by Robin Kaye
She turned in a slow circle, her eyes caressing each piece with the same intensity her body had caressed his moments before.
He’d never been one to pick up a girl at the bar. He’d lived and worked there for almost six years, and Fitz was the first woman he’d brought home. Sure, he’d slept with women he’d met and gotten to know at the bar, but he’d never once had the urge to share his bed, his studio, his home. He’d always made sure he went to his girlfriends’ places.
Fitz was different.
“Some of these pieces are huge. I don’t remember your work being so . . . big.”
“I never had the room until I moved here. Big studio, large art.”
“Beautiful.” She pirouetted, and the back of her shirt caught the air and flew around her. “Your work is amazing.” She shot him another dimpled smile and then blushed and looked away. “I saw your exhibit at the Corcoran in D.C.”
“You did?”
Her nervous laugh escaped. “Sure. It was a big deal.”
It was to him, but as far as he knew, his parents had never bothered to see it. He’d even invited them to the opening. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going?”
“Why would I? We’d lost touch years ago. In fact, I’m surprised you even remember me.” She looked over her shoulder at him and waited a beat.
At that moment he almost told her the truth, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings and somehow he knew he would hurt her. He did remember her, he just didn’t know from where or when. It was like a word that was on the tip of his tongue. He’d figure it out. He just hoped he’d figure it out soon.
“Can I see your studio?”
“Sure, but it’s probably a mess.” He tried to remember how he’d left it earlier when he’d noticed the time and dropped everything to grab a shower and run, making it to the Crow’s Nest just in time for his shift.
Fitz turned and walked toward the door. He really liked the way she moved. “You always were a bit of a slob if I’m remembering correctly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You are, but I’ve cleaned up my act in recent years, my studio notwithstanding.” He opened the big metal door and reached for the lights.
She smiled, and her dimples winked as she stopped beside him in the doorway.
She was so close and smelled so good, he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“That’s good. I wondered if that’s why you asked me twice if I wanted to come in.”
“No. I was trying to be a gentleman. I don’t want to rush things. I don’t want to rush you.”
She stepped forward until she was flush against him. His hands grabbed onto her small waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions, and no one rushes me.” She rose up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his ear. “Am I rushing you?”
“No.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Do you really want to see my studio?”
“Right now, I’d rather see your bedroom.”
She didn’t need to ask him twice. He picked her up and took the steps to his loft two at a time.
* * *
“What are you doing?” Elyse never expected to be picked up and carried to Simon’s apartment like some kind of romance heroine.
“Taking you to bed.” He wasn’t even breathing hard.
She did her best not to melt. “You don’t have to carry me. I didn’t come here for romance.” That’s not what she was after. She was after sex.
“You have something against romance?”
“No. I just don’t expect it.”
Simon set her down in the middle of the living room. “You should. What do you think this is?”
She didn’t know what to say, since she couldn’t think straight when he touched her. She tried to formulate an answer while she strolled through his living room. Wow, his loft was amazing. This was no starving artist’s hovel filled with cinderblock bookshelves and Salvation Army castoffs—it was an open floor plan loft that could be featured in Architectural Digest with twenty-foot ceilings and five-foot windows dropping from the open-beamed ceiling. She finally turned to him with an answer. “I’m not sure.” It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t welcome something more than a one-night stand with Simon, but she certainly didn’t expect it. Hell, she didn’t expect most of the things that Simon had said and done since she’d run into him at the Crow’s Nest. She’d never expected him to charm her—especially after she made it known she was a sure thing. She never expected him to be so sweet and attentive. She never expected to be introduced to his friends. And she certainly never expected him to look at her as if he cared about anything beyond her sexual satisfaction. As if he cared about her. “So you tell me what this is.”
He took her hands in his and waited until she met his gaze. “It’s a beginning.”
“Well, that certainly sounds safe enough, doesn’t it?” No commitments, no expectations except for the inevitable ending. “Okay.”
“I don’t do hookups—not since junior year in college anyway.”
“I don’t do hookups either. This is special, you’re special.” And wasn’t that the truth?
“Good, then we’re on the same page.”
“If we were on the same page, you’d be kissing me.”
“Then I take it you don’t want anything to drink or eat?”
“I want you.”
His face broke into a grin and he kissed her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her purse fell from her shoulder and she barely registered the thud on the hardwood floor as he lifted her. Her sandals slipped off her dangling feet, and then he started across the huge room toward the bedroom without ever coming up for air.
She could kiss him forever. The closer they got to the bedroom, the more the kiss changed from teasing and tempting to pure seduction. Halfway there she wrapped her legs around his waist and her eyes shot open when she came into contact with his erection. She might have groaned but then he could have too—it was hard to tell over her pounding heart and the blood rushing through her ears.
