Sweet Life

by Nina Lane

  “Holy shit.” Panting and sweating, she fell back against the floor and stared at him in a daze. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”

  A smile curved his mouth. He rose to his knees. A damp spot spread over the front of his trousers, evidence of her orgasm. A hot flush rose to her cheeks.

  He unbuckled his belt and stripped it off. Julia swallowed to ease her dry throat, mesmerized by the deftness of his hands as he unbuttoned his pants and worked the zipper. She stared in awe when he pushed the trousers over his hips, revealing navy boxer briefs that did nothing to conceal the massive length and breadth of his cock.

  “God, Warren,” she whispered.

  He moved forward, straddling her hips. “Take them off.”

  Trembling, she hooked her fingers into the waistband and tugged the boxer briefs down. His erection bobbed upward like a living creature, directly in her line of sight. Long and straight with a smooth, veined shaft and thick, glossy knob, his cock looked as if it had been made for pleasure. Her pleasure.

  Lust and more than a little trepidation flared through her. She swallowed again, her heart hammering. She gestured to his shirt and tie.

  “Take it off,” she said, unable to prevent her pleading tone. “I want to see you naked.”

  He pulled at the knot of his tie and pulled it off, letting it fall to the floor with the pile of other clothes. His gaze never leaving hers, he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, revealing a sculpted expanse of chest and shoulders that would have put a Greek statue to shame. And though Julia had a vivid imagination, she’d never pictured Warren looking like this.

  His muscular shoulders sloped to thick, solid pecs and a washboard abdomen whose ridges she wanted to lick one by one. With his cock sticking straight out like an invitation, he was suddenly less the Warren she’d always known and more a crazy hot stranger with a body that could take her places she’d never been before.

  “You’re… you’re really built.” She lifted a tentative hand to touch his chest. “Like built. I had no idea.”

  “Side-effect of nearing retirement.” Warren put his hands on either side of her head. “More time to work out.”

  Though surely a physique like his required an Olympic-sized workout, Julia didn’t bother questioning him further. Instead she ran her fingers over his chest and traced all the grooves of his muscles as if mapping the landscape of his body.

  Warren didn’t move, letting her have her fill of exploring him before she finally stroked down to his jutting cock. She closed her fist around his shaft and squeezed, emboldened by his sharp intake of breath. She was an experienced-enough woman, but God knew she’d never had a man as powerfully virile as Warren Stone was turning out to be. The realization both excited and unnerved her.

  Warren tangled his hand into her hair and levered his body over hers. In one movement, he brought them together, their legs and arms twining and flexing. The full contact of his naked body against hers flooded Julia with fresh desire and pleasure. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he edged his hands between her thighs. He dipped his forefinger into her cleft, circling her clit with his thumb.

  “Wet and hot,” he murmured, biting gently down on her collarbone. “Exactly the way I’d imagined my ice queen under all that frost.”

  She arched her hips into his touch. She couldn’t tell him that no other man had ever made her melt so effortlessly. He worked his finger into her, groaning when she clenched around him.

  She pressed her lips to his shoulder, scraped her fingernails down his back. Urgency flared, prickling over her skin like a shower of sparks. His muscles tightened, and his cock jerked against her thigh. He lifted his head with a sudden curse.

  “Condom,” he muttered. “I—”

  “It’s okay.” Julia tightened her hands on his arms. “I’m past that now, and I haven’t been with a man in over a year, and I know you’re clean too. I want to feel you inside me without a condom, so please do it.”

  He lowered himself back over her. His gaze collided with hers. Time froze.

  Julia’s heart pounded, her breath emerging in rapid gasps. Disbelief descended over her, and she half-expected the fog would lift to reveal that this was all a mulled-wine-induced dream, but oh my god… that was definitely Warren spreading her open with his fingers before easing his thick cock inside her. She fumbled for something to grasp and closed her hand around the leg of the coffee table. Her blood lit with sensation, every part of her body stretching and pulsing with desire.

  He braced his hands on either side of her head, his jaw tight with self-restraint.

  “God, Warren.” Julia drew in a breath. Sweat dripped between her breasts. “Do it. Fuck me.”

  With a low grunt, he sank into her, his cock filling her with such exquisite pressure that the fog of lust intensified, driving her toward bliss. She moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. He pulled back and pushed forward, easing into a hard, swift rhythm that stimulated her every nerve. She fell into the friction and thrust of their bodies, the scent of Warren filling her head, the rough abrasion of the carpet. She gripped his back, his arms, opened her mouth for his bruising kisses, and wondered at the power of his body, the flex and pull of his strong muscles.

  Time slipped away. Bliss rolled and swept through her again, causing her to bite down on his shoulder to quiet her instinctive scream of pleasure. She sensed his own ascent, his shout guttural and hot against her neck as her body took the full force of his powerful release. He rolled to her side, the only sound the heavy cadence of their breath.

  Julia still felt him inside her, as if he’d imprinted himself on her body the way he already had on every intangible part of her.

  The words rose up from the depths of her being, the center of her soul, the soft, gentle area around her heart she so rarely let anyone see.

