A Taste Of Paradise: Addicted to You. Leslie Kelly
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Was that all he wanted to do? Because talking was the one thing she did not want to do with him. Using that bed, however... No!
He moved behind her to shut the double doors, locking them to ensure they wouldn’t be disturbed. “I have lost my ability to speak when I’m around you,” he said, staring down at her, his brown eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth.”
She looked away. “No kidding.”
“I didn’t mean to say those things about your mother the other night. I don’t even know her.”
“If you did, you’d realize she’s honest and kind, and definitely not a swindler.”
“Bad choice of words.” He walked toward the patio doors, gazing out at the ocean and crossing his arms over his chest. “I shouldn’t have made snap judgments about her.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“I...apologize.”
“Gee, you’re using that word a lot with me this week.”
“Too often.” Still not looking at her, posture stiff, almost angry. “And I apologize for that, too. I...haven’t been myself.”
No kidding. He was a very different man. But she would have sworn that when they were bantering earlier, the real Nate, the sexy charmer she’d met in Vegas, was still lurking in there somewhere.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Have you resigned yourself to the fact that there’s nothing to be done about this wedding?”
Heather hesitated, torn between the truth and her desire to keep a distance between them. Finding any common ground could be dangerous, could make her start to care about him again, more than she should. Besides, the sting of his comments about her mother hadn’t entirely eased, despite his apology.
“They’re grownups,” she replied with a shrug. Unable to resist, she came closer, drawn by the magnificent views. From up here, she could see farther out into the ocean, enough to catch a glimpse of a far-off ship heading up the coast. She couldn’t imagine waking up to this every day. “This is so lovely.”
“You should have been here to see it ten months ago.”
Without warning, he reached up and brushed her hair off her cheek. Heather sucked in a breath, shocked by the warm pleasure that washed over her at such a simple graze of skin on skin.
She’d missed his touch. She’d missed everything about him.
“Heather...”
“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head and stepping away. Because missing wasn’t enough. There was such a thing as self-respect. Not to mention self-preservation. “It’s too late.”
“I know that.” He moved toward her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body just inches away from hers. She felt the magnetic pull of it down to her very bones. “But I can’t help myself. I’ve got to touch you.”
Before she could reply, he’d reached up and cupped her face in both hands. And then he was kissing her and sanity disappeared.
* * *
NATE HAD BROUGHT her up here to talk, only that, needing to make amends for the shitty things he’d said about her mother the other night. That he’d believed them to be true at the time—and was still on the fence about Amy’s motivations in marrying his father—wasn’t the point. He never should have said such things to Heather.
But seeing her here in his bedroom, standing in a beam of sunlight that illuminated streaks of spun gold through her red hair, he’d simply been unable to resist kissing her.
She didn’t resist, either. After that one shocked flare of her eyes, he’d covered her mouth with his and she’d responded with the same need.
Ten months disappeared. So did all the negative crap he’d been dealing with. He’d never understood what getting lost in a kiss meant until he met her. And he welcomed being lost again.
She tasted the same—that unique, spicy-sweet flavor that belonged to Heather. The fruitiness of the drink she’d been sipping was still on her tongue, making her that much more delicious. He plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, exploring and savoring her.
She met him stroke for stroke, thrusting her tongue against his, soft, warm, wet. She twined her arms around his neck and held him close. Her delicious body melted against his, and Nate growled in the back of his throat, all his male genes recognizing her, wanting nothing more than to again possess her.
Sinking his hands into her hair, he turned her head so he could go even deeper, intent on sampling every single bit of her. He moved his hands down her neck, reaching around to the zipper at the top of her dress. The zipper made the faintest of sounds as he slid it down—the only thing audible, other than their own shared breaths.
He tilted her head again, taking more of her hot, wanton kiss as he pushed the dress off her shoulders. It was loose and soft, a pretty, flowery thing that had drawn his eye again and again on this morning’s flight. She’d ignored him, but he’d been able to see, think of and want nothing else but her.
The dress had been beautiful on her, but it looked even better on the floor.
He ended the kiss so he could draw away and stare down at her, smiling at the sight of those beautiful bare breasts—she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Her nipples were so pretty and pebbled, revealing her arousal. Not that he wasn’t already fully aware of what she wanted.
He moved his mouth down her throat, kissing her, biting lightly, breathing in her fragrance. “I couldn’t think of anything else on that plane today except how much I wanted to join the mile-high club with you,” he admitted as he reached for one breast, cupping it, tweaking the nipple with his thumb.
A throaty laugh left her mouth.
“God, I want you,” he admitted. “Not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought about you.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
He heard the tension in her voice, but also felt the pliant longing of her body. She was trying to stay angry but couldn’t manage it. And neither could he.
“Heather...”
“Shut up, Nate,” she said, twisting her fingers in his hair as he moved down to her breast. “Don’t talk. Let’s just communicate the way we do best. With sex.”
“Fine by me,” he said before licking that saucy nipple. When she gasped, he covered it and suckled her, continuing to squeeze and toy with the other one.
She was shaking, shuddering, and had to lean back against the glass door. Nate continued to move down her, tasting her, looking for changes to the feminine form he’d memorized last year. He found none—she was still absolutely perfect.
He dropped to his knees, kissing her belly as he drew her panties down her bare legs. Moving lower, he rubbed his lips over the soft curls of her crotch, breathing on her, inhaling her. Heather groaned and shifted her legs apart.
He flicked out his tongue, searching for that pretty little clit, knowing just how to make her crazy. Heather gasped and jerked toward his mouth as he lavished his attention on her, getting off on the musky taste of her, the sweet, womanly way she smelled.
He reached up and grabbed her hips, arching her toward his hungry mouth, sliding his tongue down between her lips. Heather twined her hands in his hair—not to push him away, but as if needing to hold on for dear life while he fucked her with his tongue. She lifted a leg and draped it over his shoulder, giving him better access, and he plunged deep, licking into her and then going back to her clit to give her more of what she needed most.
It took less than a minute. She shook, cried out and tightened her grip on his hair, rocked with an orgasm. Her legs trembled and she leaned on the door for support.
He