Maybe she should have felt a sense of embarrassment, but it didn’t come. There was nothing about the beauty of what Brett had done to her that warranted anything except gratefulness.
She smiled slowly as she opened her eyes, finding him staring at her with a half grin.
“Glad we got that out of the way. I would hate for you to think there was even the slightest possibility you weren’t going to orgasm as many times as I want. Such a shame.”
Her smile spread until she got the giggles. “So cocky.”
“Just stating the facts, ma’am.” He climbed up her body until he rested on his elbows, holding himself slightly off her frame to avoid crushing her.
It didn’t bother her a bit when he took her lips in a kiss that forced her to taste herself on his mouth. Salty and sweet at the same time. Not unlike what a man’s come tasted like.
She shivered delightfully as it occurred to her she had yet to glimpse his length. Here she was, completely naked. So past naked that even her soul was bare, and the man delivering all the orgasms was still wearing his pants.
Chapter Seven
Brett couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d dreamed of a day like this. He’d prayed for weeks it would come with this very woman even. But nothing in his imagination had prepared him for the sheer bliss he currently felt.
She was a firecracker. And he was the igniter. No way was he going to hide the fact that his chest was pumped out so far he couldn’t see his feet over being the first man to unleash this vixen.
Zia, in her completely uninhibited state, was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.
For a second, he inwardly cringed, wondering if it was fair of him to consummate this relationship before he told her who he really was. But he chased the thought away.
How could she be anything but stunned speechless when he told her? There was nothing to be angry about. It’s not like he was withholding the fact that he’d gone to jail or committed a murder. He was simply guarding the details of his actual day job and the amount of money it paid. Not a sin worth mentioning. More of a pleasant omission, right?
God, he hoped so.
For now, he needed to get out of his jeans and find a condom. Because his dick was going to combust if he didn’t get inside her.
But first, he needed to take her pulse.
He released her lips, lifted off her, and kneeled between her legs. He watched her face as he popped the button and lowered the zipper on his jeans. “You can still say no, Zia.”
She jerked her gaze from his still-contained erection to his face. “You must be joking.”
“Never. Not about something this important.” He let go of the denim before lowering it and his underwear, and leaned over her again, setting his hands on both sides of her face.
He watched her face for any sign she wasn’t totally on board. Her chest rose and fell. Her nipples stiffened further. Her knees shook against his thighs. She swallowed as her pupils dilated.
He continued. “I want to ensure you always know the choice is yours. You can tell me to stop at any time. Any time, Zia. Now. In two minutes. Ten. If my cock is poised at your entrance, you still get to say no. After we’ve had sex fifteen times, you still get to say no. Any day. Any place. Any time. Am I clear?”
“Yes.” One word. Softly spoken. And a smile.
“You don’t like something I do or say, you call a halt. You feel uncomfortable in any way ever, you stop me. If I find out you were unnerved and you didn’t say something, I’ll never fully trust you again. It will ruin the give and take. I’m controlling in bed, but the power is yours. Always.”
She nodded and then lifted her hands to his biceps and squeezed. “Okay, Brett. I hear you. I promise.”
He hesitated a moment, reading her face a bit longer before feeling satisfied, and then he rose onto his knees and set his hands on his thighs.
“Brett, take the rest of your clothes off. I need you inside me. Now. Like two minutes ago.” She pulled on his arms. “I’m burning up.”
There was an urgency in her voice. Good.
Brett shed the rest of his clothes, concentrating, willing his cock to slow down. He gripped his length with one fist and drew it up and down the shaft several times while she watched.
“Let me taste,” she pleaded, her words nearly his undoing.
He shook his head. “Sweetheart, one touch of your lips on my dick and I’d shoot all over your face. Not this time. Don’t tempt me. Just let me get a condom on and slide into your heat. Gonna come fast, but I’ll recover quickly. In a few minutes I promise a slower, more satisfying ride.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.
He leaned over her. “Not going to be satisfied after one quick round, Zia.”
Brett grabbed his jeans, reached into the pocket, and pulled out a condom. He tore it open with his teeth and then slid the rubber down his length, his gaze never leaving hers, gauging, assessing, ensuring she was on the same page.
“I hope you have more than one of those in that pocket because even if I did have a condom somewhere in this apartment, it would have an expiration date on it from the last decade.” Yeah, she was on the same page.
He chuckled. “I’ve got us covered. Don’t worry.”
Then he was on his elbows over her again, his cock poised at her entrance. “You’re fucking tight, Zia. Gonna feel the stretch this first time.”
“I’m not a virgin, Brett.”
“Don’t care. You haven’t had sex in a while, and I’m not small.”
“I see that.” She licked her lips, killing him.
“You good?” he asked, one thumb stroking the side of her soft face.
“Better than. Fucking fuck me, Brett. Like now already.”
He shook his head. “Such language from such a pretty mouth.”
“Your fault.”
“Well, who am I to leave a lady wanting?” At that, he thrust into her.
She cried out.
Jesus, she was tight. Like virginal tight.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth.
He never moved a muscle while he waited for her to accommodate him, buried to the hilt.
