In that moment there was no right, no wrong—there was only Nick’s touch and how it ignited desire in her. She pressed herself closer to him, needing to feel more of him against her.
Her hands sought his belt. She unclasped it and roughly whipped it off. He made a sound of approval deep in his chest and she continued to boldly, feverishly undress him. She didn’t want anything between them. She’d waited too long for this. She didn’t want to wait a second longer.
Once freed, his large shaft nudged against her hand and she grasped it eagerly. The size of it had her instantly quivering and wet. She wanted him, all of him, inside her. He groaned again as she stroked him, loving the length and width of him.
Straightening slightly, Nick laid his hands over hers. “Slow down. I want you to come first.”
He lifted her and carried her to the counter, pushing aside what was there, sending a cake display crashing to the floor on the other side. “I’ll replace that, too,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her stomach as he set her on the counter and sat on the stool before it. Rena balanced herself with her hands on the lip of the counter as Nick spread her legs wider. He ran the tip of his finger between her folds. “You’re so wet for me.” He slid one finger into her and rolled it.
Rena cried out in pleasure. “Oh, yes, that’s it. Let yourself go, Rena. Let yourself enjoy this.”
Rena leaned forward and kissed him with all the boldness he’d kissed her with earlier. She circled his tongue with hers, invaded his mouth with a hot abandon, like no kiss she’d given before. She sucked at his tongue, pulling him into her mouth, welcoming him, opening wider for him.
He caressed her breasts with one hand, gently rolling her nipple between his fingers while his other hand pumped in and out of her with growing speed. Rena was writhing against him when he broke off their kiss and trailed his mouth down her stomach to her wet center. He parted her lower lips and blew on her exposed clit.
Rena’s hands clung to the counter.
He circled her nub with his tongue, flicking it with ever-increasing speed, until Rena couldn’t think about anything except how much she wanted that tongue inside her. When he thrust it inside, she jutted against his mouth, calling out as wave after wave of release washed over her.
And still he didn’t stop. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her clit as he worshipped her inside and out with his tongue. He brought her from sated to crazy with need before he paused.
He stepped back and Rena felt that loss so intensely she called out to him, begging him not to stop. He was back a painfully long moment later. This time he stood between her legs, his hands finding her hips. He’d sheathed himself in a condom.
Her lips sought his even as his tip teased her swollen folds. With one powerful move, he lifted her, thrust himself inside, and claimed her mouth fully with his. She wrapped her legs around his waist and loved the ease with which he lifted her, adjusting her so he could drive himself deeper.
He went slowly at first, allowing her time to accept him fully. Then he withdrew, and drove himself inside her again. There was a wildness about their mating, and Rena gave herself to it completely. She met him thrust for thrust. She reveled in the feel of his tongue deep inside her mouth, dancing with hers in primal ownership.
He took her spiraling toward another orgasm and pounded into her as she came for a second time. Only then did he give himself his own release.
The only sound in the shop as they both came back to earth was their heavy breathing and the hum of traffic outside. He lowered her back onto the counter but didn’t pull himself out. Instead, he kissed her lips gently, then held her there, still intimately entwined, and buried his face in her hair. “That was better than I’ve ever imagined—and I’ve spent a good deal of time imagining it.”
Rena playfully tightened her inner muscles around him. “Me too.”
His hands clenched on her thighs. “Why did we wait so long?”
Rena gasped when she felt him begin to stir and harden within her. “Because we both knew it was a bad idea.”
He moved his hips, growing harder and larger as he spoke. “It doesn’t feel so bad.” He turned to the side and, having withdrawn, removed his condom and let it drop to the floor. The sound of him tearing open another foil package echoed through the otherwise silent shop. He pushed himself inside her again and leisurely stroked her from inside. “In fact, it feels so good I’m not done yet.”
Running her hands over his chest and down his flat stomach, Rena tightened herself around him again—this time clenching and releasing with rhythm. “I don’t want to talk anymore, Nick.”
A pleased smile curled Nick’s lips. “Me either.”
He leaned over and scooped some of the fruit off a tart the owners had left for them. With a wicked grin, he smeared it on one of her breasts, then slowly licked it off, all the while gently thrusting his cock in and out of her with a slow and steady rhythm. “I’d hate for these to go to waste.”
Rena buried her hands in his hair and threw her head back as excitement rocked through her. “Shut up and fuck me, Nick.”
She felt him chuckle against her breast. “My pleasure.”
No, Rena thought as his pace began to increase within her.
Mine.
***
“Did you bring a laptop to take notes, or would you like me to type up what we discussed today and email it to you?” Rena asked as she shimmied back into her dress. She then hunted for her shoes, struggling not to meet Nick’s eyes. “It won’t take much to get you up to speed on the project, but I think you should know how we’ve handled the unexpected in the past.”
