Spice (8 page)

He looked at her in silent fascination, as if he'd never seen breasts before. Tension ramped up inside her, tightening her nipples to bullet points. Slowly he raised his hands, reaching up to cup both. A jolt of electricity shot through her, making her gasp, a gasp that fell into a long moan when his thumbs slowly and lightly brushed over the nut-hard peaks of her nipples.

He rolled both her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. She reached back to grip the countertop before she embarrassed herself by melting into a puddle of need on the floor. “Your mouth,” she said, the gravelly sound of her voice loud and unfamiliar. She lurched forward, thrusting her breasts into his hands. “I want your mouth on me. Please, Kane.”

“How can I refuse a request like that? But I want to see you. All of you.” He dragged the dress straps all the way down her arms and she let go of the counter long enough to slip her wrists free. The lightweight dress glided down her body and pooled at her feet, leaving her bare to his gaze.

He stepped back to give her a long, slow perusal. She lifted her chin, bearing his scrutiny despite burning with the need to cross her arms over her body. Every woman had that moment of uncertainty, of overthinking a man's reaction to seeing her nude. Sure, she'd been naked with him last night, but they'd been so desperate to come together that there hadn't been a moment like this, this sensual examination.

Her breasts weren't as large and perky as Siobhan's, but she could make eye-catching cleavage when she put her mind to it. As for the rest of her body, well, she'd lost weight during the stress of her television days, eating pills instead of meals, her stay in rehab, and the long hours of blood, sweat, and tears getting the café up and running. She was still in the process of getting back to a decent weight, but she didn't have much more to go before she actually got her hips and butt back.

“Nadia,” he said, and her name sounded like a prayer or a plea on his lips. His eyes lit up with the heat of his appreciative grin. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“E-everything?”

“Everything.” He stepped closer to kiss her throat again, his teeth lingering on her collarbone. “Your smile, your sweet and spicy scent, your arousal. The sound of your breath catching in your throat, your moans and whimpers, the curve of your ear, your nipples and belly button and right toe. It's all beautiful to me.”

She wanted to laugh, to lighten the intensity and relieve her sudden onslaught of nerves, but the truth she heard in his tone stole her breath. Gripping her waist, he lifted her onto the counter. The shock of the cool granite juxtaposed with the warmth of his hands and the fire in her blood. He caressed her breasts again, his touch almost reverent and going a long way to easing her nerves and firing her senses. She leaned forward, her breasts heavy and aching for his mouth.

She parted her lips to repeat her demand but he leaned forward to lick her right nipple then gently blew on it. Before she could process that sensation, his mouth closed over her nipple. She moaned loud with appreciation, clutching his sleek head closer. When he sucked on it she felt the pull all the way to her womb. Then he bit down with the perfect combination of pleasure and pain.

She cried out, her hips bucking against him. “Oh God, yes! More of that.”

“As the lady desires,” he said with a laugh, then repeated the lick, suck, bite maneuver on her left nipple. Moisture gathered at her entrance, threatening to dampen her thighs and the counter beneath her, but she didn't care. Instead, she wrapped her legs around him, dragging him closer, needing him closer.

He started up the leisurely kissing expedition again, feasting on her exposed skin, making her belly flutter and clench as he kissed and licked and nipped his way down her abdomen. Drunk on the headiness of his caresses, she leaned back on her elbows, watching as he explored her body with lips and teeth and tongue.

She whimpered a protest when he bypassed the most obvious target, instead nibbling his way down her inner thighs to her knees, her calves, her ankles and toes. True to his word, or the sheik's suggestion, he neglected no part of her body. By the time he returned to her center she was quivering and panting, almost mindless with want.

“This part of you is beautiful too,” Kane told her, cupping her mound. “Beautiful and wet. I bet it's needy too.”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“What do you need, Nadia? Tell me.”

She'd never been shy about asking for what she wanted, or taking what she needed in the bedroom. She saw no reason to be different now. “I want your mouth on me, Kane. The same way you did my breasts.”

He lightly traced the folds framing her opening with a sweep of his thumb, his expression drawn tight with desire. She wrapped her legs around him again, aching for him, ready to beg for him to give her what she wanted, what she needed.

“As the lady desires,” he said again, leaning forward. He slid his hands beneath her knees, folding her legs toward her chest, opening her up. Nadia was so primed for him she doubted it would take more than one stroke for her to blast off.

A keening moan of pleasure broke free from her at the first long caress. She felt a shudder pass through him, then his hands slipped down to frame her slit, opening her farther for his questing tongue. The pleasure spiked like electric shocks, prickling along the surface of her skin. She sent her hands scrambling across the countertop, seeking a way to anchor herself, finally thrusting her fingers into his hair.

