What I Love About You (13 page)

“Are you going to go?”

The problem with a guy like Blake was that he wasn’t dependable to stick around after the door was kicked down. “I don’t know if I want to be seen with Michael.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Not because he’s been in prison, but because everyone in town will talk and wonder if we’re back together. Then I’ll have to explain we’re not, and I don’t want to explain my life because it’s no one’s business.” Natalie turned behind her and set her empty glass on the iron and wood end table.

“Do you remember how his mom used to iron his T-shirt and jeans for him?”

“Yeah. When Michael and I first got married, Carla had a problem with me because I wouldn’t iron his clothes.” Or make sure he was hydrated.

“Carla was always a pip.” Lilah crossed her furry legs and yawned. “It’s too cold to drive home, do you care if I crash in the spare bedroom?”

Natalie stretched her arms above her head. “Of course not. Your toothbrush is in the bathroom.” The doorbell chimed, and she dropped her hands to her lap. She glanced at the ornate iron clock on her stone mantel. It was eight-forty. The only person rude enough to show up this late without calling sat on the couch across from her.

“Are you expecting company?” Lilah bit her lips and her eyes lit up.

“No.” Natalie got up and walked across the short beige carpet. Perhaps because they’d been talking about him, she kind of expected it to be Michael. If it was, she was sure she’d get a delayed urge to punch his forehead, and she couldn’t promise not to act on it. Besides the fact that she didn’t like Michael, a man just couldn’t show up on a woman’s porch this late at night. It was bad-mannered and rude.

The stone floor entry chilled her bare feet as she looked through the peephole. It wasn’t Michael, but someone definitely bad-mannered and rude. Blake stood on her porch, the shadow from the beige Navy ball cap on his head hiding the top half of his face.

He held up Charlotte’s unicorn hat and she opened the door.

“Where did you find that?” Cold November night air rushed into the house and chilled her face and arms as she took the hat from him.

He didn’t answer right away and stood perfectly still like he was suddenly frozen in place.

“Blake?”

“I found it in Sparky’s crate,” he finally answered. “Are you alone?”

Natalie took it from him and looked for tooth marks and holes in Charlotte’s favorite hat. “Lilah is over and we’re talking.”

“Just Lilah?” He’d shaved since she’d last seen him and he almost looked respectable. Respectable in a big, bad, kick-your-door-down sort of way.

“Yeah.” There was one little snag in the hat, but it was in good shape otherwise. “Thanks, but you could have brought it tomorrow.”

“I’m leaving in the morning.” He walked inside, forcing her to take a few steps back. “I’ll try and bring Sparky over before you leave for work.”

He shut the door behind him, and Natalie guessed that meant he was staying. “Does it do any good to ask where you’re going this time?”

“South America.”

“Big country.” His hip and bare arm bumped hers as they walked into the living room. Natalie was fairly sure there was room for both of them without bumping into each other. She was also fairly sure she liked the touch of his cool forearm sliding against her warmer skin. “You can’t be any more specific?”

“Yeah. Not Brazil.”

Lilah stood by the couch, shoving her arms into her black wool coat. “I gotta go.”

“What? I thought you were staying the night?”

“I got stuff to do tomorrow. I can’t spend all night drinking with you.” Lilah glanced at Blake as if she didn’t know which piece of him to stare at first. Natalie knew the feeling. Having him in her house was like having G.I. Joe jump off the silver screen and land in her living room, minus nothing but his submachine gun and gritty sweat. He wore a body-hugging T-shirt and cargo pants and his hat shading his eyes and nose. “Hello, Blake.”

“How are you, Lilah?”

“Good.” She moved toward Natalie. “Call me if Michael tries anything. I know people.”

She didn’t know who Lilah was talking about. They knew the same people. “Okay.” She walked her friend to the door and hugged her good-bye.

“Please,” Lilah whispered in her ear, “get laid by that man.”

“He just came here to return Charlotte’s hat.”

“Bullshit. He looks at you like you’re sex on a stick. His eyes got so hot, I’m surprised your clothes aren’t singed.”

How had Lilah seen his eyes beneath his hat?

“Now pull your stick out and get in there,” Lilah said, suddenly sounding like a football coach. “Take notes. Take pictures. Take one for the team and tell me everything.”

Natalie wasn’t going to pull or take anything. She watched Lilah until her Honda drove away before returning to the living room. “We looked all over for that hat this morning.” Blake stood in front of the mantel, with Charlotte’s school picture in one hand.

