Veronica opened the fridge and reached for the wine and sour cream and laid them on the counter.
“Nick, I love them. I can’t think of anything better.”
“The steaks are marinating. And I made a salad. Hope that’s enough.”
Veronica stroked his smooth, freshly shaved cheek. His Nautica Aftershave mixed with the musky, masculine scent that was Nick’s alone. So alluring.
“Nick, it’s perfect,” she whispered.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”
“You did. Thanks.”
“I’ll go change my shirt when I finish cooking. This old sleeveless T-shirt is best, cooler for cooking that is.”
Veronica raised her hand to stroke his chest. The muscles were clearly visible through the shirt. They bunched and flexed under her touch.
“Don’t bother on my account,” she purred.
“Damn — ”
Nick gave her a deep, thorough and passionate kiss. Veronica threw her arms around his neck and kissed him right back. She wrapped one leg around him as best as she was able with the tight skirt and pulled him closer. He cupped her ass, lifted, and brought her in against his hardening cock. As soon as she made contact with his potent erection, Nick stepped back.
“Ah, we’d better eat first.”
Veronica staggered a bit from the abrupt release from his hot embrace. Her lips were swollen from his aggressive, sexy assault. Food? Who could think about food? Nick placed the tray of potato skins in the oven.
“Eight minutes, just enough to heat them up and melt the cheese.”
Veronica could relate. She was a little heated up and melted herself. She was shredded cheese. Couldn’t they have quick, eight minute sex? No, not with Nick. Quick sex did not exist as far as Nick was concerned. The temptation to come up behind him and grab that throbbing hardness in her hands caused her mouth to go dry. He opened the wine, poured her a glass, and passed it to her.
“You’re not having any?”
“No, I need something stronger.”
He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back and led her out of the kitchen into his living room. He walked to his bar caddy and poured what appeared to be a whisky. He joined her on the sofa. Veronica smiled; he had kept the apron on.
“What happened last night?” Nick asked suddenly. “You flew out of there like your cute little ass was on fire. Same with your friend, Julie. Lorcan was certainly confused. So was I.”
Veronica glanced down into her wine. She wasn’t going to lie. Nick was always honest with her, she could at least reciprocate.
“I saw you put the phone number in your jeans pocket,” she murmured.
Nick stood and marched into another room. He brought back a wastebasket.
“Here it is. I never even looked at it.” He thrust the basket toward her. “Have a look. It’s that torn and crumpled ball of paper under the Kleenex.”
Veronica flushed in embarrassment. “I don’t have to look. I’ve no right, it just — hurt. The blonde woman was gorgeous.”
Nick sat next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders.
“I already have a gorgeous blonde.”
She gazed up at him. The look he gave her was entirely sincere. His eyes reflected enticing warmth, she could see clear to his soul. Oh, dear god. It happened. She
had
fallen in love with him. Oh,
how
did it happen? She’s been so careful — or so she thought. He could never know. She would have to keep the feelings hidden and protected.
“I’ve no claim on you, Nick. You can call her or any other woman if you want.”
Oh please don’t.
She knew it would rip her heart out if he started seeing another woman.
He placed his drink on the coffee table.
“Maybe I don’t want to call any other women.”
“What are you saying, Nick?”
Her heart leapt in her chest. The buzzer went off on the oven. Nick jumped up and sprinted toward the kitchen. Veronica moaned in frustration. What was he about to say?
Nick made his escape.
Pull back boy, don’t go off the relationship cliff with the rest of the lemmings.
Nick grabbed the oven mitt and removed the tray of skins. The cheese bubbled and sizzled. They were done perfectly. Ever since Tyler Barnes dropped by earlier, he thought of nothing else but their discussion on relationships. What did he want with Ronnie? He had never gone through this much trouble for a woman. Talk about the height of intimacy. He never cooked a meal for a woman before either. He was giving something of himself here, something he’d never done before with anyone. Yet, he’d let both Lorcan and Ronnie close, almost at the same time. Did it mean he was ready for some kind of undeviating relationships in his life at last?
