“What are you doing?”
“Freshening up.”
“Do it without the robe.”
I stared back at him, unsure. It was different when two people were having sex—I lost my inhibitions as my desire for orgasm overtook every other feeling. But walking around my apartment naked in front of him, my ass jiggling and my boobs bouncing…
Um… no. Emphatically not. “I’d prefer not to.”
Henry frowned. “You’re beautiful. I don’t want you to hide.”
“I’m not perfect,” I huffed. “I bet you’re used to perfect. I don’t have a flat belly and I have a jiggly ass… there is fat on this body.” I pointed to myself.
He grinned. “There are curves. And they’re sexy as hell.” He leaned up on an elbow and smoldered at me. “You’re perfect to me.”
Strangely, I sensed his sincerity.
What was I going to do with this guy?
Fine. I shrugged out of the robe and put my hands on my hips, trying to hide how self-conscious I felt standing naked before him. “Happy now?”
His darkened gaze swept down my body and back up again. “Sunshine, I won’t be happy until I’ve screwed you six ways till Sunday.”
I rolled my eyes, but some of my self-consciousness dissipated. “So romantic.” Before he could respond, I walked out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom where I freshened up.
I returned a minute later and Henry stalked me with his stare, his eyes lowered to my breasts.
“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching and placing me over him so I was straddling his hips. “I think I’m obsessed with your tits.”
“I think you are too—ahh,” I gasped as he cupped them and drew my oversensitive nipples into his mouth. I writhed as he played with me for what felt like forever until the blood surged back into his cock and it push against my belly.
My eyes dropped to his dick, excited and impressed.
Suddenly I was on my back, my surprised laughter swallowed up in his kiss.
Henry’s lips were all over me again—my breasts, my stomach—and where his mouth went, his hands followed. He rested on his knees and I stared down at him, breathless with anticipation.
I cried out, feeling wrung out when his thumb pressed down on my clit. Even more so when he pushed two fingers inside me. “It’s not enough,” I begged.
“Jesus,” he huffed, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. “You’re drenched. You liked getting me off, Sunshine?”
“You might think about returning the favor,” I bit out impatiently.
“God, I like you.”
“Prove it.”
“I will… but I’m not going to fuck you, Nadia.” He gently eased his fingers out of me and then coasted both hands up my body as he moved upward.
Confused, I watched him.
And then Henry, his eyes locked with mine, pressed my legs farther apart and slid inside me.
Easily.
Beautifully.
I sighed in utter sweet, shivering, erotic, slow, dizzying pleasure as he thrust in measured strokes. The swelling, overwhelming thickness of him inside me was a delicious kind of agony.
He was making love to me.
“Henry,” I gasped, tears stinging my eyes before I could stop them.
“You are so sweet, kind, hilarious, exasperating, beautiful…” he whispered and kissed me, never breaking his excruciatingly delicious tempo. He dragged almost all the way out of me in a slow, torturous stroke before pressing back in, in an equally tormenting slow thrust.
My eyes were locked on his face, mesmerized to see again the light of affection mixed with dark possession in his expression. He was such a complicated man.
And right then, I’d never felt anything more wonderful in my life than being with him like this. Every muscle in his body was locked, tensed, as he strained to be gentle, to be tender.
His eyes moved over me and his expression tightened even more as he got lost in watching my breasts bounce against his thrusts. His control slipped and I was surprised to find amusement in my pleasure.
He really was obsessed with my breasts.
“Nadia,” he choked out as if in pain.
I caressed his back reassuringly. “Do it. Fuck me.”
“This is more than this.”
“Fucking can be more than just fucking,” I managed before gasping against his harder, deeper thrust.
My words snapped what little control he was holding onto and suddenly his hips were pumping faster, pushing him deeper, giving me another orgasm that made my eyes roll back in my head. I was losing count.
His lips parted, his hips stalled, and he choked out my name on a harsh pant as he throbbed hard inside me.
My inner muscles pulsated around his straining cock and we shuddered together in climax.
Henry collapsed against me and I somehow managed to find the strength to wrap my arms around him.
As our breathing evened and he rolled off me, I was left stunned. Henry wrapped his arms around me and I cuddled against him as satisfied exhaustion stole us into sleep before I could fully formulate my panicked wonder at what had occurred between us.
* * *
I think it was the unfamiliar weight that woke me out of my sensual dreams. Heat was wrapped all around me, and there was a heaviness over my left thigh and across my waist. My face was pressed against something warm, smooth, and solid.
Slowly consciousness returned and with it the smell of cologne and the soft sound of someone else’s breathing.
Last night came back to me in a rush of searing memories and emotions as I realized I was lying on my side, Henry curled around me. His leg was thrown over mine, his arm across my waist, and my head was buried in his chest. Unbelievably, his morning erection pressed against my belly. How on earth could that man still be turned on?
But then tingles awoke between my legs as I remembered what I’d been dreaming about. Even after the ferocious sex and stunning love-making, I’d been lost in an aroused fog, dreaming of Henry and sex.
