Breathless, she ran her hand through her hair as she looked about, trying to remember what she needed to do.
Something sparkled on the wooden floor. She snatched it up—horrified to realize she’d dropped the diamond ring in those moments of delight. She rammed it back on her finger and hurried to close.
He was pacing back and forth in front of the store like he had too much energy to keep still. As soon as she locked the door, he took her hand. There was no need for conversation—the social veneer between them had been stripped away. All that remained now was searing sexual attraction.
He led her to the Tube. No black car today? It didn’t matter, there was a train pulling in. It was rush hour and they stood the entire journey along the Jubilee line. She clutched the metal pole near the carriage doors, while he stood directly behind her. His hand splayed across her lower belly—exerting firm pressure to hold her close. Not that he needed to. She wasn’t about to step away from that contact.
The trip was mostly smooth, but every now and then, a slight curve in the movement of the train made them move—pressing him tighter against her. She could feel his hard length pushing against her butt. She bent her head, closing her eyes in wild excitement. He dropped a brief kiss on the nape of her neck, pressing harder against her at the same time.
They didn’t say a word. There was only that physical communication of escalating desire. Again, then again he moved discreetly—intimately—against her. It was the most erotic ride of her life—fully clothed foreplay on public transport.
Finally, they got to Baker Street. He gripped her hand so tight it hurt, walking them quickly through the crowds and along the street to his apartment. She’d wondered what his place was like. But right now, she couldn’t register anything but him. Nothing else was relevant.
As soon as they were inside his door, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her. She clung—softening against his strength, desperate for him to ease her hungry ache. She wanted him like she’d never wanted before.
And she had never wanted like this. Had never done anything like this. And deep inside, her most private insecurities clamored—forcing their way up through the heat. Cold nerves coiled around anticipation. Breathing hard, she pulled back to look up at him, registering the utter gorgeousness of his features and fretting all the more. “I haven’t been with anyone…”
“Since Corey?” He guessed when she trailed off.
“Not since him.” She paused and drew in some courage. “Or before.”
His eyes widened, but his embrace remained tight. “No pressure, then.” He chuckled.
“I’m not going to compare.” She pushed out of his arms, appalled that she’d started this and feeling colder with every word. “I just wanted you to understand that I’m—not that experienced.” In other words, she wasn’t that good. Corey wouldn’t have gone seeking fun in so many other places if she’d been any good. He’d even said so.
Eduardo’s brows lifted, but his smile softened.
“I’m a bit nervous,” she began to babble.
“You don’t need to be nervous.”
“I just want it to be…”
“What?” he patiently asked.
“Good.” Memorable—for him as well as for her—and for all the right reasons.
He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in random tufts. For a moment she held her breath, unable to read his expression. But then he smiled and held out his hand.
Nina looked at him—the total beauty of him. Was she really going to mess up this opportunity with insecurity? Was she going to turn tail and play it safe or was she going to be the girl who took what she wanted for once?
Nina put her hand in his.
He walked—backward, leading her down the hallway. He didn’t once break eye contact with her. And his eyes were hypnotic. So was his smile.
“Speak some Shakespeare to me,” he said as he pulled her into his bedroom.
In her peripheral vision, Nina saw a big, white bed. She swallowed, her mouth dry. This was really going to happen. “Shakespeare?” she repeated distractedly. “Really?”
He nodded, his smile wicked. “Talk to me of country matters.”
She licked her parched lips—not realizing how damn unsubtle that was until she saw his smile deepen.
Shakespeare. He always had the good lines. The first that came to mind was the one she’d blurted on the Tube. “So…will you lie with your head in my lap?”
“For as long as you’ll let me.”
“Really?” A thrill tingled its way to her womb and a telltale slickness further dampened her knickers. She really wanted him in her lap. She stepped forward, feeling more confident already. “So you want to come play in my ‘nest of spicery’?”
“Nest of spicery?” Laughing, he reached out and began to unbutton her top with easy flicks of his fingers. “I like that one.” He bent, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone as he pulled each half of her blouse apart.
“Or you could think of it as my ‘flower.’ ”
“Surely it’s my flower. Mine to pick?” His mouth moved down to her lace-edged bra. “Shall I inhale your scent? Taste your sweetness?”
“Okay.” She arched her head back, exposing her neck to his caressing fingers and lips. “But I don’t like the ‘withered pear’ euphemism.” Her giggle disappeared in a sigh as he slid his hand down her stomach to cup her mound. Despite her skirt and knickers, the sensation was devastating. “Eduardo.” She breathed sharply.
“Don’t stop talking.” He pushed her down on his bed and moved to slide her skirt down. “In fact, if you stop talking…” He paused to press kisses to every inch of skin that he bared. “I’ll stop touching.”
“You like the bawdiness?” Her heart thundered while her body heated yet more.
“I like you.”
And he set about proving it.
Nina recited lines as he removed each item of her clothing with slow, agonizing care. He kissed and stroked as he went—sending rivers of sensation down the length of her body.
