Spice

by Seressia Glass

  “I did. I also sent them a photo of you—one of the ones we took together when we were in San Francisco yesterday,” he added, as if he’d seen her about to panic at the thought of his parents seeing her intimate poses. “They agree with me that you’re a gorgeous woman.”

  It wasn’t the heat of the tea that made her feel flushed. He complimented her so easily they almost seemed like practiced lines. She could hear the sincerity in his voice though, see it in his eyes. He believed the words he used to describe her, leaving her no choice but to believe them herself. “Did you tell your parents about my . . . issues?”

  He ran his thumb across her lower lip, making her aware that she’d pulled it between her teeth. “You mean, did I tell them that you spent some time in rehab?”

  When she nodded, his expression turned quizzical. “Would you want me to?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She shifted her weight, nervous about Kane’s parents knowing about her. “I don’t want them to be worried about the woman you’re spending time with.”

  “We’re dating, not spending time,” he said, his tone a gentle reprimand. “As for my mother, she worries more when I’m not dating, no matter how many times I tell her I’m being as choosy as she wants me to be. My dad, on the other hand, is more laid back with his pressure. He’s ready to be a granddad though. The fact that I told them I’m seeing someone and provided them with proof was a cause for celebration up in Seattle. I’m sure my dad will be calling tomorrow with a list of baby names, especially since I’m making Mom’s ramen for you.”

  He grinned at her, but she wasn’t so sure he was joking. Kane was a successful man deep in his thirties. His parents probably had certain expectations of their only child. Expectations she didn’t think she could meet. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  “How could they not?”

  She frowned up at him. “Two words: drug addict.”

  He frowned back. “Three words: recovering drug addict. You’re a beautiful woman, Nadia Spiceland, and your inside matches your outside. You make me happy. My parents can tell that already, and one look at you, they’ll understand why.”

  She worried at her lip again, torn between wanting his parents’ approval and calling herself crazy for even considering needing that approval. What if they couldn’t get over her past? What if they didn’t think she was good enough for their only child?

  What the hell was she doing, thinking about this already?

  “Hey.” He ran his palms down her arms from her shoulders to her hands. “We’re having a stress-free Sunday, remember? We’re not thinking about anything that will get us down. We’re going to relax, have some wall-shaking sex, relax some more, have the most amazing ramen you will ever have in your life, relax some more, have more sex, then go to bed wrapped around each other. All right?”

  She smiled; she couldn’t help it. “As my professor desires.”

  The kettle began to sing. He turned it off after adding the scallions to the broth, then stood back so Nadia could steep her tea as she wanted. “The broth is going to take the better part of eight hours,” he said as she added loose-leaf tea to the tea strainer then poured hot water over it. “Would you like some breakfast? I have cereal, oatmeal, and the makings for omelets.”

  “Uhm, I don’t know—whatever you want to have. I usually don’t eat breakfast.”

  “Nadia. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  “I know that, Dad, which is why I’m in the café at four a.m. making it for everybody else.”

  “You can’t save yourself for ramen.” He crossed the fridge, brought out eggs, cheese, and a container of cut fruit. “I’ll make eggs and toast. You take your tea to the living room. Find something on television for us to watch. I like documentaries, old movies, anything but reality show crap.”

  He froze. “Well hell, I just served myself my own foot for an appetizer.”

  She burst into laughter as she took a seat at the dining room table. “Oh, man, the look on your face is priceless! Don’t worry, babe. I’m not offended. It is crap, even my own show. Both of them.”

  He cleared his throat, then returned to his breakfast preparations. His discomfort was cute, but she wouldn’t tell him that, not when he offered to make her breakfast. “You enjoyed them while you were shooting them, didn’t you?”

  She busied herself with straining her tea into a mug. She’d promised herself that there would be nothing else between them, and that included her past. She owed it to Kaname to answer any questions he wanted to know. “It’s hard to answer that. The competition one was very stressful—you had to deal with the producers, the other contestants, the judges. There was always someone after you, and you had still had to be creative and hope you connected with the audience. I was lucky.”

  “And talented, and engaging and camera-friendly.”

  “All of that too.” She cradled her mug between her palms. “And driven and blind and stressed and naive and trusting. In a word: stupid.”

  God, she had been. That was the worst part, that she thought she’d known it all, that she’d had everything under control once she won and got her own show. She should have known that it simply meant she was at her highest point and everything after that was a slow glide to her inevitable fall.

  “Nadia?”

  She looked up as Kane placed a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs, fresh-cut fruit, and wheat toast in front of her. He took the spot next to her with a matching plate. “Sorry, I must have zoned out. This looks terrific!”

  “I would have asked you how you preferred your eggs, but since you only know them as an ingredient in your pastries, I figured I’d take a chance and present you with the crowd-favorite: scrambled.”

  “Very funny. You’re lucky you’re so good in bed.” She scooped a forkful of egg onto the corner of her toast and took a bite. “Uhm, delicious. Wow, this breakfast concept is a winner!”

