Bad Taste in Men (Clover Park, Book 3) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) (23 page)

His lips brushed hers. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I know.”

He gazed into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

She blinked. No one had ever called her beautiful. Pretty, cute, maybe, but never beautiful. “Thank you.”

Then he was kissing her, so gently, so tenderly, she found herself unexpectedly choked with emotion. It was too much. She bit his bottom lip, and he surged within her. They found their rhythm and moved together urgently, their bodies long craving this union. She closed her eyes as she felt the sweet tension building again. His lips pressed to the side of her neck as he thrust harder and faster, and Rachel cried out as her body convulsed with her climax. She heard him rumble something that sounded like praise; then he grabbed her hips and drove into her, seeking his own release. He suddenly arched, letting out a guttural groan, and another orgasm shockingly ripped through her. She’d never been multiorgasmic.

Holy Shane.

~ ~ ~

She woke the next morning on her stomach, naked. She rolled to her back, feeling lazy and relaxed. It was by far the best sex she’d ever had. She could hear Shane banging around in the kitchen.
I slept with Shane
. An uneasy feeling washed over her, nearly spoiling what should’ve been a very happy morning after. Now what? Shane was still her partner, friend, and now lover? The beginnings of panic invaded her brain. How many roles could he play before completely taking over her life?

She freshened up in the bathroom, tied a light cotton robe on, and slowly walked into the kitchen. She had to face him sooner or later.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Shane said. He was barefoot in his Shane’s Scoops T-shirt and basketball shorts from yesterday. He looked right at home in her kitchen. “Thought I’d let you sleep in a bit.” He poured an egg mixture into a frying pan. “I’m making omelets.”

She squinted at him, trying to reconcile the man she knew as friend with her lover from last night. Feeling raw and uncomfortable, she mumbled, “Thanks.”

“I found an extra toothbrush in your bathroom. Hope that was okay. Coffee’s ready. Unless you want to brew a cup downstairs.” He meant at the café.

“This is fine.” She sat at the table with her coffee. Her past history with men told her one thing for sure, she was great at letting them take over, not seeing red flags until well past the time when she should’ve gotten out. She couldn’t let that happen with Shane. She had to stay true to herself.

A short while later, Shane set an omelet in front of her and sat at the table with his.

She stared at it. “I don’t like omelets.”

“Oh.” He gave her a strange look. “Why didn’t you say so when I started cooking? I could’ve made you something else.”

“I don’t know.” She stood and grabbed her usual granola bar. She held it up. “I like cardboard for breakfast.”

He snorted. “Suit yourself.”

They ate in silence, Rachel lost in her panicky thoughts. Her entire life was tied up with Shane’s. This had been a mistake. Too much champagne, too much celebrating.

“Shane, I…”

He set his fork down and held her hand warmly in his. “Yes?”

“Last night was…” She groped for the right words. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “Maybe we had too much champagne.”

“You said you were only tipsy.”

“I was.”

“Do you remember it? Do you remember how I touched you?” His hand slipped to the back of her head, tugging her closer. She wanted to pull away, but some part of her wanted the reminder. He nipped her bottom lip, then kissed her gently. His lips barely grazed her bottom lip, another gentle graze over her top lip, and her mouth parted on a sigh. His mouth closed over hers in a slow, deep kiss, and she forgot all her qualms and surrendered to the sensation.

He pulled back, and she blinked.

He smiled. “You do remember.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Last night was special.”

She shifted away from him.

He hooked a finger under her chin and turned her back. “Don’t tell me you want to pretend
that
never happened.”

She wished she could. She didn’t think she could ever forget it. She twisted her granola bar wrapper. Everything was ruined. Every time she saw him she would be thinking of their night together. She wished they could always be friends. This would end like all of her relationships with a spectacular blowup, probably because of something she couldn’t stop harping on, something she had to fix. All the guys had some one thing that she just knew if she could fix it, they’d be better off. She felt slightly nauseous. Shane didn’t need to be fixed, and she had no idea what to do with him. She was in over her head, and she knew it.

At her silence, his jaw tightened. “Dammit, Rachel, do
not
tell me you want to pretend we’re still just friends. Not after last night.”