“Without a doubt, those were the scariest boots I’ve ever seen,” he said as he looked at the picture. “And I don’t scare easy.”

“I think they might be made of goat.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I thought she maybe skinned a black Lab.” He set the frame on top of the heavy wood mantel. “Where’s Charlotte?”

“In bed asleep.”

He looked across his shoulder at her, the shadow from his hat slipping across his top lip. “What happened with your ex today?” he asked. “Did he get out of line with you?”

“No.” She tossed Charlotte’s hat on the coffee table.

“Then why does Lilah think he’ll try something?”

“Because I’m the first girl he loved and he thinks that means something?”

“Does it?”

“Maybe to him.”

He took off his hat and tossed it next to Charlotte’s. His pupils were very black and his eyes a hot, steamy gray she recognized. She didn’t know if those eyes singed clothes, but they singed her thighs.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

“No. I don’t love Michael anymore, but even if I did, I could never forgive him. He’s a cheater and a liar. The cheating hurt, but I hate when people lie to me.” She squeezed her legs together against the hot ache pooling there. “Any more questions?”

“Just one.”

His gaze slipped from hers to pause on her lips before sliding to her chin and throat. “Are you cold?” he asked, his voice dropping to a velvet hush as his eyes dropped to the front of her shirt. “Or just happy to see me?”

Natalie looked down and her mouth fell open. Her hands came up to cover her hard nipples poking the eyes out of the two kissing pigs on her shirt. “I’m not wearing a bra.” She stated the obvious as heat rose to her cheeks, so hot and fast she feared she might pass out.

“I noticed.” Blake took a step forward and wrapped his hands around her wrists. “Your shirt is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a very long time.” He pulled her palms away and held her wrists wide.

She should pull her wrists free. He couldn’t just grab her and force her arms to her sides. She should tell him to stop and make him leave. Except that was one of the things that turned her on about him. He didn’t ask. He pushed her up against windows or tugged her hair or grabbed her wrists. He was a little rough and she liked it. Maybe she shouldn’t, but she did.

“You make me want to bury my face in your shirt and suck you through the cotton.”

God help her, she wanted that, too. He’d been in her house less than five minutes and she wanted him to touch her. She stood perfectly still to keep from arching her back toward him. It was shocking really. How much she wanted him and how much she wanted him to take what he wanted from her. “Charlotte is just across the house.” Yet at the same time, she wanted a man who cared about her. Enough to make some sort of commitment beyond one night. As much as she tried to ignore her problem or get over it, she was falling for Blake and it didn’t feel wrong.

“We’ll be quiet.”

“We can’t have sex with my child in the same house,” she said, even as her nipples got tighter beneath his gaze.

“Who said anything about sex?” He frowned like she’d misunderstood. “I just want to play a little.”

She didn’t believe him for one second. “Play what?”

“Grown-up games.” He let go of her wrists and placed his hands on her waist. “How long has it been since a man kissed you all over? Starting at your top and stopping at your bottom?”

Oh God. Oh no. She wanted that. She wanted her top and bottom kissed. He pulled her hips toward him and pressed her thin cotton PJ pants against the front zipper of his cargo pants. He let her feel the power of his erection, and her stomach clenched. Instead of pushing him away like she should do, she put her hands on his warm forearms and watched him rub against her. “A really long time. I’ve been super busy.”

“A beautiful young woman like you is never too busy to play around.” He put a hand beneath her chin and brought her gaze to his. “Where do you want me to kiss you first?”

Lord, but she was a weak woman suffering a moral dilemma between what she
should
do
, and what she
wanted to do
.

“I’ll give you options, and we don’t have to do anything you don’t like.” He rocked his erection into her again and she got all light and fuzzy and tingly at the same time. “I can start at the little warm spot just below your ear where you taste like flowers and skin.”

That was innocent-enough sounding.

“Then I take off your shirt and pop your nipples in my mouth.”

She licked her lips as the skin all over her body got tight and she couldn’t think anymore. Not beyond the hard, thick pressure shoved against the apex of the thighs and the promise of passion in his eyes. She was an adult. She knew where this was all leading.

“Or I can start at the inside of your knees and eat my way up your thighs to your honey pot.”

Oh. That didn’t sound innocent at all, but if they had rules and options, she could respect herself later. Maybe. Probably. Probably not. She was rationalizing. She didn’t care.

