Tate trembled against the near-orgasmic experience of simple mouth on mouth. She was drowning in sensuality with every lazy sweep, every suctioning pull of his tongue. Helplessly her head fell back against the wall.
Nathan kissed her again, growling deep in his throat, “Don’t move.”
Hot openmouthed kisses trailed down her cheek, her jawline, the tip of her chin. His labored breathing heightened her awareness, releasing a delicious shiver down to the marrow of her softening bones.
Tate moaned. Electric shock therapy. That’s what it felt like, his mouth feasting on her tingling skin. Turning her head to sample him, she lost her mind in his raw taste. He swung away from her explorations with a muffled curse.
Blazing a damp path down her neck, he flicked his tongue to the beat pulsing in the hollow of her throat. Soft, nibbling kisses on each side of her collarbone. The graze of his teeth. His mouth ventured lower. His fingers skillfully feathered up her wrists, her arms, her shoulders to rest on the curve of her neck.
She was afraid she’d beg for a firmer, faster contact. “Nathan—”
“Remember you telling me to have patience? Same goes, sweetheart.” Nathan’s big hands slid through her hair, gripping the short tresses. His callused fingertips casually stroked her nape. His thumbs traced every sensitive section of her ears. Then he splayed his hands wide. Gradually those thick, open palms descended to her breasts.
Her breath hitched, yet she stayed still. She ached to press the hardened tips into his too-patient hands. She craved the first intimate, heated sensation of his slick mouth on her skin.
Hot puffs of air gusted over the scrap of bikini top. Her nipples pebbled to near-painful points. He suckled the nubs through the silky triangular fabric with deliberate slowness, until tremors radiated from her cervix. She cursed his patience as he caressed the bottom swell of her breasts with barely there touches of his fingertips. Another jolt of electricity arced through her blood when he captured her lips in a voracious kiss.
Panting, Tate broke away. “Please, why don’t you—?” Arching into him, she rubbed against the rough fabric of his shirt, wishing it were the muscled contours of his naked chest.
“Why don’t I what?” He nuzzled the skin under her ear, sliding his jeans-clad leg up and over her bare thigh. “Tell me.”
“Touch me with your mouth.”
“Where?”
She glanced down.
But Nathan latched on to her earlobe. “Imagine this”—he repeatedly flicked his tongue over the small flap of skin and sucked hard—“is your nipple, tight and hot against my wet tongue. Is this what you want?”
His mouth tormented her. His clothing rasped over her exposed skin. She wanted this man more than her next breath. “Yes.”
Nathan retreated, and she moaned her disapproval. When their gazes collided, he demanded softly, “Then offer them to me. Take off your top. Now.”
His cheeks were rosy, either from desire or the stifling heat. Tate didn’t know. Didn’t care. Whatever strange magic caused her to go insane with lust around him had taken hold of him too.
Finally.
Nathan’s ardent gaze locked on to her shaking hands as she reached behind her back to untie the strings.
Her bikini top fell to the floor.
The minute Tate bared herself in front of him, Nathan couldn’t think.
He softly ran the rough pad of his thumb over one pink tip, then the other. Cupping her right breast, he sucked the peak firmly into the wetness of his mouth.
She tasted like heaven too.
Tate groaned but kept her hands clutched at her sides.
He didn’t rush. Each glorious breast deserved a thorough exploration. Using his hot mouth in tandem with his greedy hands, he lapped his fill of her sweet bottom curves. Pressing the globes together, Nathan lightly flicked his tongue back and forth, pursed his lips over her rigid nipple and sucked carefully, reluctant to use his teeth on such delicate skin.
She bowed, thrusting out her dampened breasts. “Please.”
He nestled his chin in her cleavage as he savored her smooth, feminine skin against the hardness of his jaw. “Please what?”
“Harder.” Her voice was scarcely a whisper. “Suck harder.”
An answering growl rose from his throat. Nathan latched on to the puckered nub with his whole mouth and drove her shoulders against the wall. He clutched her ass, outlining the crease where hip met thigh. While his tongue continued to lick and tease, his hands traveled the tiny scrap of material to the small of her back.
Tate’s hips pushed closer.
Nathan wanted to drop his pants and drive into her. Feel her silken heat gripping his cock. He grasped the bottoms of her bikini in front and back, gently rubbing the slippery fabric between the velvety softness between her legs.
Suddenly Tate grabbed the waistband of his jeans.
He pulled back. If she touched him, he’d last about two seconds. “Your hands are supposed to be by your side.”
“Nathan,” she whispered. “I’m dying to touch you.”
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” he murmured, removing her hands from his pants. “However, I was touching you first and I’m not done. Turn around and face the wall.”
Her eyes went wide, and she stammered, “B-but—”
“I won’t hurt you. I’d never do anything you don’t want.” He used drugging kisses until once again she seemed boneless, helpless as he was against the sexual heat that burned between them. “Trust me, Tate. You want this.”
