Nailed

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  “No, I’m looking for a place to live.” He was heartily sick of his bachelor condo, and though he’d thought about building himself a home, these stately old Victorians were really close to his heart. This place—it just felt like a home.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She walked him back to the kitchen table where he whipped out his notebook and calculator to start working up a preliminary estimate. “How’d you end up in construction? I always thought you would be off to be big city right after graduation.”

  “I was,” he said as he calculated the square footage of the roof in his head. “Went off to grad school at Columbia, worked on Wall Street—even married the boss’s daughter.” He noted her flinch, and felt a small pleasure at knowing she didn’t like the idea of his marriage.

  “So how does your wife like Heartwood?” Her spine had gone stiff and her voice turned icily polite.

  Warner laughed. “She didn’t. Filed for divorce the day after I quit her father’s firm. Last I heard, she and my former best friend were still married, and had the requisite two point five kids and the house in Connecticut. Of course, with the way Wall Street’s been in the past year or so, I wouldn’t be sure about the house.”

  Celia had told Warner kids were out of the question, yet not five minutes after she’d married Barry, she’d been knocked up and bragging about it. Yet another reason Warner knew he’d made the right decision five years earlier.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That sucks.”

  Warner shrugged. “Not really. I got rid of the ulcer, the job that caused it, and the wife who liked my money a lot more than she liked me. Came home and took over my grandfather’s construction business. It’s a good deal all the way around, as far as I’m concerned. Looks like you came home, too. Or don’t I remember that you went off to California for grad school?”

  “I did,” she admitted. “Got my doctorate, did a post-doc in Boston. By then Aunt Gracie wasn’t doing so well, and I took the job at Western so I could be with her.”

  UCLA and MIT, he thought, having read her faculty biography. But she didn’t toss around the names of her prestigious graduate schools. She’d always been like this—fiendishly brilliant, but sweet and unassuming about it. Warner had recognized it even during his alcohol-fogged undergraduate days, but he’d had just enough self-control to know she deserved better, and to leave her alone. Now though? Now he was a responsible adult, and he was just the man to break through the wall of loneliness she’d built around herself in this big empty house.

  “Look, it’s late,” he said as he finished writing up the estimate and handed it to her. “Let’s go and grab something to eat. You can tell me more about your vision for the house.”

  She went still, and Warner could tell she was thinking about it. Pearly white teeth nibbled at her full lower lip.

  “Come on. After ditching you on the dance floor, the least I can do is buy you a meal to make up for it.” He’d gone back into the ballroom the minute the pictures were finished, only to find her gone, and he’d been brooding about it ever since.

  “Okay, I guess.” She rubbed at the dirt stain on the knee of her jeans then sighed. “I’d better go clean up first, though.”

  Warner smiled. She looked perfectly fine to him. “I wasn’t thinking of anyplace fancy. Santucci’s pizza is still the best in town.”

  “Trust me, I have their delivery service on speed dial,” she returned with a laugh. “Though my hips would be happier if I didn’t.”

  “Your hips look just fine to me,” he argued. “But if you want to get cleaned up, I’ll wait.” Of course, if she wanted to get naked instead, he’d be happy to help.

  “Fine, then.” She squared her shoulders as if gathering her courage and stood. “I’ll be back downstairs in ten minutes. The TV remote is on the coffee table, and I think the girls may have left some wine in the fridge, along with a soda or two.”

  “Iced tea is good,” he assured her. He didn’t drink much these days. “Don’t worry; I’ll be all right while I wait.” It would give him more time to plan for what he wanted to do to her after he brought her home.

  * * * *

  Last weekend, she’d watched as one by one, each of her former housemates had hooked up with the man of her dreams. They’d all had hot, steamy sex, some of them were already engaged for goodness sake, and they were all ridiculously happy. When they’d left on Sunday and Monday, she’d felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She’d chewed herself out for hiding behind her aunt, her career and everything else. She deserved a little fun in her life too, damn it. Now here she was with none other than Warner Beckett. She’d practically soaked her panties just looking at him in the restaurant, and it seemed to her like he’d been interested in her as well. The only question was whether she had the guts to reach for the brass ring.