“I have choices? Like on a menu?”

“Yes. Just tell me what you want and how you want it. If you can’t make up your mind, I have several suggestions.” He brushed her hard nipples. “If you can’t pronounce something, just point.”

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she knew how to pronounce it, too. She liked the idea of choices and ordering off his menu. It gave her some control. Over her body, if not her heart. “When you say ‘bottom,’ you don’t mean my back bottom?” She’d never let any man touch her butt. Not that any had tried. “Just my . . . front. Right?”

“Front door or back, I’ll play wherever you want. It’s up to you.”

She felt a little hot and dizzy now. Hot, dizzy, and beyond ready for the touch of a man. His hands and mouth and hard penis. “How fast are you?”

“As fast as you want me to be.”

“Okay.” She could almost hear the gavel come down on her side. “I want a front quickie from behind.”

He looked down at her from beneath heavy lids and smiled. “You got it.”

Chapter Ten

He lied. There wasn’t going to be anything quick about tonight, and he wasn’t playing around. The second she’d opened the front door, his gaze had immediately landed on her nipples straining against those kissing pigs. His dick had gotten so hard so fast, he feared he’d fall over from lack of blood to his head. He almost got brain damage and he figured she owed him. For that and the blue balls he’d been packing around for a couple of months now. He’d wanted Natalie the first time he’d seen her ass-deep in flowers, and he’d certainly waited for her a long time. Certainly longer than he’d waited for any woman.

“You’ve got a beautiful bottom.” He slid his hands to her backside and cupped her cheeks through her thin pants. He tilted her pelvis and pushed his erection against the inside seam. She sucked in a breath and his testicles drew up tighter than a coin purse. He looked down into her gorgeous face and sunny blue eyes, shining with lust just like that day in her office. But unlike that day, he knew her better now. Had her figured out. When it came to women, it usually didn’t take this long. Natalie was an open book, an open book of contradiction and complications.

“My hands are full,” he said. “Take your shirt off for me.” Natalie owned a business. She was her own boss and was in charge 24/7. Her head told her to hold out for a relationship, but her body told her something else. He was happy to tip the scale in his favor.

She curled her fingers around the bottom of the pink cotton and pulled it up. Up past the waistband of her pants and navel, up her flat stomach and abdomen and the plump undersides of her breasts. She was killing him and he had to wonder who was really in control. He held his breath waiting. She smiled a little, either from shyness or a practiced tease, he couldn’t tell. Then the she pulled the shirt up past her tight pink nipples and over her head. Her hair swung back down and brushed her shoulders and the top of her right breast. His stomach fell, a painful whap that felt like a roundhouse kick.

“Beautiful.” He lifted a hand and brushed her with the tips of his fingers. Beneath his touch, she shuddered and pressed her breast into his hand. She lifted her face to him and he kissed her mouth. She tasted good, like Natalie and sex. She rose on the balls of her feet, and her nipples grazed his chest through his T-shirt on the way up.

He took his hands from her long enough to pull off his shirt and toss it aside. Then he was on her. Kissing. Touching. Feeling as much skin as possible. The hard tips of her breasts poked into his bare flesh. Two points of sheer pleasure as she ran her fingers through his hair. Her short nails scraped his skull and sent a shockwave of fiery lust down his spine to his feet. He had to slow things down. Slow it down before it ended. Before he tossed her on that big couch and jumped on her. He pulled his face back and looked into her eyes, sleepy with desire. She licked her wet lips and he felt it in his groin. He pushed her pants down her legs until she stood in nothing but little white panties. Too late he realized he didn’t have a condom, but that did not stop him from picking her up and setting her on the padded arm of the couch. Her hands grabbed the couch behind her and her back arched as he lowered his mouth to her breast. Her nipple was tight and he rolled it like a berry with his tongue.

“Yes,” she whispered between little pants of breath. “Do that, Blake.”

“You like it?”

“Mmm. Yes.”

He stabbed and nibbled and cupped a handful of her crotch. Her panties were wet and he slid his fingers beneath the leg band and touched her slick flesh. She moaned so deep and long he feared she’d orgasm. He wasn’t quite ready for that to happen. He wanted to be deep inside when the walls of her body clenched and pulsed around him.

“Don’t come yet,” he warned, and slid her panties from her legs and dropped them to the floor.

