by Karen Rock
“Toppings, huh?” She shot him a shrewd look. “Like what?”
He peered at her through thick lashes, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Chocolate says passion. Candy says you’re a kid at heart.”
“What’s just plain vanilla say?”
“You need some colored sprinkles in your life,” he murmured, reaching for her hand and tugging her closer.
Or some Nash…
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that a euphemism for something?”
“Possibly.” His lips twitched.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
He shrugged. “The yogurt place is a block from my condo.”
“Ahhhh…now I see where this is going…”
“Busted.” His wicked smile gleamed, wide and unrepentant. Shameless, gorgeous, sexy man. “So, what do you say? Yogurt?”
She ducked her head. “I—I—was hoping for somewhere a little more private.” No need for formalities. It wasn’t like they were going to start dating. This was a one-night stand and the sooner they got to it the better, before she lost her damn nerve.
He took her chin between his finger and thumb and angled her head up. “Let’s take a test ride then, see how we like it.”
His mouth came down over hers, feeding her the kiss she hungered for, the brush of his lips electric. It kicked her pulse into a frenzy. She wanted to be mindless tonight.
She wanted Nash to make her mindless.
He backed her against the club’s brick wall and trapped her in the most delicious way possible. Every inch of his body molded to her, taut and muscular. She whimpered, senses careening when his hands slid up her torso, stopping just beneath her breasts, his thumbs sliding over her beading nipples. She fought the urge to jump up and down and scream, I feel hot, not icy. Not frigid.
“Repent! Riotous women must seek redemption only in the Lord’s embrace,” thundered the black-robed preacher who’d handed her a religious pamphlet earlier.
They broke apart. “To be continued,” Nash growled, his voice full of husky promise.
“Absolutely,” she managed, striving to catch her breath as she looped her bag’s long strap over her head and across her chest.
He settled a spare helmet on her head with a gentleness that made her ache, fastened it, checked the buckle, rechecked it—protective, Nash was apparently a safety-first kind of guy (another intriguing, unexpected trait)—and helped her onto his bike. His heated gaze as she’d hiked her skirt up to her hips to straddle the seat turned her to ash. The feel of his bold grip on her waist lingered after he’d revved the engine and zoomed to the parking lot’s exit.
The preacher pointed at Katherine when they drew abreast of him, his face red. “Babylon the Great, mother of all harlots and of the Earth’s abominations,” he called as they peeled off the line and zoomed down the road.
Book of Revelations…as insults went, wasn’t half bad. It beat frigid anyway.
They ripped through busy streets atop Nash’s Harley, Katherine leaning against his leather-clad back. The motorcycle was as sexy as its owner—black and chrome with custom silver flame decals. Leather fringe dangled from its handlebars. It fluttered in the streaming wind as he wove through thinning traffic.
Nervous anticipation brewed in her belly, her arms wrapped tight around his taut abdomen. Goosebumps rose on her skin beneath her suit jacket. What the hell was she doing on the back of a motorcycle with a total stranger?
A totally hot stranger…
She pressed her arm against the reassuring outline of her gun in her bag and inched forward on the seat so her breasts flattened against his broad back. Beneath the rumbling engine, she thought she heard a grunt of male approval. Tonight, she was releasing her inner temptress. Whoever that was, she very much wanted to meet her.
And if Nash turned out to be a creep, she was a badass agent able to defend herself.
When they stopped at a red light, idling, his leather-clad hand stroked her bare knee, the lazy circles filling her with pulsing heat. When his fingers rose, skimming along her inner thigh, she gasped, stomach quivering.
Desire lurched sharp and edgy inside her.
Her ex said she wasn’t a freak in the sheets…well…maybe she just didn’t like sheets.
Or him.
Nash, however, was another level of man altogether.
Impatience drove through her, in sync with the powerful Harley vibrating between her thighs, whetting her appetite.
At last, he flicked on his blinker, and they turned into a tree-lined parking area in a subdivision of elegant duplexes. A light in the window of the home adjoining Nash’s blinked on twice. It was a signal, Megan had texted her earlier, from her brother.
Hopefully the walls between the two condos weren’t too thin. When she screamed—if she screamed—oh please let me scream—she wouldn’t need any help. Or mercy.
Nash kicked out the stand, and she tapped his shoulder.
“Turn around,” she whispered in his ear, suddenly anxious and needing a minute to catch her breath before heading inside.
Was she about to lose her courage?
He obliged and palmed her ass, hauling her closer along the seat so her legs dangled over his thighs. As if reading her mind, he captured her lips again, the pressure more intense than before, greedier, rougher. She returned his kiss with fervor, moaning into his mouth.
Holy hell he was hot.
Her fingers locked around his neck, nails digging into his skin. He smiled against her mouth. His large hands nearly spanned her waist and something about their sure, firm grip suggested a man good with his hands. A man who knew what to do with them. How to drive a woman wild and bring her intense satisfaction. She wanted them all over her.
Desire washed away the last of her jitters.
He eased his head back and stared at her with intent, dark eyes, his chest rising and falling fast. “Come inside with me.”
Her fingertip coyly traced his defined pecs through his T-shirt. “You have to ask?”
