One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  Her eyes shuttered, and he instantly regretted the comment. Worse, he realized he’d do just about anything to keep the happiness on her face. How absolutely terrifying.

  Virgin territory, indeed.

  “Let’s take that ride,” he murmured, taking her damp gloved hand.

  “You sure? I’ll be gentle with you.”

  “Appreciate it.” Vincent tugged the sled out of her hand, only half-listening as she told him how to avoid landing on his shoulder.

  Her worrying was cute, but he couldn’t be bothered with safety techniques. Her jean-clad butt wriggled with each step she took and watching that took precedence over paying attention to her lecture.

  Once they’d gotten into position and she was nestled between his legs, he had barely a second to absorb how right she felt in his arms before she pushed off and sent them flying through the snow with a giddy yell.

  During that dizzy flight, he didn’t think. There was no book due, no shooting, no reason to wonder if he should start pulling back on the throttle of their relationship. Nothing but her and him and snow and wind. Freaking amazing. Ending on his back with her pillowed on his chest wasn’t bad, either.

  “Are you all right?” Kiki leaned up, blowing out a mouthful of snow. “We landed pretty hard.”

  “I’m good.” He laughed, shocked it was true. Not a damn thing hurt on him anywhere. “Incredible.”

  She found his mouth with hers, almost melting the flakes coating his face with the heated pressure of her kiss. He tightened his hold on her, so consumed by her that even the icy rivulets sneaking over the collar of his jacket gave him a pleasurable shiver.

  “Ahem.” Distantly, he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Two someones. He drew back to see Lyn and Brent watching them with identical smirks.

  “Thought you didn’t sled, boss?” Lynsay asked, all blue-eyed innocence.

  Vincent sat up as Kiki scampered to her feet. Somehow he was too happy to get annoyed. “Get bent, Paulsen.”

  After they’d returned the sleds to the kids, they started the trek home. Vincent wrapped an arm around Kiki’s waist as Brent and Lynsay walked ahead, deliberately slowing until he couldn’t be overheard. “You busy tonight?”

  She rubbed her snowy glove over her nose. “Yeah, with you. We have that stupid scene to finish, remember?”

  “After that. I’d like you to see something.”

  “Something?”

  He took a breath. Why did his powers of speech fail so often around her? “I’d rather if we could spend the night there.”

  In the last rays of sunlight, an emotion flared in her eyes he couldn’t read. “Why don’t we—”

  Something whizzed by the corner of his eye, and he grabbed Kiki, wrenching her into his arms so fast that they tumbled onto the sidewalk with only the snow to cushion their landing. Brent’s laughter and Kiki’s stunned gasp reached his ears just as pain ripped through his left shoulder.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Goddammit, Brent!” Kiki yelled, patting him down as if that was all it would take to relieve his pain. “You know he’s hurt!”

  “Kiki…it’s okay. Really.” Vincent squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to keep a slippery grip on consciousness. The pain rolled through his mind, saturating his limbs so that all remained was escape. But he’d be damned if he fainted again in front of her, even if her voice faded with each breath he took.

  It was just the shock of falling so suddenly, that was all. If he could hang on another minute, the dizziness and the agony would recede.

  He hoped.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Brent, help me get him up.” Kiki couldn’t keep the fury out of her voice.

  Brent had already grabbed his friend around the waist to haul him up, though Vincent didn’t seem too willing to be hauled. “I don’t get it. It was just a stupid snowball.”

  Kiki took a shaky breath. Once again, it felt as if this was all her fault. She’d been the one who wanted to play in the snow when she’d known how easily he could get hurt. “Snowball to you.” She grasped Vincent’s good arm, taking as much of his weight as she could stand. “Bullet to him.”

  Lynsay lifted her pink gloved hand to her mouth. “I never realized.”

  “Damn women.” Brent started dragging Vincent up the walk. “Save the psychoanalysis for later.”

  “Once a psych major, always a psych major, right, Ki?” Lynsay said, taking Brent’s other side.