“Then hurry,” she ordered, and reached for the front of his pants. “I don’t want to wait.” He helped her with the button and zipper and her hand dived inside. “You said you’d be quick.”

“Yeah.” But he hadn’t meant it. He wanted to see her naked. All of her. He wanted to touch and taste her everywhere. Then she wrapped her hand around his dick and he had to take several long, deep breaths before he embarrassed himself and unloaded in her palm. He spun her around and pushed her feet apart. “Grab the arm of the couch,” he ordered, and positioned himself between her legs. She was wet and ready and moaned deep in her throat as he pushed into her incredibly soft flesh. She was tight around him, and he had to pull out and slide into her a couple more times before he was buried so deep his lower belly was pressed against her pretty behind.

“Are you good?” he asked as he caught his breath.

“Yes.” She pushed back and looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t stop.”

His hands palmed her smooth butt as he gave her what she wanted in long, even thrusts. Again and again he drove into the hot, gripping pleasure of her body. He leaned forward and pushed her blond hair to one side. “More?” he asked next to her ear as he planted a hand on the arm of the couch.

“Yes, Blake. You feel good. Don’t stop.”

His heart pounded in his chest and head. He was going to come before her. God, he didn’t want to do that. He tried to hold it back. Tried to hold it back even as he moved faster in her tight walls. “Come for me, Natalie,” he whispered into her throat. Then he heard her long, drawn-out moan and felt the first pulse of her orgasm. It milked him hard and seemed to go on forever. Squeezing him tighter and tighter, torturing him as he held back. Back against the hot, intense pleasure that didn’t stop. She orgasmed longer than any woman he’d been with, and he couldn’t hold back against the tsunami of fierce pleasure from deep in his belly. It gripped his balls and curled his toes. Then he set his jaw and prepared to pull out of her hot body. He was a pro at pull-outs. Had control where he spilled without a condom. He tried once and once more before he gushed deep inside her body. The most intense orgasm he’d ever felt in his life ripped through his body. It sizzled across his skin, grabbed his insides, and set his lungs on fire. He thought he just might die. Die bent over a beautiful woman on a blue couch, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. She’d killed him, and as soon as he caught his breath, he wanted her to kill him again.

Then he heard a little giggle.

“What?” he asked, and softly bit her shoulder. He’d get up in a minute. Once he could move.

“Nothing.”

He slid his hand to her behind and gave her a soft little slap. “Tell me.” He rubbed her skin.

“That really was quick.”

“You came a long time.”

“I know. That’s the best quickie I’ve ever had. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I think I deserve a medal.” He slid out of her body and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“What? Best quickie on a couch?”

“Best stamina.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “Like a racehorse.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That was just a warm-up. I’m even better in the long stretch.”

She stepped away from him and reached for her panties. “We agreed on a quickie.” She pulled them on, then stepped into her pajama pants. She looked up at him through her hair. “A front quickie from behind off your menu.” She reached for her shirt and pulled it over her head. “You bent me over and served your part of the deal.”

Wait. Was she kicking him out? He was just getting started. “I’ve got all night to bend you lots of other ways.” His pants and underwear were around his ankles and he pulled them up.

“It’s late.”

He adjusted himself and watched her pull on her shirt. It wasn’t that late. “Are you kicking me out?” he asked, because women didn’t kick him out. Not after he’d given them a quality quick one and they had an entire night to take it slow.

“Charlotte and I get up early.” She reached for his T-shirt on the floor. “We’ll probably be gone when you bring Sparky over. I’ll leave the side door open for you.” She threw the shirt, and he caught it just before it wrapped around his face. “Make sure he’s pooped first.”

She was kicking him out. Un-fucking-believable.

The next morning, Natalie lifted a cup of coffee to her lips and smiled. She stood in the stock room of her shop and pulled a stapler from a drawer beneath her worktable.

Last night, Blake’s face had been priceless. He’d looked truly baffled when she’d told him he had to leave. He’d had the same look the night Charlotte and Sparky had darted past him and into his house after he’d been so sure he’d dumped the dog and somehow his carefully crafted plans had been countermanded.

She set the cup on the table, then wrapped a canvas photograph of one of the ugliest cats she’d ever seen over a wooden frame. She would guess that not many women had ever kicked him out after sex. They probably kept him locked up all night ordering off his menu. It might be true that Natalie hadn’t had sex in a very long time, but she did remember that quickies weren’t always satisfying. At least not for the woman. Women needed more buildup. More lead time. More foreplay.

