скачать книгу бесплатно
Was she really going to do this?
A look into those eyes burning with a need that matched her own—yes. Definitely.
One night. It was all she needed.
“Tell me.” Her palms skimmed downward, riding the dips and valleys of his abdomen.
“We give Maeve’s plan a go.”
That caught her attention. Chin pulling back, she shook off the haze of need and focused on the man before her. “What?”
“You say you don’t know how to do casual. And I don’t know how to do anything else. So we meet in the middle. Find some safe place that feels good. That’s about having some fun instead of forever. I’m thinking, for a while, we could be friends and lovers. We’d trust each other not to let it go too far and just … learn to date.”
For a while. Not one night.
She let out a heavy breath.
“Garrett, I don’t think you’re the right guy to practice dating with. You were right about the strings. Those complications matter.”
“I’m the perfect guy. And the only string I see is the one Maeve keeps dangling in front of me—the one with you on the end. She’s not going to flip when this is over. She’s a big girl. And she’s your best friend, so give her some credit.”
Nichole’s mouth dropped open in shock. Garrett was telling her to give Maeve some credit?
“You’ve got to be kidding?”
Garrett shook his head, brought his thumb around to stroke across her bottom lip.
Oh, God. Such slight contact … but with an earth-shattering impact.
“Not even close. And, to underscore my point, I’m going to give you your first lesson in keeping it casual.” Those deep blue pools were pulling her deeper. The gravel-rough voice was like a siren song, luring her to depths she shouldn’t go. “Don’t make things more complicated than they need to be. Neither one of us wants this to get too serious. So it won’t. Simple.”
“Easy for The Panty Whisperer to say.” His thumb was still at her lip, offering that tantalizing sensation with every word.
“Easy for anyone on the same page to say.” He ducked down so his eyes were level with hers. “And you’re the perfect woman for me because I need more, Nichole. More than the kind of meaningless that’s been on tap for longer than I want to remember. But my more has a pretty hard limit when it comes to the future. And you might be the only woman I trust not to try and change that. Don’t you see? Right now, at this place in our lives, we’re a perfect fit.”
She wanted to believe him. Wanted it to be that easy. But sometimes things didn’t go the way people planned. Sometimes the best intentions led to the worst kinds of hurt. And she was afraid.
He leaned closer then, so his words slid around her ear in warm rush. “Trust me, Nichole.”
Trust. He was asking her to trust him. To trust Maeve. To trust herself.
Could she do it?
If she ever wanted a full life she had to learn how.
And this man she wanted so desperately understood so much about her.
Knuckles coasting down the length of her neck, Garrett murmured, “Trust me to take care of you.”
Her breath caught as he pulled back to look down at her, the dark promise in his eyes enough to make her belly twist in on itself.
Her lips parted on what might have a warning to herself, or maybe just his name because she loved the feel of it on her tongue—but he was already there. Closing those last scant inches between them and catching her mouth with his kiss.
She was lost. No more denials. No more waiting.
Arms snaked around her back, he pulled her close, taking her weight as he took her self-control. He carried her inside and kicked the door closed behind them.
Feet dangling above the floor, she reveled in the strength of his embrace, the power of his need. The ever-tightening hold that roared they’d waited too long already and threatened nothing short of everything would be enough.
Her arms laced around his neck, pulling him closer, because after telling herself no for so long this was finally yes.
He walked them down the hall toward her room, deepening the kiss as they went. Taking the access she offered and thrusting inside. Retreating and then sliding past her lips again, slow and steady. Telling her what he wanted to do to her without words. Filling her mouth with the rough stroke of his tongue, the taste of him. Decadent and delicious.
Yes!
He thrust again and she closed around him, sucking softly in an urgent, needy plea. Begging him for more. For all.
He pressed into her hips, so the steely thick ridge of his erection nudged firm against her belly. It was a hint. A taunt. A tease that left her whimpering as she tried to squirm closer. Take what she needed.