A spark of passion darkened her eyes before she turned around.
“Place your palms against the wall and spread your legs,” he urged, eliminating the space between them.
She inhaled sharply when his groin rubbed against her butt.
He smiled. The abrasion of denim on her bare skin drove her wild. His hands roamed the flat plane of her stomach. Reaching those luscious breasts, he squeezed her nipples between his knuckles. He burrowed his chin into the susceptible curve where her nape met spine, continuing the rocking of his hips. His erection grew harder at the salty taste of her sweat coating her skin. “Tate,” he breathed, “tell me what you want.”
“Oh God. Touch me. Just touch me, please.”
Nathan shifted his body away. Prolonged contact with her perfect ass and he’d embarrass himself. Hell, he was close to self-detonation now. He followed the contour of her spine with tongue, lips and teeth. His hand sought the soft curls between her thighs.
Tate’s head dropped back at his first intimate touch. She shuddered from her blonde head to her pink toenails.
The scant fabric of her swimsuit bottoms were no challenge. His finger found and stroked those slippery feminine folds. His groin had a mind of its own and reconnected with her bottom. Playfully, he nipped the slope of her shoulder. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Watch my hand between your legs.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t know…”
“Do it.” Nathan rubbed her wetness up and over her sweet spot until she writhed. He positioned the pad of his thumb on top of the pouting bundle of nerves and felt her blood gather and pulse. A groan rumbled forth when he plunged his middle finger in and out of her slick entrance. “God, you are so hot. So wet,” he whispered roughly against her hair. He thrust higher, harder when he realized she’d gone on her tiptoes in anticipation.
Her internal muscles greedily clamped around him.
Tate reared back, her neck slick against the moisture on his. “It’s too intense. I can’t. Oh please, I’m gonna…”
“Don’t tense up. Let go, it’ll happen.” He wiggled another finger inside to reach her G-spot, while his open palm pressed down hard where she most needed it. “Come for me, Tate. Come hard. Come now.”
And she did, with a small surprised scream. Her drenched sex convulsed and pulsed. She gasped as her climax intensified by the calculated speed of the rhythm of his fingers. Her essence poured into his hand, as the spasms slowed, then stopped.
<
br /> Beads of sweat dripped down the side of his face. The back and forth grinding motions against her sweet behind almost proved too much. He carefully removed his painfully hard cock, concentrating on tasting Tate from her hairline to her shell-shaped ear. “You okay?” When his voice cracked he realized her release had shaken him to his very core.
“Okay? I’m better than okay,” she purred. “And this was much better than romance, don’t you think?”
Her words snapped him out of his sexual daze and spread panic. There was not one romantic thing about shoving her against a wall and fingering her to orgasm. Hot as the sun, but not what he’d envisioned for their first intimate encounter. He eased his hand from between her thighs. Swept his palm up her still-quivering belly to linger on her plump breasts.
Apparently sated, Tate rubbed her temple alongside his cheek, then nipped his jaw. “Your turn.”
“No. That was my turn, and believe me, I enjoyed it.” Nathan inhaled the heady aroma of Tate: coconut suntan oil, the vanilla scent of her shampoo and the musk of her arousal with a hint of sweat. “Although I am sorry. I wanted the first time I touched you to be—”
“Romantic.” She sighed wearily.
“Wasn’t how it ended up, was it?”
“Oh please.” She burrowed into his arms. “Those moans I made were really screams of agony because I hated every vibrating second—”
“Smart aleck,” he said, smothering her sarcastic protest with a kiss. He explored her mouth tenderly, using the rough tips of his fingers to memorize her silky skin. What an odd pair they made. He cursed his lack of finesse; she gave him grief for not taking things further.
Nathan planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and moved back. Way back, toward the door. He tripped over the rattan umbrella stand in his haste to escape from the sexual tension that still crackled in the room like heat lightning.
“Why are you acting like you’re leaving?”
“Because I am.”
“Why?” Her bewildered expression nearly undid him. “We have all night to finish—”
“Not tonight. I have a mountain of paperwork to do that can’t wait.”
Glad to know I rank right up there with dreaded paperwork,” she said dryly.
“Dammit, Tate, that’s not the case and you know it. Trust me. It’s a helluva lot harder to walk away than it is to throw you on the ground and satisfy the”—he floundered in body and voice—“the damn cravings you bring out in me.”
“Nathan—”
“Look at me, Tate.” His arms spread wide so she could get a good look at his well-worn 501’s and faded Henley. “I am not a gentle, easy man, in or out of the bedroom.” Why didn’t pacifying words come as easily to him as pipe dimensions and plant classifications? “I don’t know if I can be. You’re soft and sweet and nice. You’d better be damn sure you can handle my rougher edges, because once we start this, we both know there’ll be no turning back.”