  All through dinner, she could sense his eyes on her, watching her. She still hadn’t gotten over her shock at finding him here, working in construction of all things. Sure, his truck was top of the line and his VISA card was platinum, but it was still such a stretch from the pampered golden boy he’d been years ago.

  “Would you like to come in,” she asked as he pulled into her driveway after their meal. Her stomach did somersaults as she waited for his response.

  He didn’t make her wait long. “I’d like that very much.” He switched off the truck, and climbed out of the cab, hustling around in time to help her down from the hiked-up cab. She felt his hands at her waist, right through the fabric of her cotton sweater.

  “I could make coffee,” she said, as he took her hand and led her up the walk.

  “If you want to,” he murmured. “I don’t mind one way or the other.”

  Now what was that supposed to mean? She hoped it meant he was only interested in sex, but she couldn’t quite be sure. Still, her nipples had tightened into aching points at the mere sound of his voice.

  He waited patiently while her fumbling fingers unlocked the door, then he followed her inside, carefully setting the latch behind them. That was good, right? It meant he was thinking about staying a while. She stood in the hallway, half turned toward the kitchen. “Do you want—?”

  “You.” His low tone was practically a growl. “In case you weren’t absolutely clear on it, Dr. Sikorski, the only thing I want right now is you.” He cupped her cheek with one hand and rested the other on the newel post of the curved oaken stair rail. Then, so slowly she could have fled if she’d wanted to, been able to, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

  Oh. Wow.

  His kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She wasn’t a virgin—she’d had a couple of ill-fated relationships in grad school—but clearly she’d been looking for a man in all the wrong places. Her knees went weak and she clutched at his broad shoulders for support—which pushed her sensitized nipples even closer to the solid expanse of his chest. He let go of the newel post and clasped her butt with that hand, pulling her hips flush against his rock-hard thighs. Leaning forward, she went up on her toes, opening her mouth as he traced his tongue along the seam of her lips. She tasted pizza, and the single bottle of wine they’d shared, and over it all, the heady flavor of man that she’d been missing so long.

  “Jesus, Karen,” he said when his lips finally left hers to trail up to her ear. “Your bedroom is upstairs, right?” His hand slid from her butt up to her waist, and under her sweater to the small of her back.

  “Uh huh.” She tipped her head to give him better access to her neck, where he nibbled on her skin, sending ripples of pleasure all the way down to her wet, clenching pussy.

  “Good.” He moved so fast she didn’t figure it out until he’d slid his arm under her knee and scooped her up to his chest. “I always wanted to do this, but never had an appropriate staircase.”

  “Put me down, you nut! You’ll hurt yourself.” While she knew she wasn’t exactly fat, she was no model either. She had her grandmother Dzurak’s full boobs, and Granny Sikorski�
��s wide hips and sturdy thighs. No matter how much she dieted, those never went away. Still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he easily loped up the steps.

  “Honey, you weigh less than a bundle of two-by-fours,” he said with a laugh. “Relax.”

  Relax? He had to be kidding. Every part of her was quivering, either from anxiety or anticipation. She’d wanted him her entire adult life, but would he still find her appealing after he got her naked and her sturdy thighs were out on display?

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Warner turned to the right without even having to ask for directions to her room. Of course, he remembered the house. He wouldn’t be the perfect fantasy otherwise, now would he? He hit the light switch with his shoulder, casting a muted golden glow over the wrought iron four-poster bed with its snowy white comforter and pillows.

  “Tell me this wasn’t your great aunt’s room,” he teased. “That might be a little bit creepy.”

  “It was at one time, I think, but not for many, many years. When she decided to take in students, she moved downstairs, into what’s now my home office. After I moved back, she insisted I have this room redone for myself. I think she wanted me to put down roots here, so it would be even harder for me to sell the house.”