And then her back was against the wall and his hands were sliding across her bottom, strong fingers splaying wide as they pushed down the backs of her thighs past the hem of her sundress. Each point of contact became a bruising demand as they guided her legs around him, positioning her so his hot length met her center with a rolling pressure just exactly right.
“Garrett—oh, God, like that,” she gasped, her words taking on an insistent quality, warning of a total loss of control.
Garrett did it again and again until desire lanced her core.
Her legs tightened with her fists in his hair, and the low growl vibrating between them was his. “I need to get inside you, baby.”
His hands released their hold on her hips, letting her legs slip down the heavy slabs of his thighs until her feet touched the floor.
“Yes, please.” Her eyes were trailing up and down his body, her mind plotting the fastest way to rid him of his clothes, working justifications on which ones weren’t critical in the removal process. Because really all she needed was him sitting on that bed, his fly open and boxers pushed down. Oh, God.
A shudder ripped through her at the mental image alone.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw they were mere feet from her room. Her bed. From her half-clothed, full-penetration, hard-and-fast-and-finally fantasy.
Dragging her eyes back to his, she whispered, “I can’t wait anymore.”
She pulled at Garrett’s belt with greedy, shaking hands and, unbuckling it, used the tongue to lead him the rest of the way.
At her bed, she caught the sides of her skirt in each hand and pulled the dress over her head, tossing it to the floor.
Garrett froze, his own shirt caught over one shoulder as he stared down at her, naked but for white cotton bikini panties.
Her thumbs pushed into the delicate waistband, pushing them down.
Fabric ripped and buttons bounced across the floor, followed by the tattered remnants of Garrett’s shirt. The denim of his jeans put up a better defense, but soon it too was piled in a heap and her back was hitting the mattress as Garrett followed her down, kissing her hard all the way, his body covering hers in a tease of flesh against flesh before he broke away to sheath himself.
And then his thick head was nudging at her opening as his blue eyes held with hers. All the urgency and frantic need slipped away as, slowly, he pushed inside. Easing in and out by incremental degrees as her body stretched to accommodate the greater size of his. The cost of his restraint and his care was etched in all the lines of his face until, at last, he sank deep, filling the snug hold of her body.
Her lips parted on a fragile gasp that was decadent torture and supreme satisfaction all in one. So totally, incomparably worth the wait.
She wanted to stay like that forever, with him buried so thick and deep within her that she felt his every breath and heartbeat in the most intimate, erotic way—something Garrett seemed to be in agreement with as he held himself on straightened arms, staring down into her eyes with a look that made her feel like the sunset he’d waited years to see.
Without thought her hands went to his face, the light stubble a tender scrape beneath her fingers. “You’re every fantasy I never dared to dream.”
Garrett’s smile was satisfied and wanting all at once. “I don’t think you have enough fantasies, sweetheart.”
“Then maybe you’ll give me some more.”
His hips began to move and his eyes took on an intensity she never could have fathomed. “Starting now, Nichole.”
Nichole collapsed on the bed. Her limbs weak and useless. Her mind spinning over the events of the last few hours.
Even now her belly curled in and on to itself at the memory. So. Unbelievably. Good.
The kind of good a girl could get used to. Spoiled by. Caught up in.
Summoning all her strength, she turned her head on her pillow to look at Garrett, who’d collapsed beside her. He was staring at the ceiling, his breath working in and out of his chest in ragged draws.
He really had done most of the work.
She thought back to the chair. Maybe seventy-five percent.
The hallway. Okay, eighty-five. God, that had been so good.
And she must have purred her approval too, because Garrett’s brows edged up as he looked over at her, that arrogantly satisfied smile stamped across his mouth. “Something on your mind?”
No sense in denying it. “The hall.”
His lids went to half-mast. His voice even lower. “The hall.”
And then he was reaching for her, pulling her in with arms so big and strong she felt as though she were thin as a wisp and lighter than air rather than the flesh-and-blood real woman she was. Another decadent sensation.
