Too Close for Comfort Page 7

  She rushed ahead of him into the dark interior, heard the door close behind him, the thrum of purpose and possibilities tempered by the shot of panic.

  His footsteps followed her into the galley kitchen. She dropped her keys and purse on the table, crossed to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Her fingers trembled on the tumbler as he wrapped warm hands round her waist and enveloped her in that delicious scent again.

  His lips traced the arch of her neck and she tilted her head, instinctively giving him access despite the tangle of nerves.

  ‘You taste great, querida.’ Hot breath nuzzled her neck as the forceful imprint of his erection pressed into her buttocks. ‘As great as cookie-dough ice cream with extra chocolate chips.’

  A desperate little laugh came out at the silly compliment, but then his large palms settled on her waist. She stiffened as the heat spread.

  He moved his hands to her hips, turned her gently to face him. Lifting the forgotten tumbler out of her numb fingers, he placed it on the countertop.

  ‘Iona, if you’ve changed your mind, you only have to say so.’ The words were tight, a little strained, but there was no edge to them.

  She raised her gaze and what she saw made her heart ricochet. The dramatic planes and angles looked even more breathtaking gilded by moonlight.

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. I’m nervous, I guess.’

  He rested his hands on her hips, caressed the cotton. ‘Why nervous? Is it too soon? After Demarest?’

  She heard the controlled anger in his voice. And realised he thought she’d been a victim. That Demarest had traumatised her. When the truth was a lot more sordid.

  ‘He didn’t force me, Zane…’ She felt the furious blush set fire to her scalp but soldiered on. ‘We only did it a couple of times and then he got bored with me.’ She stuck her chin out, made her gaze meet his. She had to stop feeling ashamed about this. ‘Turns out, I’m not a natural at this.’ She coughed, reached for her glass and took a quick sip to swallow down the frog that had lodged in her larynx.

  ‘Not a natural at what? Sex?’

  He sounded so incredulous, she got a little peeved. Was it really so hard for him to understand? Surely she wasn’t the only woman he’d ever met who wasn’t that into sex? But then she thought of the giddy rush that she’d been struggling to suppress most of the night—and realised she probably was.

  ‘Yes…I get tense and flustered and I can’t relax and then the moment’s gone.’

  His forehead creased. And the arousal fizzled and died.

  Terrific, Iona, that was way too much information. Why not kill the mood completely?

  ‘And Demarest made you think that was your fault?’ he asked in a stiff voice.

  She hitched her shoulder in a non-committal shrug, determined not to be defensive. Not every woman could be multiorgasmic. ‘Possibly,’ she said, the hairs on the back of her neck stinging with humiliation.

  ‘And you believed him, why exactly?’

  ‘Because I don’t exactly have a lot of other testimonials,’ she blurted out, getting more peeved by the second.

  ‘What are you saying—that he was your first?’ He sounded incredulous again.

  ‘Maybe.’ She looked down at the floor, her humiliation complete. ‘That’s not to say I haven’t had boyfriends. I’ve had lots of boyfriends.’ Two. ‘But it never…It never quite…There isn’t a big array of possible…Kelross Glen is a small place and…’ She trailed off.

  Great, now he knew just how pathetic she was.

  Warm hands still on her hips, he tugged her close, nudged her hair with his lips. ‘That really sucks.’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’

  He tucked a finger under her chin, lifted her face. ‘So I’m assuming you’ve never had an orgasm while making love?’ The question was asked in a gentle coaxing voice that belied the intensity in his gaze.

  She bit into her lip. Good Lord, how had they ended up talking about this? ‘I’m really not comfortable discuss—’

  ‘I figured as much.’

  ‘I never said—’

  ‘Shh…’ He touched his thumb to her lips. ‘No more talking, Iona. You talk too much anyway.’

  Indignation flared. ‘Now wait a—’

  His lips covered hers, silencing the protest, and the need raged back to life, the dance of lips and tongue so erotic she could scream as he held her head and explored in slow, deliberate strokes.

  He eased back and clasped his hands round her waist. He hauled her up as if she weighed nothing and deposited her on the countertop. Her bottom landed on the cold formica.