One side of his gorgeous mouth lifted. “Always.”
“A gentleman.”
His shoulders rippled beneath his fitted leather jacket as he shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“What about now?” She dropped her hand to his zipper, sliding the length of straining denim.
A guttural groan ripped from his throat. Pure, primal, and male. He pulled her on his lap so she straddled him, skirt around her hips, the sweet friction of his rigid member against her softness, driving her wild. His hands slid back up to her waist, where it felt like they settled in for the night. His thumb pressed just below her ribs, his fingers gripped her back possessively, and when she remembered to breathe again, she inhaled a lungful of Nash. Masculine. Sinfully sexy. Earthy.
“Woman,” he growled. “If I don’t get you inside now, I’m about to forget whatever manners I’ve been taught.”
“I heard you don’t bring club patrons home,” she found herself asking, curious despite the heated moment.
He nodded slowly. “You’re the first.”
A gusty, cool breeze swept across the parking lot, rustling elm trees, fluttering her hair across her face. “So, you’re breaking a personal rule?”
He reached up and brushed her hair back. His fingers lingered in her waves and skimmed her neck. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because.” His dark eyes probed hers. “I can’t resist you.”
The simple words whirled in her brain, hitting her with gale force.
She was irresistible.
To one of the most gorgeous men on the planet.
Crazy.
“Are you sure we have to go inside?” She wriggled against his groin.
He half groaned, half laughed, a low, sexy, zing-inspiring laugh that shot right to her naughty parts a
nd woke them up with such force that her nipples stood at attention.
“I’m a second away from stripping you naked.” One of her shirt buttons slipped through its hole beneath his nimble fingers. “But since my neighbor seems to have developed a Morse code hobby,” another button opened, her shirt now gaping to reveal the tops of her swelling breasts, “I’d rather get you inside, because this perfection,” he slid his hand inside her blouse and cupped her aching breast, “is for my eyes only.”
If she wasn’t so out of breath, she would have laughed, delighted at his possessiveness, giddy joy and sensual anticipation making her light-headed. He’d called her perfection. Wanted her. Didn’t think she was an ice queen.
She hopped off the bike, grabbed his hand, and tugged him to the door. “This one?”
He nodded as he fumbled for the keys, the kisses she rained on his corded neck apparently not helping his concentration since it took him three tries before the door swung open.
Gone was the smooth dancer with legions of adoring fans. In his place stood a man, real and raw and full of desire…for her.
Incredible.
Once inside, he closed the door with the heel of his boot, swept her into his arms, and turned, maneuvering their entangled bodies up against the entry. She barely glimpsed tasteful furnishings, a large, open kitchen, and a dining and living room combination, before his lips claimed hers again.
* * * *
Nash Hawkins captured Katherine’s lips in another greedy kiss, eating up the sweet, sexy sounds leaving her beautiful mouth. The taste of her was like nectar on his tongue. He felt like a primitive creature, responding with nothing more than a savage brain. Everything about Katherine was erotic to him. Every whim of her body triggered his. Every second stirred his imagination. Sensation after sensation washed over him. He drew back, trapping her lower lip between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug as he mentally ordered himself to carry her to the bedroom.
An elegant woman like Katherine should be wooed. Pampered. Charmed. Not taken hard against a door. When he’d spotted her arresting face in the audience, she’d commanded his attention. There wasn’t anyone else in the room besides her, his eyes pulled to her shining gold hair, her plush, natural lips, her sleek shoulders and tall, lithe frame.
He’d struggled through his routine, unable to focus. Her conservative, girl-next-door, buttoned-up look knocked him on his ass. The temptation to shake her prim and proper façade and make her lose her mind—irresistible.
His lap dance had become personal, every move intended to turn her on. His erection, a first while performing, had been achingly hard and impossible to ignore. It stunned him when he’d broken his cardinal rule and asked her out.
But Katherine was different. Poised. In control. She hadn’t tried to stick her hand down his pants like most women in the club. In fact, he’d had to make her touch him and he’d been desperate to feel her hands on his body. And the assessing way she’d looked at him…as though sizing him up, not just as a sexual partner, but as a person. It’d been a long time since anyone, outside of family, saw him as more than a sex object.
He brushed his mouth over hers, kissing the swell of her upper lip, and backed them away from the door.
“Don’t stop,” she moaned, kicking off her shoes, shrugging out of her purse and jacket. They hit the floor with a strangely heavy thud.
Her hand settled on his throbbing cock.
The hell with trying to be respectful.
He kissed her hard and deep, exactly like he intended to possess her. Hoisting her leg at the knee, he wrapped it around his waist and rocked forward as he unbuttoned her blouse. She tasted sweet and hot, like the rush of summer while riding on an open road. Pure, unadulterated exhilaration. He yanked her shirt off and the swell of her firm, round breasts, rising and falling beneath a lacy bra, fired his blood to a painful degree.
Soft gasping sounds of pleasure escaped her as he slid his hands up her thighs. He paused at the bottom edge of her skirt, teasing one finger along her hem. Her fingers clenched his shoulders, and she swayed on her feet. Reaching beneath her skirt, he cupped her warm, damp sex through her panties.
