Searching for Perfect (25 page)

Teeth bit deep into the curve of her ass.

The sharp pain zapped her to attention. She bucked, but the raw shot of pleasure stole her breath.

“How does that feel? Too much?”

The rumble of Nate’s voice hit her ears. Raw images of what they had done together danced in her vision, and suddenly she was wide awake. “Hurts. But then it feels good. What are you doing?”

“Everything. I’ve neglected your rear and that’s a crime. I knew I missed another erogenous zone.”

Her belly dropped. This just wasn’t . . . possible. “You didn’t take a Viagra or anything, did you?”

He laughed low and the vibrations against her skin coaxed another shiver. “I have you. Don’t need it. I studied tantric principles that teach control. A little BDSM. Various postures to ensure full stimulation.”

He did something so erotic and naughty to her rear she whimpered. Usually, she hated men looking at her bottom.
It was the one part of her anatomy she felt was too big no matter how much she worked out. “I’m more comfortable on my back.”

“I’m not. Reach out and grab the headboard.”

The command threw her off kilter, but she did it. “Nate, I don’t think I can have another orgasm.”

Another silky laugh. Those wicked fingers dipped into her channel, stretched, and played. “Liar. I love your ass. Firm, full, and sweet as sugar. I want to try something. Tell me if you don’t like it.”

“I—oh!”

As his fingers played between her legs, he slapped her rear with the open palm of his other hand. The sound of flesh against flesh exploded in the room. She flinched, but tingles of warmth spread over her ass and into her clit. “Yes. No?”

She gritted her teeth together and told the truth. “Yes.”

“Hell, there’s just a blush of pink, I need more.” He gave a few more firm slaps, then removed his fingers to rub her stinging cheeks. The mixed-up sensations of pain, pleasure, and arousal pumped through her and made her crazy. “So fucking beautiful. I was never into the dom thing, but damn if I wouldn’t love to tie you up and pleasure you until you beg.”

She moaned. “I’m begging now. Can’t take it.”

“Your back is so graceful. The smooth line of your spine, the dimples above your ass.” He ran his tongue up and down, nibbling on her spine, continuing to rub, press, and arouse. Suddenly, he moved up and lay completely on top of her, his front pressed to her back, his erection at her
dripping entrance. His hot breath rushed over her ear as he tugged her hair to the side. His tongue caressed the delicate shell of her ear, nipped her lobe, and his hands teased the plump sides of her breasts. She was trapped, helpless, waiting for him to make the next move, and she realized in that moment he held more power over her than any man before him. Her mind spun, her body cried out for relief, and still he pushed her limits, his throbbing cock slipping in a few precious inches and then stopping.

“I want to fuck you again.”

“Yes!”

“How bad do you want it?”

A whine escaped her lips. “I’ll do anything. Please.”

“Even play more golf?”

“Bastard.”

His dick slipped out of her and he bit her shoulder. A shudder wracked her body. “Yes! I’ll play golf with you, I promise.”

“Good girl. Let go of the headboard and get on your knees.”

She positioned herself like he demanded, and she heard the rustle of a wrapper as he sheathed his penis with a condom. He pushed against her entrance with slow, deliberate movements until he was fully seated. He filled every inch, driving away her breath, and she wiggled her hips, desperate for him to move. His groan gave her a surge of satisfaction. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Good. Can we get on with it, please?”

“Brat. I read in
Cosmo
that if you line up doggy style, I’ll have a better chance of hitting your g-spot every time.”

She arched her back and tried to force him to do something. His length throbbed inside of her, making electrical circuits of fire shoot off at various nerve endings. “Sounds like a plan. Any time now.”

His chuckle gave her a bad feeling. “Not yet. I need to properly stimulate you first.”

“Trust me, I’m stimulated.”

Remaining still, he rocked tiny inches back and forth, just to give her a taste, while his hands stroked down her back and reached underneath to play with her nipples. Little tugs tightened the nubs to hard points, and her breasts swelled underneath all the attention. Her hands trembled as she held herself up, helpless and aching for his next touch. Those talented fingers spent long minutes on her breasts, before moving to her back. He smoothed his palms down and nibbled on her spine, licking downward, pulling her ass cheeks apart to stab his tongue against her until she writhed and begged and pleaded.