“I wish…” She stopped herself. She knew they couldn’t go back, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go forward. Damn, this was awkward. “I need to take a shower and get to work. You can finish your omelet and, um, let yourself out. I’m sure you have to get to work too.”

She felt his eyes on her as she rose from the table and left the room. She let out a breath of relief as she turned on the water for the shower and waited for it to warm up. She’d been afraid he would follow her and demand they talk this out. She didn’t have the words to express the turmoil she was feeling. She remembered Kerri, Shane’s girlfriend in high school, said they could never have a good fight. Shane always wanted to talk the thing to death. Rachel didn’t want to hash this thing out. She felt raw and vulnerable and exceedingly foolish to boot. The one thing she said she wouldn’t do, screw up their friendship, mess with their business relationship, accomplished in one fell swoop thanks to a celebratory night with champagne.

She grabbed a towel and washcloth from the small linen closet, tested the water, and dropped the robe. She stepped into the hot water and felt her whole body relax. Hopefully Shane would be gone by the time she got out. She lathered shampoo into her hair. Liz was going back to work today, so Rachel was needed at Book It, and she should probably peek in at—

“Ahhh!!!!” She let out a blood-curdling scream as the shower curtain was ripped aside. Shane’s hand covered her mouth as he stepped into the shower naked with her.

Without her glasses, she could only see things that were very close, and Shane was very, very close. He looked serious, a man on a mission, and her heart galloped madly from the shock of his sudden appearance and from what she knew he could do to her with one touch. He said nothing, merely dropped his hand from her mouth and took over for her with the shampoo. His fingers felt wonderful as they massaged her scalp and stroked down her long hair. He finished the shampoo and tipped her head back for the rinse. Then he grabbed the washcloth and soaped it up.

“Shane, no,” she said, her voice not entirely steady. “I can do that.”

“This is what friends do,” he said silkily. “They help each other.”

“Not in the…” Her voice trailed off as he bathed her gently, down her neck, across her shoulders, paying special attention to her breasts, circling around them, spiraling in slowly. Her nipples tightened, and she moaned as the cloth rubbed back and forth across them. She gripped his shoulders, wanting him closer. Instead the washcloth trailed down, soaping her stomach, making a sharp turn to her hips. He knelt down to wash her legs, taking a trip back up her inner thigh. She braced herself for the rough cloth on her sensitive center; instead he was gentle, achingly gentle, then he dropped the cloth and replaced it with his mouth.

Her knees gave out, and he held her up, his hands on her bottom, holding her in place, using his tongue and lips and teeth to bring every nerve ending to life. She closed her eyes as the hot water ran over them, already on the brink.

He stopped and looked up at her. “Open your eyes, Rach. Look at what your friend is doing to you.”

She shook her head and kept her eyes shut.

His lips grazed over her sensitive nub, and she jerked, her nerve endings raw. “No more unless you look.”

She forced her eyes open. He smiled and returned to kissing her intimately. His red hair in stark contrast to her dark curls, his muscular arms holding her up. He sucked hard, and she saw stars, crying out his name. He kept going, wringing every last drop from her until she had absolutely nothing left.

He rose and kissed her then, and she clung limp and sated to his warm body. He picked her up, set her outside the tub, and wrapped her in a towel.

“Stay right there,” he said. “Wait for me.”

She nodded and heard him whistling as he washed up in the shower. She stood in her towel, the small medicine cabinet mirror completely fogged up. She wiped the mirror off and put her glasses back on. Her hair hung in a wet, tangled clump. Her lips were rosy, cheeks flushed, eyes shining. To distract herself from why she was actually waiting in a towel, she took out a comb and eased the tangles out of her hair. Once finished, she leaned over the sink to wring the extra water from her hair.

The water in the shower shut off.

“Don’t move,” Shane ordered.

She froze, bent over the sink. “Uh, Shane?”

The towel was ripped from her body. She bolted upright and turned. Her eyes trailed down of their own accord. Her cry of protest died in her throat.

He dried himself with another towel. “I told you not to move.”

