach flattening with the movement. He stared at her for long moments. If there existed a more beautiful, sexy woman than Naomi Flynn, the sight of her would blow a man’s brains clean out.
Naomi looked down at him. “Why did you stop?”
“Just savoring the view.”
She smiled, and he ran the forefinger of each hand lightly up the inside of her thighs, eliciting sexy little moans from her. The sound made his cock jerk, pushing against the seam of his jeans in an almost painful manner.
When he reached her panty-covered mound, he lowered his head and drew in the scent of her. He held her thighs wide, and she trembled beneath his palms. Pressing his mouth to her dampness, he felt her muscles jump beneath the fragile lace. He slid his tongue along the edges, slipped it beneath to savor the dampness he tasted there. He pulled the strip of fabric aside, baring her slit and delved between her folds. She was hot, spicy, and her juices spilled along her channel, firing like dynamite on his tongue.
His cock throbbed, his blood pounded in his veins. Bereft of civility, he raised his head and grabbed for her panties. Powerless to stop himself, he ripped the fabric, the tear of lace echoing through the kitchen. Using his thumbs, he spread her labia wide and drove his tongue deep. Beneath his mouth, her hips gyrated, her moans of pleasure driving him on. She reached down, grabbing fistfuls of his hair in her hands. She pulled, moaned, and he pushed harder, deeper. Above the pounding in his head, he heard her shatter on a frantic cry.
“Tynan… God, please…”
Her muscles contracted against his mouth, over and over, but still he kept up the pressure, pushing for more, needing more.
When he felt her go limp, he raised his head, barely able to get air into his lungs because his chest was thumping so hard. He reached for her, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her forward. She dropped her head on his shoulders, her hands settling on his forearms.
In his arms, she felt warm, soft and so fucking good. His cock pounded, but he made himself wait. He sank his nose into her hair, drew in the essence of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles. In this position, her warm pussy was crushed against his throbbing cock, her bare and sumptuous breasts pressed to his chest. Shit. If he didn’t get inside her soon…
He hoisted her off the counter so fast that she yelped. Then she laughed, tightening her arms around his neck. “Are you planning on carrying me all the way to bed?”
He wasn’t planning on bed. He was about to lower her to the floor.
“I’m not suggesting Nathan’s bed,” she said, reading his mind. “Why don’t we go to my room?”
Yeah. That he could live with. He could live with something else even better. “Let’s try my room.”
Happy with that suggestion, she wriggled closer. Her hot mound pushed against the bulging fabric of his jeans, and he had to take a deliberate, and very slow, breath.
She laughed. “You dish it out so very well. Maybe it’s time to show me you can also take it.”
Fuck. He could barely allow himself to think about what she had in mind for fear of losing it right then and there. But whatever the hell she had in mind, he was bloody well aching to take it.
“Oh, Tynan. The potatoes. We’d better turn them down.”
What the blazes did he care about fucking potatoes? But then he realized that with what he had in mind for her, if he didn’t take care of the oven first, he’d likely set Nathan’s house ablaze.
With her still wrapped around him, he went to the oven and took out the potatoes, after which he turned off the oven. When he lowered her to her feet she pouted, but he grinned and bent his knees. Seconds later, he’d hoisted her over his shoulder, securing his arms around her stocking-clad thighs. She squealed and beat against his back for him to let her down.
He only laughed, gave her a light slap on the ass and headed up the stairs.
In the room he’d been temporarily assigned, he tossed her onto the king-sized bed.
With narrowed eyes, she hoisted herself onto her elbows. “You’ll pay for that.”
Standing beside the bed, he shrugged out of his shirt. “For what? For tossing you over my shoulder? Or for slapping you on the ass?”
“Both.” But the way her mouth slid into a grin signaled that he would enjoy whatever price she required.
She knelt on the edge of the bed. Her breasts jiggled and her bare pussy, displayed beneath the lacy garter belt, made his cock throb. To get blessed relief from his current predicament, he reached for the hook on his jeans.
Naomi patted his hands out of the way and unhooked the clasp. Her wicked smile and the way she looked at him from beneath lowered lids sent saliva pooling in his mouth.
Jeez, the woman was a siren.
Her eyes on his, she lowered her head and licked him from waist to chest. His stomach muscles clenched. His lungs strained for air. She took her own sweet time about it, circling his nipple before sliding her tongue across to the other side, where she repeated the exercise.
While she worked, he ran his fingers down her arms, his breath coming in short, painful snatches. Tynan could barely move for fear of breaking the moment. He had the woman who drove him crazy on her knees in front of him, all but naked and apparently preparing to administer to his every need. Right then, he felt like the king of the fucking world.
But still she seemed content to drive him mad with long, slow strokes of her tongue. “You might want to speed up things a little, sweetheart.” She bit gently around his nipple, making him wince. “Fuck, there’s only so much of this I can take.”
She raised her head, that cat smile firmly in place, and reached for his zipper. “What? Too much for you?” She shook her head. “Poor Tynan, and I’ve only just got started.”
She tugged his jeans over his hips, taking his boxers with
them. “There’s no way I’m going to be the only one naked,” she said. “So you might as well heel off your shoes so you can ditch the trousers.”
Since he didn’t need telling twice, he did as she said, and seconds later, he stepped out of his jeans and boxers. The relief of having his throbbing cock freed almost made him shout with joy. He was about to place a knee on the bed, when she held one hand against his chest. With her free hand, she reached for him, touching him with the tip of her index finger.
He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he found her looking down. He followed her gaze. Precome oozed out of his dick. Well, what was he to do? He was surprised he hadn’t shot his load long before now.
She circled her fingertip, spreading moisture around his tip, and when she looked up, her eyes were languid and seductive. Her fingers moved down the length of his shaft, so damn slowly he had to grit his teeth. His chest tightened, his throat contracting painfully.
She drew her fingers back up his shaft and brought her other hand up. With both hands clasped around his erection, she tightened her grip and began working his cock. Tynan had to squeeze his eyes shut as the agonizing pleasure whipped through him. Her grip was exactly right. Not too soft, not too hard.
He groaned when she freed one hand to cup his balls. Fuck it to hell. The woman was killing him.
The pressure eased, and he opened his eyes. Naomi scrambled back, a silent invitation for him to join her on the bed.
“Lie down,” she instructed.
When he did, she moved between his legs and lowered her head until her mouth was an inch from his dick. He held his breath, his hands wanting to reach out, grab her head and bring her mouth to his pulsing cock.
Before he could move, she leaned forward and touched her tongue to his tip. Shit. He nearly shot through the ceiling. He arched his head back, cursed mentally and looked down again. Naomi had hold of his thighs, and her mouth was closing around his girth.
Ever since he’d known what sex was, he’d had frigging wet dreams about this very moment. Naomi sucking him off.