Grasping her hips, he pulled out and slammed back into her.

The rippling delight spread out over her body and concentrated on her pounding clit. He swiveled his hips and did it again. Then again.

The fifth stroke hit the spot. She screamed as bliss shimmered and gripped every muscle.

“Ah, got it. Hold on, sweetheart.”

She twisted the sheets in her fingers and gave up. Driving, hard thrusts met that magic place, forcing her higher and higher, the tension squeezing mercilessly until her throat clogged with tears and she knew she’d die from the
ache. His fingers slipped between her legs, pinched her clit hard, and then let go.

“Ah!”

The orgasm took over and shattered her foundation. She rode out the release, but he kept going, until the second orgasm ripped through and she collapsed helplessly on the bed. He stroked and murmured soothing words as he rolled her boneless body over onto his chest and held her tight. She closed her eyes and wondered if her rocket scientist had ruined her for life.

N
ATE KNEW THE
moment reality broke through.

He half opened his eyes to find Kennedy hopping around the bedroom, trying to get dressed. Tiptoeing softly, she kept darting worried glances at the bed, as if afraid he’d rear up and grab her. He enjoyed the view as she tried to wiggle into her ruined thong, then muttered a curse as she balled it up. She bit her lip as if making a decision, and then shimmied into her miniskirt without underwear.

Oh, yeah.

He wondered what she’d do about the shirt, but she tugged her discarded bra from under the pillow, slipped it on, and went to his closet. With another quick look at the bed, she tugged a white button-down shirt from the hanger and donned it, fastening every last button up to the neck. It hung past the short skirt but she didn’t seem to care. She disappeared into the bathroom, and he heard the water running at a trickle while she probably tugged at her hair and brushed her teeth. He had a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, but he figured he’d let her find it and not ruin her escape plan.

At least, not yet.

Nate stared at the cheery light streaming through the cracks in the shutters. Birds chirped merrily, happy to embrace
spring, but morning brought the end of his fantasy. He mourned the loss of taking her one last time, watching her face when she came, her body shuddering under his, knowing he was the one who caused such fierce pleasure and feeling more powerful than a Greek god.

She’d want to forget. Pretend it was a blip on the radar and they could go back to the way things were. Nate knew it was already too late.

He was in love with her.

The shattering conclusion did not come accompanied by harps, choirs singing, or bubbling joy. Instead, he felt like shit. Depressed. Helpless.

Pissed off.

He sifted through all his options. Admit his feelings and beg her to give him a chance. She’d panic, cite a dozen excuses why they wouldn’t work together, and maybe even stop being his matchmaker in an effort to run.

Scratch that one.

Pretend it was one great night of sex and he was already over it. Date Mary, date any woman who was interested, and focus on moving on. Connor would definitely advise this option. If he did that, Nate would come off a stud and keep his man card.

Scratch that one too.

Do nothing. Refuse to talk about it and see what happened. By not analyzing the entire episode, he’d give her enough rope to play the denial game, yet not enough to strangle any future interaction. In other words, leave all options open.

Best one yet.

The door creaked.

She tiptoed a few steps, saw he was up, and froze. A sick smile curved her lips. He craved to tumble her back on the bed, kiss her senseless, and give her the fortieth orgasm she begged him not to give her last night.

Instead, he said the first word that came to mind. “Hey.”

Her smile turned genuine. She tugged at his shirt. “Hey.”

He cleared his throat and threw off the covers. Ignoring his morning wood, he got up from the bed, dragged on his boxers, and turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of his erection, which only made it a hell of a lot worse. “Oh, my. Umm. I better get going. It’s kind of late. Thanks for last night.”

He raised his eyebrow.

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I meant, thanks for letting me crash here. I meant—you know what I meant. Right?”

She was too adorable. There wasn’t another woman alive who had so many layers. She was a sexy hot mess. “Right. But you can’t sneak out just yet.”

“I wasn’t sneaking!”

“Baby, you’re doing the entire walk of shame thing. Not that I’m complaining. But I took good care of you last night, and you owe me something. Something big.”

