“Only if you have room service,” she said, relieved that each word came out clear and concise and not a jumble of incoherent mutterings to match her erratic heartbeat.
“I have something much better than room service for you.”
The cocky grin was back, and she surrendered to the goose bumps that declared war on her body.
Too nervous to come up with a witty reply, she decided she was better off keeping her mouth shut or risk sounding like a giddy schoolgirl.
He gestured for her to precede him into the apartment, and as soon as she crossed the threshold, she was transported into another world. The apartment was huge and filled with natural light, or would be if it weren’t so overcast. The uniquely shaped furniture was sparse and modern, not to her taste, but she could appreciate the sleek lines and occasional bold color that seemed to make each piece a work of art.
“I know,” he said, tossing his keys on a black console table that displayed a bronze sculpture of a lone baseball player staring at the ball in his hand. “You’re afraid to sit on anything, right?”
“It’s all very nice,” she said, and then gasped with delight when the freestanding glass fireplace in the middle of the room suddenly lit with flames. “How did—”
He held up a remote control.
“Ooh, I am so jealous.”
“It’s my favorite part of the room.” The remote landed next to his keys, and then he shrugged out of his jacket, which he draped over the back of a red armless chair.
“Does it give off much heat?” she asked, moving closer to the flames and extending her hands, wondering why she felt awkward suddenly. It wasn’t as if he were stripping. Just taking off his jacket, for heaven’s sake.
“Are you still cold?” he asked, his voice lower, huskier than a minute ago.
Or perhaps it was her imagination. “Not really.” Restless now, she drifted to the enormous windows overlooking the city. Down below, in the middle of the buildings and asphalt, was an oasis. “That’s got to be Central Park.”
“Yep.”
Startled at the nearness of his voice, she started to turn around, but he was directly behind her. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. It took only seconds before he found a spot on the side of her neck and lightly bit her sensitive skin.
“Hmm, you taste salty,” he murmured.
“And sandy.”
Holding her firmly, he licked a trail up to her ear. “No sand.”
She sucked in a breath when he drew up the hem of her sweater and slid a hand underneath. After exploring her rib cage, he palmed a breast, using a finger to trace the lacy cup of her new bra.
Her nipples responded immediately, tightening into hard nubs and aching for his touch. She reached behind and grabbed his lean hips, moving her own and rubbing against him until he groaned with frustration.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He drew his hands from under her sweater, caught the hem and pulled it over her head before she knew what was happening.
“Here?” She spun around to face him and, acting on her first instinct, crossed her arms over her breasts.
“No one can see through that glass,” he said, prying her arms loose and setting them at her sides, his hungry gaze devouring her black lace bra.
“Shower first,” she said, quivering so badly inside she was amazed her hands didn’t shake.
“I agree.” He trailed his fingers over her breasts, down her bared midriff and stopped at the button on her jeans.
“Wait. Let’s keep this equitable.” She pulled his shirt loose from his waistband.
“Equitable,” he repeated with a teasing grin.
“What?”
“You’re the only person I know who’d use a word like that now.”
Emily frowned. She didn’t get his point, but after yanking his shirt up there wasn’t much else she could think about but his chest, smooth and taut with muscle. Good grief. She’d only seen a body this perfect in pictures.
“Guess I’ll finish the job,” he said, drawing her attention to the shirt she’d left rolled up to his shoulders.
Vaguely, she considered that she should be embarrassed for being distracted from her task. But when he yanked off the shirt and twisted around to throw it on a chair, she lowered her gaze to his belly, swallowing hard at the rippling muscles that flexed with his movement.
She hated that she was blatantly staring, but it wasn’t as if she could look away. To hide her reaction, she traced the waistband of his jeans, stopping to unbuckle his belt.
He cupped a large hand over hers, cutting short her progress. “What did you say earlier about keeping this equitable?” He pried her hand away, kissed the back of it and laid her palm on his chest.
Her heart jumped. She couldn’t move her fingers and stood as still as a statue. Her other hand fisted at her side as he slid her bra straps off her shoulders. She must have tensed because he gave her shoulders a light squeeze of reassurance before unfastening the front hook and pushing the lacey cups aside.
10
NICK CUPPED EACH OF her perfect breasts in his hands. He drew the pad of his thumbs over each budded nipple and did all he could to keep from shuddering. The pale pink crowns matched the natural pink of her lips. If he didn’t hurry and move on, get them to the shower, he’d end up making a fool of himself right here in the middle of his living room. He wanted her so damn bad, his lack of understanding over his reaction scared the hell out of him.
“Let’s finish undressing in the bathroom.” His voice was so gravelly he wasn’t sure she got what he said.
Emily just stood there, as if she’d been frozen in time. Except her skin wasn’t cold, but warm and silky soft and…
He really had to get them moving.
“Emily?”
She blinked. “Right.” Then she visibly swallowed. “What did you say?”
He let out a shaky laugh. “Come with me.”
She nodded, her parted lips, damp and seductive, were far too tempting. Before he totally lost his cool, he removed the hand she’d flattened against his chest, kissed the center of her palm and then led her toward the hall to the master bedroom.