He smiled as he pulled on his slacks. “There will be time to talk about work later. Right now, all I want to do is teleport you back to my place so we can take a nap, then wake up and do this all over again.”
Rena blushed and balanced on one leg as she slid a shoe on. “I can’t go to your place, Nick.”
“I don’t mind your —”
She raised a hand. “And you can’t come to mine. No one can see us together.”
Surprised and more than a little offended, Nick said, “So I should cancel my order for the ‘I fucked Rena’ banner?”
That finally got her to look at him. She put her hands on her hips. “Joke all you want, Nick, but I’m serious.”
Still bare-chested, Nick closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. He waited until she once again raised her eyes to his. “Are you worried about Gio? I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t. Please don’t.” Rena laid both her hands on his chest, and that alone was enough to send Nick’s pulse racing. “This was great, but we both know it can’t happen again.”
“We do?” Nick frowned. He hadn’t thought past how he’d intended to have her, but he didn’t like the idea that what they’d shared was all he’d have of her.
She gave him a small smile. “Obviously we’re attracted to each other. We’re young, single, and human. Something like this was bound to happen eventually. But now we can put it behind us and go back to being friends.”
“We’ve never been friends, Rena.”
She inhaled quickly and smacked his chest. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
“You’d rather I lie?” She pulled back in his arms, but he held her there. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he knew it didn’t involve letting her go.
“Well, you might not care about me, but I have always cared about you . . .”
“I didn’t say I didn’t care about you.”
“You just said—”
“That we’ve never been friends. I see that changing. I like being with you, Rena. I don’t care what my brother thinks.”
“You make it sound so simple, Nick, but it isn’t. You know it’s not.” Rena raised a hand and caressed Nick’s cheek. “You and Gio are finally getting along. I won’t be the reason that changes. We can’t repeat what we did today, and no one can ever know about it.”
&nb
sp; Nick frowned. “Let me get this straight. You fucked me because you care about me, and you’re not going to fuck me again because you care about me.”
She looked down at his chest and said weakly, “Yes, but I wouldn’t put it as crudely.”
“I have a different proposal.”
“Proposal?” she looked up at him with rounded eyes.
“I say we do whatever the hell we want, and anyone who doesn’t like it will have to simply get over it.”
Rena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s not going to work for me.”
He ran a hand under her chin and tipped her head back. She opened her eyes warily. “What are you really worried about, Rena?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “My family or yours?”
“My family—”
“Has no right to tell us what we can or can’t do.”
“You can say that, Nick, but they would never allow me to hang out with you.”
“Can you hear yourself? How long will you let them dictate how you live your life?”
“What would be better? Becoming like you? At least I’m close to my family.”
Nick rested his chin on her forehead. “Ouch.”
Rena wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was awful.”
Nick sighed. “No, it was honest.” He dropped his arms and stepped back from her. “Go get your laptop. I do need to be updated on the project.”
Rena hesitated. “Nick, I . . .”
He grit his teeth. He was done talking about what Rena did or didn’t want. The mere mention of his family was already souring his mood. “The notes, Rena. Get your fucking notes.”
Chapter Eight
A week later, Rena was dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt, cleaning her house and swearing as she did. Sure, I told Nick that I couldn’t see him outside of work again. Yes, I reiterated that what we’d done was a one-time deal and absolutely could not be repeated. Okay, so my last parting words to him when I left the coffee shop were that it was best if we both tried to forget that anything had happened.
But did he have to listen to me so completely?
Bastard.
Nick had been in and out of Rena’s office all week as he’d confirmed the details for his meeting with Durkin and the congressman. Never once had he been anything less than professional. He’d come in the morning of the meeting to pick up some paperwork and had smiled briefly when she’d wished him luck.
Even the flowers he’d sent on Friday, a perfectly appropriate bouquet of white roses, had blandly said, “Thank you for all your help on the Durkin project.”
Jackass.
It was supposed to be as hard for him to move on as it was proving for her. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined him pulling her to him, his hot kisses on her neck, his cock thrusting inside her. Every time she saw him she wanted to run up to him and tell him she’d been a complete idiot. Tell whoever you want, whatever you want—just don’t smile at me like what we did didn’t matter.
Rena almost knocked over a lamp, then righted it at the last moment. What is wrong with me? I don’t agree with casual sex. Well, maybe for others, but not for me.
She half closed her eyes and remembered what it was like to be lifted onto the counter of the coffee shop. She played back every touch, every sensation from that day with painful vividness. Nothing in her prior relationships had compared to what she’d experienced with Nick.
There had been nothing casual about that.
That was primal.
Consuming.
Heaven.
Rena shook her head. And, apparently, completely forgettable for someone like Nick.
Asshole.
Adding salt to her wound, Janet now regularly floated in and out of Rena’s office. At first it was for advice. Then she’d dropped in to thank Rena for the advice. Now, she was beginning to stop by as if the two of them were friends.
