by Nina Lane
He edged his finger into her slit, working it back and forth a few times before moving lower to the puckered ring of her anus.
Kate gasped, her fingers slipping away from her thighs. “Tyler, I don’t…”
“I won’t hurt you.” His eyes smoldered, and his cheekbones were flushed with heat. “I promise.”
Her heart hammered so loud she could hear it in her head. She spread her legs again, wincing when his finger probed at the tight, forbidden opening. Sparks flew down her spine. He closed his lips around her clit, pushing his finger in farther, farther…
“Tyler!” she shrieked. “Oh my God…”
“Come on, Darling. Give it to me.”
She gave up the fight. All lingering inhibitions fell away. She thrust her hips toward him and submitted to his erotic ministrations. Panting and gasping, she clutched the edge of the counter, letting him keep her legs open as he worked her pussy with his mouth and pumped his finger in and out of her bottom.
She’d had no idea her body could feel like this—electric and flaring, like firecrackers were exploding in her veins. She trembled, a stream of moans spilling from her lips as her body climbed toward the peak. Every part of her gripped and clutched him, tightening and releasing at the same time.
“Please,” she gasped.
He sucked her clit and slipped his thumb inside her pussy, penetrating her in both places at the same time. The triple stimulation sent her flying over the cliff. With a cry, she grabbed hold of his hair, closing her legs around his shoulders. Her body quaked and shook, submerging her in rapturous sensation.
Only when she began coming down the other side did Tyler ease away from her and get to his feet. His chest heaved, and his own body was still tight with unfulfilled tension, but his eyes gleamed with warm pleasure.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered before covering her mouth with his.
A moan lodged in her throat. The flavor of her own body mixed with him made her dizzy with the anticipation of all the other things they could do together. She smoothed her hand down his abdomen and into his boxer briefs. This time, he didn’t stop her.
Kate pulled her mouth from his, their breath hot and heavy in the space between them. She eased his thick cock out, pushing his briefs down to his thighs. Just the sight of his pulsing, veined shaft resting in her palm quickened her arousal. She closed her fingers around him and stroked.
“Fuck, yeah.” Tyler hissed out his approval, resting one hand on the counter behind her and the other on the back of her neck. “Faster…just like that…”
Kate watched with rapt fascination as she slid her hand up and down his shaft, pausing only to rub her thumb over the swollen head. Astonishingly, he grew even bigger in her hand, the veins pulsing and throbbing. He pushed forward to fuck his cock into her fist. A heady sense of power filled her.
“Do it, Tyler,” she urged, curling her other hand against his chest. “Come all over me.”
He groaned and tightened his grip on the back of her neck. The head of his cock deepened to a dark reddish color. His whole body stiffened with urgency. She stroked him faster, all of her senses focused on his imminent release.
The instant before he gave a low groan, she felt the wave rolling and peaking through his body. He thrust into her fist and shot all over her bare thighs, the creamy jets dripping between her legs as she milked the final sensations from him.
Tyler swore on a single breath, then gathered her against him. God, but she loved the press of their sweaty, naked bodies, the steel of his arms locking her close, the potent scent of their release filling her nose. She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her forehead on his chest. Their breathing slowed.
“Damn.” He pressed his lips against her temple and pulled her robe back over her shoulders. “I’m starting to like library sciences.”
“You definitely have a strong command of authority control.”
After another kiss, Kate eased away and fastened the belt of her robe. A rush of cold swept into the space between them. Tyler tugged his boxer briefs back over his hips and rubbed his damp chest.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I make pretty good pancakes.”
Kate laughed. “It’s 2:00 a.m.”
“So?” He opened the refrigerator. “Is there a law that I can’t make pancakes at 2:00 a.m.?”
“Well, no, but…”
“Got any bacon?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.
She shrugged and opened a cabinet to take out the flour. A few minutes later, they started making pancakes. Despite two active rounds of sex, which would probably put most men right to sleep again, Tyler was full of energy. He bounded around the kitchen, humming under his breath, opening all her cabinets, cracking eggs with one hand, and showing off how he could flip the pancakes without using a spatula.
When she found herself sitting at her little kitchen table, having pancakes, hot cocoa, and bacon at 2:00 a.m. with a man who was proving to be far different—and so much better—than she’d initially believed, Kate wondered if asking Tyler to be her fuck buddy had been a good idea after all.
She liked him, of course. A lot. She wouldn’t have asked for something so intimate if she didn’t. But she was starting to realize she could potentially like him so much more. Maybe even in ways that went beyond straightforward, casual, and “no romance.” She could end up liking him far differently than one fuck buddy should like the other.
She pushed her plate away and reached for her mug of hot cocoa. She felt like a different woman than the one she’d been this morning.
Wow. Had it only been this morning when she’d fallen into Tyler’s arms? Now they were having a midnight snack after two rounds of insanely hot sex, the likes of which she’d once thought she would never experience.
She didn’t even know how long this thing between them would last. She hadn’t thought to put a deadline to their relationship…if one could even call it that.
“So what’s on your agenda for the rest of the weekend?” Tyler forked another pancake onto his plate and drenched it with butter and syrup. The smooth muscles of his shoulders gleamed in the light.
