And he wasn’t going to hesitate to get started.
Peeling her hands from his shoulders, he stepped back. There was color on her face, and her mouth was as rosy as he planned to make her nipples. His eyes on hers, he brought her fingers to his lips and ran his tongue along her knuckles.
“You’re cold,” he said, taking in their icy temperature.
Her breath hitched again. “Nerves.”
The word tightened down his control. While the thug inside of him clamored for sex as quick and dirty as a street-fight, Noah wrapped the urge in strong, thick chains. From the size of Juliet’s dark pupils and the continued tremor in her limbs, he figured he could take her down as fast as he wanted, but with only this one shot to have her, he knew he better savor it.
Oh, yeah, he was going to go so slow, inch-by-silken-inch, that she’d never realize how much of her she let him have, touch, taste.
He kissed the back of her hands. “I know a way to warm you up.”
“I should wash the salt and sand away,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet, still in rubber-soled flip-flops.
“Just what I had in mind,” he answered. “Shower or bath?”
A flush rose on her cheeks. “Not . . .”
“Together?” he kept his tone mild and tried to put out of his head all the questions starting to gather there. When was the last time Juliet had had sex? Had she ever stepped into a shower or slid into a bathtub with a man? And how slow could he take it if he had her naked and slippery and slick with soap? “We’re in California, right? Shouldn’t we be doing our part for water conservation?”
Biting her bottom lip, her head bobbed and then she let him lead her toward the master bedroom suite. Morning had finally found its way to Malibu, and sunshine poured like transparent gold paint through the trio of arched windows in the hallway and onto the hardwood floor.
“It’s awfully bright,” she worried aloud. “Maybe we should wait . . . maybe tonight . . .”
When there was darkness to hide behind,
he finished for her.
His hand tightened on hers. “It’s a new day, Juliet.” This day that he thought was his, had become theirs.
It’s our day.
“And unless you’ve changed your mind—”
“No.”
“Then it’s like I already told you, honey. I’m no gentleman.” He gave her a wolfish grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “Your modesty doesn’t stand a chance against my wicked ways.”
She laughed like he wanted her, too, and it got them to the bedroom. On moving day, self-preservation had mandated he avoid any space so personal to her, and now he took in the pale walls and amber area rug as well as the queen-sized bed with its vanilla-colored bedclothes.
Juliet halted, staring at it with a frown.
Noah swallowed his groan. It was going to kill him if she balked now. If she tried, swear to God, he was going to summon every touch he knew, every technique he’d ever tried, to seduce her back into the mood. He did know there was a big whirlpool tub in the attached bath, and he could already see both of them inside of it, bubbles up to her breasts, his hand sneaking beneath the camouflage of the frothy stuff to explore the soft layers of her sex.
Yeah, it was going to take an agony of persuasion, he figured, an hour of kisses and surreptitious touches to get her there, but he would. He wanted it that bad.
Taking a careful breath, he squeezed her hand again. “Juliet? Okay?”
She glanced at him, and then around the spacious room. “It’s just so . . . so
beige
.”
Noah blinked at the disgust in her voice. “And, um . . .” Um what? “And?”
She dropped his hand. “And I’m sick of it.” In a sudden flurry of movement, she spun to face the massive mirror hanging over a long chest of drawers crafted from some light-colored wood. “And look there,” she said, pointing to herself in that white sweatsuit. “More colorlessness.”
Without a pause, she reached down and whipped her sweatshirt over her head. “I never want to see myself in these again.” She threw the top across the room. Then she shoved down the pants and flung them away with her foot, one flip-flop going along for the ride. The other she tossed, too, and it thunked against the wall, marring the pristine paint.
She stared at the mark, her chest heaving again, and it gave him time to appreciate the underwear. She was wearing a matching—and demure—lace bra and bikini panties in an understated buff color.