Christ, his head hurt. He hated over analyzing anything, feelings and emotions worst of all. He reached into the cupboard for two small plates. Using tongs, he put four skins on each plate and then placed a huge dollop of sour cream on the side. Opening his cutlery drawer, he reached for two small forks. He knew as soon as he returned to the living room, Ronnie would want him to answer her question. What does he say? What harm would it do to make some sort of thin non-committal commitment? He had done that already the other morning, didn’t he?
He laid his hands on the counter and lowered his head. The fact he took that woman’s phone number and tossed it in the trash without even looking at it spoke volumes. Any other time he would’ve called. Hell, he would have gone home with her right then and there. Had sex with her and then left.
He didn’t want that kind of blasé, causal thing with Ronnie. The wild animal sex behind her bakery was just a taste — an appetizer. Her staying in his bed, wrapped around his body all night with him deep inside her very core was the main course. Tonight, he wanted dessert. Would that get her out of his system? Somehow he doubted it. He’d want more. Nick always figured women were like a buffet, all different dishes, all ready to be tasted. He certainly had a variety. Was he ready for a more stable menu? He honestly didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine being with one woman for the rest of his life. Yet, people did it. What did know about it? Nothing at all.
Carrying the plates, he entered the living room and handed one to her.
“After we have these, I’ll go put the steaks on.”
He sat next to her, but not as close as before. She didn’t speak, just cut into the crusty skins and lifted the fork to her mouth.
“Oh, Nick, these are delicious. How did you get the skins so crispy?”
“I brush them with oil before I bake them.”
He took a bite. He had to admit they turned out pretty good. America’s
The Complete Greatest Hits
played softly in the background on his classic Marantz stereo.
“Nick, you could have your own cooking show. I know the ladies would tune in. You created quite a stir at the pub last night,” she laughed gently. “I’ll admit I was a little jealous. All those women on their feet, cheering.”
“Jeering, more like. Guess I’m more of an exhibitionist than I thought. Did you like the song?” he smiled.
“Do you?” she whispered.
“Do I what?”
“Have a bad case of loving me? Do you need to see a doctor?” She smiled, her eyes twinkling behind her glasses.
Nick almost choked on his potato skin. He walked into that one. She gave it to him with both barrels square in the chest. Ronnie laughed that husky, deep, throaty laugh that made his cock stand at attention.
“You don’t have to answer that, I’m teasing. I did like the song. You can sing, Nick. I pretended you were singing only to me.”
“I was singing just to you. To me, there were no other women in the room.”
Nick spoke the truth. For all the women screaming in front of him, thrusting phone numbers in his hand or whispering that he meet them out back for a quickie behind the pub, he only saw Ronnie. Wanted only her.
Damn.
She lowered her head and her glasses slid down her nose. He reached over and gently pushed them back up, then let his fingers trail down her cheek. Cupping her chin, he lifted it. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“I don’t know where this is going, Ronnie. I’ve never been in a relationship of any worth with a woman before. I guess what I’m saying and was trying to say the other morning is that I want us to see each other. Take things slow. You make me want to try and be faithful. No other woman has made me even consider it. That’s all I can manage right now, are you okay with that?”
She nodded. “I don’t want to overwhelm you Nick, or make demands. To be honest, I’m not sure myself what I want. Going slow is fine.”
He leaned in and laid a feather light kiss on her lips. She tasted like bacon and green onion and she tasted like more. But first, the meal.
He stood. “I’ll go fire up the indoor grill. Relax and drink your wine. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
A half hour later they were sitting at the table eating and talking. They found both of them liked baseball. Nick followed the Red Sox, she the Orioles. They both watched the Sunday news shows, closet political junkies once a week. His full Sunday brunch would be on the menu tomorrow, even though it would be Monday. He’d bought extra eggs just in case.
They both loved old movies and rock music, though her taste was more recent as far as the music was concerned, his more classic. She talked a little about her past, her family. Nick was silently envious. To have such a loving home where the parents and kids actually did things together and enjoyed each other’s company was something completely foreign to him. All his parents did was fight and break things. He got into trouble, probably to try and get their attention. All it accomplished was they’d turn on him and scream and fight. They never beat him, but the coldness, the indifference to him and his presence hurt worse than any thrashing. His father would disappear for long periods of time.