She reveled in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her—like there was no greater view, no greater pleasure. He was so focused on pleasing her. And how easy it was. All he had to do was touch. She felt freed of all self-consciousness. She just felt hot—in so many ways. It was all a first.
He kissed her all over her body, his hands gliding, leading the way. He dominated—spreading her on his bed, leaning over her, locking her in his arms. She was imprisoned, yet felt so safe.
At last he lay with his head in her lap, his tongue in her—tasting her so thoroughly. She arched as he flicked and explored with a devastating rhythm. The only word she could say now was his name over and over. She yearned for him to fill her wholly but at the same time wanted this—the keen, hard release was a breath away. Her thighs tensed, pushing back against his firm hold. He gripped her harder, tongued her deeper, relentlessly taking her over the edge.
Nina screamed in raw pleasure as the orgasm swept through her. Her body bucked, shuddering as the unbearable bliss ravaged her senseless. On and on the sensations went as he forcefully maintained his hold, his suction, and that intimate invasion.
In the aftermath, with her limbs splayed, she was so exposed to him, and he made the most of the view—smiling so wickedly appreciative at every inch of her body. She’d never had oral sex like that, never had any kind of sex like that—where every inhibition had been peeled away, where she was reduced to a mindless animal. It was fantastic. All she wanted now was more—all of him.
He let her have a moment to recover—standing back to strip himself and protect them both. Nina watched with eyes as greedy as his—all insecurity obliterated in the heat of his kisses and the sight of his arousal. She’d not been mistaken about his sculpted looks. The ridges of his abs, the lean hips and strong thighs all proved how fit he was. Not to mention that huge erection straining up. Her whole body salivated at the sight of him.
“W
hy don’t you bring your little finger this way,” she teased, glowing inside with confidence and desire and for the first time feeling free to declare her every desire. Hallelujah and thanks be to Shakespeare.
“‘Little finger’?” He knelt back onto the bed, straddling her. “I object to that.”
“Thorn? Bugle? Dart of love?” She spread her hands wide on his hips. “How about instrument?”
“Of pleasure or torture?”
“Both,” she answered playfully, running one hand up his abs, bringing the other to encircle him.
“All right, you asked for it.” He moved swiftly out of her reach and into dominant position.
She felt the big blunt head of him against her. She was so wet, so ready. But he paused. His eyes bored into hers—the silver specks gleaming.
Fearless now, Nina met and held that vibrant, intimate stare. His mouth curved slightly—the statue becoming beautifully human.
And then he thrust into her.
She sucked in a shocked breath and then groaned in spaced-out pleasure. “No little finger there.”
“No,” he answered between tightly clamped teeth. “Are you okay with that?” Slowly he moved—retreating a fraction before slowly sliding deeper inside.
She squeezed down on him, holding him. He was magnificent. “I’m more than okay.”
His smile returned, but Nina was too far gone already to manage one as well. She panted—desperate to get enough oxygen to survive the pleasure. But it was too good to be over too soon for her.
He had such a tight butt and slim hips for her to hang on to. And he had the best pump action. She laughed, tilting her head back, reveling in the sheer joy of it. He played her—rolling and grinding his pelvis against her, unbearably stimulating, filling her with his hard, frankly massive, length. He slid back and forth, the friction overwhelming. Arms wide, she abandoned herself to the utter eroticism of it. And then the bastard slid right out of her.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, lifting her head from the pillow.
He laughed and slid back—only an inch in—before pulling out again.
“Oh no,” she murmured, half-delighted, relaxing back into abandonment against the soft pillow as he did it again. “You’re screwing with me.”
“Absolutely.”
She pressed her shoulders back, arching her hips up—urging him to fill her all the way again. But with that wicked, playful smile he resisted—teasing for too long. He slipped his hand between them to torture her even more with slow slides of his thumb over her clit, bending to suck one nipple and then the other until they were so hard they hurt. Until she could bear it no longer and shouted at him.
He lifted his head from her breasts and smiled at her. “You’re beautiful.”
He thrust to the hilt and sealed his mouth to hers.
Her orgasm exploded—crunching her core, every muscle locking down in blissful, prolonged agony. She shuddered beneath him, panting hard. The pulsing contractions were too good to live through. She’d gone insane—groaning into his mouth like a feral animal as he rode her ruthlessly, relentlessly, brilliantly.
Her smile returned as she broke through the other side, warmth radiating, another crest only a touch or two away. She wanted to catch that next wave. She curled her fingers around his gloriously tight butt, pulling him deeper and deeper into her. Dirty talk tumbled from her tongue, none of that Shakespearean imagery now, just rough, rude words that urged him to go harder. His laughter faded as he fought to resist his own release, but she wasn’t having that. She gripped him, milked him, screwed him right back until he stiffened, his body losing the graceful rhythm as he jerked, his groan coming through gritted teeth. And then a deep, masculine moan of relief.
…
“It’s a good thing this didn’t happen last night,” he said, running his palm down her thigh—pushing her legs apart for him again.
“How do you figure that?” Nina arched, hips lifting to meet the lush kisses he was gifting her.
“We would have had only few hours together. Now we have the entire night.”