When she finally let the air out of her lungs, he slowly pulled out and then pressed back in. “Okay?”
She opened her eyes, grabbed his waist, and smiled. “Move.”
Thank God. This time, he closed his eyes. He took her lips in a brief kiss and then set his forehead on hers while he fucked her. Fast. And hard. He couldn’t hold back. He held himself deep inside her seconds later, groaning around his orgasm.
When he regained his breath, he opened his eyes. “Damn, woman. I knew you were tight, but…damn.”
Chapter Eight
“Shit.” Zia bolted to a sitting position. Her heart pounded. She didn’t ease into wakefulness this morning. She was yanked into consciousness by the sudden realization that she was supposed to be at Monica’s finishing the mural.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Brett’s groggy voice penetrated as she twisted to face him. He wrapped his arm around her middle and hauled her back down into his embrace. “Warm,” he muttered. “Don’t leave the bed…”
“I’m supposed to be at your sister’s painting. How did I forget?”
He furrowed his brow. “Relax. Geez. It’s not like she’s going to fire you. I’ll explain things. It’s all good. Now stop worrying and go back to sleep. It’s too early. We haven’t slept enough.” His words started to slur as he eased back into bliss.
Zia was determined, though. She pressed against his shoulders, increasingly aware of their nudity and shocked that her body could still respond to his after too many orgasms to count and a pile of condoms she found hysterical when she considered they all came out of one pocket.
“Brett. That’s so unprofessional. I’m late already. I need to call her, at least. Let her know I’m late. I’ll say I forgot to set the alarm or something.”
He opened one eye. “
Seriously? You’re this upset about hurting Monica’s feelings?”
“Yes. Of course I am. And I don’t want her to know you spent the night, either. So keep that to yourself. How embarrassing. I work in her house and then sleep with her brother after one date like some kind of floozy.” She wiggled to sitting and slapped a hand over her forehead. “I would fire my own ass on the spot.”
“Floozy?” His chuckle was low, and he continued to hold her close, raining kisses on her hip now.
She slapped at him. “Brett, stop it. I’m serious.”
He sobered again and pulled to sitting. Then he squared himself with her so she faced him. With his hands on her shoulders, he spoke. “I know you are. And it’s cute as fuck. But Monica will understand. Babe, she isn’t going to be shocked that we slept together.”
“Of course she isn’t, because you aren’t going to tell her.” Her voice rose with every word. She poked his chest to emphasize how important this was.
He rolled his eyes.
She growled.
“Sorry. I’m not trying to make light of this. I’m just trying to get into your head and figure out why you’re so bent out of shape. Call her. Tell her you’ll be there in a few hours if it makes you feel better. And come back to bed. You can’t possibly paint straight lines on two hours of sleep, anyway.”
Shit. He was right. I’m such an idiot.
How had she been so consumed with lust for so many hours that she forgot her responsibilities? She rubbed her temples. “It’s Sunday. Won’t her husband be there today? I haven’t even met him. He wasn’t home yesterday. Oh God. I’ve never set eyes on the man, and his first impression of me is going to be of some sex-fiend crazy woman with raw skin on her cheeks from your beard stubble.” She rubbed her jaw.
Brett gasped, and then he started laughing. Not softly. Full, hard guffaws that shook the bed.
She had no idea what was so amusing, but it grew annoying fast. She crossed her arms over her chest to cover her nipples.
Brett released his grip on one of her shoulders to wipe tears from his face on the back of his hand. “I’m sorry…” He kept laughing. Harder this time. “So sorry. I’m being an ass.” More laughter.
Finally, he pulled himself together to meet her gaze, his eyes still dancing with laughter.
She glared at him, her lips pursed.
“Babe, Monica’s not married.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open. “Oh. Shit. I thought. Wait…why is that so funny?” She tightened her arms around herself, pressing her breasts together. “It’s an honest mistake. I just assumed her husband hadn’t been there any of the times I was there. How is that weird?”
“It’s not. You’re right.” He still fought laughter. “She had artificial insemination to get this baby.”
“Okay…” So? “Again, how is this funny? It’s the twenty-first century. She can do that.”
“It’s not funny at all. I just didn’t realize you missed the fact that she’s a lesbian.”
“Oh.” Zia sat up straighter. “Oh damn. I did miss that.”
“Good.”
“Why? Why is that good?”
“Because it means she listened to my instructions.”
“And what instructions were those?” Zia cocked her head to one side, feeling renewed aggravation. Why on earth would Brett have asked his sister not to tell Zia she was gay?
He lifted a hand to cup her face. “It’s not like you’re thinking. I’m a modern guy. I don’t care if my sister’s gay. And I hope you don’t, either.”
“Not in the least. So?”
“So, I asked her not to hit on you.”
“What?” she nearly screamed, dropping her arms, no longer caring about concealing her breasts.
He chuckled, lighter this time. “It was more of a joke than anything. One time, years ago, I brought a date to her house, and Monica stole her right out from under me.
“I’m not stupid. Obviously it had nothing to do with me. The woman was either in denial until then, or she was bisexual. Either way, she had every right to switch sides, but after I got over the initial shock, I laid into Monica. Ever since then, every time I introduce her to a woman, I tell her not to hit on her. Obviously she didn’t with you.”
