“Thanks.” Her dark eyes sparkled with warmth at his compliment. “Tom and I never should have gotten married. We were friends in law school, nothing more. He was such a player, I never took him seriously. Then somehow we ended up together and I still can’t figure out how or why.”
“Love?”
“I thought so, but really I think we did it just because it was ‘time’, you know? Tom felt like he was at the age where he should get married. All of his colleagues were married and I think he started to feel a little out of place.”
“I can see that,” he admitted, resting his elbows on the granite countertop.
She wrinkled her nose and it hit him suddenly that he’d just been inside her, holding her, touching her however he wanted. It was the first time he could remember where he didn’t forget the sex as soon as it was done. Fucking Steph was an addition to an already established relationship and not the entire reason for it.
Now if he could only change their professional relationship into a personal one. He had to admit, he was usually actively working to do just the opposite so he was out of his depth.
“Do guys have a marriage clock?”
He laughed. “Like a biological clock?”
“Yes.”
“I guess there is some peer pressure after awhile. If you’re thirty-something and single, even women start to think there must be something wrong with you or else some chick would’ve snapped you up.” Turning away, he opened the fridge and pulled out the produce he’d chosen to make a salad with. He was a simple guy. Spaghetti, salad and breadsticks were about as much as he could do with confidence in a tasty outcome. “I personally don’t care what people think.”
“I would say that’s pretty obvious.”
The humor in her tone had him looking over his shoulder at her.
Steph was grinning. “This whole wish list thing is really a bad idea, but I have to admit, it’s worth it to see you dressed like that.”
“You’re not laughing at me, are you?” He’d been a little nervous. Like anyone, he didn’t want to look stupid in front of someone he wanted to sleep with. Bent over like he was, he knew she was getting an eyeful of every damn thing he had to offer.
“No.” Her gaze was mischievous and warm. “I’m actually really impressed with you. You have enough confidence to wear that. I know I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“Personally…” He turned with an armful of vegetables, which he dumped on the counter. “I’d like you in just the hat. That’s my Christmas wish.”
“You know—” Her fingers toyed with her beer.
“I know what?”
She sighed. “I really thought getting the sex out of the way would make me more comfortable.”
“The sex isn’t ‘ out of the way’,” he retorted, pulling a knife out of the wooden block next to him. “Just say what you’re thinking. I’m the one wearing nothing but a Santa hat, apron and a smile, so you’ve got no business being shy about anything.”
“Thank you,” she blurted, her gaze focused on the beer label she was removing from the bottle. “I don’t care why you did it. I don’t care if you just want to get laid. I’m flattered you went to all this trouble.”
Nick paused with his knife halfway through a cucumber and stared at her. “It wasn’t any trouble, Steph. I like giving you what you want, I like seeing you smile.”
She blew out her breath and fiddled with her collar. “Do you need my help with anything?”
It wasn’t like her to be so nervous or to switch subjects because she was uncomfortable, which told him she wasn’t dealing too well with tonight’s events. He knew it was a lot to throw at her—the photo, the wish list, the sex. Before the Secret Santa exchange they’d been nothing but distant co-workers. Now they were lovers.
He’d had a couple months to adapt to his changing feelings for her. She’s had a couple hours. She was asking for a little space and he had no problem giving it to her.
“No, I’ve got it covered. Go watch TV or something. It won’t be too much longer.”
“Okay. I’m going to wash up then.”
He gestured toward the hallway with a toss of his chin. “First door on the right.”
Steph locked gazes with Nick for a long moment and knew she was in trouble. He didn’t have that air about him that said, Thanks for the fuck, you can go now. No, his vibe was very homey and relaxed. And she was falling for it like a ton of bricks.
Somehow she made it down the short hallway to the bathroom, where she leaned against the vanity and stared in the mirror. The glazed look in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks made her wince.
Damn it, she didn’t need this right now! A relationship was completely out of the question on a good day, but to fall for a guy who had “temporary” written all over him was just plain stupid. Hadn’t she learned anything at all from her years with Tom?
Apparently not.
When dinner was done, she was going home. They’d both gotten what they wanted.
It was time to minimize the damage.
* * * * *
“That was wonderful.”
Steph smiled at Nick as she set her fork down, not the least bit concerned that she’d cleaned her plate. They’d eaten together many times over the last year and after the first time he’d praised her hearty appetite, she’d ceased being concerned about appearances.
“You’re either too generous or you were really hungry.” He stood and picked up her plate from the small oak dining table. Featuring a pine centerpiece lit by three red tapers, it was both inviting and unexpected. There was so much about him she didn’t know. But she wanted to learn. Nick wasn’t good relationship material, but he was a fascinating guy, a great lawyer and a good friend from what she’d heard.
She watched him walk into the kitchen, his fine ass flexing as he took each step.
Occasional glimpses of his c*ck and balls kept her hot, and she grabbed her napkin to dab at the fine sheen of sweat that misted her forehead. He was also a fantastic and generous lover, but then she’d always suspected that and heard innuendo to the same.
The urge to bolt she’d felt in the bathroom earlier was now suddenly overwhelming.
It was time to go.
Standing, she reached for her duffle. It was rude to leave without offering to clean, but maybe a little animosity between them would be a good thing.
“What are you doing?” he asked behind her, the volume of his voice telling her that he was still some distance away.
“I’m going to head out,” she said with forced casualness, even as her heart raced.
“Thanks for a great evening.”
Suddenly, she was crowded into the table from behind by a very hard body. “Talk to me, Steph.” His palms flattened on the surface, caging her in place.
“We’ve been talking all through dinner.”
“About everything except us.”
“There is no ‘ us’.”
One of his hands reached into the pocket of her skirt.
“How many condoms did you bring? Feels like you’ve got half a dozen in here.” He tossed one onto the tabletop. “You were planning for a busy night. Now, all of a sudden, you’re done?”
“Yeah, well.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect you to be so good. You took care of things the first go-round.”
“Bullshit. You’re as hot for it now as you were when you jumped me.” Wrapping a hand around her throat, he tilted her head back. He nipped her ear with his teeth and she shivered. “What’s got you running scared?”
She stiffened. “I’m not scared. I just think we both got what we wanted and it’s best to end the night before it gets complicated.”
“Guess what?” Nick bent his knees and rubbed the hard length of his c*ck between the cheeks of her ass. Somewhere between the kitchen and the dining room he’d lost the apron. With only the thin layer of her gauze skirt between them, she felt every millimeter of his arousal. “I’m not finished getting what I wanted and it’s already complicated.”
“Nick…” Her eyes closed on a whimper as he cupped the weight of one breast.
Heat flared across her skin. She was suddenly more than hot, she was burning up, melting. He smelled like heaven and felt even better. She’d had a ton of daydreams about him, but they’d always been raw. Carnal. Fucking on her desk or his. Buttons flying everywhere. Rough hands and bruising lips. Never had there been this gentleness, this concern for her feelings and pleasure.
“You had a wish list, Steph. Fantasies about me. Tell me why you don’t want to live them out anymore.” The pads of his fingers brushed across her nipple and it peaked into a hard, aching tip.
“Fantasies aren’t meant to come true.”
“Mine did. Yours too.”
“That’s the problem,” she muttered.
His hand left her breast and lifted her skirt, bunching it in his fists. She should stop him, wiggle away. He wouldn’t keep her against her will, despite the forearm that crossed between her br**sts and the grip that held her neck. But the energy she needed to escape just wasn’t there. It had been so long since she’d been held with such tender lust, she didn’t have the heart to reject it.