For a moment, I lay there, enjoying the sensation of being in his arms. It was beautiful and unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
I felt safe in this man’s arms.
Safe and even cherished.
It was possibly a million times more dangerous than my attraction to him.
His leg suddenly shifted and his arm tightened around my waist, attempting, it seemed, to pull me closer to him.
“I’m as close as you’re going to get me,” I mumbled against his naked chest.
It rumbled beneath my lips. “Not true,” came his husky response. “My cock isn’t inside you.”
“Charming.”
I felt him shake with laughter and involuntarily smiled in response.
He tangled a hand through my hair and gently tugged on it. I gave him what he wanted and tilted my head back to look into his eyes. Affection and heat mingled in his expression. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Feeling stupidly shy all of a sudden, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You don’t snore.”
He gave me a sleepy grin that was way too sexy for my comfort. “Well, you’d be the first to know.”
“What does that mean?”
Henry shrugged. “You’d be the first nonrelated woman to know if I snored or not.”
Understanding dawned and a mixture of triumph and uneasiness came over me. “Are you saying you’ve never slept with a woman before? How can that be? You’ve been monogamous with a woman for periods of time.”
“Yes.” He did me a favor by not asking how I knew that. “But I’ve never slept in their bed, nor they in mine.” He reached up to curl strands of my hair behind my ear, and then he caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. I was breathless, watching him as he seemed to memorize every facet of my face. “Sleeping over usually sends the wrong message.”
What?
Oh my God. “But… you’re happy to send this message… to me?”
 
; His answer was a long, sweet, drugging kiss that had my fingers curling into his biceps. When we finally came up for air, I felt a little lost.
“I can’t imagine feeling like this with anyone else.”
What? Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Or was this a phase for him, something new to try? “What does that mean? Exactly?”
“It means that waking up with you in my arms feels good.” He brushed his mouth over mine. “And I want to repeat it.”
“Henry…”
“I love when you say my name.” His kiss was harder, wanting, so I was surprised when he suddenly broke it with a miserable groan. “And I can’t do anything about it because I have to go.”
Surprise jolted through me. “You do?”
He kissed my nose as he lightly caressed my breast with his thumb, groaned in frustration, and then hopped out of bed. I wrapped the sheets around me, watching befuddled as he moved around the room, grabbing his clothes. As he pulled on his tuxedo jacket, reality came crashing back.
When he was so close, he had a bad habit of confusing me, bewitching me even. Now with a margin of distance between us, I remembered what I wanted and what I didn’t want. And what I didn’t want was to be that girl who was confused when a guy said he wanted you but then got out of bed right away to leave.
“Look,” I sighed, “you don’t have to do this.”
Henry frowned. “Do what?”
“Pretend. I’m a big girl. And we had a deal. This was a one-time-only thing.”
“Are you being serious?” he asked incredulously as he sat down to tie his dress shoes.
“Excuse me?”
“If I wanted out, I would have been gone as soon as we had sex last night. Were you not listening to anything I just said?” He gestured to the bed.
He didn’t seem angry. More amused by me. “Henry…”
I didn’t know how to articulate what I was feeling, or if I even really wanted him to know what I was feeling, but he pulled out his cell and called someone before I could make up my mind. “Henry Lexington. A Town Car, please.” He gave the person on the other end my address. “My apartment first. I need the driver to wait. I have an eleven o’ clock flight… Logan.” He ended the call. “I have a flight.”
“So I heard.” Some of my uneasiness dwindled a little now that I knew he had a legitimate reason for leaving. “Business trip?”
“To the Caymans.”
“Nice.”
Henry didn’t seem like he thought it was nice. Instead he sat down on the bed next to me and reached over to tug playfully on the sheet I had wrapped around me.
“Stop.” I swatted away his hand.
He pouted playfully. “Please. I need a visual to get me through the next few days. From the Caymans I fly to Panama, from Panama to Seattle. I won’t be back until next Monday.”
The news that he would be gone for over a week disturbed me. It was ridiculous! I would not be one of those women. “You have plenty of visuals from last night,” I reminded him, “to get you through forever.” I swatted his hand away again. “Henry, this was a one-time deal.”
He got by my swatting, fisted a huge chunk of sheet in his hand, and used it to haul me up against him. His arms wrapped around me, trapping me. “I thought we came to an understanding a few hours ago… when we came.”
I would not laugh.
He saw my lips twitching and grinned. “Nadia, I like you. You like me. Let’s not overcomplicate this. Let’s see where it goes.”
That was the problem. I did like him. And I liked that he liked me.
I wanted to see where this went, despite my reservations.
I think I wanted it more than anything. Which meant I had to hope he never found out the truth. With an exaggerated huff, I withdrew and lowered the sheet. His eyes immediately dropped and heated at the sight of my naked breasts. “Enough to see you through?” I quipped.
With a long, drawn-out groan, he dropped his face between them and mumbled, disgruntled, “It’ll just have to be.”
“Something is bothering you,” Barbara said as she sat her pert butt on my desk and crossed her arms. She gave me an “I’m not moving until you tell me” look.
It was Wednesday.