He turned her and pushed her back in place, bent over the sink. She shivered at the vulnerability of the position, but still she waited.

He opened the medicine cabinet above her head and pulled out a condom. She heard the rustle of the wrapper and waited to feel the first hard thrust. Instead he banded his arm around her waist and pulled her upright.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

He lifted her, carrying her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“Shane! You don’t have to carry me everywhere. My ankle’s fine.”

“You like it.”

She shut her mouth because she did. He knew her well, too well. She’d let him in, seeing her for who she was as a close friend, and now he was using it to his advantage in this new intimate territory. She’d never felt so vulnerable and yet so turned on. He set her down in front of the dresser with the full mirror mounted above it.

“Spread ’em,” he said as he pushed her not ungently down over the dresser. And God help her, she did. He entered her slowly, letting her body adjust to him, and her breath caught at the sight of them in the mirror, the contrast in their coloring, he a shade lighter than her, his red hair to her dark brown, the flushed, breathless look on her face, the fierce expression on his.

His hands entwined with hers, pinning them down. He met her gaze in the mirror. “Would your friend do this?” he asked with a hard thrust.

“N-no,” she gasped.

He kept going, pounding into her from behind. Despite the roughness of what felt more than anything like a claiming, she felt an intense spiraling building in her again. His hands released hers only to slip knowing fingers through her slick folds. She bucked backward at the touch, still raw from his earlier ministrations, and he slipped deeper inside. She gasped. His fingers became more demanding, increasing the pressure with every hard thrust. She whimpered incoherently, closing her eyes over the intensity.

He gave her a little shake. “Watch,” he ground out.

She watched as he both took and gave to her. The climax hit her suddenly, shocking in its intensity, and she screamed.

He murmured sweet praise; then he pumped fast and hard. His teeth clamped on the side of her neck, and she panted, feeling positively animal as he held her in place for these last shuddering thrusts. He groaned, stilled, and they stayed like that for a minute, he covering her. His lips rested in a gentle kiss on the spot where his teeth had been.

He rose and carried her back to the bed, settling on his side next to her. He stroked her hair, her cheek, down her side, his hand coming to rest on her hip.

“We are not just friends,” he told her. His blue eyes watched her intently, probably waiting for her to argue.

She couldn’t.

She simply gazed at him in wonder, dazed by the contradictions in the man at once gentle and yet so…not forceful, she’d never felt like he’d used his superior strength against her, more like in charge. She flushed again, remembering.

He gave her a knowing smile, seeming pleased with her dazed state, and kissed her again, gently, lingeringly. Then he got up, got dressed, and left.

She spread her arms out on the bed and let out a deep, supremely satisfied breath. Her mind for once not racing from one thing to another on her long list of things to do. Wow. Just fucking wow.

Chapter Nineteen

Rachel opened Book It a little late that day, not even caring that it was late. It was a Tuesday, the first day of school, and she didn’t anticipate many customers until the weekend. Luckily, Tanya had come through, opening Something’s Brewing Café right on time.

She stopped by the café to get herself a latte and check in with Tanya. “How’d we do this morning?”

Tanya smiled. “Good. Not as good as four hundred cups sold, but we had a nice morning rush. Word got out, I guess.”

“How much did we bring in?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t know.”

Rachel moved to the register to check for herself. She smiled. “Good. We’re doing good.”

“Shane’s new delivery boy is cute,” Tanya said.

At the mention of Shane, Rachel ran hot all over. Geez, he wasn’t even here. Just the mention of his name had her near orgasm. She needed to calm herself.

“Oh, yeah?” she said casually. “He mentioned he hired someone to do the morning baking.”

“His name’s Ron,” Tanya said. “I like that name. It’s strong. He delivered it himself too.”

“Cool.” Rachel bought herself a maple blueberry scone. “I’ll be next door. Let me know when you go on break.”

“Will do.”

She sat on the cushioned stool behind the counter, a little sore from last night and this morning’s activities. The reminder sent another hot flash through her. She took a bite of the scone. It was effing delicious. Damn, Shane was talented. She had to stop thinking of him. Just because the man knew his way around a woman’s erogenous zones didn’t mean he got to take up so much headspace.