A Taste of Ice (20 page)

She took him until he was done. When his chin dropped back down, she kissed him right on the tip, released him, and sat back on those high heels. She looked up at him under her lashes, rubbing her smiling lips with the back of her hand. He stared down at her in utter wonder.

The Burned Man was blessedly silent. It emboldened Xavier, made him feel invincible.

He stroked Cat’s cheek. “My God,” he said. It wasn’t his god, but it didn’t matter. The expression was appropriately reverent, when it came to her.

She rose gracefully, then slid backward onto the bed. His bed. He had to blink twice to realize the image was real. She took his hands and hooked his fingers under the strings of her underwear. He followed her wordless command, pulled them down her legs and snapped them off her foot. Then he realized, just like on the bus, he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do next.

She gave him a hint, slowly opening her legs. Turned out, it was all he needed.

Sliding his hands under her hard, tanned thighs, he pushed her legs up and stared down at the only place on a woman he’d ever gotten off on before tonight. Only those women weren’t
one tenth as lovely as Cat. She was smooth down there, and wet, which meant only one thing.

“You liked going down on me?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so shocked.

“Yeah.”

Her hips writhed on the wrinkled bedspread. The movement mesmerized him and his mouth salivated for the taste of her. But was he doing this for her or for him? He couldn’t chance it. Not tonight.

“Say it.”

As he brought his hands around to grip her inner thighs and open her more, she shivered. “I want your mouth on me.” Her voice was broken and tempting, and she was barely finished speaking before he leaned down and dragged his tongue through one of the most lovely things he’d ever put in his mouth.

She sighed loudly. He swathed her with his tongue again. Instinct took over, and he opened his ears to her sounds. The sounds she didn’t—couldn’t—make on the bus. He learned by moans and gasps where she liked his tongue and lips, and at what speeds. He was educated by the little tremors of her thighs and how they clamped around his ears.

For her. For her. All for her.

But he couldn’t ignore how his body was starting to harden all over again. How making things good for her so easily created a direct line of pleasure for him.

When she came, he absorbed her energy, fed off it. She was wild, her body loose, one of her hands in his hair, the other clamping around his wrist. Like the bus, he kept going until she calmed, her ass lowering from where it had bucked off the bedspread.

She said his name, her lower lip fitting between her teeth, her eyes so wide and dark in the dim light from the lamp.

His jeans still looped around his ankles and he kicked out of them. He started a slow assault up her body, leading with his mouth. First her flat belly, then the indent of her navel, then across the hard ridges of her ribs.
Is this what you want?
he asked silently, and the undulations of her body answered affirmatively. When he took her sweet nipple between his lips, she quivered.

Using his body, he pushed her farther up the bed so they
could both lay upon it. He settled on top of her, so much skin beneath him. Her legs wound around him. Then her arms. Then her soul.

They kissed and kissed. Hard, hot grinds and slow, tender pecks, all mixed together. He let her lead, and he loved where she took him. It was so easy to make her happy, to give her this.

At last he released her, rolled to one side, and ran a hand down her thigh, his skin so pale against her Florida tan. When he came to her foot he slipped off her shoe and she moaned. He quirked an eyebrow up at her.

“You like that?”

She laughed languidly. “No. It just feels amazing to finally take those ridiculous things off.”

Glancing down, he saw the angry, red marks from the shoes. He bent her knee and slipped the other shoe off and gently palmed her feet.

He sat up and set the shoes neatly at the foot of the bed, and when he turned around, torso half bent over her, she was staring at him.

“You were wrong,” she said on an exhale. “You’re the one who’s beautiful.”

No, not beautiful. Never him.

She ran a hand down his arm. “When you’re ready, I want you inside me.”

He looked down, where he was nearly hard again. “I don’t know.”

“Please.” Her fingers tightened on his biceps. “For me, Xavier. For me, if that’s what you need to hear.”

He turned fully toward her then, coming to his knees over her. She saw his erection, then looked up at him with gleefully shocked eyes. “Wow. So soon?”

That’s my boy
.

He went still, cringing at the shredded voice coming from the hall as much as at her surprise. Was getting hard again that soon unusual? It was all he knew, how he’d been conditioned. Get it up, get it inside a woman, do it all over again. Squeezing his eyes shut, he slid his body up hers and kissed her fiercely.

“You make me hard.”

She smiled against his lips. “Good.”

God, she was so happy. She made
him
happy, and not just
because he was cradled between her thighs, the tip of his cock brushing her wetness.

Taking his face in her hands, she said what he needed to hear. “I want you inside me.”

Anything for her. He started to push inside.

“Wait. Stop.” She pushed lightly against his shoulders. “I can’t believe we didn’t cover this already, but do you have condoms?”

Dread turned his blood to sludge. How could he have forgotten? That could have been a disaster of the biggest kind, given what his body could do.

Did he have any condoms? He remembered a shoe box, reluctantly brought from San Francisco, that contained a long string of square foils. He’d considered throwing the box out, but like an alcoholic hiding his bottles, he’d shoved the box into the farthest reaches of his closet, thinking that maybe if he fell off the wagon, at least he’d be ready.

