by Dawn Ryder
“You’re interested and that scares you,” he countered ruthlessly. “That’s why you need therapy. You’re being a bitch now because I called it on the money.”
He saw too much. And she was being a bitch.
“I’ve had some. Court ordered, no less.” She felt like her emotions were draining her. “It was just another way Caspian was able to ensure I did what he wanted. Just another hold stuck in the fine print of our divorce papers. So public, but such a private little stab too. No freedom until I performed one final act of obedience.”
“What a prick.”
There was venom in his tone. It surprised her and nurtured the little spark of trust taking root inside her. He looked sincere, but she couldn’t afford to let her budding feelings grow.
“Yeah, but it’s over.”
She was shutting him out.
Nartan watched the way Celeste tightened her features and looked away from his face. He really didn’t need to get involved. But leaving felt like quitting.
That was something he never did.
“It won’t be over until you pull that weed out by the root,” he informed her. “That’s how that ghost maintains its grip.”
She started to shake her head. “This isn’t your concern.”
He stepped into her path when she tried to make a getaway.
“Or maybe I should have said, it won’t be over until you find the courage to face your demons.”
Her eyes widened in surprise before her temper flickered in her eyes. “Like I said, neither of us needs the tension hooking up will create.”
“The way you blush when you look at me says differently.” He shrugged and watched the way her gaze lowered to his shoulders. “Am I the first man who’s excited you since you left the prick? Or am I just the first one who’s made it past your defense system?”
“You don’t—” She bit back the lie, a hint of disgust surfacing in her expression. “My sex drive works just fine.”
He offered her a raised eyebrow. “You’re good at it, the brush-off.”
“How would you know?” she questioned. “You don’t look like a man who gets told ‘no’ very often.”
He chuckled. “Thanks for noticing.”
“Can you even name the last five partners you had?” she asked.
Nartan locked gazes with her. “Now you’re back to being a bitch to get me to shove off.”
“Maybe I am a bitch.”
He studied her for a long moment. “You aren’t. I know my share of them.”
She drew in a deep breath. “My point exactly. But just in case you don’t get it, I’m not interested in joining your list of friends with benefits. I know what it’s like to be used, and I won’t do it to someone else. Even if you’re willing.”
Surprise flashed through him and unleashed a wave of need that shocked him with its intensity.
“Tell me you don’t want to touch me and I’ll walk away.”
She’d crossed her arms over her chest. She gripped her own bicep, her fingertips pressing into the skin. There was a flash of guilt in her eyes, a hint of fear over being unmasked, which sent a jolt of excitement through him.
“I want the same thing.”
“Yeah, I got that message when you pinched my butt,” she responded in a dry tone.
“I cupped it.” He withdrew his hand from his pocket and mimicked a little pat. “Only a boy thinks a girl likes to be pinched. I know how to touch a woman.”
Her face turned scarlet.
But the tip of her tongue appeared and swept across her lower lip. He stepped toward her and had to force himself to stop when her expression become guarded.
“Touch me, Celeste.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He crooked his finger, beckoning her forward. “Come here and finish what we started last night…” He laid his hands on his chest for a moment. “Do what you felt the impulse to do, and don’t let that prick keep you bottled up.”
“I told you, I’m not interested in doing anything about what I feel for you.” She shook her head. “Why would I? Your ideas are clearly different than mine when it comes to relationships. I’m a complication you don’t want any more than I want to be disappointed in myself by how I treat you.”
“And still, I followed you out here.” Determination edged his words.
“All that proves is that you like getting what you want,” Celeste countered, doing her best to recall exactly why using him was something she wanted to avoid.
“You think I have to follow you to get it?” It wasn’t really the tone of his voice, just the way his features sharpened with confidence. He knew his effect on women and enjoyed reaping the benefits.
“Thanks for confirming what I thought about you the first time we met.”
She went to step past him, but he moved into her path. “And what was that?”
“That you are very successful and accustomed to being in control.” She sighed and held up her hand when he started to speak. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t go for the controlling type.”
His eyes had narrowed, but his lips lifted just a bit at the corners. “The hell you don’t. That little puppy dog that tried his hand at impressing you on the dance floor didn’t have a prayer, because you need someone who is going to impress you before you yield.”
“You sound like a caveman.”
He reached out and clasped her nape, curling his hand around the slender column of her neck and pressing with his fingers into those points of tension she seemed to always have. He gave her just a taste of his strength, enough to unleash a flood of heat before he released her.
He chuckled softly when she averted her gaze to keep him from seeing what she felt. “What’s wrong? Don’t know what to do when there’s no way to divert your attention away from how I affect you?”
Exactly.
She was forced to admit there was a lot of truth in what he was saying.
“Nartan, this is just going to get messy.”
“You don’t trust a confident man, but there is no way you’d surrender to one who wasn’t confident.” His voice hardened. “Your ex is succeeding in getting you to build your own prison.”