  “Smart lady. I hope she doesn’t mind that I’m about to ravish her niece.” He laid her down gently on the bed.

  “I think she’d be cheering you on,” Karen admitted, smiling up at him. “She was always encouraging me to get a social life, right up to the end.”

  “I’m glad you finally took her advice.” He sat down on the trunk at the foot of her bed and unlaced his work boots, then peeled off his socks and stuffed them inside, before setting them neatly beside the trunk. Karen watched while he pulled his wallet and cell phone out of his pockets and set them on the dresser, along with his keys. Then he removed one more item from his jeans pocket and set it down on the nightstand.

  Karen blinked. It was a strip of three foil-wrapped condoms. “You carry those with you everywhere you go?” Not that she was complaining. It just felt a little…odd.

  “Hardly. I’m not twenty-two anymore, you know. I really don’t go through life day to day expecting to get lucky. But I’ll admit I was hopeful. I picked those up in the men’s room at the restaurant.”

  Sitting up, she removed her own tennis shoes and socks. Warner reached out, took her shoes and lined them up next to his own.

  “I haven’t done this in a long time, Warner.” It had been over three years—since before Aunt Gracie got really sick. “I hope I’m not a huge disappointment.”

  Warner sat down on the bed beside her, took her face between his hands and kissed her gently. Then he looked directly into her eyes and said, “Believe it or not, it’s been a while for me too. And there’s no way you could disappoint me, unless you don’t want to do this. As long as we’re both here because we want to be, and we’re both having a good time, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

  That’s all she needed to hear. Taking the initiative, she went up on her knees and kissed him this time, her mouth gently shaping his, one hand tunneling into his short blond locks while the other gripped his shoulder for balance.

  He relaxed, letting her maintain control of the kiss. He cupped her ass with his hands, kneading gently without any real force or pressure. When she pushed her tongue inside his mouth, he stroked it with his own, but he didn’t push back—just let her have her way with him.

  “Mmm.” Finally she pulled back for a breath, feeling her bones start to melt into goo. She let her hands drop to the buttons of his shirt, easing them open one after another until she had access to his sculpted chest. After pushing the shirt off his shoulders, she sat back on her heels, content for a moment to admire perfection. Crisp golden hairs curled in a soft mat over chiseled muscle that tapered down to his slim waist. His chest was almost as tan as his face, but not quite. There was a faint line on his arms and neck that told her he’d gotten the color by working outside, not from lying by a pool.

  “My turn now.” He reached over and took the hem of her navy blue sweater in his hands, carefully drawing it up over her head and setting it down on the bed beside them. His finger trailed down along the shoulder strap of her powder blue cotton bra, and along the line of it to the vee between her breasts. “I was guessing white,” he teased. “But the blue is pretty against your creamy skin.”

  She felt herself flush all the way down to where his finger still rested.

  Warner pulled her into his lap and kissed her again, his hand shaping the lines of her back and waist, before sliding up between them to cover both of her breasts. His big hands cupped her softly, his palms rasping her aching nipples through the cotton covering them.

  Karen ran her fingertips over the muscled contours of his back and shoulders, loving the solid strength beneath the warm skin. His erection prodded at her thigh, straining the fabric of his jeans, and she knew her own jeans had to be just about soaked. It was time, she decided, to remove those barriers.

  Pulling her face away from his, she wiggled off his lap to stand beside the bed.

  “Jeans,” she whispered, amazed at her own daring.

  Warner grinned, the lines that crinkled at the corners of his sky-blue eyes only adding to his appeal. “Great idea.” He slid to his feet beside her and immediately unbuckled his belt while she managed her own zipper with shaky fingers.

  With a deep breath, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her blue cotton panties and shoved them to her feet along with her pants. Oh, hell, had she remembered to shave her legs? When? She hadn’t had a wax in—years. Maybe she could convince him to turn off the lights.