His bed was semimade. The housekeeper was off this week, and left on his own, pulling the sheet and matching brown-and-cream geometric comforter up to the mountain of pillows was good enough for him.
He drew her past the flat-screen TV and love seat, down the short hall dividing the two walk-in closets and into the bathroom. Black-and-white tiled steps led up to an oval whirlpool tub in the corner, raised high enough that while sitting in the jetted water, you could look out the windows at the Lower East Side skyline.
“Wow. This bathroom is huge.” Emily gazed appreciatively at all the small details.
“Just so you know, the froufrou stuff wasn’t my idea, but it’s good for resale value,” he said, much more interested in her bare breasts. He moved in behind her and kissed the side of her neck while he kneaded one breast. With his free hand, he unbuckled his belt.
“Resale?” She set her bra on the gray granite countertop and turned within the circle of his arms to face him. “Are you moving?”
“Eventually. When I’m not playing ball anymore. Or if I’m traded.” He pushed the hair back and nuzzled her neck.
She straightened. “Would they trade you? Haven’t you always been a Knight?”
He unfastened her jeans and drew down the zipper. Matching black panties. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
“No way they would trade you.”
They would if I got into a slump. The grim thought abruptly surfaced, like a diver shooting out of the water, gasping for air. And led to other grim thoughts. Billy. Oh, God, not now.
Quickly, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and drew the worn denim down her thighs. She thought she was helping by wiggling her hips from side to side, but all she did was make him hornier and clumsy.
He had to hunker down t
o finish the job, and while she stepped out of the jeans, he kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her instant shudder pleased him, and he trailed the tip of his tongue to the panties’ elastic.
Gasping softly, she clutched his shoulders and squeezed her thighs together.
He looked up at her, hoping the reaction was purely reflexive and that he hadn’t made her uncomfortable. She smiled at him, a tender, sensual smile that curved her pink bow lips and had his senses reeling. He wanted to take her. Right now. On the floor. Screw the shower. Screw everything.
She leaned on him for support and toed off her shoes. Then she dug into his biceps, not hard, just enough to urge him to stand. As soon as he did, she took over releasing the half-undone belt buckle. He really wanted her panties off, but he clung to his last shred of patience while she unzipped his fly.
He kicked off his shoes, drew back long enough to pull off his socks before getting out of his jeans. All that was left between them were her panties and his boxers, both black. When Emily noticed the matching color, she laughed.
“A guy could get his feelings hurt with you pointing and laughing like that.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she lightly stroked his erect cock through the soft fabric. “It seems your feelings are just fine.”
He gritted his teeth. Did she know what that simple touch had done to him? “The shower or tub?”
As though she hadn’t noticed it yet, her eyes widened on the large glass-enclosed shower that took up an entire corner of the bathroom. “Geez, you could have orgies in that thing.”
“Every third Saturday of the month.”
She narrowed her eyes for a moment, the color of uncertainty in her cheeks. Damn, if that didn’t make her even prettier.
“You know I’m kidding, right?” He splayed his hand over her flat belly, rubbing gently, working his way lower.
“I wasn’t totally sure,” she admitted.
“You must’ve been reading too much of Erotic New York.” He slid his fingers into her panties.
“Hey, how do you know what’s in there? Ooh.” She jumped at his invasion. “I don’t care. Shower or tub. Whichever one you don’t want.”
He stilled, studied her closely. Was she serious?
Her cheeks dimpled mischievously.
“For that I’ll show no mercy.” He yanked down her panties, gripping her by the wrist when she shrieked and tried to back away. “Good thing I only have one neighbor,” he muttered, before silencing her with a punishing kiss.
She went limp, and he easily liberated the panties and flung them over his shoulder. Obviously she didn’t mind that he’d kissed her so hard because she got a hold of his boxers and pushed them down as far as she could. When he refused to release her wrist, she grabbed his cock and stroked him.
He jerked, rid himself of the boxers and let go of her wrist so that he could stand back and watch her small hand pump him slowly. When she increased the rhythm, he stopped her. Had to, or he risked coming too soon.
“The shower,” he said, preoccupied with her nipples. He so badly wanted to taste them, tease the nubs with his teeth. But he had to wait, show some restraint, because one taste could do him in. “It’ll be faster. Next time we’ll use the tub,” he said, surprising himself. He made it a habit not to think too far ahead when it came to women. But then, Emily was changeing a lot of his habits.
“The shower,” he repeated hoarsely, and turned away from temptation.
EMILY STOOD BACK AND watched him adjust the knobs, getting the water to the optimum temperature. More accurately, she was ogling his perfect muscular ass while he fussed with the faucet. He was so firm, so flawless, his skin so tautly stretched over sculpted muscles that she wanted to weep. Not just his ass. His back and thighs and calves bunched with muscle as he leaned into the shower. She was pretty sure his toes were muscular, too.
Good grief, but he had to work hard to maintain that physique. Or maybe he was just lucky and had good genes because he wasn’t overly muscled, like the way bodybuilders bulged out even when they stood still. Nick had the lean grace of an athlete who took care of himself.