  “Jesus, Brent, let me go,” Vincent said, cracking his elbow into his friend’s ribs. “Give me some room.”

  Brent obeyed, but Kiki didn’t. She gripped Vincent’s chin, hard. Anything so she didn’t have to see his eyes roll back in his head again. Twice was bad enough. “Unless you prove you can walk home on your own, Brent’s going to carry you the two blocks like a…” her soggy brain whirled “…big baby.”

  Brent protested first. “I’m strong, man, but two whole blocks?”

  Vincent shoved at Brent, forcing him back with more strength than Kiki would’ve guessed he possessed. Proved she’d been right to attack the ol’ male ego. “Back off.”

  “Fall on the ground for all I care.” Brent made a show of releasing him, but Kiki noticed he didn’t step away. “You’re the ass who took a header into the pavement for a snowball.”

  “Stop the pissing contest, boys.” Lynsay glided smoothly between them. “Let’s get you home, boss, and see if you tore off any vital parts. We’ll take a fight break after that.”

  Neither man argued, and they resumed the plodding journey back to Vincent and Brent’s. By the time they arrived, Vincent had turned a rather frightening shade of pale, which made sense once Kiki stripped off his outerwear in the front hall. Blood drenched the shoulder of his white shirt.

  “Jesus,” Lynsay gasped, while Brent pulled out his phone.

  Kiki just stared. Not again.

  She guessed she looked as horrified as she felt because Vincent rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “At least you landed on top of me this time,” he said, trying to smile though his voice sounded half as strong as usual.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No.” He turned toward Brent, apparently realizing Brent was calling for an ambulance. “Are you nuts? I don’t want my grandmother hearing sirens, dammit. Hang up.”

  Because there was more than just annoyance in his voice, Kiki grabbed Brent’s phone out of his hand and clicked off. She remembered how disturbed Vincent had been to wake up in the ambulance, and she wouldn’t put him through that again if it could be helped.

  If.

  “Let me see how the wound looks,” Kiki began, “and we’ll take you. Fight me, you get the ambulance.”

  “The bleeding’s slowing.”

  “You’re bleeding all over the floor.” A slight exaggeration. His flinch as she peeled his shirt away cut straight to her heart, but her fingers didn’t hesitate.

  “Let me handle that,” Brent said, but Kiki shook him off.

  “I’m fine.” That she had to swipe the back of her hand under her dripping nose diminished the statement some, though she worked quickly to mop up the blood with the tissues Lynsay handed her. When they grew red, she grabbed her scarf.

  “Can you get your car? We’ll meet you outside,” Kiki asked Brent. He immediately complied.

  “You’ve gotta be sick of me bleeding all over you,” Vincent muttered as Kiki walked with him, keeping pressure on the wound, to the door Lynsay held open.

  “I am.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the tremor in her voice. “So stop it already.”

  “Not much fun for me, either.” His gaze dropped to the thin trail of blood on the snowy steps. Some must have slipped down his back as they muscled him into the apartment. “Kiki, do me a favor. My grandmother. Let her know where I am.”

  “Yeah.” Fighting tears, she stepped back so Lynsay could take her spot at his side. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Lynsay was already leading h
im to the open back door of Brent’s SUV, so Kiki hurried upstairs to Lucille’s apartment.

  He’d be okay. She’d been right about that last time, and she would be now, too.

  “Is bed rest really necessary?”

  “You heard the doctor.” Somehow Kiki managed to make her voice lighthearted. It was hard to force his bloodied image out of her mind, but she was getting better at it. “You need to rest. You’ve got an infection.”

  “Minor.”

  “I won’t have you pulling any more stitches on my watch,” she said firmly, tucking Vincent into bed as she might a fussy toddler. He was so cute when he was feverish and petulant. “Fun and games are over.”

  All fun and games, at least for the next few days. After discovering the minute tears around Vincent’s wound, Dr. Dennis had deduced his patient hadn’t been avoiding strenuous activity.

  Namely, sex.