Passion rose hard in her and she tugged on his hair, wishing he'd hurry. He bit the inside of her thigh. She gasped, a rush of heat sweeping through her as he brought her to the edge—close, so very close—only to bring her back down, sensually torturing her with lips and tongue and teeth, with licks and suckles and bites. He feasted on her with expert enthusiasm, driving her crazy, reducing her world to just her pussy and his beautiful, glorious, amazing mouth.

Her thighs quivered with the need to come, to relieve the passion and pressure flooding her body, stretching her skin, filling her lungs. She moaned his name repeatedly, begging him for release. Just when she thought she couldn't handle it anymore, couldn't take another tongue lash, he sucked on her clit.

She came screaming, feet pressing on his shoulders as her hips arched off the countertop. The orgasm continued, bowing her body with the muscle-clenching force of a seizure, catapulting her right out of her mind.

“Nadia? Are you okay?” Kane's voice sounded far away.

She stared up at the pendant lights hanging above her. “Yeah.” The word came out slurred and three syllables too long.

“Can you sit up?”

“No.”

“Let me help.” His arms curved beneath her, lifting her to a sitting position.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a drunken, ferocious openmouthed kiss, tasting her excitement on his lips. “You need to fuck me now.”

“Dammit, Nadia.” His gaze ignited as his arms tightened around her. “You make a joke of my self-control. I want nothing more than to be inside you. But I can't be slow and sweet right now.”

“Good, because I need it hard and fast.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Please, Kaname.”

“God, Nadia.” With quick movements, he produced a condom out of his pocket, dropped his pants, and tore open the packet. He rolled the condom on as she watched.

She licked her lips. “I can't wait to suck you off the way you did me. You should know what this feels like.”

“I think I'm about to find out.” He cupped her buttocks in his palms. “Guide me home, sweetheart.”

She reached down between them, fitting the blunt head of his cock to her passion-slick opening. He slammed forward with a grunt, impaling her. Their simultaneous groans filled the air as she wrapped her legs securely about his waist. The sensation of him inside her, hot and hard and thick, made her whimper with relief.

“Fuck, Nadia.” He rested his forehead against hers, his breath shuddering out of him. “You're like liquid fire and I'm willingly burning alive.”

He partially withdrew then thrust home again, again, again. “Don't know how long I can last.”

“We've got all night for round two,” she reminded him. “We need this, just like this, right now.” She clamped her inner muscles down on him.

It was like tossing alcohol on a flame. With a growl he began to fuck her in earnest, his muscular body slamming into her like a battering ram. Nadia could only hold on for dear sweet life as he set his teeth to the curve of flesh between ear and shoulder, holding her in place for his sensual onslaught. The friction of her bare skin against the fabric of his sweater combined with the hard edge of the counter beneath her and the silken steel of his cock inside her to set her nerve endings alive.

As hard and as long as she'd come before, she shouldn't have had another go in her. But Kane had lowered her inhibitions and elevated her desire, and her body once again tightened with the need to come. She reached between them, splaying her fingers around his surging cock, using her thumb to stroke her clit.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he uttered against her throat. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel you clamp down on me again.”

Unbelievably her body answered his demand as an orgasm not quite as violent as the previous one rocked her to her core. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she bucked against him, her channel spasming around his cock.

“Fuck.” Kane drove into her so brutally it was a wonder he didn't uproot the island. Then he tossed his head back, his features strained as he came with a loud, guttural groan before sagging against her, his head resting on her shoulder.

“O
h my God.” Nadia slumped against him, her soft body pliant. “We just had sex on my kitchen island.”

“Hell yeah, we did,” Kane replied, warm with pleasure and satisfaction. He licked her throat, the taste of her addictive. “I hope this proves to you that last night wasn't a fluke.”

“I have never been so thoroughly convinced in my life.” She straightened, groaning when he withdrew from her. “But this is my kitchen counter. I roll dough out on this granite!”

He removed the condom, snagging a paper towel to wrap it in. Not wanting to be too far from her, he cleaned up at the kitchen sink then righted his clothing. “I'll help you scour it clean,” he told her, helping her down and keeping her steady as she regained her footing. “Just tell me where the cleaning supplies are. And the garbage can.”

“Under the kitchen sink. But you can't scour granite. It's granite!”

He'd been in the process of returning to the kitchen sink, but turned back to her. It sounded like she was freaking out, but why? “Nadia?”

She clung to him, looking up at him with cognac-colored eyes, panic pushing away sated passion. “I think I'm freaking out.”

He cupped her cheek. After only twenty-four hours of intimacy he couldn't be near her without touching her. He was out of his mind with wanting her, and he didn't care. What he did care about was her having doubts. He didn't like it. “Are you freaking out because of the sex, or because the sex was on the countertop that you roll dough on?”