  She clung on to his shoulders for balance, felt the bunch of muscle and opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing came out as hot palms edged up her thighs under the dress, shocking her into silence.

  ‘You know what we’re going to do now, Iona,’ he said slowly, his fingers drawing tantalising circles on her naked thighs.

  She shook her head, having lost the power of speech for the second time in one night, which had to be a record.

  ‘We’re going to forget about him, undo all the bad stuff he did—and make this your first time.’

  Something tight banded around her heart. ‘I’m not sure that’s entirely necessary—’

  ‘It isn’t hard to bring a woman to orgasm,’ he interrupted. ‘Not if you pay attention and take the time and trouble to do it right. If he didn’t do that, it was his fault not yours.’

  The blush crept up her throat. She’d known that, of course she had. she’d known as soon as she’d lost her virginity to him and he’d laughed at her inexperience that Brad was a selfish lover as well as a nasty man, but she’d been so desperate to believe his lies she’d allowed herself to bury her growing dislike of him. And that had been her fault, not his. Even if he had been a liar and a thief.

  Wiggling out of Zane’s hands, she jumped down from the countertop. Maybe if the cracked linoleum could swallow her whole, she could get out of this situation without making it any worse. She grasped her glass from the countertop, took a fortifying gulp and kept her back to Zane.

  ‘Do you mind if we take a rain check?’ At least until the turn of the next millennium. ‘I’m not really in the mood any more.’

  Instead of his taking the hint all she heard was a low chuckle. And then his thumb cruised under her hairline. ‘You really want to give him all the power? Even now?’

  She swung round, dislodging his thumb—which unfortunately did nothing to dispel the sizzle of sensation. ‘This has nothing to do with him.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ A sceptical eyebrow rose up his forehead. ‘Then why don’t you prove it?’

  ‘And how exactly do you propose I do that?’

  He braced his hands on the countertop, caging her in, and making her breathing accelerate. ‘It’s real simple, Iona. Stop blaming yourself—and get back on the horse.’

  ‘You’re not serious?’ She propped her forearms against his chest, wanting to be outraged at the offer—but the surge of sensation as his hands came around her waist and he nudged her closer made it kind of hard to muster the required indignation.

  ‘Try me.’ The smile in his bright sapphire eyes twinkled with mischief.

  ‘What? So you’re offering your services, now.’ She paused for effect. ‘As my personal stallion?’

  Instead of his looking affronted or even abashed, the smile only got naughtier—the slow twist of his lips as disarming as it was amused. ‘Stallion might be overselling myself a bit. But, hey, I can go with that analogy if you want. I’m not as picky as you.’

  A laugh choked out without warning as her eyes dipped to his pants and she spotted something that made her think stallion would not be overselling him one bit. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  ‘Well, hell, Iona.’ He edged closer, his hands firm on her hips, the impressive erection nudging her belly as he smiled. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

  The full-bodi
ed laugh bubbled out, breaking the tension. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but she didn’t feel self-conscious any more, or guilty. She felt relaxed and sexy, desire pumping through her like a heady drug.

  ‘Here’s the way it plays for me,’ he said, angling his head to nibble kisses under her chin. ‘We take it slow. And we focus on pleasure. Your pleasure.’ He lapped her collarbone with his tongue. ‘No conditions. And no talking allowed.’

  ‘Why no talking?’ she asked, trying not to let her mind snag on the rough cadence of the word pleasure. And the riotous sensations shivering up her neck.

  ‘Because you talk too much.’

  ‘You are so cheeky.’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’ He chuckled, his fingers edging under the strap of her dress to send sensation skittering across her shoulder blade. ‘So no talking, except to tell me what you like and what you don’t like.’

  ‘Considering there are supposed to be no conditions,’ she teased, ‘there seems to be an awful lot of them.’

  He hoisted her into his arms. ‘Put your legs round my waist,’ he demanded, strong hands gripping her bottom.

  ‘See, there’s another one!’ she said, clasping her arms round his shoulders as her legs hooked his waist.

