Читать книгу Unwrap Me - Susan Lyons - Страница 9

Closing the door behind him, Nick wondered why Jude had changed her mind. Did she feel the same sense of connection he did? A sexual pull, for sure—what guy wouldn’t be turned on by a woman like her?—but there was something else he couldn’t pin down. Maybe it had sprung from the shared chuckle over Karen’s crazy plan.

A plan that was definitely growing on him. Oh, yeah, he could buy into being Jude’s Secret Santa gift. She must’ve told Karen she was looking for some action. His cock swelled as he imagined her unwrapping him.

And vice versa.

He tossed his coat back on the chair and followed her into the living room.

The first thing he noticed was what wasn’t there. No tree, no Christmas decorations, no cards on the mantel, not even a poinsettia.

The room was cozy and appealing, though. Flames in the gas fireplace. A plush couch, love seat, and chair upholstered in chocolate fabric. Framed photos of flowers, shelves of books, a nice entertainment system. The flat-screen TV was playing CSI. The original Vegas one. In contrast to the crime show, a mug and a pile of knitting sat on the coffee table beside a vase of sweet-smelling orange and yellow flowers.

She clicked off the TV. “What would you like to drink?”

“Anything but eggnog.” Nick wasn’t in the mood for it—not after the send-off party.

“There’s none of that in the house. How about red wine?”

“Great.”

“I’ll get it. Why don’t you put on some music?”

Nick browsed her CD collection. Light jazz and romantic songs, hip-hop, classic rock, even rap. But, strangely, no Christmas music. He picked up Michael Bublé’s Call Me Irresponsible and ran his eye down the tracks. “The Best is Yet to Come,” “It Had Better Be Tonight,” “I’m Your Man,” “Wonderful Tonight”…Oh, yeah, this should set the mood.

Jude came back with an open wine bottle and two glasses. Banrock Station Shiraz. She held out a glass, unsmiling.

He came over to her. This close, he was very aware of her height and curvy body. If he reached out and pulled her into his arms, all she’d have to do was tilt her head and he could kiss her. Her breasts would brush his chest and—man, his cock was hardening again. Didn’t help that her scent, like roses and peaches mixed together, was drifting over to him.

He clicked his glass against hers. “To meeting each other.”

Her cinnamon-spice eyes searched his, and she didn’t sound convinced when she echoed, “To meeting each other.”

After they’d both sipped, he sank onto the couch, tugging her with him. “Look, let’s not kill Karen. And let’s forget about the Secret Santa thing and pretend we’re two strangers who met all on our own and kinda like each other. Enough to spend an evening and, you know…”

Her lips tipped up a little at the corners. “See where things go?”

“Yeah. No pressure, no expectations. Okay?”

She studied him some more. The tension eased from her face, and a smile grew. “Okay. But wherever it does go, we’re agreed on no strings attached, right?”

He raised his glass in another toast. “For sure.”

They were both quiet then. It seemed that now that they’d decided, neither of them knew where to start.

Trying to keep things low key so Jude wouldn’t back off, Nick suggested, “Tell me something about yourself. Anything you want. Then I’ll tell you something about me.”

“Okay.” She tapped her finger against her wineglass. “This shiraz is from Australia. I lived there for a year after college and got a chance to explore.”

“Cool. One of the firefighters at my hall is from Queensland. He’s doing an exchange because his girlfriend lives here.”

“I visited Queensland. It has the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen.”

They talked about her year in Australia, the conversation flowing easily now. Nick liked watching Jude—her changes of expression, the light in her eyes. Everything about her was a turn-on that kept his blood humming with awareness. Arousal.

The way she’d lift a hand and rake her hair back in one of those feminine gestures that accented the curve of her breast, the long line of her neck. She’d curled her legs up, sitting sideways facing him. One denim-clad knee touched his thigh, a subtle turn-on. The air was rich with her peachy scent. She smelled edible, and he was getting very hungry.

His hands itched to touch her. Talking was good, but her body drew him.

He guessed she’d told Karen she was looking for sex, but that didn’t mean he should insult her by taking her for granted. No, he should act like this was a normal first date. It was getting late. Time to leave and ask her out for dinner tomorrow.

“And can you believe the Aussies put sliced beets in hamburgers?” She laughed, shaking her head. A strand of hair stuck to her moist lips.

Oh, damn, he couldn’t resist. He reached over to free it and tuck it behind her ear. “Beets, eh?” His fingers traced the soft rim of her ear.

Bublé was singing about how he’d met a wonderful girl out of an orange-colored sky. A meeting as unexpected as the one set up by Nick’s Secret Santa sister-in-law.

He forgot about the music, caught up by the silky texture of Jude’s skin as his fingers drifted across her cheek and down to her chin.

“Mmmm.” Her lips parted, and he ran his fingers lightly over them, too. Free of lipstick, naturally rosy. Full and soft against his skin. Kissable. Very kissable.