  She attacked the food, partly because it was that good and partly because she wanted to deflect further questions about her former life. Once they cleaned their plates, she gathered the dishes and took them into the kitchen to place in the dishwasher. “Is the ramen broth okay?”

  “It will be fine for a while. It needs to simmer. I’ll make sure it doesn’t boil down too far and in a couple of hours I’ll need to make the char siu. That’s the pork that tops a bowl of Tokyo ramen, but it’s pretty tasty with rice too. It can be made with pork belly, but our family prefers pork loin.”

  “How do you cook the pork?”

  “You brown it like you normally would, but then you simmer it in a pot of water mixed with soy sauce, sugar, and garlic for about an hour, thirty minutes each side.”

  “What kind of spices do you use to flavor it?”

  “Flavor is different from seasoning,” he explained. “The soups are either a salt flavor, a soy sauce flavor—not the red top kind you find in Chinese restaurants—miso, or a pork flavor, which really is more a style. As for condiments, it depends on your taste buds. Some spices are married to the bowl when the soup is created, and some spices can be added like a condiment at the table.”

  He filled a glass with ice and water. “I could go on and on about ramen but I think I’ll stop while I’m ahead. It was always our go-to comfort meal. No matter what was going on, no matter how bad, it was always better when we got to the bottom of a bowl of ramen.”

  “I like hearing about it. A day you learn something new is a good day.”

  “I can agree with that.”

  He led her into the living room, where they settled together on the couch. She flipped through the channels until she found a history documentary they agreed on, then settled back against him. “You’ve told me all about ramen and your mother’s recipe, but didn’t you mention that your father’s Irish? Did you grow up eating any traditional Irish meals?”

  “We had
a few in the rotation,” he said, cradling her in his arms. “Shepherd’s pie was always a favorite, and so was stew. And I can’t forget Irish soda bread.”

  “I make that every St. Patrick’s Day for the café,” she said. “Actually, we celebrate for the entire week. Siobhan does a stew and shepherd’s pie and a corned beef sandwich. Not a shamrock or green pastry in sight. Maybe I can make the soda bread for you one day soon and you can tell me whether I do a good job or not.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” He kissed the top of her head. “Give my dad homemade soda bread and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

  “Good to know,” she said, making a mental note. “What about the son? Will he be putty in my hands too?”

  “He already is.”

  He had an amazing ability to say the right thing to make her heart flutter in her chest, make her slide one step closer to full-blown love. The thought no longer frightened her, she realized. In fact, she welcomed it.

  “You can be putty, but I like it much better when you’re hard. Think we can christen the coffee table before you have to check the soup?”

  The slow grin he gave her warmed her blood. “As my lady desires.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Nadia fell back against the pillows, giggling. Kane fell to the pillows beside her. “You’d better not be laughing at me.”

  “No, no,” she said, gasping for air between giggles. “With you. Definitely laughing with you, I swear. What in the world was that position called again? X marks the spot?”

  He chuckled. “I believe the sheik gave it the most colorful name of the bend of the rainbow.”

  “Well you definitely have to be bent to do it. Let’s not and say we did, okay? I don’t want to hear either of our bodies make noises like that ever again.”

  He worked to catch his breath. “Works for me.”

  She snorted, covered her face, then snorted again. It was kind of adorable, even if she was laughing at him, and not with him at all.

  Kane looked down, then grimaced. “I think I just lost my enthusiasm.”

  “Oh Kane, I’m sorry.” She tried to smother her laughter, which, while admirable, was obviously a lost cause. “I still want to have sex, I just need to—I can’t seem to stop giggling! Give me a moment, okay?”

  “That’s my cue to go answer nature’s other call. I’ll give you time to recover.” He kissed her to show there were no hard feelings, then got up to head to the adjoining bathroom. Truth be told, he actually enjoyed her laughter. It meant she was comfortable with him, and he wanted that.

  There were moments when it seemed like she was throwing up mental roadblocks, speed bumps to halt the forward motion of their relationship. Most of the time, though, she didn’t overthink what they were doing or how fast they were doing it, she just relaxed and enjoyed their time together. Those moments were golden, and he did everything he could to make sure they happened often. Even if that meant she laughed at him. Or with him.

  When he returned to the bedroom it was to find Nadia on her side facing him, her earlier laughter gone, a renewed passion brewing in her eyes. She’d put on the nipple jewelry, the gold clamps plumping the dark beads to stiff peaks. “Kaname.”

  Did she have any idea what it did to him when she used his full name like that? She probably did, since there was no hiding his reviving enthusiasm. “What chased your laughter away?”

  “You did. Or rather, your fine behind as you walked away.” She smiled. “And the view coming back. You are such a gorgeous man, Kaname Sullivan. Do you realize that?”

  “When you look at me like that, I kind of get the feeling.”

  “I can do more than look,” she said throatily. “Come here.”

  “As my lady desires.” When she spoke like that, he had no choice but to follow through. He climbed back into bed beside her, leaning over to capture her mouth. As he did, her hand skimmed down his chest and past his abs to take him in hand.

  “The sheik dispenses knowledge on a wide variety of sexual subjects,” she told him when they parted. “He was also an authority on proper manhood size. What was it that he said?”