For some reason, Kate’s chest tightened. Her body still felt the thrust of his cock, his fingers, the heat of his kiss.
“Mostly work.” She took a sip of cocoa, forcing her voice to sound casual. “And starting my new self-improvement plan. So far your advice has been spot on. You were definitely right about my clothes. I’ll do some shopping, find a few new things to wear to work and for going out in the evening.”
A flash of darkness crossed his expression. It seemed to ricochet right back and lodge in her heart.
Kate rose to take her empty plate to the sink, excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She closed the door and regarded herself in the mirror, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks. Her robe gaped open at the neck to reveal her cleavage, and her skin was still reddened from Tyler’s touch. Her hair was a tousled mess around her flushed face, and her eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with sexual satiation.
God. She even looked like a different woman.
Maybe she was.
After using the toilet, she splashed water on her face and started back to the kitchen.
Tyler stood in the living room, dressed in the jeans and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier that evening.
Kate stopped. Her heart began a slow descent to her stomach. “Are you leaving?”
“Yeah, it’s getting late.” He gestured to the clock, his tone casual despite the tension lacing his shoulders. “Or early, as the case may be. Figure I should take off, leave you to get some sleep. I put the dishes and stuff in the dishwasher.”
“Okay.” Kate didn’t know what to do. Was there an etiquette for this sort of goodbye? “Well, I had a really nice time.”
“Me too. Thanks for a great night.” He dug his keys out of his pocket and headed for the foyer.
Something shriveled inside Kate as she watched him o
pen the front door. Then he stopped and turned. Their eyes met, a sharp, hot energy crackling in the air.
He let go of the doorknob and strode back, stopping right in front of her. When they were this close, a force seemed to encircle them, wrapping them in a world where nothing else existed.
“You’re right, Darling.” Tyler looked at her as if he could see right to the center of her soul, his eyes glittering like pieces of topaz. “You want to land old Norwood, you need to wear sexier clothes, stuff that shows you have an incredible body and phenomenal tits, suits that fit better and show off your perfect legs.
“And your hair…keep it down so a guy can imagine running his fingers through it, seeing it spread over a pillow. You don’t need makeup…one look at your lips and any man in the world would want to kiss you, but I’ve been with enough women to know they think makeup is important. So figure out how to enhance what you already have—incredible eyes, kissable lips, skin so perfect it’s like cream.”
Aside from her heart racing like a bullet train, Kate couldn’t move.
Tyler brushed his fingers across her cheek. Her spine tingled.
“Also stop looking down so much,” he continued. “It makes you seem uncertain. When you talk to Norwood, look him in the eye. Smile at him…your real smile, which will make him weak in the knees. You need to find out what he likes to do—theater or concerts or whatever—and ask him to something specific. Don’t do that crap about you wouldn’t want to go out with me, would you? either. Men like confident women. Be direct. Miles, the San Francisco string orchestra has a performance of Concerto in Whatever this weekend. Would you like to go with me? If he’s into you, he’ll say yes. Or if he’s busy, he’ll suggest an alternative idea. Either way, you’ll know.”
Kate gripped her hands together. Her head spun with disbelief that after such an extraordinary night, she would ever be able to look at another man, much less try and attract one.
And yet…that had been the whole point.
“Got it?” Tyler asked.
She swallowed and managed to whisper, “Got it.”
He gave a short nod and stepped away from her. His expression was shuttered, but his eyes still glowed with that inner fire and energy that was such an intrinsic part of him.
“For the record,” he said, “you’re the most incredible first date I’ve ever had. And honestly? You don’t need to do anything differently when you go out with another guy. Just be Kate Darling. If that’s not everything a man could dream of, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
He walked out, closing the door behind him. It was a long time before Kate was able to move.
Chapter
THIRTEEN
Tyler drove home without knowing how he got there. He sat in his car, unable to get Kate out of his head. Everything about her. The warmth of her naked body, the sound of her gasping little moans, the way she’d traced the lines of his chest with her forefinger. The perfect fit of his hands into the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her ass and fucking gorgeous breasts.
And all the other stuff he’d learned in so short a time—the fact that she knew all the lyrics to “The Lumberjack Song,” her encyclopedic knowledge of library stuff, her pretty painted toenails.
It was kind of cute how her wardrobe was so boring, but she took the time to polish her nails. Not to mention all the things he’d seen in her bathroom—expensive lotions, powders, bath salts, loofahs. Underneath it all, Kate Darling was the most sensual woman he’d ever met.
He wanted more of her. For him, not because he was “improving” her for another man. Just the thought of her asking Norwood to the symphony or whatever made him clench his fists with anger.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never gotten territorial about a girlfrie…fuck bud…friend with benefits before.
Jealousy wasn’t his thing. He was loyal to the girls he was with, and he’d been in love a couple of times, but he never worried that they’d be interested in another man. Not because he was an arrogant ass—though he guessed to a degree, he was—but because he treated women right and told it like it was. There were never any secrets, misunderstandings, confusion.
Hell, he rarely even fought with them. He just gave them what they wanted, made sure they were happy, and life was always good.