Tate rose to every inch of her five-foot-two height and her blue eyes spit fire. She closed the gap between them in one giant step. “Newsflash: I don’t want to turn back now. It might be good for you to remember something too, mister.” She speared a finger into his chest. “I’m not a child, nor am I as soft, sweet and nice as you believe. I know what kind of man you are. I’ll remind you that you agreed to this.”
Yeah, she was a real tough chick, spewing the kind of words that made his heart—not his dick—swell. “Speaking of agreements, we need to finalize financial arrangements for plants—”
“I’m not talking about plants, dirt and rocks, and you damn well know it, Nathan LeBeau.”
He opened his mouth, but her shrewd look stopped his comment.
“Be warned. I’ll let you go this time without a fight. But next time we’re together I’ll have a few surprises of my own. And they won’t have a blessed thing to do with landscaping.”
Heat zinged straight to his groin. “Yeah?”
“Count on it,” she said with a saucy smile.
Nathan grinned. “I can hardly wait.”
Tate hadn’t seen or heard from Nathan in days.
When the doorbell chimed at five thirty, she practically skipped from the parlor. She imagined his sexy body filling the threshold, not another neighborhood kid selling magazine subscriptions or raffle tickets.
But Val sagged against the doorframe. She wore a neon-orange maternity smock. With her belly larger than it was last week she looked like a pissed-off pumpkin.
“Hi!” Tate said with false enthusiasm. “Come in and sit down. You look exhausted.”
Grunting, Val waddled to the couch. Tossed her bag next to the fireplace, right on top of Aunt Bea’s ceramic pig. “That’s because I am. What I wouldn’t give for a shot of caffeine.”
“The only caffeine-free drink I’ve got is water.”
“Then make mine on the rocks.”
Tate set two frosty glasses of ice water on the sandstone coasters. “So what brings you by?”
“I’m here because you haven’t called me.” Val crunched a piece of ice and studied Tate critically.
Tate self-consciously smoothed the curled edge of her tattered, once-pink shorts. There was nothing wrong with going braless and skipping the underwear when stuck inside slopping paint.
“There’s no smug smile of satisfaction on your face, so I’m assuming you and Nathan haven’t done the deed yet.”
“Valerie!”
“What?” Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “You going to tell me to mind my own business too?”
“Too?” Tate echoed.
“Yes too. Nathan told me to butt out when I asked him.”
“I’m sorry, those are the rules.” Tate held up her paint-stained hand and recited, “And I promise not to divulge graphic details about our agreement to anyone.” Her shoulders slumped, sending the stretched-out strap of her purple camisole sliding down her arm. “Truth is, there’s nothing to discuss.”
Val bobbled her ice water. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish.”
“Apparently my anger at being left in the dark is my problem, since nothing is going on in the dark or otherwise.” Val rubbed a swollen hand over her equally swollen abdomen. “Let me get this straight. Nathan hasn’t made any moves on you at all?”
Like Tate was going to confess the one time Nathan had touched her, she’d gone off like a nuclear reactor. And she’d practically begged him to do her in the foyer. Right before he hightailed it out the door. At this point the benefits in not divulging details didn’t seem so bad. “I don’t know about moves, but we’ve…kissed. And talked.”
“You’ve talked?” Val repeated the word “talked” in hushed tones like it was a communicable disease.
“Yes. We even went out for ice cream. And he took me to the fair. Oh, we had dinner one night too.” Geez. Things were the polar opposite of the wild sexual adventures she’d expected.
“Tate, what is really going on?” Val leaned as close as her belly allowed, grabbing a handful of lemon drops from the candy dish. “Don’t you find Nathan attractive? He’s got that whole ethnic thing going on, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges—”
“I find him unbelievably attractive,” Tate reassured her. She half-closed her eyes, and Nathan’s likeness floated into view. The picture that lingered wasn’t his delicious he-man physique, his raw male power and sexiness, but the aura of sweetness she’d uncovered. The all-too-familiar loneliness she glimpsed in his eyes. That sadness made her want to tuck his exhausted body in bed and minister to him, not necessarily in a sexual manner. Tate frowned at that odd thought, and it immediately snapped her out of her reverie.
“But didn’t you want sex without strings?” Val demanded. “What’s the problem?”
I don’t know. Val’s advice would prove invaluable, but Tate wouldn’t break her promise to Nathan. A feasible fib slid into her mind. “No problem, except I really like him. And I’ve umm…chickened out as far as wild uninhibi
ted sex. So we’re taking it slow. He really is a nice guy, but I guess you knew that.” She smiled uneasily when she realized every word she’d said was true. She did like Nathan in ways she’d never anticipated.
Too bad she hadn’t warranted the same tender consideration from him. He hadn’t bothered to call her all week. Tate gritted her teeth and added to the white lie, “He’s been swamped and feels guilty that he’s canceled our…dates.”
Val tapped her chin as if sensing Tate had perjured herself. When Tate blinked innocently, Val snorted. “Something fishy is