He held her bottom and pulled her tighter against him. “God, you feel amazing.” He slid her down his body until her feet hit the floor, her toes curling into the thick wool carpet. His hands traveled from her waist, under her top, and up her sides as his thumbs slid over her stomach, sending a sudden tension to her muscles, goose bumps skittering over her skin, and liquid heat searing her core.
Never one to be shy about her body—years of ballet had killed any sense of modesty she may once have had—she pulled off her top and let it drop to the floor, leaving her in a bra and jeans. She reached for the front clasp only to have him stop her.
“Hold on.” He pulled her hands away and held them behind her back as he kissed his way from her neck to her ear and nipped at the lobe in a move that shot sparks right to her breasts. “Slow down. Undressing you is my job.”
Elyse swallowed hard and nodded. For the first time in her life, she was incapable of speech. Okay, she could do this—as long as she didn’t have to stand too much longer, because his mouth on her neck, her ear, and her shoulder while he traced the edge of her white lace bra with the tip of his pointer finger made her knees weak.
She tugged the shirt from his khakis. At his raised eyebrow, she smiled and blew out a breath. “If undressing me is your job, then I can only assume undressing you is mine.” She slid her hands under the soft cotton and raked her nails over his abs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath her fingers. She pushed the offending T-shirt up to explore.
Simon raised his arms and pulled his T-shirt off as her mouth followed its progress.
Elyse tugged on his belt, but lost all focus when, with a flick of his fingers, her bra fell open. She wasn’t very well endowed, but then most dancers weren’t. She was unprepared for the look of blindsided awe that stole over his face.
“You’re perfect.”
Under his gaze, she felt perfect. It was a good thing she knew better. She went back to work o
n his pants, which became impossible when he all but tossed her on the bed. Before she knew it, her jeans were unsnapped, unzipped, and his hand slid beneath her panties as he drew her breast into his hot mouth.
“Oh, God.” It was as if her brain hit overload and completely shut down—she couldn’t think, she couldn’t move, she could only feel. Everything. The rasp of his whiskers against her breast. His thick calloused fingers slipping between her thighs. The heat of his mouth and the chill of the overhead fan on her flushed skin. She’d gotten to third base before, but had never felt like this.
By the time she regrouped, he was trailing kisses down her ribcage and her pants and panties had disappeared. When had that happened?
“Simon?”
He answered with a smile as he moved toward her bikini line, stopping only to dip his tongue into her belly button at the same time he slid his hand up to the apex of her thighs.
As if they had a mind of their own, her legs opened, and she watched Simon as he stared at her and then dipped his head.
By the time she figured out what he was doing, she tried to close her legs and ended up trapping his head between her thighs.
* * *
Simon watched Fitz’s face as her confusion morphed into embarrassment, closely followed by shock. He knew those looks too, but when presented with the feast before him, he didn’t waste time thinking about how. Her scent drew him like an orchid to Georgia O’Keeffe.
He slid his tongue over her for the first taste, and her powerful thighs sandwiched his head, either in avoidance or to entrap—he wasn’t sure which. But even her thighs tight against his ears couldn’t muffle the sound of her shocked pleasure.
Simon couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste. After a few moments, her thighs fell open, her heels dug into the bed, and she grabbed a handful of his hair, anchoring his mouth to her. Not that she had to. He was happy to stay right where he was for as long as she wanted.
She was hot, wet, swollen, and responsive as hell. He took his time, building her up and teasing her with his mouth, torturing her with his tongue, enjoying her response to his slightest touch. Tension raged through her body.
He pressed his hips flat on the mattress, more on edge than he’d ever been while still clothed from the waist down. He slipped his finger inside her, pressed his tongue hard against the bundle of nerves he’d only circled, curled his finger—and she went off like a bottle rocket. Her body convulsed around his finger as he slid another in, her muscles drawing him deeper, massaging, gripping, milking him as she came apart around him. He’d never seen anyone more beautiful, but at that moment, he couldn’t remember anyone that came before her.
By the time she settled, he had his pants off, a condom at the ready, and had pulled her into his arms, enjoying the way her body fit against his.
Her hands roamed his chest, each round moving lower until she stopped and stared into his eyes. “Hey, I thought I was supposed to undress you.” She seemed shocked to find him naked.
“Next time.” And if he had anything to say about it, there would be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that.
She didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow before kissing a path from his neck, teasing his flat nipples and dragging a groan out of him. Her fingers traced his abs followed by her tongue, as her long hair slid over his skin like a silk blanket.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said as she nipped and dragged her mouth lower.
He wasn’t sure what she was talking about and started to ask when she wrapped her hand around his erection, and nuzzled it, stealing all the air from his lungs and quashing the ability to do anything but groan.
When her pink tongue poked between her lips and swiped the sensitive head, all he could do was slide her hair out of his line of vision, shove a pillow under his head, ignore the tingling sensation at the base of his spine telling him he was close, and pray he could control himself for as long as she wanted to play.
And play she did, driving him right to the brink with her mouth, her teeth, taking him deep and backing off just as he thought for sure his head would explode.