Meanwhile, she thought, walking to the mailbox was exercise to her. Although she did stretch for ten minutes every morning, and then again if she sat at her computer for too long. That had to count for something. Good thing she had a speedy metabolism because she wasn’t all that careful about what she ate, either.
“There,” he said, stepping back.
Her gaze went straight to his penis. He wasn’t nearly as hard as he was before, but still impressive.
“Keep looking at me like that and we will skip the shower.”
Embarrassed, she lifted her gaze to his face. He was staring at her breasts, his lips slightly parted and glistening wet as if he’d just run his tongue over them. She swallowed around the lump of sheer desire that rose in her throat, and then stepped around him to get in the shower.
She felt his hand on her ass, and she wished with all her heart that she’d added squats to her stretching routine. Too late now. He’d already seen the goods, and he hadn’t run screaming. That was comforting.
The water was nice and warm and seemed to melt away the mild case of nerves she’d suffered since they’d arrived at his apartment. Briefly she thought about trying to keep her hair from getting wet, especially since it had turned out so well this morning. It took only three seconds to give up that notion.
Instead, she totally hogged the spray from the showerhead as he slipped in behind her, and then reached around her body for the soap. His chest and semiaroused penis brushed her back and fanny, and she was pretty sure he’d done it on purpose because the shower truly was big enough for six people. Not that she was complaining. She’d had trouble sleeping last night trying to wrap her head around the fact that she’d spent the evening with Nick Corrigan, and now this?
Oh, boy, no one was going to believe it. Not Marnie, not her sisters. Though it wasn’t as if Emily planned on broadcasting the event or to ever give blow-by-blow details of anything that happened between her and Nick.
“You’re awfully quiet.” His hands lathered, he circled his arms around her and kneaded her breasts.
She leaned back against him and sighed with contentment. “I’ll be your slave forever if you don’t stop doing that.”
He chuckled. “Forever is a long time.”
“Keep that up, and it’ll go by very quickly.”
“Ah, but there are so many other things we could be doing,” he said, and drew his palms down her belly, and then circled the area below her belly button.
“Hmm, I can’t think of any.”
“No? Then I must be doing this all wrong.” He withdrew his hands and reclaimed the bar of soap.
“Hey.” She spun around to face him.
“What?” With a cocky lift of his chin, he rubbed his palms together, worked up another lather and spread the foam on his own chest.
“You weren’t done with me yet.” Her gaze followed his hands, spreading the suds over his flat brown nipples, down to his belly and around his penis. He still wasn’t as hard as he was earlier, but, oh, mama…
“You’re right. I’m not.” Watching her intently, he wrapped his hand around his penis and stroked slowly, under the guise of washing it, but they both knew what he was doing.
The seduction worked really well, too. Her breath quickened and her pulse grew erratic. She stood her ground, ordered herself to ignore her instinct to attack him. Instead, she cupped her left breast, using her forefinger to circle her extended nipple, and slid her other hand to the V of her thighs.
His hooded gaze missed nothing. He inhaled sharply, his chest expanding, as he watched her please herself. “You surprise me, Emily Carter,” he said finally, one side of his mouth curving as he released himself and reached for her.
“In a good way, I hope.”
“In an excellent way,” he said, taking her by both wrists and crowding her backward until she was completel
y under the shower, the water drenching her hair and then sluicing down her front until the soap had vanished. She tossed back her sopping hair, and while holding her arms aloft, he started with a kiss at her throat before putting his mouth on her breast.
He drew hard on the nipple, and she arched her back, encouraging him to suckle hungrily. He used his tongue, his teeth and enough suction that it could have been painful, yet he managed to sustain just the right amount of pressure to make her eager to have her other breast equally sated.
She flexed her wrists to let him know she wanted to be released. His penis had to be hard and heavy and needing some attention, but either he didn’t understand what she was trying to communicate, or he simply wasn’t through with her yet. The thought made her tremble with anticipation.
“What’s wrong, Emily?” he whispered, his warm breath bathing her nipple. “You aren’t still cold, are you?”
The amusement in his voice fueled her determination. She managed to twist one wrist free and found his hard, thick penis instantly. She rubbed the crown, lightly flicked the ridge with her thumbnail and was rewarded with a moan that came from so deep in his throat that she smiled.
He abandoned her breast and kissed her hard on the lips, then pushed his tongue inside for a thorough sweep of her mouth. “Turn around,” he ordered.
She blinked at him, still dazed from the kiss, and didn’t immediately absorb the abrupt command.
He took over, taking her by the shoulders and turning her so that her back was to him. He rubbed his penis against her ass, and she flattened her palms on the tiled wall for support, a tiny part of her fearing what he might do next. But all he did was rub the bar of soap down her back, over her buttocks and down the backs of her thighs. Then he used his hands to retrace the path, taking his time, massaging her tired muscles.
Holy crap, the man had great hands. He knew just how much pressure to use. Every last ounce of tension melted under his touch. After a couple of minutes, she was so relaxed, that she was caught off guard when he slid his hand up her inner thigh and fingered her clit.
The Real Deal Page 10