Leaning in to taste her lips once, then once more, but this time slow and lingering with a low, rumbling groan finish, Garrett looked deeply into her eyes.
“So there’s something I’d like to try, if you’re up for it. You know—feeling … experimental and all.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “It’s something I’ve never done before.”
Nichole blinked, thoughts of the last handful of hours running through her mind like a PowerPoint presentation for Experimental 101.
Something even Garrett hadn’t tried?
Her heart skipped and a flutter of genuine nerves pulled her too-loose limbs back into working order. “Um … I’m not saying no … yet. But … um … Garrett, what exactly are you talking about … exactly?”
He pulled her closer still, so she ended up lying on top of him, and let out a long breath. “Seriously, only if you’re into it, Nichole. Only if you really think you can handle it.”
She swallowed. “Just tell me.”
Garrett drew her head toward his and whispered in her ear, “I’d like to spend the night. Stay. Sleep here with you.”
Nichole reared back, planting her hands over his wide chest and tucking her knees at either side of his ribs.
“You!” She laughed on a rush of breath. “I can’t believe you—you know what—” But then all she could do was laugh, looking down into Mr. All-Innocence’s smirking face. “You’re bad.”
Hands coasting up her bare legs, over her hips and back down again, he answered, “Like there was ever any question … But maybe not quite as bad as you assumed.”
“No. Not at all.” The teasing fell away and reality settled around her. He was asking her for something serious, disguising it behind laughter and games.
“You’ve really never slept over at a woman’s place before?”
“No.”
This time it wasn’t nerves running through her but something else. Something warmer. Something she was certain was still just this side of okay in terms of the whole caring-while-keeping-it-casual deal they’d struck.
Leaning forward, so this time she was the one whispering in his ear, she said, “Don’t worry. Since this is your first time I promise to be gentle.”
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_01e5d4e6-718b-5a1a-b12b-3de51562f716)
GARRETT LEANED BACK against Nichole’s kitchen counter, the sound and smell of brewing coffee filling the air around him. He’d woken at five, like he normally did, only to discover there was nothing normal about this morning.
He wasn’t in his apartment. And not crashed out on one of his sisters’ couches or spare beds either. But still in the delectable Nichole’s bed and completely wrapped around her.
And, damn, if that hadn’t felt good.
A little too good, based on the way he’d been pressed hard against her back.
He’d entertained a handful of fun-and-games kind of wake-up scenarios, most of which involved getting his tongue all over her before she quite knew what was doing. But they’d only actually gone to sleep about three hours before. And, while his internal alarm wouldn’t cut him any slack, if Nichole could catch the extra Zs she should.
He didn’t want her nodding off at the wheel or letting her body wear down.
Figuring he’d pass on worrying about all the what-ifs of Nichole not getting enough rest, he’d climbed out of bed—mindful of the woman still sleeping there.
Now he was milling around her kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew … making a mental list of repairs the place needed. The hinge on the cabinet door. The track on the silverware drawer.
He’d be willing to bet she’d like a new counter. One of those granite slabs to replace the tile she had.
And then there was the fact that he didn’t need to be taking over the maintenance of Nichole’s place. What was he doing?
She didn’t need this from him. And he didn’t need—
“Hey.”
Garrett turned around and all thoughts about replacing a segment of the baseboard or not were temporarily shelved as he looked to where Nichole stood on the threshold of the kitchen, wrapped up in one of those stretchy thin robes that didn’t actually look all that warm … and, so far as he could tell, nothing else.
“Hey, yourself. Hope you don’t mind I started a pot?”
Her mouth pulled to one side as she finger-combed a few wild curls from her face. “You’re asking me if I mind that you made coffee, but not that you’ve pried up a piece of my floor?”
He looked down at where his Swiss Army knife was wedged between the wall and—and hell. Looking back at Nichole, he offered the only defense he had. “I’m good at fixing things. And it’s just the baseboard. The floor beneath looks fine.”