“You’re weird.” Zia scrunched her face up. “She could have hit on me every minute, and it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“I know that. It’s just a thing between Monica and me.”
“Uh-huh.” Zia sighed and flopped back down on the mattress. “Still need to call her.”
“Okay.”
“Still don’t want her to think I’m a slut.”
“Okay.” His voice was soft. Gentle. Understanding now. Finally. “I won’t breathe a word.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
It was noon before Zia arrived at Monica’s house. “So sorry I’m late.”
Monica waved her off. “No worries. I’m in no hurry.” She patted her belly. “I’ve got about three weeks still,” she joked as she followed Zia to the nursery. “Besides, you’re more than half done. I’m sure you were exhausted after yesterday. Did you sleep well?”
Zia jerked her gaze to Monica, but read nothing in the woman’s face. “Uh. Yeah. Thanks.” If Brett had told Monica the two of them had been together last night, there was no evidence of it on Monica’s face.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Yell if you need anything. I’ll be across the hall in my office. Working.”
“Seems like you work a lot. It’s a Sunday.” Zia smiled at her as she organized her paints and brushes. “Brett said you work for a magazine?”
“Yep. Senior editor at Sustainable. Love my job. Hate my hours.”
“Oh, wow. That’s cool. I’ve seen a few copies of that magazine. Interesting articles. Wave of the future.”
“That’s the goal.” She sighed. “But there will be no future if I don’t make some headway on this month’s issue.”
Zia giggled. “Go. I’ll make the world a tiny bit prettier while you make it greener.”
Zia popped in her earbuds, thinking about the inspiring woman across the hall. She had it all. Job she loved. Baby on the way. Maybe she didn’t have a partner to share it with, but Monica was so bubbly and warm there was no way in hell she wouldn’t find the perfect person for herself one of these days.
Ten minutes later, Zia was in her own world, inspiring music blaring in her ears, a paintbrush in hand.
Heaven.
Somehow she even managed to block out the most amazing night of her life to get these sweet fairies painted. It was tough. After all, Brett had taken her someplace she’d never been before. Several times. She could fall for him. Hard.
She could also get hurt.
But she told herself to live in the here and now and not worry about the future.
What could go wrong? Brett was gorgeous, kind, funny, sexy, dominant. And that was so hot. She flushed as she squeezed another color onto her pallet.
Time to get to work. She could ponder the hunk of man again after she finished the mural.
Six hours later, she was done. She stood back, pulling her earbuds out of her ears and taking it all in. She was proud of this work. She hoped Monica loved it too.
On that thought, a gasp behind her had her spinning around to find Monica in the doorway. “Holy shit.” She wandered into the room slowly, inching closer to the wall, her mouth hanging open.
“You like it?” It was hard to tell from her vague, open response.
“Like it? I freaking love it.” She reached out a hand and then yanked her fingers back when she decided she shouldn’t touch it.
“It’s pretty dry by now. The last section I did was closer to the ceiling anyway.”
“Still…I don’t want to mar it.”
Zia laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”
Monica turned around. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that several coworkers are interested in something similar. Do you mind if I
give them your number?”
“Nope. Never turn down work.”
“Here.” Monica reached in the pocket of the light sweater she wore and pulled out a check. She handed it to Zia.
Zia glanced at it and gasped. “That’s way more than we agreed on.”
“Your work is worth it. Don’t sell yourself short. You should quote at least that to the next person.”
Zia’s fingers shook. She’d never been paid this much for a job. “It’s what I love. I don’t put a value on it.”
“Well, you should. If everyone got to do what they love and get paid for it, wouldn’t the world be an amazing place?”
Zia smiled. “It would.” She tipped her head to one side. “You love your job too, right?”
“I do. That’s what’s making it so difficult to make any decisions about the baby.” She patted her belly. “I’m worried I’ll love this sweet girl even more and be torn. Not that I can quit working, mind you. After all, I have to put a roof over her head. But, cutting back? It’s always an option.”
“I’m sure it will all fall into place exactly as it’s supposed to be when the time comes.”
“I hope so.”
Zia packed up all her stuff, cleaned up her mess, and hauled her art bag toward the front of the house. Brett had sent three texts throughout the day, but she hadn’t answered any of them. She was working. Besides, they were short notes. Nothing that required a specific response. Just telling her how much he enjoyed their evening and how he couldn’t wait to do it again.
He didn’t mention seeing her that evening, which was both a relief and a disappointment.
She was dead on her feet and needed food, a shower, and sleep—not necessarily in that order.
Thoughts of seeing Brett again this evening made her both aroused and tired. Tomorrow was a regular school day. She normally got to the Wilkensons’ at six thirty to see the girls off to school and make sure they had everything they needed for the day.
It was becoming a joke. Neither girl needed monitoring. They could easily fix their own breakfasts and lunches. They could take the school bus. But the entire family, including Zia, was accustomed to a certain routine. Even though it was obsolete, they all still followed the status quo.
Catching Zia (Spring Training Book 1) Page 6