She was still naked, her dress a pool of fabric on the floor. Her balance of soft curves and hard angles was poetic perfection, which told him just how sex-addled she'd made him. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and damn if he didn't feel his cock stirring again. “Uhm, would you feel bad if I said both?” she asked as she reached for her dress, stepped back into it.

“I feel bad that you feel bad.” Deciding to give her a bit of space, he rummaged beneath her kitchen sink for the supplies she needed. Realizing what he had in his hands, he straightened, his eyebrows raised. “Wait. You clean your countertops with vodka?”

She reached for the giant plastic bottle of alcohol. “This stuff really isn't fit to be called vodka. At least no Russian worth her salt would put it to her lips. Nana Spiceland had me cleaning her kitchen with the rotgut stuff since I was five and helping her and my father Victor cook.”

She handed the bottle back to him, then pulled a thick white cloth out of a drawer. “But I cut my vodka with castile soap and rosemary oil. It cleans without streaking, without damaging my granite, and I like the smell of rosemary. Just pour it on.”

He did as ordered, then watched her use both hands to push and pull the thick cloth across the counter, her arm muscles flexing with the pressure she used. She had a strong grip, he knew, but he wondered if the pressure she exerted now was her usual strength from making pastries all day long or a manifestation of her nerves. “Do you want to tell me why you freaked out?”

She sighed as she leaned against the counter, giving him an excellent view of her cleavage. “I know I asked for this loud and clear. And I like it. I really like it. I guess, well, I guess I wasn't expecting it to be so damn good. I mean, I know you're used to it, but I've been out of the dating and sex scenes for more than three years. I'm rusty.”

What the hell? He wrapped his hand around her wrist to get her attention. “What is it that you think I'm used to?”

“This.” She waved a hand between them, sending the scent of rosemary wafting through the air. “You've done this a lot, I know, and I've had my fair share of partners too, but this sort of intensity is a new experience for me.”

“Would it help you to know that this intensity is new to me as well?”

“Is it?” Disbelief colored her tone.

“Nadia.” He tapped the back of her hand to get her to look at him. “I've had lots of sex. Most of it was good and some of it was great because it's important to me that my partner and I get what we want and need out of it. If you want, we can sit down and discuss our sexual histories and share our medical records. What I want is to make sure you feel like you can trust me.”

“I trust you, Kane.” She paused, blinking as if surprised by her words. “I do trust you. I'm just a little skittish.”

More than a little, and it was enough to make him wonder if she had trust issues from a previous relationship. “I understand. I have to admit, I wasn't prepared for how visceral my reaction to you would be either. It's all right to be cautious. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I do.”

He shook his head. “If you did, you wouldn't have freaked out.”

A flush crept across her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. “Kane . . .”

“It's okay, Nadia.” He reached out, lifted her chin. “It's my responsibility to make sure you trust me to keep you safe so that you're able to let go and truly enjoy yourself, whether that's reenacting scenes from
The Perfumed Garden
or something else. I don't take that responsibility lightly. Do you believe me?”

She searched his expression. He hoped his sincerity came through. Finally the uncertainty cleared from her eyes. “I believe you.”

He released a breath. “Do you trust me to keep you safe while maximizing your pleasure?”

She folded her bottom lip between her teeth. “Maximizing?”

So fascinated was he by the way she worried her full bottom lip that it took him a moment to process her question. “You mentioned other things besides the
Garden
.”

“True.” Thoughts moved behind her expressive gaze. “Maybe I should have some sort of safe word,” she suggested. “That way I can explore, you can push me, but we'll both know when I'm really at my limit.”

She scrunched her shoulders. “I mean, I'm not into pain or anything. I guess you could say that I've seen enough and read enough to be kink-curious. Everyone's into something in Los Angeles, you know?”

Kane smiled. He'd been about to suggest something similar. A frank discussion about hard limits might be unsexy, but establishing ground rules up front meant a better time could be had by all later. Nadia was sensual and passionate by nature, he could see that clearly. That passion made her daring. He wanted to be the one to help her explore, to push her boundaries. He wanted to be the one to awaken her full sensuality.

“I think that's an excellent idea,” he told her. “Any idea what you'd like your safe word to be, or do you want to think about it for a while?”

“I already have an idea of what I'd like to use.” Her teasing smile lit her eyes. “Sticky buns.”

He ran his forefinger down her cheek to her chin, tilting her face up. She hadn't bothered with makeup, but the remnants of afterglow still flushed her cheeks and shone in her eyes, making her beautiful. “I think that's a perfect choice.”

“I think so too.” She caressed his shoulders. “Sorry for the freak-out.”