  “I hate that guy. Why is my sex life his concern?” Vincent plucked at the comforter she’d draped over him. “He’s probably jealous because he’s not getting any.”

  “Hate to tell you, sweetheart, but neither are you.” Grinning, she kissed the top of his head. His hair was a mess. He’d raked his hand through it a dozen times while they’d been at the ER. She got the feeling his dislike of hospitals went way beyond the average person’s. “You’re on a strict no-sex diet, at least for the next few days until your next doctor’s visit.”

  “He’ll never know.”

  Amused by the pleading expression in his dark eyes, she planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. It was supposed to be light, teasing, but he parted his lips and gave her the full Buonfiglio treatment.

  Damn, what he could do with his tongue, another man couldn’t do with his entire body.

  Easing back, she wagged a finger, using the extra moment to catch her breath. “If you can’t behave, we’ll keep this working relationship strictly platonic until you’re given a clean bill of health.”

  Vincent cursed under his breath. “As you keep pointing out, I’ve only got you for another twelve days. If you think I’m losing three of them to Dr. Dennis, you’re wrong.”

  Less than two weeks. God.

  She plumped his pillow so he couldn’t see her face. Had she forgotten how little time they had left to finish the book? Unfortunately, three of the days she’d allotted to experience her wild side had been axed, but she wouldn’t risk hurting him again. Despite his promises in the car on the way back from the ER that he wouldn’t injure himself further, she knew that was a big fat lie.

  Sex between them was never careful. Hell no. Their lovemaking was like a madcap rollercoaster ride from start to finish. Precisely why she loved it.

  “If you’re not good, I’ll get Brent to invite his family over,” she teased.

  He groaned and she laughed. “God, anything but that. There’s way too many of them.”

  “See, I know your weaknesses.” She hefted the laptop from the nightstand and settled into the pillows. “The sooner you get better, the sooner we’ll be back to wearing each other out. In the meantime, we have some writing to do.”

  Though he groaned again, she knew he was only half-serious. He enjoyed writing. In fact, he’d been so reluctant to stop the night before last that he’d woken her up as she started to drift off with a new story thread to pursue.

  Saved by the sex, she’d told him, trying to make a joke out of her leaving as she dressed in the dark. He’d asked again why she wouldn’t stay, and she’d again blown off the question.

  Sharing his body, his bed, and his Wheaties in the morning was just too much. Next thing she knew, she wouldn’t only love having sex with him. She’d love a hell of a lot more than that, and he’d be cruising off to his next conquest.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured.

  Swallowing hard, she shifted to look at him. Everything inside her yearned to reach out, to give them a chance. Surely if she was feeling this much, it couldn’t be one-sided. “Two weeks doesn’t seem long enough, does it?”

  He shrugged, and her bravado vanished. “It’s plenty of time. With the way we’ve been tearing through the pages, I’d be surprised if it even takes that long.”

  Pages. Right. Their reason for being together. The only reason.

  “If you were so blocked before, how come the story’s flowing so easily for us?” Kiki manipulated the track pad, her movements sure even though her throat ached from all the things she hadn’t said. “Relatively speaking. Although I still think that Nathan’s backstory needs some padding. So Julia left him at the altar. We need to shade the reasons their relationship didn’t work the first time into their current situation. It’ll build the conflict.”

  “You don’t think his trying to steal her company is enough conflict?” he asked drily.

  “That’s good, but it needs more oomph. Internal conflict to go with the external. In the book I’m reading on writing erotic romance, it says they go hand-in-hand. They should mirror each other.”

  “Not that stupid book again. And FYI, the external will lead to the internal. Obviously, their past relationship will come up when she rolls out of bed and reads the fax from her P.I.”

  “When did you come up with that one?” Kiki frowned. “We haven’t even written the sex yet, and you’ve already got the afterglow exploding in her face.”

  Vincent gave her a wicked smile, though his eyes were already hazy. He’d taken an extra dose of pills an hour ago so she didn’t know how much she’d get from him before he zonked out. “Exploding afterglows make the best climaxes. Don’t you know anything?”