And I hadn’t heard a thing from Henry. At all.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting but when he took my phone and programmed me into his before he left me Sunday morning, I assumed that meant I’d at least get a “I arrived safe and sound” text. Or something.
But nada. Zilch. Zippo. Nothing.
And I was back to feeling like an insecure high schooler.
I resented the hell out of him for it.
“Is it about Lexington?” Barbara asked.
Feeling vulnerable and stupid, I didn’t want to explain. Barbara was so together about men. She was always the one in control. She surprised me by saying, “They have a way of fucking with our heads even when we think we’ve done everything to protect ourselves from it.” She saw my surprise and nodded. “There was someone in my past I developed feelings for. Even when I meant not to.”
“What happened?”
“He married someone else.”
“Jesus.”
She shrugged as if it didn’t matter anymore. “It happens. So what’s going on with Lexington?”
I found myself telling her all about our one-time-deal agreement, the charity ball, his mother, and in not great detail, our night together and the morning after. “Now he hasn’t called and I’m feeling the way I promised myself I’d never feel. Insecure. Stupid. Vulnerable. He’s… God, Barb, he’s such a flirt. And it’s so natural to him, he wouldn’t even know how to stop. So how do I know he’s not in Panama with some beautiful Panamanian woman saying all the same things to her that he said to me?”
“You don’t.”
I winced at her bluntness.
“You don’t, sweetie. I’ve known Henry Lexington longer than you and I can tell you that the man bores easily. You should not, I repeat not, be waiting around for him to call you.” She stood, having no idea how much she’d trampled across my hopes. “Instead, I think you should do what you were doing. Have fun. Play the field.” She grinned. “I’m setting you up on a date for tomorrow night.”
“No.” My stomach dropped at the thought.
“Yes, and not just any date. I’m setting you up with Micah.”
“Who is Micah?” I asked warily since she’d said the name with sex in her voice.
“Micah is my young friend. He’s gorgeous and he is never looking for anything but fun.”
Understanding dawned. “You’re setting me up on a sex date?”
“Yes. The only way to get over Henry is to have sex with someone else who is fantastic in bed. And trust me… No one will blow your mind the way Micah will blow your mind.”
“Wait… you’re setting me up with your fuck buddy?” I hissed.
She shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing.”
“Barb—”
“Sex is a high.” She grabbed my shoulders, giving me a little shake. “You had amazing sex with Henry and it has clouded your judgment. Having even better sex with someone else will put you back on the right course.”
Joe’s warning echoed in my head. He wouldn’t think this was healthy. Or at all like something I’d do. “I don’t know.”
“I’m older and wiser. You’re doing this.”
* * *
Micah was a lawyer but I’m pretty sure he could have been a model instead.
I had never been on date with a man who was more beautiful than most of the women I’d met. For a while I could only stare at him, marveling at his chiseled jawline and his aqua eyes framed by the longest, thickest eyelashes I’d ever seen.
To be fair, Micah was doing his own share of staring.
It was Thursday and we were sitting in a hotel bar on Beacon Street. We’d tried conversation but it was stilted, and he didn’t get my nervous jokes.
He studied me over the rim of hi
s soda water and lime.
I studied him over the rim of my glass of wine.
“Barbara said you were luscious. She wasn’t lying.”
I flushed at the compliment. “She said you were gorgeous. She wasn’t lying.”
He nodded, taking the compliment as his due. Of course he knew he was gorgeous. Still, the man never smiled. Or cracked a joke. Or teased.
Flashes of a boyish grin flitted before my eyes and I almost groaned at the intrusion. I did not want to be thinking about Henry right now.
“I’ve slept with all kinds of women, all different shapes and sizes,” he continued, his eyes drifting over my body. “But not one as happily proportioned as you. You have outstanding curves in all the right places.”
If Henry had said that to me, I’d pretend to want to smack him while truthfully enjoying the compliment. Because he would have said it in a teasing way, with a provocative grin, meant to flare my temper and turn me on.
Micah said it like he was a scientist analyzing data.
“Has anyone ever told you, you look like that actress out of Mad Men?”
“Yeah.” I threw back a huge gulp of wine.
“Do you prefer rough sex or gentle?”
And I nearly choked on it. “Excuse me?”
His aqua eyes narrowed. “I like to know a woman’s preference before sex. I want to make sure you get what you’re looking for tonight. Barbara didn’t specify.”
An ickiness crawled over my skin. God! This felt like a business transaction. It wouldn’t have surprised me if after we had sex, he’d turn around and say, “That’ll be four hundred dollars, please.”
“I can’t do this.” I slammed my wine glass down on the table, grabbed my purse, jumped off my stool, and hurried out with the image of his befuddled expression in my mind. As I stalked down Beacon Street, keeping my eye out for a cab with its light on, I fumbled for my cell phone.
Twenty seconds later I heard Joe’s voice in my ear. “I think Barbara might have set me up with a prostitute,” I said loudly enough to draw stares. I didn’t care.
“What?”
“Micah. This lawyer who may as well have been a prostitute.”
“Wait,” my friend huffed. “Start at the beginning.”