  Then Warner dropped his Levi’s to the floor and she forgot everything.

  Oh, lord, the man was built. Not that he was freakishly huge. Based on her admittedly small sample size, she’d guess he was simply equipped in proportion to his height, but that made him big by her standards. More than that, he was just…beautiful. There was no other word for it. Thick, magnificently erect and as perfectly curved as any statue, he was every notion of masculine perfection she’d ever had, personified.

  “You keep staring at that, it’s liable to get impatient,” he said with a low, husky chuckle. He reached both hands behind her back and unsnapped her bra before easing the straps off her shoulders. “Oh, sugar, you look pretty enough to eat.” He followed that up by pulling down the comforter then sitting back on the edge of the bed and pulling her to stand between his legs. His arms wrapped around her, while he buried his face in the valley between her breasts and inhaled deeply. “And you smell even better.”

  Karen trembled from head to toe as his tongue traced circles around the soft mound of her breast. She clutched his shoulders for balance, her stance as wide as his thighs would allow. He paid extra attention to the tender area under the curve, drawing just a little closer to the center with each pass, but taking his time, until her nipple was diamond-hard, and Karen was practically begging him to touch it at last.

  Finally, he circled the dark pink areole, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on the pebbled tip. She waited for him to move closer, do more, but he didn’t. Instead, he began slowly circling away.

  His hot, rigid cock pressed against her belly, so she knew he was aroused. Why didn’t he do more?

  “Tell me what you want, Karen,” he whispered. “I want to be with you, a living, breathing woman, not just a statue. I want you to tell me what you like, what feels good, how I can please you.” His wicked tongue moved over to circle her other breast.

  “Suck it,” she finally moaned, shocking herself. “I need your mouth on it, Warner.”

  “On what, honey?” He kissed her sternum. “Here?” Her collarbone. “Here?”

  He was going to make her say it. Karen’s face heated again. She’d never had a partner who wanted to talk during sex.

  “How about here?” He dropped his head to tickle her bellybutton with the tip
of his tongue.

  That made her laugh, and the giggle broke the spell of shyness. “My nipples, damn it. I want you to suck on my nipples.”

  “See, now was that so hard?” He immediately cupped one breast in his hand and placed a kiss on the nipple. “Now these are hard.” Then he took one into the hot cavern of his mouth and Karen had to hold on tight to keep her knees from giving out.

  His cheeks hollowed as he drew hard on the tender nub. His clever fingers found the other and rolled it, sending twin bolts of sensation straight to her womb. She rubbed her belly against his groin, her soft skin massaging his cock. The heat of it warmed her and she swore the tip left traces of moisture on her skin. She still found it hard to believe that such a magnificent man could be so turned on by her. The knowledge sent her own arousal skyrocketing.

  “Oh baby, these are so sweet,” he crooned, switching his mouth to the other breast and taking her still-damp one into his hand. “I could suck on them for days.”

  “Feel…free,” she managed between short, gasping breaths. Wetness coated the tops of her thighs and she didn’t think she’d survive much longer without having him inside her.

  “One day,” he murmured thickly, a few moments later when he dragged his mouth along her sternum to her throat. “I’m going to make you come just by playing with your nipples.”

  She would have laughed, but with Warner, she almost believed it was possible. “Later,” she said. Her hips twisted restlessly. He’d wanted her to tell him what she wanted, and right now, she wanted him to quit playing around. “Don’t make me wait, Warner. I need you to fuck me now.”

  “Sweetheart, I can’t wait.” He pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her deeply, plunging his tongue inside in a raw imitation of what his cock would do to her in moments. While they kissed, he leaned back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. One hand roved down her spine to the crack of her ass, running down between her legs to slide along her drenched slit.

  If she shifted just a little bit, she could impale herself on that luscious dick. She wriggled until the blunt tip was poised right at the entrance of her weeping pussy.