  ‘Stop being so damn literal,’ he said on a rueful laugh as he carried her into the shoebox-sized bedroom.

  ‘And yet another condition, already,’ she said, amusement loosening the flood of heat.

  ‘Enough, woman,’ he announced, surprising a laugh out of her as he dumped her on the bed. ‘I forgot this bedroom’s smaller than my closet,’ he added, glancing round the room. ‘Next time we do this at my place.’

  The offhand mention of a next time had warmth wrapping around her chest, followed by the pinch of regret. There wouldn’t be a next time. This was strictly a one-night fling. She wasn’t going to make the mistake of thinking this meant more than it did. She wasn’t that needy, insecure girl any more.

  He stripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside her. Her vision blurred, dazed by the glorious display of muscles and sinews and bronzed skin in the moonlight. He looked magnificent, the masculine perfection of his chest almost as arresting as that incredible face. She placed her open hand on his sternum, explored the dark nipples nestled in the sprinkle of hair, and then let it drift down to the ridges of his six-pack.

  He quivered beneath her palm and his hand covered hers, halting the descent. Her gaze rose, and she marvelled at the cleft in his chin defined by the hint of stubble, the dramatic slash of his cheekbones—the dark intensity of those sapphire eyes.

  Thank you, God.

  She whispered the silent prayer in her head as her heartbeat sped up to dizzying speeds. If one night was all she could risk with this man, she intended to make the most of it.

  ‘I’m feeling kind of underdressed here,’ he murmured.

  She laughed at the wry note as his hand skimmed over her shoulder. He propped himself up to lean over her and she heard the sibilant crackle of the zip releasing. The bodice of the dress drooped and he nudged down the straps, revealing the pink lace of her bra.

  ‘Cute,’ he murmured, amused, and she huffed out another chuckle. She certainly didn’t feel like a puppy dog any more.

  ‘I thought I told you not to call me that.’

  He tumbled her back onto the bed, straddling her before his hands swept down her body peeling the dress down to her waist. ‘And I thought I told you not to talk.’

  She wriggled but he held her still, hoisting her arms above her head, then pinned her wrists to the bed in one hand as he bent to press his lips to her collarbone. The trail of kisses dipped to her breasts, and he teased the edge of her bra cup with the rough stroke of his tongue. Her cleavage heaved against the confining lace, her body bucking against his hold.

  ‘You like that, huh,’ he said, gruff and amused.

  It didn’t sound like a question, but she answered anyway. ‘I’m not allowed to talk.’

  The wicked grin had the fire igniting. ‘Now she remembers.’

  He released her arms, but as soon as she dropped them sure, steady fingers slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, and her breasts spilled out. She moaned as he cupped the heavy flesh, flicked his thumb across the beaded nipple. He grappled quickly with the hook, stripped away the pink lace and moulded both breasts in his palms, then bent forward to take one straining nipple into his mouth.

  She groaned, the sound deep and primal, as his lips suckled and the melting sensation became a hot, hard yank of need.

  She arched into his mouth, her fingers clutching the bedspread, the riot of sensation new and overwhelming. How could so little make her feel so much?

  He lifted his head, blew on the wet nipple, watching intently as it puckered even more. ‘Good?’

  ‘Hmm,’ she rasped, her throat dry.

  His gaze stayed transfixed on her naked breasts. ‘They’re gorgeous,’ he said, and warmth flooded through her. ‘Especially when they’re begging for attention like that.’

  Then the exquisite torture continued.

  He licked at the areola, nipped and teased the tender tip, sending a new shockwave of need hurtling down to her core. Desire built as he feasted on first one breast then the other, the blinding pleasure warring with a foolish wave of gratitude. She felt powerful, important, irresistible, the need flooding between her thighs and making her sex ache. She curled her fingers into the short hair at the sides of his head, pulled his face up. The harsh look of arousal only made her more grateful. ‘That feels so good,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

  Lifting up, he took her chin in his fingers. The kiss was hard, fast and demanding. ‘You’re welcome, Iona. Now stop distracting me.’

  She laughed, delighted with the strain in his voice. Then gasped as he turned his attention back to her breasts while knowing fingers slid up under her dress, the heel of his hand pressing against the mound of her sex.