“Want to go to lunch?”
“I’d rather staple my finger to my forehead,” was what Rena wanted to say, but she made up excuses why she was busy instead. There was nothing outwardly dislikable about the young woman, but Rena feared she would stab her with a cafeteria fork if she said Nick’s name one more time.
In the beginning, Janet had at least called him Mr. Andrade, but more and more she slipped and called him by his first name. “Nick would like a copy of this report . . . Nick wanted to make sure you received the geo map from the surveyors . . . Nick. Nick. Nick.”
The doorbell to Rena’s house rang and she jumped, this time sending the lamp crashing to the floor. She gave herself the luxury of a quick glance in the mirror, but what she saw didn’t please her. Her eyes looked tired and her hair was tangled. I’m a mess.
She peered out the peephole on her door. A young man dressed in a delivery service uniform stood there with an envelope in his hands.
She opened the door. “Hello.”
“Are you Ms. Sander?”
“Yes.”
“This is for you.”
“Who is it from?”
“He didn’t say.”
Rena took the envelope in her hand and weighed it thoughtfully. “Do you know what it is?”
“No, ma’am,” the boy said and waited.
“Oh,” Rena said. “Hang on.” She returned with a tip, then closed the door when he’d left. There was no writing on the outside of the envelope.
She opened it.
It contained one box seat ticket to that night’s performance of Aida. Rena thought of who might have invited her. She didn’t remember anyone asking, plus why wouldn’t they hold onto the ticket if she were going with them?
There wasn’t even a note.
It didn’t make any sense and felt more like a game than a gift.
Nick.
Rena shivered with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Was this his way of showing he was still interested in her? He wanted to take her out for a real date?
Was the opera his idea of a high-class, in-your-face announcement that they were together?
But we aren’t—together, that is.
Even as she located her phone and readied it to text, she reminded herself of all the reasons why seeing Nick again would only cause trouble with both of their families. Gio would assume Nick was seeing her for nefarious reasons. Nick would risk losing Gio’s trust. Kane and her parents would never approve. Kane would overreact—along with Gio.
There goes my job.
Am I ready for that?
Of course, the ticket might not even be from Nick and I could be worrying about nothing.
Rena texted her question: Did you send me something via messenger?
She held her breath and waited for his response.
Yes.
Since when do you like opera?
I don’t. I find it boring.
So, why invite me?
Because you don’t like it either. Which makes it perfect.
I love opera. I’ve been many times.
Your parents love it. You go to make them happy.
Nick’s insight into what motivated Rena was unsettling. I never said that.
You never had to. I know you better than you think I do.
His text sent a confusing rush of pleasure through her. She didn’t enjoy opera, but her parents loved taking her so she’d never said a word about it. He does know me, even the parts of me I try to deny.
His next text came before she had time to answer his last: Come to Aida tonight. Wear the dress I’m having delivered to you.
Nick, if we’re seen together in public—
Do you trust me?
It wasn’t an easy question to answer. She’d known him for most of her life. He was impulsive and often defiant in the face of authority, but he’d never involved her in anything he thought could hurt her. I do trust you, but . . .
Text me when you get there.
She wanted to say yes so much that not doing
so brought a shine of tears to her eyes. His persistence forced her to face the largest hurdle between them: her fear. She grasped for a safer alternative: I don’t know, Nick. Maybe if we went somewhere more private.
He didn’t respond.
She added: We shouldn’t do this at all.
No answer.
Finally, she typed, I’m not going, and dropped the phone into her bathrobe pocket. Jerk.
A few minutes later her doorbell rang again and another messenger delivered a large black-and-white box. Hugging the package in her arms, she spoke to her empty living room. “You are making it very hard for me to say no, Nick.”
She laid the box on her couch and held its contents out in front of her. It was a strapless, floor-length shimmering blue gown with a slit cut high up one thigh. The material was light and designed to cling. It was definitely sexier than anything she would have chosen for herself.
Her phone beeped with an incoming message: Do you like it?
She typed back: It’s not my style.
Try it on.
It’s too small.
Tell me how you look in it.
Rena shook her head, then relented. She could argue it out with him, but part of her wanted to see how it would look on her. She stepped out of her clothing and slid the dress over her head. It fit her perfectly but left very little, if anything, to the imagination. She’d worn plenty of gowns in her life, but never one like this. The thin material hugged her curves intimately, bordering on indecently. I can’t wear it in public. I’d feel . . . She almost said naked, but stopped herself. Ridiculous. It barely covers anything.
Sounds perfect.
For someone you’d hire for the night, but not for me.
So prudish. I love that side of you. You will wear it for me. You know why? Because we both know you want to.
Rena looked in the mirror and bit her bottom lip. Her nipples puckered beneath the thin material. Her eyes looked wild with desire and her cheeks were flushed pink. Saying no made sense, but saying yes was what she craved.
What are we doing, Nick?