Was that true?
She hated the fact that it might be.
He reached out again. Doing it slowly, testing her nerve. She felt the distance between them closing, everything slowing down as she became immersed in the sharp sensation of anticipation.
But she didn’t pull back. She locked gazes with him. “You might be right.”
“And you don’t like that?”
“No.” She stepped closer to him. “Let’s see if it was moon madness last night.”
All of her senses were heightened, her skin ultrasensitive when he brushed the surface of her cheek with his fingertips. She shivered, her eyes slipping closed as she savored the connection between them.
For just a moment, time froze and she allowed herself to enjoy the contact. Oh yes, she had forgotten how good it felt to be touched.
Decadent…
She opened her eyes when she realized she’d never enjoyed a man’s touch as much. This was more intense and far more likely to explode.
“You’re fire.” She shook her head, intending to sever the connection between their gazes, but he slid his hand into her hair, rubbing across her scalp before he closed the distance between them and tightened his fist in her hair.
“I could make the same accusation.” His eyes glittered with need. “I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you again.”
She gasped, the sight of him on the edge driving her closer to it herself. He leaned down and captured the sound with his lips.
It wasn’t a hard kiss.
She could have pulled away from a hard, possessive claiming of her lips.
N
artan started with soft pressure that stole her breath. It might have been slow, but he still pressed his mouth against hers with all the solid confidence she’d accused him of. It was there in the way he slid his lips across hers. Once, twice, and then a third time before he teased her lower lip with a soft lick.
Everything except the connection between them ceased to register. She reached for him, smoothing her hands down the cotton of his shirt. She dipped her fingers beneath the blue tie, determined to get closer to his skin.
She could smell him. That musky scent that turned her on as much as the way he stroked her tongue with his. It was masterful and arrogant, and excitement tore through her like lightning and left a burning trail behind.
She twisted toward him, straining upward so she could kiss him. The hold on her nape changed, tightening as he growled. He curled his other arm around her, binding her against his body as she reached for his hair and pulled his head closer against her own.
The kiss became demanding and hard. He pulled her right off her feet and pressed her up against the wall of the building. He reached down, sliding his hand across the curve of one side of her bottom and further down to her thigh. Heat roared through her, her heart pounding as her clit began to ache. The need to press against him was so intense that she never protested when he pulled her thigh up to allow him to grind against her mound.
He hissed, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her skirt and discovering that one strap from her garter belt was the only thing to keep his hand off her bare skin. She shivered, his skin connecting with hers like a clap of thunder. She jerked her head back, unbearably conscious of how exposed she was. Only a thin triangle of silk covered her sex, just inches from his fingers. She was on edge, completely exposed. Frantic with the need for more. More of him.
“We need a room…now,” he growled next to her ear. She felt the words as much as heard them.
He stepped back, allowing the air to slam into her. It was like a bucket of ice water. She struggled against the horror of what she’d allowed herself to do, blinking as she took in the hunger edging his features and sharpening them. Someone laughed nearby and the click of heels against concrete made it through to her at last. Acute embarrassment mixed with the sexual craving tearing up her insides.
“No…”
He reversed course instantly, turning to face her and flattening his hands on either side of her head. His eyes narrowed to slits as he drew in a deep breath and held it before opening his eyes to display a glitter that made her mouth go dry.
“I can smell your heat, Celeste… I want to taste you…every inch of you…”
His voice was raspy and raw, promising her a hard ride. But it was the possessive gleam in his eyes that made her shake her head. He slipped his hand around the curve of her hip and drew her against him, making sure she felt every hard inch of his erection. Her passage quivered, tightening with need so acute that she groaned.
God, she wanted him…so damned much it hurt.
She ducked under his arm and came up a few paces from him. She really hadn’t escaped, and that knowledge, mixed with the raging need inside her, made her wonder if trusting him was such a terrible thing after all.
“Find someone else.”
It was the kindest, politest thing she could manage. Brushing him off completely felt overly harsh when she knew damned well she was the one with trust issues.
“Because you’re right. I have unresolved issues.”
She turned and walked away. Her confession rung in her ears, but a little ripple of relief went through her too. She’d said it. Finally admitted it out loud. Nartan might not be the best choice of confidant, but he’d been the one to insist on pressing against her comfort zone.
Hell, the man pressed better than anyone ever had. It was as irritating as it was impressive. She felt wrung out, her emotions raw.
As she rounded the corner of the building, the music from the reception became louder. A few people stood just outside the doors, enjoying a smoke. They glanced her way and her cheeks reddened as she fought the urge to turn and look behind her.
Yeah, Nartan was good at pressing into comfort zones. She’d bet he was damned good at shattering every last illusion she might have about what great sex was. The way he moved, kissed, and touched screamed out his experience level at bedroom games.