He toyed with mentioning it, certain they’d be the next victims of her unexpected ire, but he wanted to save some unwrapping for himself. His mind spun off, thinking how best to accomplish that. Should he ease up behind her right now, or lure her into the bathroom? How many kisses until he could walk his fingers to the back clasp of that bra? Would he slide her panties off at the first opportunity, or instead slip his hands underneath the stretchy fabric to cup her sweet little ass?
She whipped around while he was still deep in the selections of his imagined sensual buffet. “I’m ready for sex now,” she declared, and marched past him to the bathroom. “Are you coming?”
Startled, he stared after her. Was he coming? Shit, he hoped so. But man, even that might be in question, because by the time he’d reeled his tongue into his mouth and beaten back his surprise to hurry in her wake, she was already not only in the dim bathroom but was a shadowy figure behind the wavy glass of her two-will-fit-just-fine stand-alone shower.
The beige lace underthings lay flat on the floor like she’d removed then in haste and then stomped on them at leisure.
He flipped the switch to illuminate the stall and then he could see her better . . . still blurred by the shower glass, but that was definitely Juliet’s curvy outline and Juliet’s elegant back, the cleft between her perfect peach cheeks the only shadow that remained.
God.
His balls drew tight and more lust poured into his blood. Noah fisted his hands, holding himself back as the sexual gangster inside of him urged for a simple smash-and-grab.
Over the soft fall of water from the showerhead, Juliet’s unsteady voice reached him. “Those nerves I told you about . . .”
“Mmm?” His gaze glued on her unmoving figure, he started shucking off his clothes.
“I lost them.”
He smiled as he leaned over to unlace his boots, and was surprised by the sudden clumsiness of his fingers. “Maybe you misplaced them during your little strip show out there.”
“No,” her voice thinned. “I mean, I think I
lost my nerve
.”
“Ah, honey.” Naked, he put his hand on the stall’s door handle. “It’s just me.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “ ‘Just you.’ Oh, Noah.”
The door opened with an audible click and steam washed over him like hot breath.
Her head jerked around and she looked at him over one wet, creamy shoulder. “Oh,
Noah
.”
Her gaze whipped back around to the wall, but from that first, wide-eyed glance of hers, he knew it was going to be okay. He’d thought about this moment for years, showered with just this very fantasy more times than he could count, and though the hoodlum inside him wanted nothing more than to vandalize all that smooth and elegant skin with urgent touches and rough kisses, he found the control to approach her slow and steady.
One forefinger reached out to trace the bumps of her delicate spine. She shuddered, and he moved closer to lower his head and sip the water off her shoulder blade. Another shiver wracked her body and he chased goose bumps up the slope of her shoulder to the side of her neck. He took another lick.
Her body bumped back, out of the shower’s direct spray, and her ass brushed his cock. They both sucked in breaths. “I’ve never showered with a man before,” she confessed.
“Yeah?” Smiling against her skin, he reached for the liquid soap that sat in a nearby niche. With one hand, he managed to pump his palm full of the stuff. It smelled like her, classy and clean, and he took the scoop of his hand up to his nose for another heady inhalation. “I’ve never washed anyone as beautiful as you.”
“Like this . . . the light . . . naked . . .
Noah
.” His name soughed out as he pressed his slick hand to her belly. He rubbed in little circles and felt her press back against him again for support. With his other arm, he anchored her to him, not even trying to avoid the rounded pillows of her ass. He pressed himself there, distracting her from the way he was insinuating himself between her softness by the unceasing circles of his hand moving from hip bone to hip bone.
She moaned. “I’m a little embarrassed.”
“You’re turned on.”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m a little embarrassed about that.”
It wasn’t ridiculous. Elegant, aloof Juliet Weston wasn’t used to letting someone so close.
“Noah, at the moment, I’m not even sure I can look at you.”
He rubbed his cheek against the sleek wet fall of her hair, and let his soapy hand travel upward. “At the moment, you don’t have to look at me, baby. You just have to feel me.” Feel alive. He cupped her breast, capturing it in the cage of his hand as if it was a wild bird. Against the edge of his thumb, he felt her heart beating erratically and the sensation delivered another blast of lust to boil his blood.