Testing, he leaned toward her.

Jude stopped breathing. This was the moment the evening had been leading up to. It was her move, her decision. Fear brushed her, making her shiver. The last man she’d kissed was her ex, Don. The fiancé who’d dumped her.

But this was different. Neither she nor Nick wanted a serious relationship, so there was no danger he’d commit to her and then betray her. All he was asking for was a kiss.

She shoved aside the fear and leaned into him, smelling the richness of red wine, meeting his lips with hers.

A first kiss was always a test. A delicate exploration and negotiation. Who are you, what do you taste like, what feels good for you, what’s your style as a kisser? And, most important, what feelings do you arouse in me? And vice versa.

An entire future hung in a first kiss. It could be lost or created in those seconds.

This kiss definitely created a future. It was amazing.

First his lips brushed hers as softly and as lightly as a butterfly’s wings, and then they came back a little more firmly. Eagerly she pressed against them, trying to hold him in place. But he moved again, sucking her bottom lip between his, darting his tongue against the burning flesh.

She licked out, running her tongue over his top lip, tracing its full curves.

He nipped gently and then settled his mouth fully against hers. His hand slipped through her hair to caress the back of her head. Running up and down through the roots of her thick hair, he circled in a motion that was almost massage. Soothing and arousing at the same time.

Leaning close, she put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the heated strength of his muscles through the flannel of his red shirt. At work, the men she met were white-collar. If they had muscles at all, they’d been built in a gym. Nick’s were the real thing. These were shoulders that carried people out of burning buildings.

A sexy thought. A sexy man.

Now his tongue was in her mouth, invading and caressing in a leisurely, seductive way that hardened her nipples and dampened her panties.

It might have been a long time since she’d had sex, but her body definitely remembered. It was ripe and aching to be given. To be taken.

Nick was gorgeous and sexy and nice. Why should she hold back?

Hungrily she tried to press against him, but it was too awkward with her legs curled up on the couch.

He made an impatient sound, then tore his mouth from hers. “There’s a better way.”

In a moment he’d grabbed her by the hips and then they were lying side by side on the couch. Their bodies adjusted to each other in a series of small movements until all the pieces were interlocked just right. “Mmmm, feels good,” she murmured. Yes, she remembered what this was like.

Except Nick’s body was harder and stronger than any she’d ever cuddled against, and the fit was even better. He was so overwhelmingly male, and his kiss, the touch of his hand as he cupped a breast through her T-shirt, were sure. But gentle, too. Caressing. Seductive. Making her want to give him everything he asked for. And more.

Impatiently she hooked her fingers in the hem of her shirt and struggled to pull it up her body. His hands took over, skimming the garment over her head. Her undies were at-home ones, plain cotton in a tan color that almost matched her skin. No silk or lace, yet his eyes glittered with heat as he ran a finger along the top edge of her bra. “Man, you’re gorgeous, Jude.”

His touch stole her breath, but she managed to say, “Even in this boring bra?”

“Even in a turtlenecked T-shirt. I bet you’re even gorgeous in sweats.”

She didn’t own any, but she had half a dozen pairs of flannel PJs. Nights were cold when a girl slept alone.

Nick lowered his head, and his lips took her swollen nipple through the cloth of her bra.

Nights wouldn’t be cold with Nick in her bed. In fact, right now her blood felt as hot and thick and sweet as the Grand Marnier syrup she made to go with crepes. Just waiting for a dash of brandy and a match to ignite it.

Deft hands reached behind her and unfastened her bra, and then his lips were on her bare nipple. She gasped, body arching toward him. Her nipples had always been sensitive, and too intense a touch hurt, but Nick’s mouth was perfect as he laved and sucked gently.

Amazing that one pearled nipple not much bigger than a bead was almost as sensitive, as responsive, as her clit. In fact, it seemed directly linked to that other pearly bud, and both fed directly to the pleasure center that ruled orgasms. His jean-clad thigh was between her legs and, as need mounted inside her, she pressed shamelessly against it as two layers of denim rubbed the soft cotton that covered her crotch.

Her hand found his erection, steely hard behind the fly of his jeans. Denim, more denim, too damned much denim. She fumbled to undo the button and lower the zipper, then she reached past denim and cotton to grip that strong shaft.

Nick made a sound that was half groan, half growl, and turned his attention to her other breast as she fondled him.

He was so perfect in her hand. Big and hot and hard with a crown that was soft as silk and damp from his own arousal. Sliding her hand up and down his shaft, she imagined him inside her. Stroking back and forth, in and out. Pressing against the walls of her vagina, reaching deep into her secret places, each stroke stimulating her clit.

Aching with need, she moaned, writhed. Realized that somehow Nick’s hand was inside her jeans, his finger on her clit as deft and as gentle as his mouth on her breast. No pain, only pure, aching pleasure.

