A Taste of Ice (19 page)

But then his hand that had curled into a fist threaded through his hair, and he looked like he didn’t believe his own plea.

She shrugged out of her coat and let it fall in a heap at her ankles. From behind his hair, he stared at her dress as though it were made of chocolate, his jaw working.

“Do you want me?” she whispered.

“You know I do,” he growled. “But it can’t be about me.”

Those cryptic words again. There was no room for them here. Not tonight. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, I want you, Xavier.”

A strange sort of peace fluttered across his face. He cocked an ear, as though listening for something, or someone. “Say that again,” he murmured.

Another two steps closer. “I. Want. You.”

“I told you,” he closed his eyes, “you’re worth more than a quick fuck.”

“So let’s not make it quick.”

His eyelids flew open, his stare striking her like two hot, iron spears. “I don’t think I know how to do that.”

“I’ll show you. The first thing you should do is get me naked.”

He winced as though she’d hurt him, but she knew that wasn’t the case. Even across the room she could feel him vibrating, could see the mouth-watering erection rising underneath his jeans.

The thrill of her words—so brave, so unlike anything she’d ever said to any guy before—chugged through her blood and centered on her clit, turning her on in a way that made it nearly impossible for her to stand much longer.

She gestured to the coffee table he’d deliberately placed between them. “Still protecting yourself?”

“From you? Not anymore.”

He kicked aside the flimsy coffee table. It flipped over and struck the couch. In three long strides he erased the space between them. He grabbed her without pretense or care, wrapping both arms around her back, forearms clenching over the bare patch of skin, lifting her off the carpet. Like wings, her arms flew around his neck, clutching him as close as humanly possible.

The moment their mouths met, in a wet, open, passionate kiss, pleasure exploded in her brain. She forgot her own name, why she’d ever even come to Colorado. The only thing she knew was the taste of his tongue and all the places she needed to feel it on her body.

One of his large hands slid up her back, shooting gooseflesh and desire throughout her entire system. That hand buried in her hair, yanked her head back. His mouth left hers to feast on her throat. The sounds that came from her mouth were
unrecognizable. She’d never been one to give in or give up, but that must have been what surrender sounded like. Like heaven.

Her toes touched the ground again. She gripped fistfuls of his hair—thick and knotted and damp, and sexy as all hell—and pulled his face back to hers. She could kiss him forever, but tonight was made for new things. Knocking down walls. Facing fears. Daring one another.

With a groan she pulled her lips from his and broke the seal between their bodies. He looked drugged, lost. She understood. His fingers dug hard into her waist. They both breathed hard.

With great effort, she released him and dropped her arms languidly to her sides. “Will you take off my dress?” She barely recognized her own voice, all throaty and saying these bold things.

“Caterina,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Tonight I’ll do anything you want.”

Closing his eyes, Xavier silently psyched himself up. He could
do this. This was what his beautiful Cat wanted, what she told him to do. Like on the bus. Just do whatever she wanted and the Burned Man couldn’t say a thing.

Xavier loosened his grip on her waist, slid his hands around her back and sucked in a breath when his fingers touched her bare skin. So smooth, so taut. He found the dip of her dress, sitting there against her lower back, and traced the fabric edge all the way up to her shoulders. She shivered under his touch, and he told himself that everything he did was for her pleasure. He got absolutely nothing out of the way his fingers skated over her softness, or the encouraging sounds she made at the back of her throat, or the way she swayed on those shoes and had to reach out to steady herself on his biceps. The taste of her, the eager way she clutched at him…

Nope. No pleasure there whatsoever.

Yeah right.

The Burned Man sat behind him at the kitchen table, just waiting for him to fuck up. Or just waiting for him to fuck, period.

Xavier put his cheek against hers. His fingers curled under the fabric of her dress, his knuckles brushing her collarbone. Only her shoulders held up the sparkling dress. Instinct told him to rip the garment from her body, but a burning desire to do right by her overtook him.

Do it
, her eyes pleaded. And then, so did her mouth.

So he obeyed, because it was all for her. Everything, for her.