  “I…”

  The sound of her own voice, the simple I, broke through the fog of lust. She swallowed. A sudden alarm dispelled her lingering pleasure. She pushed the words down deep, horrified that she’d almost confessed.

  She sat up slowly, trying to ignore the temptation to surrender to the warm strength of Warren beside her. She wanted to curl into him, rest her hand against his chest, slide her leg between his.

  As she reached for her discarded shirt, she caught sight of the framed photo of Warren, Rebecca, and their children that she’d left on the coffee table.

  Her heart seized. Tendrils of cold snaked through her, turning her blood to ice.

  Chapter

  FIVE

  “Well, that was fun.”

  Injecting a cool note into her voice, Julia turned away from Warren and picked up her crumpled panties.

  He didn’t respond. She fumbled to find her bra, calling upon every reserve of strength she possessed to collect her composure.

  “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She got to her feet, still not looking at him, and slipped into her lingerie. “I need to go.”

  She felt his gaze as if it were a touch. He pushed to his elbows, his eyes hooded. Unselfconscious in his nakedness, his skin still damp with sweat and muscles taut, he was totally unfamiliar to her—a man who’d fucked her raw and made her come hard enough to see stars. Not Warren Stone, her sister’s husband, the widower who’d become her best friend.

  The man to whom she could never confess her love.

  She smothered a stab of guilt, blocking an image of Rebecca with her elegant, lovely features, her sleek blonde hair, always cut in a fashionable bob, her model-like figure.

  As a child, Julia had worshipped her older sister, and at first she’d resented Warren when he’d captured all of Rebecca’s attention and then swept her off into marriage. Later, Julia had learned they’d wed partly due to Rebecca’s unexpected pregnancy, but the circumstances appeared to have no effect on their rock-solid devotion and love.

  Julia hadn’t envied their marriage—in her eyes, they’d been tied down with children, Warren working all hour
s of the day, Rebecca stuck at home—but they’d been committed to both each other and their life together. That part Julia had envied. She’d told Warren as much on the night when she’d so shamelessly thrown herself at him.

  A hot flush rose to her cheeks. She bent to pick up her shirt. Warren turned away from her and pulled on his boxer briefs. Her focus snapped involuntarily to the flex and stretch of his back muscles, the straight vertebrae of his spine and slopes of his shoulder blades. A sharp longing rose in her to slide her fingers over his back, trace the structure of his bones, learn every part of his body the way she’d learned every inch of his character.

  She backed away, afraid she would act on the urge the way she’d almost confessed.

  He turned and advanced, his expression set with determination.

  “Julia, we need to talk about this,” he said.

  “This was a mistake.”

  “The hell it was. You’re wrong if you think this hasn’t been waiting to happen.”

  She held up a hand, trying to ignore her racing heart. “Spare me the post-coital discussion, please. I’m accustomed to men rolling over and going to sleep.”

  Warren frowned. “Don’t you turn Ice Queen on me.”

  “I’m not turning anything,” she snapped. “This is who I am.”

  “You’re a lot more than that.”

  She couldn’t respond. Warren was Rebecca’s husband. He’d always been hers. Her presence had filled their lives for thirteen years through the children and the foundation. So much of the work she and Warren did together was in honor of Rebecca. To keep her alive.

  How could Julia have allowed them to cross the invisible line they’d always kept so firmly drawn? How could she have let herself almost confess the deepest secret of her heart?

  “I admit it’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten laid,” she remarked crisply. “Thanks for scratching my itch. We should do this again in another thirteen years.”

  “All right.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, his features steeling. “If that’s what you want, I can play the game. We’re doing this again tomorrow. You’ll get on your knees and wrap your pretty lips around my dick. Maybe I’ll let you swallow, or maybe I’ll fuck you again and come on your tits.”

  God. A hot shudder rippled through her. She turned away, not wanting him to read on her face that his crude words inflamed her all over again.

  “I’ll check my agenda and let you know if that works for me.” She jerked her shirt over her head.

  Before she could grab her pants from the floor, Warren clamped his hand around her wrist. He yanked her against the solid wall of his chest, trapping her with the strength of his grip.

  “Oh, it will work for you, honey.” His voice was dangerously low, his dark eyes burning through her. “Because you’re mine now. You want me to scratch your itch? Sure. But that means you do whatever the fuck I say whenever the fuck I say it. If you think you can shut me out with your ice, you’re wrong. I have a goddamned inferno.”

  Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it inside her head. She’d never seen him so controlling, so determined. Part of her longed to lock herself right up against his body and let him do things to her. She wanted to get on her hands and knees for him, to feel him driving into her from behind, her ass slamming against his flat stomach. She wanted to ride him, pushing his cock inside her as deep as it could possibly go. She wanted them both to come, over and over, until they were exhausted and spent.

  Then she wanted him to take her in his arms and fucking cuddle her until she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  He put his hand between her legs, edging his fingers underneath her panties to where she was still wet and aching from his cock. He circled her swollen clit. A tremble rocked her. She struggled not to writhe against the pressure of his fingers, to beg him to make her come again.

  Just as she was about to surrender to the urge, he let her go.

  Julia scrambled to put on her pants and shoes, her face hot. She’d lost this battle and it was her own damned fault. Trembling, she hurried to the door.