Her gaze dropped to his straining dick. She swallowed, but the gleam of lust in her eyes almost killed him. “I thought you were satisfied.”

He took a step forward. “Only one thing is going to satisfy me this morning.”

“You’re not being very gentlemanly.” Her voice was breathless and had an edge of arousal. He took a deep breath and smelled her. “I think you got enough.”

“You cut me short on something and you know what it is.”

She trembled. Her tongue snaked out and licked her lower lip. “Maybe if you ask me nicely.”

Another inch and he faced her. He lifted her chin. Her whiskey eyes blurred and he knew one push would put her down on her knees. She’d like it. He’d love it. They could delay the inevitable daylight for an hour more. Or two.

“Then I’m asking.”

His thumb traced her pouty lower lip, picked up the moisture, and brought it to his own mouth to suck. She moaned. “Go ahead.”

“I want you to come—”

“Yes.”

“With me to have breakfast.”

He stepped back. Confusion flickered over her face. “Huh?”

“Breakfast. I’m starving, and there’s nothing good in the kitchen. Let me take a quick shower and we’ll go.”

“I have no clothes.”

“We’ll swing by your place so you can throw on a pair of jeans. Be out in a minute.”

He shut the door behind him, then cranked the water to the coldest setting. The key was to throw her off balance. Maybe with enough time, she’d come to the conclusion she was just as crazy about him. He may not be in her league, but he damned well wasn’t a pussy. Putting up a
fight was nothing new to him, and he intended to give her a good one.

It was gonna be a hell of a morning.

AN HOUR LATER, THEY
were squeezed into a booth at the Dish and Spoon diner. He asked for a Clorox wipe, cleaned the table on his own terms, and relaxed in the booth as if they hadn’t just had sex a hundred times.

For reasons unknown, Kennedy had meekly followed his plan. Changed into a respectful pair of jeans and clean T-shirt, Coach sneakers, and threw her hair into a messy topknot. Her original plan was to get the hell out of Dodge, give them some space, and have the
talk
.

Guilt and satisfaction intermingled and fought for dominance. She was setting him up with women from Kinnections and had no right to screw with his head. How could he go on a date with a clear mind and heart when they’d just had a rollicking night of sex? Upon waking, she’d sworn to herself that it wouldn’t happen again. She’d confess to Kate and Arilyn and turn over the rest of Nate’s journey into their capable hands.

Instead, he’d confused her with that mouthwatering naked body and sexy speak. She didn’t even fight him on the diner choice. Her breakfast consisted of fruit and Greek yogurt. The sight of his runny eggs, crisp bacon, and greasy hash browns made her sweat. She stuck with her original order and picked at a ripe strawberry, wondering why she suddenly felt cranky after experiencing a million orgasms.

“Do you know the fat content in that dish?” she pointed out. “That’s more than your daily share of calories per day.”

“I worked out. So did you.” He forked up an egg with a piece of rye toast. The top gleamed wetly with butter. “A bout of standard, missionary sex burns about three hundred calories per hour. An orgasm adds about an additional one hundred calories. Calculating the various positions we used, number of orgasms, and hours divided, we’re looking at about two thousand calories. One egg plus bacon is about one hundred thirty-six calories. Add the hash browns and toast, I’ll still be way under my calorie count for what we burned off last night. Here, have half a strip of bacon. You need the protein.”

Her head spun from his amazing facts and figures regarding sex. She sipped her black coffee and struggled. My God, was it possible to work off that much in one pleasurable evening? “But it’s not even turkey bacon,” she said. She tried hard not to whine.

A smile touched his lips. He broke off half, added a quarter of his egg, and a slice of rye bread. “You need some whole grains and straight protein, sweetheart. Just have a little.”

She licked her lips and studied the food on her plate like sizing up the enemy. “Maybe just a bite.” The moan escaped her the moment her teeth took hold of the crisp strip. Even the scent drove her crazy, and she closed her eyes to savor every bite. “So good.”

He muttered a vicious curse, but she was too gone to care. “What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked.

“Not much. Clean. Work.”

“I need a golf partner.”

She snorted. “I highly doubt it. Besides, you work on Saturdays, right?”