He slid the fabric down over the curves of her shoulders.
Down the long, freckled lines of her arms. Slower than he ever thought himself capable of. He didn’t know if he could watch himself unwrap Cat like a present, so he let his eyelids flutter closed and listened to the excitement in her breathing.

The dress caught on the slope of her breasts. When he cracked open his eyes, he saw how the bright orange fabric hung on the peaks of her hard nipples. Oh God, he was going to get to see them. She wanted him to, he reminded himself. She wanted him to.

Need pounded behind the zipper of his jeans. He shoved it away.

The dress was heavy, the thousands of little sequins giving it a coarse, cool texture against the hotness of her skin. He pulled it away from her breasts, felt her body give it up. He let it drop. Gravity sucked it to the carpet. It jingled as it landed, puddling around her feet. And there she stood.

He stepped back. Couldn’t breathe for the sight of her.

The only thing she wore were the sky-high heels the same color as her skin and a tiny triangle of pink lace underwear, whose strings made heavenly indentations around her hips.

Her lungs pumped, her gorgeous, round breasts heaving, her nipples pink and hard. For
him
. A piece of her newly straightened hair fell over her shoulder. With a thumb he pushed it back so he could see all of her. Because it was what she wanted.

“You look scared,” she whispered. “And excited.”

“Yes,” he said. Let her pick which word he’d agreed to.

“Touch me.” Her voice shook with plaintiveness.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” It came out much more forcefully than he’d intended, but Cat just swayed on her feet, her lips parting.

He reached out and palmed her breasts, her nipples in the place where he normally cradled his knives. She thrust her chest toward him. It drove his eyes shut, made his dick throb with need. Blind with desire, he lowered his head and somehow found her mouth. It was a quick kiss, this one, because to have her naked in his hands and his mouth on hers detonated his senses. And behind him, the Burned Man was stirring.

Xavier withdrew, his hands falling to her hips. The tiny strings of her underwear teased him.

“Don’t move away,” she whimpered. “Don’t leave me cold.”

“I’m not.” He slid a hand around her scalp, digging his fingers into that sleek hair. “I just need to slow down.”

“Okay.” Her voice shuddered. “Okay.”

He wanted to touch every inch of her, especially that place inside her where she went all wet for him, but he started with her hand.

Lacing his fingers with hers, he gave a small tug and pulled her from the circle of the puddled orange dress. The way she looked at him, he knew that she’d do anything he wanted her to, but it couldn’t be that way. He’d already told her; she didn’t deserve that.

He glanced around the tacky plainness of his dated living room, made even worse by the yellow light coming from the kitchen. Cat was too perfect for this room. He wanted to make her come like on the bus. But not in here.

“Will you come with me?” he asked softly.

“Anywhere.”

He couldn’t help it. He glanced over his shoulder at the Burned Man, who was grinning maliciously.

Xavier shook his head of the image and started walking backward down the short hall to his bedroom, gently pulling Cat with him. He watched her walk, nearly naked in those heels, the muscles in her thighs working just below the barely there underwear.

His bedroom was pitch black. He edged inside, Cat still standing in the hall. Her silhouette, curvy and backlit, was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Until the Burned Man materialized just beyond her.

“If we’re going to do this,” he told her, “I need you to tell me what you want.”

She came forward, crossing the threshold into his room, and pressed herself to him. Holy shit, she was warm everywhere, perhaps the warmest in her mouth, as her lips touched his.

“Can you turn on a light?”

He flipped on the nightstand lamp and angled it toward the wall so a soft light filled one corner.

“I want to see you.” She was having difficulty getting the words out, he could tell. “I want…to see your body.”

He froze. “You do?”

“Yes.”
The word sounded strangled.

He thought back to their first kiss, how he’d brutally shoved himself at her without any consideration, ground into her like a crazed animal. And that had been when they’d both been buried in heavy winter gear. Could he trust himself naked? Maybe, but only if he kept to his rules, if he let her steer the ship.

She touched his waist and his stomach muscles jumped, automatically sucking in. “I want to take your shirt off,” she whispered.