Building, growing, making her gasp and press against him as he rubbed and teased her.

Then—oh, god—cresting, peaking, flooding through her in waves of pure, amazing sensation that made her cry out.

As her breathing gradually slowed, she drifted back to reality. She’d never climaxed so easily before. Was it all the months of abstinence, or was it Nick?

Nick, who was easing his hand out of her pants.

Nick, whose swollen cock she still gripped.

She couldn’t meet his eye, not after coming apart under his touch. Instead she slid her hand up to the crown of his erection, finding beads of moisture and swirling them. “Your turn.”

His hand closed over hers. “Not that way. Inside you.”

Inside her. Pumping in and out the way she’d imagined. Her pussy clenched, telling her one orgasm wasn’t enough. Not tonight with this man.

“Jude? Is that okay?”

She darted a glance at his face, at the flush on his cheeks, the heated intensity in his eyes. Oh, yeah, she wanted him inside her giving her everything he had. “Yes,” she breathed. “If, uh…do you have protection?” The last thing she’d been expecting was sex, and tonight it had arrived and found her hot and needy but unprepared.

“Yup. What say we get rid of these clothes?” He climbed off the couch, unbuttoning his shirt. In less than a minute, he’d stripped and stood in the firelight, naked.

Naked, utterly male, a total hottie. Broad shoulders rippling with muscle, firm pecs sprinkled with glossy curls of black hair, lean hips, sculpted legs—and, most of all, that bold jut of erect cock. No man had a right to look so good, but Jude wasn’t about to complain.

If he’d given her a moment, she would have felt self-conscious about her own body, but she had no time to think. His hands were gently but efficiently divesting her of her clothes. Then somehow the two of them were back on the couch, lying together with her on the bottom and his body covering her. Touching her all over. His chest hair tickling her breasts, making them tingle. His sheathed erection heavy against her stomach. One of his hands reaching between them, touching that sensitive bud still swollen from climax.

That first orgasm had been a great appetizer. Now her blood clamored for more, and she wasn’t going to be bashful about asking for what he so clearly was ready to give. She gripped his firm butt in both hands and squeezed. “Now, Nick.” Her voice came out throaty and demanding.

“Oh, yeah.” He lifted his hips, and she raised hers, too, spreading her legs wider in invitation. The tip of his cock brushed her needy bud, and she whimpered. Then he pushed forward, finding his way between slick, swollen folds as her body opened to take him in.

She’d wanted him to fill her, and, wow, did he ever—with his long, hard cock and a tingly explosion of sensations radiating out from every place he touched her. Tilting her pelvis, she maximized the pressure against her clit as Nick slid out in a tantalizingly slow motion and then surged back in, hard and fast. Under her hands, his butt muscles clenched.

“Oh, god!” She buried her face in his neck, inhaling the spicy musk of aroused male. His skin was damp. She licked salt and felt the rushed beat of his pulse under her tongue.

He groaned. “Jesus, Jude, you feel so good.”

Did she ever. Her body was alive, sexy, so turned on she was close to climax again.

Throbbing, aching, needing him, she clung tight, and he took the hint, pumping harder until all the delicious sensations melded together and crested and she cried out in orgasm.

A moment later, he shouted his own release as his body bucked against hers. Inside hers.

After, they collapsed together, both breathing hard.

When she could speak again, she murmured, “Wow.” Had sex ever been that good before?

“Yeah.” His face was on the cushion beside hers, breath tickling her cheek. After a couple minutes, he chuckled. “Guess I ought to thank Karen.”

“No!” She squirmed. “Oooo, this is embarrassing. How am I going to face her?”

Nick lifted himself on one elbow. “What’re you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you normally, uh, talk to her about your sex life?”

“I haven’t had a sex life since I met her.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Give me a break, I’ve known her only six months.” Jude wasn’t about to confess to no sex for a year. “Men weren’t high on my priority list.” But thinking about Karen and work made her glance at her watch. “Nick, it’s almost one. Tomorrow’s a workday.”

“I’d better get going.” He levered himself off the couch and matter-of-factly dealt with the condom. From the pile of clothing on the floor, he extracted a pair of navy boxer briefs.

Pity to cover that body.

Suddenly she remembered something and bounced off the couch. “Wait a minute. You were my present. I never got to unwrap you.”

“Then we’ll have to do this again.” His lazy grin was pure seduction.

She didn’t need to reflect for more than, oh, say, half a second. “Yes, please.”

“Tonight?”

“Damn, I can’t.” Today was Friday, which meant the office Christmas party was tonight. She would have loved to blow it off, but that would have been an insult to the Arkin family.

Most people would be bringing spouses or dates, so maybe she should invite Nick….

No. That was like saying she wanted a relationship, which she definitely didn’t. Especially not at Christmas when men had a habit of ditching her.