“Don't ever apologize to me for that. You felt what you felt, we talked it out and now we're good. And your countertop is drunk.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Are you ready for dinner?”

He clearly heard her stomach rumble, causing them both to laugh. “Apparently I've worked up an appetite. Give me a moment to clean up and I'll come back to help.”

“Sure thing.” He released her, watching with admiration and appreciation as she strolled out of the kitchen then up the stairs to the second level. Grinning like the village idiot, he finished cleaning up, put her cleaning supplies away, and began rummaging through the well-stocked professional kitchen as he began the prep work for dinner.

Relief filled him. He could understand Nadia being uneasy with the explosiveness of their connection, considering that she hadn't been in a relationship in a while. It had taken him by surprise too. She'd caught his attention and held it from the first day he'd seen her in the café. She was sugar, she was spice, she was the answer to a question he hadn't even known he was asking.

He needed someone like her, he realized. Someone who could make him forget the pressure of his job, the bleak evil of his consulting work. Someone willing to explore all the pleasures that human sexuality had to offer without thinking they were dirty or depraved.

Nadia could do that, ease his hunger for more when it came to sex. Though he had to admit, sex with Nadia was plenty damn hot without enhancements. He doubted he'd be able to look at her kitchen island or sofa without remembering how she'd come for him.

As he worked, he took a long perusal of the main level of her home. He'd been rightfully occupied the night before and hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings. The main floor was completely open, save for a small room she used as an office just off the foyer opposite the coat closet and half bathroom. The living area boasted furniture designed for lounging and relaxing, microsuede pieces in rich browns, copper and pear green accented with brightly patterned pillows and knitted throws that made him wonder if they'd been handed down from her grandmother. A dark wood entertainment console sat on one wall, filled with the obligatory flatscreen TV and other components, including the surprising addition of a gaming system.

Then again, Nadia probably had her friends over frequently and loved entertaining. He didn't know of any other single woman her age with a rustic trestle table with seating for eight that stood in the open dining area in front of the kitchen. Though she probably worked some hellaciously early hours running the bakery, he had a feeling that her friends were important to her and they gathered together often.

The oversized windows on the far wall framed French doors that opened onto a balcony that presented a view of the gentrified business district that made Crimson Bay a tourist destination for people looking to get away from big SoCal cities for the weekend. Although night had fallen he was sure bright natural light spilled into the room during the day, emphasizing the openness without making it seem cold or sterile. Overall, the place was bright, warm, and comfortably sexy without trying, quite like its owner.

Nadia returned a few minutes later, brimming with energy and smiles, her earlier uncertainty gone. He nodded at the stack of index cards in her hand. “What are those for?”

“I thought I'd write down each of the sundry positions mentioned in chapter six,” she answered. She dropped the cards and a couple of pens on the breakfast bar before joining him in the kitchen. After a quick survey of his preparations so far she pulled out a package of metal skewers for the vegetables he'd cubed. “That way we can randomly choose one when we get together.”

“Good idea.” He gestured toward the satchel he'd left over by the coffee table. “I have a couple of different copies of the book. Feel free to pick whichever version you want. Oh, and write down a few wild cards too.”

“Wild cards?”

He began to thread the vegetables as she retrieved his bag. “If you draw a wild card, it means that person can choose whatever they want to do, from the book or otherwise.”

A speculative gleam lit her gaze as she settled onto a barstool. “Whatever we want, huh?”

“Within reason. You may have some hard limits that will have you using your safe word.”

She nodded as she mulled that over. “What about you? Do you have a safe word, or hard limits?”

He brushed a balsamic marinade over the vegetable kebabs. “I'm not into blood play, so no needles or knives. As for a safe word, why don't I use yours? That'll make it easy for both of us.”

“Okay.”

He glanced at her as he turned on the gas to the grill attachment. The wickedness that danced in her eyes flipped his switch, making him hard again. “Do I even want to know the ideas spinning in your head?”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “Probably not.”

“Considering our first date, I'll just have to hope that you draw a wild card sooner rather than later.” He transferred the swordfish steaks to the grill. “I hope you don't mind me making myself at home in your awesome kitchen.”

“Surprisingly, no.” She flipped open the Burton translation, then drew the stack of cards closer. “But that's probably because you screwed me into acceptance. Though I must say, I think having a man who's not my father cook me dinner is very sexy.”

“Noted. I look forward to impressing and arousing you with my culinary skills.”

“Go easy on me,” she said, laughing as she began to make notations. “Thanks to you, I've gone from zero to two hundred in the sex department. Not that I'm complaining, but I still need to be able to function. I do have a café to run, you know.”

He did know, and he wanted to make sure he didn't have a negative impact on her and her schedule. “What are your hours at the café? I'm assuming your day starts really early.”