Blake was right. He
did
deserve a medal.

She carefully stapled the edges of the canvas to the back of the frame. Blake was good at quickies. Like he’d practiced them a lot. She was sure he’d been bending women over for a really long time. Probably since puberty.

She hated to admit it, but the thought of him touching other faceless women the way he’d touched her bothered her more than it should. More than she had a right to be bothered. She’d ordered from his menu and he’d delivered the goods. In fact, he’d delivered amazingly good goods. She’d known what she was getting. She’d known that sex with Blake had nothing to do with a relationship and feelings. He didn’t connect the two, like he thought they were mutually exclusive.

She carefully placed the canvas-framed photo of Ted Porter’s hairless cat in a shadow box. She couldn’t be mad at Blake. Or at least she shouldn’t be mad at him. She was the one who wanted to have some sort of loving relationship with a man before she had sex with him. She was the one who’d made that personal choice years ago, and she was the one responsible for compromising her principles.

Until Blake, that choice hadn’t been hard. Most of the men in Truly were married or living with their mom and a dozen cats and smelled like Friskies. She held up the canvas photo. Men like Ted. Until Blake, her stance on sex and relationships hadn’t really been an issue. Her willpower had never been tested because there hadn’t been any men that interested her. Certainly no man had tempted her like Blake.

She grabbed a pencil from the bib of her apron and marked the inside of the shadow box. Blake hadn’t lied. She knew where he stood. If she had deeper feelings for him than he had for her, it wasn’t his fault. She wasn’t sure that she’d call her feelings for him love. Blake Junger wasn’t the kind of man a smart woman fell in love with. He was the kind of guy a woman could depend on if she was kidnapped or chased by jewel smugglers in Cartagena. He’d said it himself, when the lead started flying, he was a good man to have around. A woman could depend on him to keep her safe. Physically safe, but she could never depend on him to keep her heart safe.

Natalie measured the inside of the shadow box, then placed dabs of glue on the canvas frame. Blake was also the kind of guy to carry a five-year-old home if she hurt her knee and was being dramatic. That was the guy who made her heart pinch and warmed her up inside. That was the guy who confused her and made her susceptible to his menu. That Blake was far more dangerous than the private military sniper.

They were both the same guy. Both the same Blake. He was a guy who was physically perfect but emotionally stunted. He was a break-your-heart kind of guy.

Natalie set the framed photo aside and stared on a second canvas cat picture for Ted. She and Blake shared a dog. They were neighbors, and Charlotte thought he was her best friend.

She knew Blake liked her, but liking her didn’t mean he wanted to be with her, anymore than a quickie meant they were lovers. He liked her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to share his life with her anymore than the bits he shared of his life meant he was an open book.

The bell in the front of the store rang as Natalie finished the second shadow box. She was expecting Lilah to come in for coffee and to talk about some photos Lilah wanted taken for her portfolio. That was the reason Lilah gave for coming in, but they both knew better. Lilah wanted to grill Natalie about last night. Natalie didn’t want to spill the details, but Lilah would get them out of her. She always did.

She moved from the stock room and past her photo press. Instead of Lilah, Blake stood on the other side of the front counter. He wore his brown coat, a khaki and black shemagh around his neck. It had started to snow, and melted drops caught the light and shone in his hair. His face was expressionless. Purposely blank, but his eyes watched her move toward him, so hot she feared her hair would start smoking. The singed look that Lilah had mentioned. The one that made Natalie susceptible to his menu. The one that made her world shift and spun her head around.

“I thought you left.”

“I’m leaving now.” He combed his fingers through the droplets in his hair. “I put Sparky inside your house and locked the door behind me. You shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked.”

He hadn’t come by to tell her he’d locked her side door. “I leave it unlocked for Tilda and Charlotte.” She’d made the babysitter keys before, but she’d lost two sets. “Will you be back by Thanksgiving?” she asked. She didn’t want to talk about last night. She wanted him to stay on his side of the counter and keep his hands to himself and talk about the weather or something. Not about sex with Blake. He was good at talking about sex, and talking about it always led to doing or almost doing it.

“No.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Once I’m back in the country, I’m meeting up with my brother in San Diego to spend Thanksgiving with my father.” He pulled one hand from his pocket and checked his watch again. “When I get back we’re going to talk about last—”