  Laughing, they got to work. Less than an hour later, he was knuckling his eyes and arguing with every word choice.

  “Go to sleep,” she told him, setting the laptop on the nightstand.

  He slumped farther into the mattress. “I’m not tired.”

  She snorted and turned off the overhead lights, leaving on the small bedside lamp. “Liar. I’ll hang around until you go to sleep,” she added, feathering her fingers over the hair lying on his forehead.

  “Stay the damn night, would you?” He yanked off his glasses and tossed them over her lap onto the nightstand. “I heard you asking Brent to take you home when you were finished here. I’ll drive you home myself tomorrow.”

  Twist my arm.

  “If it’ll get you to sleep faster, I’ll stay.”

  He closed his eyes. “All night.”

  Even drugged and heading toward unconsciousness, he was as stubborn as two mules. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll even do some more work on the book. See what I can come up with.”

  He was snoring before she’d finished the statement.

  She sighed, unable to stop caressing his forehead. His hair was so soft, with just enough curl to make it unruly. And when he smiled, a stray lock always fell into his eyes.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, staring at him.

  She’d done it. She’d fallen most of the way in love with him. Not all the way yet. She wasn’t that far gone. But the infatuation she’d battled for so many months had bloomed so fast into more, she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

  Or maybe she had. She just hadn’t tried too hard. The moment he’d gotten shot, something had loosened inside of her.

  Blood and bullets, she imagined, tended to do that a person.

  Yeah, she’d get her heart broken. Again. So what? So what if he didn’t love her? If they would never have more than the next twelve days, she’d make them the best twelve days of their lives.

  She picked up the laptop, careful not to jostle him. Without rereading the love scene they’d fumbled their way through that afternoon, she started typing.

  Tonight, the words hovered in her mind, just waiting for her to grab them. As nervous as she’d been about writing sex with Vincent, she’d never considered how freeing it would feel to let the words pour out of her while he slept at her side.

  Once or twice, a blush crept up her neck. But then she became Julia, and she lost herse
lf in the emotion of reuniting with the man she’d never managed to leave in the past.

  Sex in a bed? Kiki tamped down on a laugh, picturing Vincent’s reaction when he discovered she’d had Julia and Nathan’s romp take place in Julia’s office. On a conference table. With shattered bottles of champagne splattered on the floor.

  After their stupendous lovemaking, the fax machine’s beep drew Julia away from her lover. Kiki’s own eyes stung as she typed the moment where Julia read the truth in black and white and uttered a single broken word.

  “Go,” Kiki murmured, lifting her bleary eyes to look around Vincent’s bedroom.

  She was still sitting on the same cherry bed. Instead of an expansive mini bar and conference table, Vincent’s functional black desk/hutch combo and sleek computer system sat in the corner. But for a moment, she’d almost expected to see French Kiss ’n Tell’s coolly austere conference room.

  Wow. She rubbed her teary eyes. What a rush.

  “You’re not going,” Vincent mumbled against her thigh.

  She glanced down, surprised to see he’d sunk so far under the covers that he was nearly engulfed by them. “Hey, that’s gotta hurt. Get back up here on the pillow.”

  “Mmm, better idea.” She barely had time to set the laptop aside before he snatched her hand and pulled her down with him. “Ever play-fight under the covers?” he asked, his mouth closing over hers.

  Heat. Life. Here was both. His flavor was becoming familiar to her now, as was the way he thumbed her hair away from her cheeks while they kissed. She wanted to murmur endearments, the quiet cooing things couples said to each other in bed. But they weren’t a real couple, weren’t really anything, so she stayed silent.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” He rested his forehead against hers. A forehead, she noted, that was blessedly cool. “Do you have any clue how much I hate waking up to find you gone?”

  She trailed her fingertips down his crumpled undershirt—and oh, how he’d bitched at her insistence that he wear clothes to bed—to the gap of hair-roughened skin above his sweats. “What you hate is waking up with an erection and having no warm, willing woman to service your every need.”