Unexpectedly His(32)
He kissed her breathless, breaking away to whisper, “Do you want me to stop?”
“No, I want you to make me come.”
He froze for a moment, then his hand retreated to grab hold of the panties and tug them down. He pushed the nightgown over her hips until she was half naked, her breath coming hot and heavy and so, so desperate.
Marianne didn’t need to take off the mask to know she’d been set free. Only one person in the world knew how to release her desire this way, her temporary fiancé, the one whose hands were causing her body to tremble. She turned her head and shut her eyes, needing to block out the truth.
“Open your eyes.”
Responding to the sensual command in his voice, her eyes fluttered open. The slits in the mask limited her range of vision, but her gaze unerringly found his.
“I want to see you when I make you come apart in my arms.”
“Nick.” His name tumbled from her lips. “Please.”
He smiled down at her with the sweetest look in his eyes. “I want to prolong this moment, right now. I want to tease you and breathe you in.”
A desperate whimper hitched in the back of her throat as his fingers buried inside her, demanding the release her body was so ready to give.
She trembled as the new and tantalizing sensations running through her built to a fever pitch. Her heart pounded out a crazy rhythm as he coaxed the rise and fall of her body, building the intensity of feeling inside her, daring her to resist until all she wanted to do was scream with the need for release. Her hands curled into the muscles of his shoulder. She was ready, so ready. God, she’d never known she could feel like this.
He bent his head and kissed her through it, leading her body into and out of the series of explosions, murmuring her name as the pieces of her insides scattered and reformed like an image in a kaleidoscope. “Totally sexy,” he said, his lips lingering against her mouth.
And, for that moment, Marianne believed him.
Chapter Ten
“Live in the present, but plan for the future.”
—mantelligence.com
Maybe it was the glasses.
Nick sat behind the desk in his home office, his fingers tapping out the rhythm of John Coltrane’s My Favorite Things, wondering how the hell he’d gotten so caught up in the moment last night. The normal logic of his rules and his partnership plan and his need for short-term had booked a flight to Miami Beach, and now that he’d crossed the off-limits line, a slew of new things topped his list of favorites.
Like his fiancée lying back against the leather cushions, all soft lips and steamed-up horn-rims, skin flushed and heated, blue eyes filled with a combination of innocence and unconstrained desire. Those favorites. He’d figured out the puzzle. Solved the mystery. Marianne was the cake girl. Now it was time to move on—like always.
Except that he couldn’t get her off his damn mind. Which was crazy. He was a man with rules. A man used to a different woman every other week.
Yeah, had to be the glasses. Why else would he feel so…protective? Well, protective and horny as hell. Devil damned if he understood it, but those specs were a major turn-on. Maybe it was some kind of librarian fantasy. He made a low sound in the back of his throat and shifted in the chair, suddenly uncomfortable in his casual, work-at-home jeans.
A cold shower might keep him from thinking about the glasses. Except Little Miss Slip-Aside-My-Cardigan-and-Take-Me was down the hall. If he laid eyes on her, he’d strip away the cardigan and the glasses—and whatever else she was wearing. Strip it away slowly, caressing the line of her spine, until his fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her neck and tugged her head back to gaze into those baby blues, so deep and vulnerable, bright with desire…#p#分页标题#e#
His hands slammed down on the armchair.
What the hell was wrong with him?
No matter how much heat was between them, he wasn’t a love kind of guy and she needed a love kind of man, a man willing to move to Connecticut, crank out the unachievable 2.5 kids and drive a freaking Prius. Not some wayward guy from Brooklyn zip-lining through relationships dictated by rules like No Sundays during football season. Not that there was anything wrong with rules and zip lines. He liked rules and zip lines. Liked them a lot.
But he liked Marianne, too, and when his sister found out how far he’d let things go with her friend—and in the space of a few days—she’d make him pay. Better to rein it in now. Like he had last night, when Marianne had wanted to reciprocate. He’d known then—as he did now—if his dick had made it out of his pants that he wouldn’t have stopped.