“Yes,” she whimpered, her beautiful face tipping back, golden hair streaming around her shoulders. “Like that.”
He crashed his mouth over hers again, kissing her roughly, gentleness beyond him. “I want every inch of you,” he rasped, slipping his fingers into her tight heat.
“Take it,” she moaned, riding his hand as he devoured her mouth. She was so hot, so incredibly wet. Her pelvis thrust against him, impatient for each of his teasing strokes.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she panted, her head twisting back and forth. She was close, her unadulterated excitement the turn-on of his life. With his fingers he sought her most sensitive spot, ready to shatter her world. She clawed at his biceps, arching off the door with a loud, pleasure-filled moan.
“Right there!” she cried out. He slowed his movements, prolonging her pleasure. When he skimmed his mouth over the delicate skin of her neck, sucking, nipping, and licking, she rose on her toes, her thighs rigid. He stroked his thumb over her swollen, satiny center, and her head fell back. “Yesssssss!”
She shuddered, collapsing in his arms, her pleasure filling him with deep satisfaction. Hell. He might as well have come, too, that’s how good her orgasm made him feel. In one motion, he scooped her up and carried her to his sectional, relishing the feel of her toned body.
“That was…incredible,” she sighed once he sat, cradling her close.
“What about this?” He laved his tongue alongside her jaw, stroking her cheek with the back of his trembling hand. Behind his straining zipper, his penis throbbed painfully and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and fight for every shred of control he possessed. He was used to turning women on. Trained in controlling, delaying his wants. Yet gorgeous Katherine made him clumsy, impatient, grasping. She brought him to his knees.
“And this?” Lightly, he traced the pillowed mounds of her breasts.
Her hands skimmed up his chest, over his shoulders to clasp behind his neck as she stared up at him. “Wicked,” she gasped, shuddering against him.
“You’re blowing my mind.” He hooked one finger in the waistband of her skirt to sketch a path along its edge. “I can’t resist you.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
He bent to kiss her, scavenging for control, needing to make this perfect for her. For a reason he couldn’t identify, he didn’t want her to forget him.
Tonight had to be memorable.
Though one night was all it could ever be. He’d already broken one of his cardinal rules by bringing home a Dallas Heat patron. No chance he’d break the most important rule of all—keeping his love life free of serious entanglements. After growing up in a broken home, Nash stuck to casual relationships.
And Katherine, he sensed, was anything but casual.
He shifted her to straddle him and her skirt rode up her bare thighs, helped by Nash’s eager hands. He fit her over his throbbing erection, her thin panties and his jeans still separating them. It created a frustrating-as-hell barrier to what he wanted.
“Honey,” his voice rasped thickly in the darkness. “You’re killing me.”
“You’re not giving me mercy either,” she whispered back with a breathy sigh.
He battled the need to roar his gratification, contenting himself with pressing her down, onto her back, into the plush fabric of the sectional.
She helped him free her skirt and unclasp her bra, leaving her clad in just a pair of white, lace-trimmed panties. He tugged the scrap of material down her mile-long legs and his heart raced as he took in her flawless skin and hourglass curves, wanting her more with each inch his gaze devoured. Her body was perfect: her waist so narrow that his hands spread could almost span her. And his fingers were itching to do just that and so m
uch more. Aching to skim every part of her, to learn all the secrets her body possessed.
Entranced by the way her breasts moved up and down with each breath, he fumbled, struggling to strip off his clothes, unable to disrobe fast enough. Ironic for a guy who made a living at it…but Katherine had him all thumbs.
What she did to him…
“Oh. My.” Katherine’s eyes fell to his erection, widened, then rose as he stretched over her. “I think I’m enjoying this private show.”
“You think you’re enjoying it?” He arched a brow, amused by Katherine’s teasing and complete unwillingness to tiptoe around his ego. It was refreshing. And fucking arousing.
“Pretty sure. Like 99.99 percent.”
“Let me convince you of that last one hundredth of a percent.” He guided her hand to touch him.
She arched her hips beneath him in answer.
He leaned close to her ear. “I’m going to make you want me so bad.”
“I already do,” she gasped, the trail of her fingers along his shaft making his cock jerk and twitch. Much more of her sensual touch, and he’d cum in her hand like a teenager.
Hands unsteady with need, he reached into the side-table drawer, grabbed a condom, sheathed himself, then pushed her back to the couch cushion, impatient. Nudging her thighs apart with his knees, he positioned himself over her and entered her slowly, watching her eyes widen, careful to give her time to adjust to him.
She was tight. Almost too tight. Was he hurting her? Size was sometimes an issue. At last, her tense expression eased and he slid all the way inside her, his eyes shutting at the incredible sensation. The feel of her warm, silken flesh wrapped around him ripped an animalistic sound from his throat.
She whimpered, her fingernails lightly scraping his back.
“Too much?” He stilled, ready to ease out a bit and hold back as he’d taught himself to do, hiding his disappointment.
“Are you kidding?” She lifted her thighs to lock around his waist, drawing him in deeper still. “Give me everything, Nash. Hold nothing back.”
Holy fuck. He couldn’t think anymore.