She could have argued that they could have had those few hours last night and all of tonight. But she didn’t—because she understood the implicit point. There would only be the one night for them. And this was it.
“Now you know why I couldn’t kiss you good-bye,” he muttered, nuzzling into her. “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from doing this.”
“You’d have done this in a taxi?” She didn’t believe him.
“Or the nearest shadow. I wouldn’t have given a damn where.” He bent his head and open mouthed her, lushly licking her bud and delving down between her slick lips. Her breath roughened as she fought the intense need to lock her thighs around his head. If he wasn’t careful, she’d kill him in her ecstasy. What he did was so damned good. She writhed, half needing to escape and desperate not to at the same time. But he knew. He pressed his palms hard on her inner thighs—holding her open to him so he could kiss and tongue as hard as he could until she came.
Which she did. Screaming.
“You’re devastating,” he said a few minutes later when her breathing had finally eased. He traced the tips of his fingers from her lower belly up to her breasts—over and over as the aftershocks rippled through her. “And I have something to confess.”
Nina iced over in an instant—like she’d been dunked in arctic waters. “If it’s something really awful, stop and think about whether admitting it now is going to do either of us any good.”
He rose to kneel between her legs, putting a hand on either side of her chest and looking right into her face. “What would be awful?”
Nina blinked back the acid burn in her eyes. “If you have a girlfriend. Just don’t tell me. Let me leave. Don’t tarnish my memory of this. You can live with the guilt all by yourself.” She didn’t ever want to know. But she should have known this had been too good to be true.
His expression went grim and he slowly shook his head. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t lie. I’m single.”
She stared up at him—at the anger etched on his face. “Oh.” Relief tumbled through her, embarrassment hard on its heels.
“That fiancé of yours was a real shit, wasn’t he?” Eduardo pressed down on the mattress, lightly bumping her.
“Yes.” She swallowed.
She knew he wasn’t pleased with her accusation. His eyelashes lowered so she couldn’t read his expression. Some small part of her delight in this night had been lost. She told herself it didn’t matter. Nothing about this really mattered.
“What I was going to confess,” he finally said, “was that I’d planned to seduce you. I’d seen you on the street over so many days and you were so full of energy. But it was the moment you looked at me on the train with that smile in your eyes. I decided right then I’d do whatever I could to get you into my bed.”
Including invent a girlfriend and give her a real fake-engagement ring? He’d really noticed her all those other days?
“Well, I planned to seduce you, too,” Nina countered, now unafraid to be honest about how much she’d wanted him. “Every day, walking past you—I’d rack my brains trying to think of a way to get your attention.”
“You already had it.”
“You didn’t show it,” she grumbled.
“Let me show it now.” He grinned.
“More country matters?”
“If you’re lucky.”
He flipped her over to her stomach. Nina knew she was very, very lucky. Her desire for sex was insatiable. This fun kind of sex with laughter, tease, play, and torment. And it was shared—she wanted and felt wanted with equal force. Freed of her insecurity—of expectation—she could just relax and do and say what she wanted. And what she wanted was to touch him.
Sometime in the early hours speech between them became monosyllabic. A plea. An answer.
An affirmation.
…
Eduardo sat bolt upright the secon
d he woke and realized he’d been in a deep, dreamless sleep. He never slept like that. Not so comfortable and relaxed and effortless. Now his skin chilled and his eyes widened. Was he late? He checked the clock. Hell, almost.
He had to move. He couldn’t miss seeing Caspar, not when it was so close for him. Eduardo rubbed a hand over his face, battling internally to get the strength to pull away from the warmth beside him.
As he’d thought, she’d offered so much more than sensual delight. Beautiful, she’d been shy then bold then fearless. Alive and responsive and enthusiastic. But her comment after that first time? Her first thought had been a fear that he’d lied to her? That had shot chills down his spine.
He understood that she’d been hurt and was insecure now. But he didn’t have the capacity to soothe an insecure woman. He’d tried before and failed spectacularly and the person who’d been hurt most had been him. He didn’t want a relationship. It would only be a matter of time before suspicion and jealousy rotted any happiness from the inside out. Not again. And Nina probably wasn’t the sort to cope with the hours he worked and the time he spent away from home.
Not that it mattered. She was leaving in a week. This had been one night only. That had been understood from the start.
But for a moment he toyed with the idea of seeing her more before she left. It would be good, but it wouldn’t be right. She wasn’t used to casual affairs, and veering off from a one-night stand to a five-day fling might be tricky for her to handle. And given what was likely to happen this week with Caspar?
If it happened, Eduardo wouldn’t be fit to see anyone in any capacity. Better to end it here and now and easy.
But leaving her soft, warm body was hard. He gritted his teeth and slipped out as quietly as he could, showering in the guest bathroom so he wouldn’t wake her. Then he made coffee.
“Nina.” He put the steaming cup on the small table nearest her side of the bed.
“Mm?”
She smiled, but her eyes didn’t open. Watching her lush mouth curve threatened his resolve. But they were out of time.
Bargain in Bronze Page 15