He’d be fire in her hands and she’d be putty in his.
It had to account for the way she reacted. That was also why she needed to put space between them. But at least she wouldn’t have any problem doing that. Once the wedding was over, she had a tour of Alaska to enjoy. Nartan Lupan would go back to running his upscale restaurant and no doubt find someone less complicated.
Maybe several someones.
That thought gave her enough poise to restore her composure. Rich men didn’t sleep alone unless they wanted to. Even if they didn’t come in the mouthwatering type of package Nartan did. She slipped into the building and headed toward the ladies’ room to check her lipstick.
That was all. Just a reaction to his skill level.
Rationalizing always broke down extreme feelings. At least for her it did. Taking solace in logic might be cold, but she was far less likely to end up in the sort of disaster her marriage had been.
***
The wedding reception was in full swing when Nartan reentered the building. The cake had been cut and was being delivered to the tables. Tarak had retreated to the bar and scowled at Nartan when he joined him there.
“Some wingman you are,” Tarak growled. But he frowned and narrowed his eyes as he stared at his friend.
“That’s not a good shade of lipstick for you, Nartan.”
Nartan reached for a napkin and wiped it away. “Tasted good.”
Tarak took a sip of his whisky while brooding. Nartan signaled the bartender and soon found himself nursing his own drink.
It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted the taste of a woman’s flesh on his tongue.
Hard, blunt, but honest.
His gaze searched the crowd until he found Celeste. The bridesmaid dress was reserved enough in design, but all he saw was the way it flowed over her curves, fluttering and settling against her body to give him a tantalizing glimpse of what her thighs looked like, then swishing and shimmering and hiding what he craved. He got a glimpse of a trim ankle and a brief side look at one mouthwatering breast before Tarak chuckled and distracted him.
“Don’t be so amused,” Nartan warned.
Tarak set his drink down. “There is nothing on this planet that could keep me from enjoying the sight of you right now. Payback’s hell.”
Nartan smiled and let out a word in their native tongue. His grin covered the fact that he was telling Tarak to go fuck himself in the middle of a wedding reception.
“Unlike you, my bed is occupied,” Tarak answered. “But I am curious what your next step is going to be. She’s not going to make herself available for you.”
“Actually…” Nartan’s voice trailed off as he contemplated Celeste and the way she’d turned her back on him.
He liked the view.
“I think it’s time for me to do a sight check on the lodge.” He tossed the last of his whisky back and set the glass down. “I wouldn’t want you to think I let your wife’s best friend stay in questionable accommodations while she’s on her vacation.”
“Of course not.” Tarak narrowed his eyes. “But if all you’re interested in is fun, find another toy. She’s family now.”
It might not have been the most logical of decisions, especially with Tarak’s warning, but Nartan felt a burning in his gut that he knew too well. It was a feeling he trusted, one he’d followed in business, and he’d been rewarded with success for doing so.
He wasn’t finished with Celeste Connor. Leaving her behind would be a mistake.
Nartan’s grandmother walked
right across the crowded dance floor. She was all of five feet tall with long, gray braids. She had plump cheeks and wrinkles around her eyes when she smiled. The guests parted, making way. It might have been because of the way age and wisdom seemed to radiate off her, or it could have been the ceremonial buckskin dress she wore.
Celeste found herself mesmerized by the sight, time suddenly blurring as the old woman took the wedding celebration back to traditions that had stood the test of centuries. She looked frail but latched on to Celeste’s hand with a strength that was surprising. She pulled Celeste off the dance floor and right back to Nartan’s side. She had to be the only living soul on the planet who could have accomplished it, too. A pleased glimmer appeared in her blue eyes as her lips set into a very satisfied grin.
She started chattering in Apache.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I seem to recall your grandmother speaking English this morning.”
The old woman smiled so widely that her eyes ended up nothing but slits in her face. Celeste got the sneaking suspicion that Nartan had learned a lot from his grandmother.
Nartan lifted his hands in surrender when his grandmother looked back at him. “I’m not arguing with an elder. She wants me to translate.”
Celeste couldn’t help but smile. Okay, the guy was presumptuous, arrogant, and pushy, but he respected his grandmother.
That made him adorable.
Crap.
“The sun is going down. She wants you to go get Sabra and help her change into the dress.”
A younger girl stepped up and offered Celeste a bundle. She laid it in Celeste’s arms as carefully as she would have a baby.
“That was her mother’s dress,” Nartan explained. “Made by her mother.”
“Wow.” Celeste remarked, adjusting her hold to make sure she wasn’t crushing the bundle.
His grandmother nodded with approval and chattered some more. Nartan listened before translating.
“She says to tell Sabra that Tarak is her son, no matter how he came to this world, so his bride will wear the dress from her family and that the English portion of the wedding is over, so she will speak Apache now.”