He reached for the condom, ripping it open. “Stop, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”
She looked at him, her mouth swollen from his kisses and the oral gratification she’d been in the midst of administering. “Really?”
He brushed her hands away, afraid if she touched him again he’d lose it.
She licked her lips. “So it was okay?”
“If it were anymore okay, I’d have embarrassed myself.” He pulled her up on top of him, kissing her, tasting himself on her tongue, his hard-on nudging her opening. “Come here.” He sat, drawing her taut nipple between his lips, sucking it hard as he held her hips, waiting for her to slide down onto him.
An inch in he knew something was different—tight didn’t begin to describe the sensation. His eyes shot open to find hers squeezed shut. “Fitz, baby. Look at me.”
Her eyes opened wide, she grabbed his shoulders with both hands, her nails digging into his skin and bit her bottom lip between her teeth before thrusting down on him. He felt the resistance and tried to still her, but he was too late to do anything but kiss the tear that escaped her tightly closed eyes. “Oh baby, why didn’t you say anything?”
She let out a shuttered breath and then another as he held her tight against him, praying he could make this clusterfuck of a first time good for her in the end at least. He raised her chin, pushed the hair from her forehead, and waited until she opened her eyes while ignoring the throbbing need to move inside her. When she finally looked at him, he smiled, hoping he hid the tension rioting through him, holding his breath, afraid to move, afraid to hurt her anymore. “Relax. It’s okay. Just give it a minute.” He rubbed her back, working out the tension, and kissed her—just a soft kiss tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue. A moment later she kissed him back.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed before the tension drained from her strained muscles and a whole new tension replaced it. “There you go. Now hold on.”
He rolled them over with as little movement as he could manage so as to not hurt her anymore. Her head rested on a pillow, her dark hair fanned out the way he’d imagined it would when he first saw her at the bar. Her face, which just moments before had been void of all color and had stolen his breath and a piece of his heart, now, once again, was pink and flushed. He retreated a few inches and her legs wrapped around his hips with a death grip.
“Simon. Don’t go.”
He kissed her lips. This might have started out as sex for him, but that changed the moment he realized she was a virgin—he’d never known how much it changed things until that moment. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. Just let me make love to you.”
He’d never been with a virgin before and kicked himself for doing it all wrong. Not that she’d told him. Okay, maybe she’d tried, but he’d had no idea what this meant when she said she’d never done this before. He thought she’d meant going down on a guy, which was a real possibility too, come to think of it.
After some quick mental math he figured she had to be at least twenty-three. He knew she would have been carded at the bar, which was a real relief.
He put his weight on one forearm as he kissed her, waiting for her to relax around him, his hand running down her side to her hip and back again to soothe her. When her hips twitched and she let out a throaty moan, he took it as a good sign and let himself move, slow and steady. He stared into her caramel colored eyes and tapped down the urge to bury himself in her heat, to plunder, to possess.
Fitz moved with him—tentatively, like a nervous first-timer at a cotillion class as if she were trying to keep from counting the steps to the waltz aloud. Then, like the dancer that he assumed she was, she let herself move to the music they created, meeting him step for step and adding a few shimmies of her own.
She arched her back, taking him deeper, demanding more, digging her heels in
, and making it nearly impossible for him to hold back. And he had to. He wanted this to be as amazing for her. He wasn’t sure why she’d gifted him with her virginity, but he’d be damned if he’d make her regret it.
“Simon, please. I need—”
“I know, baby.” He increased their pace, their tempo, and then, he watched her fly, like a shooting star. With her body convulsing around him, gripping him, he lost the ability to control his movements. Drawing out her orgasm, swallowing her screams, and then finally, he let himself follow her.
CHAPTER THREE
Elyse never thought sex would be like this. Sure, she expected it to be nice, well, after the first time. But she’d never expected to be brought to climax twice, especially since no man had ever been able to bring her there before. She might have been a virgin, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t fooled around with the men she’d dated. After all her stops and starts, she’d always left feeling unfulfilled and totally uninspired—that’s why she’d never followed through. She’d thought for sure there was something wrong with her. She’d thought she was frigid.
After tonight she was convinced that if she had been frigid, Simon Sprague was her blowtorch.
“Earth to Fitz.”
God, how embarrassing. She’d been staring into Simon’s eyes and not registering a word he’d said. She couldn’t keep the smile from breaking her face in two. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if you were all right.”
They were still connected—connected in ways she’d never been with any other human being. She let her hands fall from where her nails had dug into his back and let out a satisfied breath. “Oh, yeah. I’m wonderful.”
A relieved smile graced his beautiful face and erased some of the worry she’d seen a second before. “You certainly are.”
Her cheeks heated. What must he think of her? “I’m sorry.”
“God, I hope you’re not sorry.” His brows drew together, his lips pulled tight, and a vein throbbed at his temple, his jaw tense.