  “We’re not done here, Jules,” Warren said. “No fucking way.”

  The steely certainty in his voice lanced into her like an arrow. No one knew better than her that Warren Stone was a man who got what he wanted.

  But he’d never had to battle her hard-edged resolve, the brick walls she’d constructed to keep people out.

  She hurried outside, slamming the door behind her. As she drove home, she tried not to think about the fact that Warren was the only man in the world who could demolish those walls with nothing more than a kiss.

  “Here’s the final line-up for Deck the Halls.” Marco handed Julia a sheet of paper. “I’ll meet you over at the theater tomorrow night for rehearsal number one, unless you need me to escort you so you don’t cut and run.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.” Julia scanned the schedule.

  “I put Poodle-O-Doodles in the first act because apparently the dogs have a naptime at…”

  Marco’s voice drifted from her attention, as had pretty much everything else today. Except for her memories of Warren.

  A shiver rippled down her spine. Her body still ached deliciously from their encounter last night. She hadn’t been able to keep it—to keep him—far from her thoughts. She certainly hadn’t been able to stop reliving his touch, the scrape of his stubble on her skin, the thrust of his shaft inside her, over and over—

  “…and then the Wee Tinsel Dancers will come out for their tap dance with the Gingerbread Man,” Marco said.

  “Fine.” She waved for him to take the paper away. “Looks great.”

  “Did you just say looks great?”

  Julia sighed. “It will suffice for now, Marco. You may leave. Really, I insist.”

  He smirked and left her office. Julia suspected he would bring her a kale salad for lunch, the little toad.

  She rose from her desk and went to the private studio adjoining her office. Unlike her business space, her studio contained a drafting table, mood boards covered with photos, textiles, and graphics; shelves of fabric rolls and samples; mannequins, and a sewing table cluttered with measuring tape and scissors.

  She sat at the drafting table, which was covered with sketches for her proposed Appear line. She studied a drawing of a tailored shirt, trying not to hear Vincent Peck telling her it was outdated and old.

  She’d been in the fashion industry long enough to know how trends worked. And her recent experiences with Polly and Kate had taught her that younger women didn’t always care for high-end fashion, but they did need flattering, well-made clothing that was easy to mix and match. With the right patterns and fabrics, some whimsical, fun touches, Appear could be a unique line for young, working women.

  Though the Evermore deal had hit her right where it hurt the most, she had to find a way out. A way up. She had to believe in herself, to not believe Vincent Peck’s criticism that her designs were uninspired. That she didn’t have the credibility to create an authentic line for young women because… well. Her young days were behind her.

  Fuck him. It wasn’t as if Peck was any spring chicken, so what did he know?

  She set her drawings aside. She’d get back to them later when she had time to think of new concepts.

  She left her office and strode to Enzo’s desk. His head jerked up at the sound of her heels clicking across the floor.

  “The Zuzu photo shoot proofs?” She held out her hand.

  He shuffled through papers on his desk and produced the folder. Julia took it with a nod, eyeing the surface of his desk. It was covered with stacks of paper, a musical Christmas tree, two dying plants, hand sanitizer, and a number of little trinkets—troll dolls, a dinosaur paper clip holder, wind-up robots, and a tabletop air hockey game.

  “This is unaccept…” Julia stopped. “What is that?”

  “What?” Enzo whirled around, as if ready to defend himself.

  “That.” Julia stabbed h
er finger at the multicolored cube half-hidden behind the printer. “Is that a Rubik’s Cube?”

  “Oh, this. Yes.” Relieved, he held up the cube.

  Julia snapped her fingers and opened her palm. Enzo dropped the cube into her hand and backed his swivel chair away. She studied the mixed-up cube. They’d been popular when she was a kid, but she hadn’t seen or attempted to solve one in years.

  And why would she have? It was a ridiculous waste of time, trying to get the colors on a cube to align.

  “Uh, will there be anything else?” Enzo asked.

  “May I borrow this?” Julia closed her fingers around the cube.

  “Yeah, sure.” Enzo looked mildly baffled. “You can have it, if you want.”

  Julia nodded her thanks and stepped away. “Clean your desk. I want it spotless by the end of the day.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Enzo grabbed the wastepaper basket and got to work.

  Julia returned to her office. She closed the door and sat behind her desk, studying the silly little Rubik’s Cube.

  Really, how hard could it be? If she twisted the right side, she’d have a row of white along the edge, and then she just had to bring the other two edge pieces to the same side… except then that screwed up the yellow row she had created on the other side, which meant she had a mess in the middle section of the… Well, hold on. She needed a different approach, maybe instead of focusing on the rows she needed to get the center square first.

  She worked a bit more, concentrating on the white center square before evaluating the other squares to see if she could optimize the rows and…

  “Julia?”

  She looked up. Marco peered around her office door, his coat and briefcase in hand.

  “Okay if I go?” he asked.

  “I suppose.” She tossed the cube onto her desk. “Why are you leaving early?”

  “I’m not.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s seven p.m.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. There must have been a wrinkle in time because there was no way she’d been working on a Rubik’s Cube for over an hour straight.