  She launched off the bed, the sudden contact shocking as he cupped her through the silk of her panties.

  ‘Easy, preciosa,’ he murmured, his thumb brushing against the tight bundle of nerves at her centre in deliberate circles.

  She writhed, seeking the exquisite touch and yet scared of the force of her need.

  She gripped his forearm. ‘Please…that’s…too—’ The words choked off on a sob as his fingers dipped beneath the gusset and found the hot wet heart of her.

  Pleasure gripped like a silken fist, and her body bowed as his fingers played.

  ‘There?’ he asked as his sure, steady touch triggered a sharp, painfully exquisite sensation.

  She nodded, cried out as he rubbed, circled, stroked her clitoris. Pleasure rippled and zapped across her skin in a billion sparkles of light—and then pulled hard. She sobbed, teetering on the high ledge for one tantalising second and then cried out—the cascade hurtling her over.

  ‘Oh. My. Goodness.’ Iona panted as she drifted back to full consciousness. Gradually she became aware of the cramp in her fingers as they dug into the sinews of his forearm, and the large, rough hand trapped down her knickers.

  She released his arm instantly, worried she might have left bruises, and clamped her knees together as quickly and discreetly as possible.

  He eased his hand out of her knickers, and grinned down at her as she shivered, still a little shocky from the strength of her climax.

  Good Lord, the man has magic fingers.

  ‘What did I tell you? Not hard if you pay attention.’

  The smug, almost boyish look of satisfaction on that too-handsome face had her coughing out a laugh.

  ‘That was…’ Awesome. The word echoed in her head, but she stopped herself from saying it—and fought the sting of tears. This was only sex, she shouldn’t make too much of it. ‘Thank you,’ she managed at last, not sure what else to say.

  His grin widened and he placed a possessive kiss on her nose. ‘Querida, the pleasure was all mine.’ He let his hand set
tle on her stomach, and she felt the outline of his erection against her hip. ‘You look real cute when you come.’

  She gave him a playful slap on the arm. ‘Stop it.’

  ‘And so damn sexy, I almost came myself.’ He kissed her, the smile on his mouth as potent as the soft, sure touch of his lips.

  She shifted as he raised his head, and, feeling bold, caressed the hard shaft through his trousers.

  He tensed, let out a strained laugh. But when she reached for the zip to release him, he covered her hand, and stopped her. ‘Don’t…’ He touched his forehead to hers. ‘We can’t take this any further.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ She tugged her hand out from under his, the sudden sense of failure so intense it hurt. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why are you sorry?’ He slipped a knuckle under her chin. ‘I’m hoping like hell we can still take a rain check.’

  She shook off his hold, gathered her dress to cover her breasts and sat up. ‘All right,’ she said dully, knowing a charity case when she saw one.

  ‘Damn it…’ He gripped her shoulders, dragged her round to face him, the spark of anger confusing her. ‘I don’t have any protection with me,’ he said, his voice hoarse with exasperation.

  ‘That’s the reason you wanted to stop?’ she asked, the fury in his eyes more exalting than the feel of his rigid flesh moments before.

  ‘Damn straight it is. If I had a condom with me, I’d be inside you right this second.’ He cursed viciously. ‘I want you so badly I’m in agony here, and trying real hard to be smart about this, so don’t you dare look at me as if—’

  ‘There are condoms here,’ she cut in, deciding to intervene before he got any madder. While the sound of his frustration was boosting her fragile ego into the stratosphere—she didn’t want him to explode before they got to the main event. ‘In the bathroom. I saw them yesterday.’ She bounced off the bed, buoyant with pleasure that the moment of rejection was nothing more than a stupid misunderstanding. ‘I’ll go get them, shall I? Put you out of your agony,’ she finished unable to resist the urge to tease him.

  ‘No, wait.’ He grasped her arm, drew her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, buried his face in her hair. The deep breath he blew out brushed against her nape and sent awareness skittering down to her toes. ‘I shouldn’t have lost my temper,’ he said, sounding serious. ‘I apologise.’