Nick dropped a fervent, lingering kiss on her parted lips and circled her tongue with demanding strokes until her trembling body rose up to meet him, one arm braced against the back of the swing. He entered her slowly, allowing her to accept him. His free hand slid around her back to cradle her and grasp the curve of her ass, edging her hips higher. He drove into her slowly at first, increasing his rhythm as she slammed her hips upward. The movement of the swing and her rising body worked in concert to welcome him deep inside. But it wasn’t enough.
A hand moved down the back of her thigh to the bend at her knee and looped under to tug open her killer legs. He plunged deeper, and she cried out, her hands tearing at his shirt before burying into the hair at the back of his neck.
“Nick!”
He slipped his tongue into her open mouth, moving and guiding her to the next level of want, pulling her body closer until no space separated their bodies, until he was deep inside her, as deep as he could go. Their bodies rocked together in time with the swing, his aching cock moving in and out of her, circling, thrusting, working her over until she moaned softly, a look of exquisite agony on her face.
He’d never wanted a woman with such intensity. “Don’t hold back,” he whispered against her cheek.
Her body arched forward, clenching all around him as she screamed his name. “Nick. Hells. Bells,” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders through the thin cotton of his shirt. “I am coming…so hard…so hard.”
Jesus, he was ready to join her. He buried his face in her shoulder and cried out her name. The rooftop felt like it was spinning. The city’s lights and faraway sounds seemed to swirl around them as he came crashing down in a climax so pure, so full of release, he was struck again by his desire, no, his need, to do it again—and again.
Nick gathered her against him, wrapping her dress around her to safeguard her naked skin against the slight chill in the air. He gazed down at her. As the sky darkened, the automatic twinkle lights strung from the pergola flickered into life, bathing her sweetly flushed face in a soft white glow. The swing gently rocked them back and forth, and he held her close in his arms. There was no doubt. This rooftop was officially his favorite place in New York. He pressed a kiss against her temple.
Marianne looked up at him. “Can we do that again?” Nick shifted his body to accommodate her request and the swing rocked backward. “Honey, you do not have to ask me twice.”
Thank God they’d renegotiated the no sex inside the relationship clause.
Because Nick was about to double down.
Chapter Eleven
“What do I wear in bed? Why, Chanel No. 5, of course.”
—Marilyn Monroe#p#分页标题#e#
Marianne woke up the next morning wearing Nick’s half-buttoned black shirt, a pair of lacy white panties and nothing else. After a second round of rooftop sex, they’d wandered downstairs, and Nick had held her until they’d fallen asleep watching late night movies. Best of all, she’d slept the entire night. On the sectional. In the living room.
When was the last time she’d gotten nine hours of sleep on a perfectly modulated spring form mattress much less on a couch? Sometime before her dad’s arrest? Before the dominatrix? Marianne wasn’t sure. But she knew she owed her blissful sleep to Nick. The idea that her peaceful night had anything to do with spending it in a pair of strong arms rocked her to her soul. Yes, Nick had been her sexual crush, a fantasy, but now she was living in his house, kissing him until she was breathless, and sleeping through the night. And he was humming in the kitchen. Humming.
Not only was her inner bad girl awake and fully engaged, but her heart was following suit, foolishly unaware it was simply on loan for another thirty-six days.
She needed to be careful. While expanding her seductive horizons was breathtakingly liberating, at the end of the day, she was still a woman who wanted to find her happily-ever-after. And despite his midnight company and rooftop kisses, there were no fairy-tale endings with Nick Wright. She lifted the collar of his shirt and breathed in his warm, masculine scent. Better to enjoy the heat between them. Be sexy, be fun, be careful.
Except when the man of her dreams walked in carrying a breakfast tray, her ever hopeful heart skipped a beat and started dreaming of forever.
He let go a long, low whistle. “You look good wearing my clothes and nothing else.”
“Not nothing else.” She twisted her body into a pinup pose straight out of a Turner Cable classic and looked over at him. “I’m wearing panties.”
A wicked smile creased his handsome, unshaven face, and the tray clattered onto the table. “We can definitely change that situation.”