  She stroked him, fingers curled snugly around him. “Oh yes. ‘The virile member, to please women, must have at most a length of the breadth of twelve fingers, or three handbreadths, and at least six fingers, or a hand and a half breadth.’”

  Sitting upright, she wrapped both hands around him, her right thumb teasing the head. “I happen to think you’re very virile.”

  He tilted his head back, enjoying the sensation of her hands on him. “I happen to think you inspire me.”

  She stroked him again. “I treated you badly, laughing like that. I’d like to make up for it.”

  “You’re doing a damn good job.”

  “I can do better.” She kissed him, so slow and deep he reached for her. She slipped out of his grasp, then kissed her way down his throat, wet, nipping kisses that hardened his cock painfully. He hissed as she gently closed her teeth on his nipples, enjoying the sensation of her mouth on his skin, her hand still working his erection.

  “Nadia . . .” Anticipation stung him, tensing his stomach muscles.

  “Hmm?” Her lips grazed his abdomen, her tongue dipping into his navel.

  “Urgh.” All rational thought fled as his hindbrain growled, Fuck yeah.

  She laughed softly, her breath a warm puff of air over his cock. “That’s what I thought.” She ran her tongue around his engorged head as she expertly pushed his foreskin back. The same wet nipping kisses were employed again as she kissed her way down the underside of his cock to his balls, laving them with her tongue. Then her mouth closed over him.

  He threw his head back with a loud groan, pressing into the pillows as she began to draw on him. Willing his eyes to stay open, he stared down, watching as she worked him with mouth and hand. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, the sweet sensations hardening him even more.

  Caught, helpless, he thrust his hands into her hair, lifting his hips in an age-old rhythm. Thankfully she allowed him to set the pace, her hands cupping his balls, squeezing him gently as she suckled him. His breath caught in his throat as she turned her head enough to fix her gaze to his, watching his pleasure as he watched her please him. He felt her stare like a physical caress, as if she’d gathered him in a full body hug. Their connection snapped into place, sure and strong and undeniable as she demanded that he give her his orgasm, called for it with mouth and hand and gaze.

  He could feel it, sooner than he wanted, sooner than he’d hoped, boiling up from his toes, threatening to consume him. “Nadia,” he ground out, the only warning he could give her as he struggled to contain his need to come.

  She ignored him. Or rather, she insisted that he come for her with a long suckling draw that made his eyes roll back as he surrendered. An electric zap raced down his spine to his balls as he came hard and long, her name half curse, half praise as it tore from his throat.

  It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. As she released him and moved to sit up, he caught her about the waist and lifted her to straddle him. With a sharp jerk of his hips he thrust his still-hard cock into her wet and wanting sheath. “Screw of Archimedes.”

  Her gasp of surprise descended into a deep groan of pleasure. She settled onto him, her inner muscles rippling to accommodate him. Passion lit the depths of her molasses-dark gaze as she leaned forward to place her hands on either side of his chest, rocking her hips as she began to ride him.

  Wanting to give her every bit of the ecstasy she’d given him, he cupped her breasts in his hands, gently tugging on the clamps gripping her nipples. She moaned and tightened around him in response, a deep, vibrating sound of pleasure he felt down to his balls.

  “Kaname,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she increased her pace, their bodies slapping together. “Make me come, Kaname.”
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  “As my lady desires,” he managed to grind out, left breathless by the vision of Nadia, his Nadia, looking like a goddess as she rocked above him, taking her pleasure. He dropped his right hand down to the sweet spot where they joined together, gently pinching her slit tight around his cock before releasing it. Tight then release, tight then release. She moaned again, and he could easily sense her need for more.

  Raising his knees, he planted his feet on the bed for leverage so he could lunge up as she plunged down, her sweet heat making him as hard and as needy as if he hadn’t come like a freight train just minutes before. He turned his wrist, his thumb stroking over her clit. She moaned again, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, leaning back against his upraised knees as her movements became jerky, almost frantic.

  “Kaname,” she panted, her eyes fastened to his. “Kaname . . .”

  He knew what she wanted, what she pleaded for. He circled her clit with his thumb, ramming upwards with his hips to impale her completely. “Come for me, Nadia,” he demanded. “Come for us.”

  She threw her head back, coming with a keening cry. The sight of her in the throes of her pleasure, the sensation of her muscles clamping down on him threw him over the brink again, lifting his hips clear of the bed, coming deep inside her like coming home.

  —

  After a quick trip to the bathroom, Nadia joined Kane back in bed, limp-limbed and completely sated. He turned off the bedside lamp then pulled her close as he loved to do, one hand low on her belly, the other just below her breasts, the front of his body fused to the back of hers. It was a possessive hold, and she found it didn’t bother her in the least. “This has been the best weekend ever,” she said, almost drunk with contentment. “The company, the gifts you gave me, the road trip, and that incredible ramen. Five stars all around!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said, his hand spread over her abdomen. “By the way, I added a key to your keychain.”

  “You did?”

  “Uhm-hmm.” He murmured against her shoulder. “Condo key.”