In the dim light he could see the longing on her face. Slowly he raised his arms and let her lift the hem of his shirt. Let her peel it away. Tried to ignore the murmur of her approval. She raised her palms to his chest, leaning in like she might kiss him there. He shrank back.

“Say, ‘I want.’”

Did he imagine it? Or did she like being told what to do? The Burned Man had said that only weak women liked to be ordered around, but Cat was nowhere near weak. She knew what she wanted, and that was the best kind of strength.

“I want to touch your chest,” she said, her voice coming stronger now, “and kiss your neck.”

Before he got a chance to nod, she was there, warm hands on his chest. Hot, wet tongue moving up and down his neck. His muscles started to lose their rigidity. She pressed against his erection and he stifled a groan. She loves this, he reminded himself. She loves…

He hadn’t felt her hands slide down his chest and abs until her fingers curled around the waistband of his jeans. Her nipples brushed his ribcage and he shuddered, because what she wanted was driving him out of his mind. He’d do anything for her, anything to please her.

Anything to fuck her
, offered the Burned Man out in the hall.

“I want to take your pants off,” she whispered, tongue in his ear.

She didn’t wait for his assent. As she pulled open the snap on his jeans and worked on the zipper, his hands found their way around her neck, under that silky hair. He rubbed his cheek over the top of her head as she opened his jeans and let them fall. Only when he felt cool air over his cock did he realize
she’d also dropped his underwear. For a split second he panicked, thinking this had gone too far, that she’d tripped an ugly wire in him and any second now he’d blink and find himself in a waking nightmare. That he couldn’t do this.

Then she lifted her face to his, her eyes glistening, and said, “I want you in my mouth.”

His cock screamed
yes.
His mouth said, “Are…are you sure?”

“God, Xavier. Yes.”

“Will you kiss me first? On the mouth?”

That’s not what you want
, came another’s garbled voice, because Xavier had had the audacity to ask for something for himself.

She arched high up on her toes to press her lips sweetly to his mouth, before sinking gracefully to her knees before him. His legs started to shake. He breathed heavily through his mouth. When she pressed soft hands to his thighs, dragging her fingernails up to his hip bones, he stilled. They stared into each other’s eyes, his hard cock jutting between them. She licked her lips and he repeated over and over in his mind,
She wants this. She wants this. She wants this.

He stood tense, every muscle primed to the point of pain.

As her beautiful lips slid over the head of his cock, two thoughts came to mind: One, what a fucking idiot he’d been, to turn this down so many times before. And two, he was so, so glad he’d saved this moment for Cat.

She started so slowly, licking around him, sucking him inside her mouth a bit at a time. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even hear whatever vile things the Burned Man spouted from out in the hall. She wrapped a hand around him. Squeezed. She sucked farther down. Her cheeks hollowed around him, the pressure and the slide building and building. His knees buckled. He could barely stand.

He must have had a million orgasms in his lifetime, but never one quite like this. Never one given to him as a gift because the other person wanted it even more. Never one he hadn’t had to work for himself. It was humbling and powerful and the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever seen a woman do.

Three years without, and the mind-bending power of impending orgasm knocked him sideways and back again.

Don’t come like this
, said the Burned Man.
Don’t you dare waste that. Remember what happened last time.

He did. Oh, shit, he remembered. The first and last time the Burned Man had caught him jacking off. The Ofarian had tortured him in a vat of water—dunking him in, holding him down. Xavier had yet to ever take a bath.

He panicked, tried to pull out of Cat’s mouth. Placed a hand on her head, attempted to push her away, but she dug in her fingernails and gave him a long, slow pull.

“Cat…” he began, but the sound of her name triggered the orgasm and he was helpless to stop it. Three years of caged sensation burst through him, jostling his body, wiping his mind blank then overfilling it with pure pleasure. His head dropped back, and he could have sworn that the ceiling above him disappeared and he could see all the way into the stars, all the way to Tedra. A sound filled the bedroom—a low pant, a moan—and he realized it came from his throat. Xavier, who had never uttered a sound before during sex.