Off with one of his sluts,
his mother would sneer. Guess the apple didn’t fall that far from the tree. Every holiday had been forced and usually ended in tears and recriminations. He didn’t have one pleasant Christmas or birthday memory. Not one. Either the days-old store bought cake was thrown across the room in anger or the pitifully decorated Christmas tree knocked over in fury. Gifts were non-existent. One Christmas he got a couple of Hot Wheel cars — that was it. His parents spent all of three dollars on him.
Merry friggin’ Christmas.
Nick told her none of this. What would be the point? When Ronnie asked about his childhood he gave generalities, not specifics. He didn’t want pity, especially not hers. With the meal over, Nick cleared the plates. He held out his hand.
“It’s time for your surprise.”
Ronnie cocked her head. “I thought the potato skins were it?”
“No, baby. Not even close. Come with me.”
• • •
Veronica’s heart began to pound. He pushed her gently into a sitting position on the bed.
“Stay right there, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Minutes ticked by. Where did he go? Suddenly, the lights were turned down in the room. Glancing at the doorway, Nick stood in shadow with his hand on the dimmer switch.
“I dinna ken if ye would like this, lass. But I did it anna’ way.”
Her heart dropped straight to the floor. That deep, perfect, Scottish burr. Nick walked forward wearing nothing but a kilt. Her mouth went dry. If she wasn’t in love with the man before, she was now. He’d ordered —
the kilt.
But that was not all. Nick also wore those leather wrist things. He stood, his powerful legs spread and reached behind him and placed a large sword point down in front of him. His large, masculine hands gripped the pommel.
“I toyed with the idea of a wig, seeing those models on the books all have hair down to their ass.” He smiled. “I went to a bookstore to check it out. You’re right, the books are popular. Lots of sites on-line to order this stuff, too.”
Stunned, absolutely stunned. He looked fantastic. She stood and let her admiring gaze slide over his stunning body …
Fantasy #1 concerning Nick
just came to life. She walked slowly toward him, her legs wobbled.
“You did all this — for me?”
“Aye, lass. I had the kilt Fed-Exed,” he replied, talking in the Scottish accent again.
“Oh yes, Nick. Keeping talking like that.”
Her whole body throbbed with want. Veronica’s legs finally gave out and she landed on her knees in front of him.
“Ah lass, just the position I wanted ye in.”
They both laughed.
Veronica reached out to grasp his muscular legs. Her fingers felt the tight muscles in his calves. She stroked and caressed his skin. She gazed up at him, the laughter stopped. He must’ve seen the raw desire in her eyes, for his eyes narrowed. He looked at her with a sexy, ferocious gaze.
She wanted to touch him, feel him. Closing her eyes, she traveled upward. His legs were solid and muscular and her hands disappeared under the kilt. He wore nothing underneath. She brushed by his sac and he moaned. Her eyes snapped open. Nick leaned against the wall, his head back, his eyes closed. She hadn’t done this to him yet. In fact, she’d only performed oral sex on a man once before. The sword fell to the carpet.
Veronica clasped the front of the kilt and tucked it under the waistband. Nick was fully aroused. She marveled again at the thickness of him. Her finger followed the pulsating vein that snaked its way from the base to the tip of his cock. Nick shuddered. Leaning down, she darted her tongue to the underside of his sac, then trailed it slowly up to the tip.
“Sweet Jesus,” Nick moaned. Before he could react further, she took as much of him in her mouth as she could. Nick almost jumped out of his skin. “Oh, god — yeesssss.”
Nick held her head while his hips began to pump, a gentle, fast thrust as not to choke her. The taste of him was musky and a touch salty. She could also taste the body wash he’d no doubt used when he’d showered. Reaching for her hand, Nick placed it at the base of his cock, moving her hand in an almost twisting motion while she continued to suck and lick him.
“Yes. Just like that.”
She continued the rhythm of her hand and mouth, Nick moaned loudly, and encouraged her onward. He wasn’t going to — in her mouth, was he? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, before she could react and even form a sentence, Nick climaxed.