Why should it be any different with Kate? She’d been honest from the start. She’d asked him for dating advice, then she’d taken it to the next level with the fuck buddy thing—all because she was working up the courage to ask another guy out on a date and start a real adult relationship.
Good for her.
Too bad for him that he was letting a hot fuck and 2:00 a.m. pancakes mess with his head.
He finally got out of the car and let himself into his apartment. As usual, the place was a disaster—the kitchen counters piled with dirty dishes, empty pizza boxes, and beer cans, the living room strewn with chips bags, unwashed T-shirts, and old socks.
Since he wasn’t tired, he changed into track pants and went out for a two-mile run, hoping the exercise would get rid of his tension. But all it made him want to do was run back to Kate’s neat little house.
He wanted to crawl into her bed, which was too small for both of them, and fall asleep with her tucked right against his side. Then he wanted to wake up when the sun rose and eat leftover pancakes while she quizzed him about cataloging.
And wasn’t he just losing his shit?
He killed the next couple of hours with a few rounds of Destiny, losing his first match in the crucible. After a shower and more grumbling, he drove inland for half an hour, turning off the interstate near the farming community of Rainsville.
He guided his car down a dirt road and parked at the side of a three-bay garage. One car sat in an open bay, junkyard cars cluttered the adjoining field, and a black lab lounged at the front door of the office. As Tyler approached, the dog got to his feet and ambled over to greet him.
“Hey, Bandit.” Tyler scratched the dog behind the ears and produced a treat that he’d taken out of the stash in his glove compartment. The dog wiggled happily and trotted back to his spot.
Tyler entered the office, where Charlie, the grizzled old army vet who owned the garage, was seated behind a grimy, paper-strewn desk. The smells of oil and engine fluid filled the room. An episode of Fawlty Towers played on the old TV in the corner.
“Got anything for me to do?” Tyler sank into the metal folding chair in front of the desk.
“Nah.” Charlie peered at a grease-stained invoice. “You get the taillights in yet?”
Tyler shook his head. “No delivery date either.”
At least he’d already paid for the parts he needed for the old Mustang he’d been restoring for the past few years. He’d used the money his mother had willed to him after her death—each child getting an equal share—though his brothers had put their portions back into the Rebecca Stone Foundation.
Old shame curled through him. It was stupid to be twenty-six and relying on his family’s money, but he didn’t know what the hell else to do. He couldn’t even figure out how to organize a library by himself, so it wasn’t like he’d ever be able to tell his father he wanted to work his way up in the company.
Bandit wandered through the open door and settled at his feet. He absently stroked his hand over the dog’s head. Charlie heaved a sigh and tossed the invoice onto a pile of papers.
Tyler eyed the messy desk—invoices, crumpled receipts, sales catalogs. Kate would get all up in arms if she saw what a disaster the garage paperwork was. He pictured her standing there with her hands on her hips, lecturing Charlie about a projected balance sheet and business ratios. The image made his insides get all soft and tender.
He took a haphazard pile of receipts from the desk and leafed through them. “You ever think about getting some sort of filing system? Or a computer?”
Charlie made a scoffing noise. “Too old to learn how to use a computer. And with insurance rates going through the roof, plus all that
competition over in Rainsville, it’s a small wonder I’m not turning a profit. Lost the car show sponsor and exhibit space, too.”
“You serious?”
Charlie nodded. “Not worth it, they said. Didn’t get enough ROI last year.”
“So what’s going to happen to the show?”
“It’s not going to happen. Not this year anyway.”
Tyler frowned at his friend’s defeated tone. Charlie had been organizing a classic car show in the small town of Fordwell for the past five years—and though it had never been a huge draw like some shows, classic car enthusiasts from surrounding neighborhoods usually turned out for it. There was a judged competition, exhibitions, food trucks, sometimes a local band.
“I was going to enter the Mustang,” he said.
“I know.” Charlie shrugged. “Check out the one in LA for next year.”
Next year. He’d probably still be working at the library.
Tyler tossed the paperwork back on the desk. He’d started hanging out at Charlie’s Garage after completing a technical course in auto repair four years ago. Back then, he’d thought he might even work for Charlie one day, but his friend had never made enough to be able to afford employees. Sometimes his army buddies hung around and did a few repairs, but the turnover wasn’t enough to keep many customers coming back.
Tyler rented out the space for his Mustang, which at least made him feel like he was partially contributing to Charlie’s income. A veteran who’d done three tours in Iraq, Charlie’s transition to civilian life had been less painful than those of his comrades-in-arms, many of whom were still struggling to get the government assistance they needed.
At least Tyler had been of some help there, convincing his father and Aunt Julia to channel some of the money from the Rebecca Stone Foundation into local veterans’ programs. He still hadn’t been actually doing anything, just using Sugar Rush money again, but maybe it had made a difference. He hoped so, anyway.
He shoved to his feet and went out to the garage. A tarp covered his Mustang, and he tugged it off to examine the vehicle. He and Charlie had rebuilt the engine and frame, replaced the floorboards and upholstery, and painted it the original silvery blue. Some detail work was still needed, and he’d been waiting forever for the original taillights, but the car was almost finished.