She squirmed, and his cock nudged deeper until he had to tighten his hold on her breast to keep her still and keep him sane. At her needy whimper he kneaded her breast again, and then he drew his fingertips together and outward, drawing them to the areola and then farther, tugging on her hard little nipple.
Another sweet, plaintive moan had him pressing his cheek to hers, and he noted her eyes were squeezed shut with enough force that lines fanned from their corners. He kissed her there, and then leaned around her to sweep his tongue across her lashes. “Relax.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” Both of his hands cupped her breasts now, and he played there, gentle on the full flesh, and less so on the tight buds. As he plucked them, her head fell back against his shoulder, but there was nothing boneless about her body. Even as he saw the flush of arousal suffusing her face, he could feel the fine tremors shaking her tense frame.
“Noah . . .”
“You have a seventy-gallon hot water heater, we have plenty of time.” A quickie wouldn’t be enough for either of them, would it? Him, to exorcise the fantasies with real-life Juliet sex, and for her, didn’t she deserve a prolonged reintroduction to man-woman pleasures?
But her body was getting more rigid by the moment and then he saw her teeth bite down on her bottom lip. This wasn’t making her bloom, he realized, it was making her hurt.
Shit. How long since she’d let herself have this little taste of life? She was reaching for it and battling against it, both with such force that she was shaking with the dueling purposes.
And then Noah knew.
Juliet wouldn’t have orgasmed on her own. Not by her own hand, not with some naughty-girl toy. Not when her husband was dying, not while she was grieving, not ever in . . .
Years?
For himself, he wanted to play with the possibilities of that for hours. For her, he was going to have to give her a fast, ruthless push over the brink.
The gangster inside of him grinned, but he told the bad boy to settle down. This could be his single chance at her climax and he was going to let her fly solo.
With the fingers of one hand still rolling a berried nipple, he shoved the other into the shower spray to rinse off the soap, then brought it down between her thighs. He didn’t take it slow, she was needy enough. Instead, he speared his middle and forefinger through her wet curls and between her swollen layers to trap his quarry.
She froze, every muscle tight. Like her heart, this little organ was beating too, rising toward his touch and hungry for what he offered. In his fantasies he spent hours getting to know this sweet morsel of flesh, but now, he accepted he might only have these few moments.
Wrapping her with his left arm, he used the middle finger of his right hand to draw a snug circle around the stem of the hard bud. All her muscles tightened, her spine as stiff as if he’d lashed her to a pole. But her support was his body behind her, her bond his left arm circling just below her breasts, her instrument of torture the firm ring he drew around her with his finger.
On his next pass, new wetness met the tip of his long digit. He jolted, heat rocketing through him at the slippery sign of her surging desire. Without thinking twice, he brought his finger to his mouth, sucking off the flavor of her, sucking her essence into his mouth.
She whimpered, and he glanced down to see she was watching him, her face flushed and her blue and green eyes wide and trained on his mouth. Oh, yeah. He dropped his hand and dipped it in her softness again. Then he lifted his finger to her lips, offering to feed her that distinct proof of life. “Try it,” he urged her. “It’s as good as your next breath.”
He painted her lower lip and his blood burned again as her tongue crept out to taste. He rubbed the rest of the liquid arousal along the velvet surface and saw her flush deepen.
“My turn,” he said, his voice hoarse as he lowered his hand. “This next taste is mine.”
Seeking the lush well inside her, his fingers brushed her erect clitoris, and just with that small nudge, she flew. With a low moan, she pressed back against him. Her shoulder blades dug into his chest, her back bowed, and the cheeks of her ass tightened along the length of his cock.
He would have lost it, surely should have lost it, but to his eternal shock, his instinct to support her writhing body overrode the sexual demand pounding in his blood.
Miracle of miracles. Maybe he was noble Noah after all.
She moved through shudders, to tremors, to the sweetest little shivers, and he went along for the ride with her, his finger easing up on her sensitive flesh as she quieted. Then she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest.