Over the Fence (21 page)

“I think you have that backward.”

I stepped forward and leaned over, bracing myself on the edge of the tub. I stared down at her flushed cheeks, bringing my face close. “Truer words have never been spoken, Kourtney. I can’t wait to crawl back into bed with you and feel you wrapped around me.”

Her eyes widened at my words.

I lifted a hand, burrowing it into her thick hair and pulled her forward. I could feel her breath on my lips, small gasps of air that were warm and damp. I wanted those puffs of air in my mouth. I kissed her fast, but hard, before drawing back. Our gazes locked. I reached over and handed her the glass of wine I had brought in.

“Drink your wine and finish your bath. Stop trying to seduce me, woman. I have to get dinner ready.”

“Get out, Nathan.”

As I turned to walk out, I heard her mutter, “Incorrigible bastard.”

Bending down, I grabbed my shirt off the floor and said with amusement, “Not true, Chefgirl. My parents had been legally married for almost two years before I came along.”

“Out.”

“Are you sure? I can leave the money on the doorstep for the food and join you. I’m already half-naked.” I waggled my eyebrows.

“Get out!” She shrieked at me, but I didn’t fail to see her fighting to hide her smile.

I shrugged. “Your loss. I would have scrubbed your back,” I teased as I left the room, closing the door behind me.

I heard her giggle as I walked down the hall. I loved making her laugh. She never failed to respond to my outrageous behavior.

Next I needed to figure out how to make her respond to me, physically.

I grimaced a little as I adjusted myself. I was certainly responding to her.

“Did you not eat lunch?”

“What?” I asked, looking innocent, knowing full well to what she was referring.

“I’m not sure you ordered enough food.”

I shrugged, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “Leftovers—then you don’t have to make dinner tomorrow either.” I tapped my forehead. “I’m smart like that. I was thinking of you, Kourtney.”

“Ah.”

Munching on an egg roll, with her feet tucked under her on the sofa, she looked relaxed and utterly adorable after her bath. The urge to lean over and brush the hair that curled around her ears was constant. I wanted so much to be free to touch her whenever I wanted. Her tongue peeked out as she licked plum sauce off her lips. All I could think of was how those lips had felt underneath mine earlier—how much I wanted her tongue in my mouth.

Kourtney looked up and caught me staring.

“What?”

“Nothing—I like looking.”

She rolled her eyes at me, and I chuckled.

“Is the TV operational?” I inquired, looking askance at the components scattered haphazardly on top of an unopened box and the TV sitting on a small table beside it.

She nodded. “It works. I don’t have it quite set up, ah, correctly.”

I laughed at the understatement as I took in the vast amount of loose wires and remotes. “We’ll make do tonight and tomorrow we’ll get it set up properly. It’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow, so it’s a good project.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“But I do, Kourtney. I plan on being here a lot and it would drive me crazy.”

She blinked, looking shy. “You do?”

“Yep—you okay with that?”

Her cheeks bloomed into a pretty shade of pink. She looked at me from under her lashes, her eyes wary, but hopeful.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Good.”

During the course of the movie, I moved closer. Every time I reached for my drink or to grab a handful of the popcorn she’d made, I edged nearer to Kourtney, who was nestled in the corner of the sofa, with her legs drawn up to her chest. When I noticed her drink was almost gone, I paused the movie, and filled up her glass. When I returned, I plunked down next to her and lifted her legs over my lap; handing her the glass. I draped one arm along the back of the sofa, the other hand resting on her calf, while I pretended to be caught up in the movie. I felt her nervous glance, but I stared at the screen, rubbing my hand in small circles on her leg. I felt her relax, and I had to hide my smile.

She was such a contradiction to me. She seemed to enjoy my caresses, yet always reacted in shock when I offered them freely to her. It took her time to relax into my touch, which I didn’t understand; it was as if she was guarding herself for a moment each time. I stole a peek, seeing her gaze locked on my hand. I gently caressed her leg. “Does this bother you, Kourtney?” I enquired, keeping my voice low.

Her marvelous eyes flew to mine and she shook her head. “Does it bother you?” she whispered.

“No. I like touching you.”

“Oh.” The small word was filled with confusion.

“Do you like me touching you?”

“It . . . it makes me nervous.”

I turned to face her. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. You tense up every time—why?”

“I’m not used to people being so close.”

I had a feeling there was a story behind her quiet statement, but decided it was best left for another time. “I like being close to you, but if it makes you nervous, I’ll back off.” I offered sadly, lifting my hand off the back of the sofa to stroke her warm cheek. I didn’t want to stop touching her, but if it made her uncomfortable and was what she wanted, I would stop.

She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering shut. “No,” she murmured so low, I almost didn’t hear.

I shifted closer, lowering my face to hers. “Kourtney, open your eyes.”

Brilliant, nervous eyes met mine.

“I want to kiss you. Really kiss you.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“Please, Chefgirl.”

She was silent, but her hand covered mine on her cheek and I took it as her permission.

Her lips were so silky when they met mine. I could feel them trembling as I brushed along their warmth, slipping my hand up to cup the back of her head, holding her close. Sweetly, our lips moved together. I remained patient, letting her relax, before I parted mine, my tongue stroking her bottom lip. She hesitated, then her lips opened, and with a quiet sigh of pleasure, I tasted her for the first time. The rush of desire was almost overwhelming and I groaned low into her mouth.

I felt the slight stiffening of her posture, so I drew back, ghosting my lips up to her ear. “It’s me, Chefgirl. Relax, pretty girl.” She shivered as I brought her mouth to mine again, thrilled when she responded—her tongue tentative as it touched mine. The intense need to have her close was strong. I gathered her up, but continued to kiss her, moving us so she was straddling my lap. I felt her tense once more, but tightened my hold, until I felt her relax. She shuddered and became fluid and supple in my embrace, her arms winding around my neck, her grip firm.

I found the clip in her hair and released it, threading my hand into the thick waterfall of curls. My other arm remained wrapped around her as our lips moved, tongues swirling and touching as we explored and tasted. Further and further we melted into each other. Nothing else existed but the lush woman in my arms. Everything about her was heightened: her taste, the quiet whimpers that escaped her throat, the rich voluptuousness of her body melded into mine.

Her closeness banished the lingering loneliness I had been living with for so long, filling me with a sense of belonging. Yearning coursed through my body, spiking hot and rampant—my cock hard and throbbing between us, the desire building to a point of almost painful proportions. I knew I needed to slow down, before I ravaged her soundly on the sofa. Kourtney moved with me, and I fought a groan at the sensations she was causing, my erection aching with need for release.

It was with regret I moved away, dropping tender kisses on her parted, swollen lips. My thumb traced the warm flesh, my eyes taking her in flushed cheeks and rapidly heaving chest.

“Kourtney,” I whispered, smiling as her eyes opened, still hooded in want. “Hi.”

“You stopped.”

“I had to.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and I flexed my hips subtly, drawing her attention to the hardness trapped between us. Her gaze flew to mine and she attempted to scramble off my lap, but I held her tight. “No, Kourtney. Stay.”

“I don’t want you uncomfortable,” she mumbled; her cheeks now a brilliant red.

I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me. “It’s fine. I know you’re not ready. I’m not expecting anything but this. I only want you close.”

Her eyes remained downcast. “Chefgirl . . .” I waited until her eyes met mine. “I only want to kiss you. It’s all I need right now. Just . . . ignore everything else.” I glanced down toward my lap.

Her lips fought a smile. “Not sure I can ignore . . .
that
.” She looked down, as well.

I grinned. “Good information to have for the future, but for now, try. I want your mouth back, Kourtney. Give it to me.”

I crashed my mouth to hers, having already missed the feeling of her lips meshed with mine. She held herself stiff, trying to angle away from me, but I refused, holding her close. “Like this, Kourtney. You feel so good, just like this.” I moaned into her mouth, sighing when she relaxed into me. “Kiss me . . .”

Time lost all meaning as our tongues swept together and our hands touched and explored. I paid attention to what seemed to make her uncomfortable and kept my touches to light caresses on her arms and shoulders, as I guided her lips with mine.

I gasped as I felt her undulate over me, pressing herself down on my aching erection. Her lips moved on my throat, nipping, licking, teasing up and down as she continued moving over me. I grasped her hips in silent warning, needing her to stop. Her breath was hot in my ear. “Let me, please.”

I groaned and bucked up into her, my eyes rolling back in my head at the intense sensation.

“I won’t . . . ugh . . . be able to stop.” Another moan escaped my lips.

“I don’t want you to. I want to do this for you, Nathan.”

She rose up, our mouths meeting again, her hand stroking me over my sweats, moving upward before plunging under the waistband. She wrapped her fingers around my hardness, stroking firmly, and I groaned deep into her mouth. It had been a long time since I had been touched intimately by someone other than myself. The unexpected pleasure from her hand was so great, I erupted; straining upward, needing the feeling of her wrapped around me as I came; gasping and shaking. Her hand continued its gentle stroking until I was spent and loose, pulling her to me tight.

The room was silent, except for my heavy breaths. Kourtney’s face was buried into my chest, one hand running through my hair, the other tucked between us. I wiped her hand on my shirt, grinning at her instant blush. I wrapped my arms back around her.

“Chefgirl?”

“Hmm?”

“That . . . that was phenomenal—and totally unexpected.”

She giggled.

“I kinda need to change now.”

“Me, too.”

I lifted her chin, meeting her gaze that had become shy and questioning. I grazed her sweet lips with mine. “We missed the end of the movie. You want to re-watch it?”

“No.”

“You want to go to bed?”

She looked nervous, but then nodded her assent.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t . . . I don’t want you to.”

“Good. I don’t want to either.” I traced the shape of her lips with my finger. “Nothing is going to happen until you’re ready—I’m happy only to hold you.” I couldn’t help my smile. “Especially right now.”

I kissed her forehead. “You go get ready and I’ll make sure the place is all locked up.”

She stared at me. “You take such good care of me.”

I kissed her again. “That’s my job now, Kourtney.”

She blushed.

“Meet you there?” I murmured.

Her smile was wide. “Meet you there.”