He lunged for the closet and rummaged around, the mess he was making niggling in the back of his mind. He’d clean it later. Tomorrow.

There. On the top shelf, the tattered shoe box. When he brought it down his hands were shaking. The box fell to the floor but in his hand dangled a rope of silver-wrapped condoms. He ripped one off and opened it with his teeth.

Out in the hall, the Burned Man said,
Nice to see you back. Get this one done, then move on to the next
.

On the bed, Cat lifted herself to an elbow with a wry grin. “Excited or something?”

“Tell me again,” he said softly.

Her grin faded and she gazed at him in all seriousness, with so much desire it made his heart ache. “I want you. I want you inside me.”

That want filled his ears and his body, nudged into the places where he’d cracked over time. For the first time in years—maybe ever—he felt whole. He swiveled, marched to the bedroom door and stared out into the hall. The Burned Man stood there, sneering.

Go the fuck away
, Xavier told him. And slammed the door.

Cat jolted off the bed. “What was that about?”

Xavier went to her, unfettered. Gathered her in his arms
and kissed her. She softened, reaching between them to stroke him. With a groan he pulled back, rolled on the condom. She lay back on the bed, her hair streaming over the pillow he slept on every night. He covered her with his body. Instantly she went soft and open.

Now. Yes
, his body screamed. And he obeyed, nudging himself inside her. The heat and tightness of her drove his eyes shut. This was more than good. This was the best he’d ever had, ever felt, and it had everything to do with the sounds she made, the little words of encouragement, the greedy clutch of her hands on his back. With the fact that it was his Caterina beneath him.

He rocked into her, inch by glorious inch. Then suddenly it wasn’t enough. It was too slow and too gentle and if he didn’t fuck her as hard as he could—as hard as the desire demanded—it wouldn’t satisfy. He only knew how to do this one way. He hadn’t lied before; she deserved better. She deserved worship, and he didn’t trust himself to give that to her.

His eyes flew open. Sweat broke out all over his body. He stopped moving altogether. She swung her drug-lidded eyes to his.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t want to stop. His hands and mouth were one thing—they were virginal and they could be trained—but his hips and cock had minds of their own, and he was scared to death of unleashing them on her.

He rolled to his side, wrapped an arm around her slim waist and swung her up on top of him. “I need you to do it.”

She looked at him only for a moment, then bent to kiss him on the mouth, her tongue touching his in understanding. She rose high and lovely above him, slid a hot hand around his dick and fitted him inside her. Deep, all the way, until he couldn’t be inside her any deeper…

“Oh God,”
he cried out, that prayer again.

She began to move. Slowly. Up and back, up and back, creating a rhythm she loved.

“Take what you want,” he croaked. “I’m yours, Cat.”

She threw back her head and moved faster. It was the most perfect sexual experience he’d ever had. Tonight was a night of firsts, and this, by far, was the best. To be at her mercy, to
let her ride him, pulled out the most primal of sensations inside him. He watched her until he simply couldn’t anymore; it was like staring into the sun. Even when he closed his eyes and just
felt
, he could still see her body undulating on top of him.

When he came, he almost bucked her off the bed. He couldn’t control the pump of his hips, the stroke of him upward inside her. His eyes flew open. There she was again, a goddess with her hair swinging in front of her face. Her body collapsed under the power of her orgasm and he caught her as she tilted to one side.

He laid her alongside him, got rid of the condom, and the world went right on its axis again.

He wrapped her in his arms, as though shielding her from the ghost outside, when really it had been the other way around. She’d protected him. He smiled into her hair, so she couldn’t see how grateful he was.

What surprised him most was the strength in Cat’s return embrace. No woman had ever held him so tightly. He stroked the length of her hair, smoothing it down her back as she curled one hand around his neck, her thumb running along his jaw. Her cheek rested against his chest. Another first.

He watched the green digital clock in the corner click past three, then three thirty.

Her breathing slowed. Her muscles relaxed. Seconds away from sleep, she murmured, “What happened to you?”

And to chalk up another first, he actually had the urge to tell her.

He listened to her breathe in sleep for a long time. Only as he finally drifted off himself did he realize that Cat’s pleasure truly had been his as well, and the whole time he’d been inside her, the Burned Man hadn’t forced his way into the bedroom…or his head.

Foggy gray sunlight fell over Cat as she woke up in Xavier’s
bed.
In Xavier’s bed
.

She rolled over to find him lying on his side, one arm propping up his head, already watching her. The blanket covered him to his waist, and she let her eyes wander down the lean, chiseled body she’d run her hands all over last night. The urge to touch him again overtook her, but the pensive look in his eyes stilled her hands.

“I’ve never slept with a woman before,” he said.

She smiled. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I meant I’ve never woken up with one.”

So he’d been one of
those
guys. Suddenly a lot of his behavior made sense. A “mimbo” trying to reform or redeem himself, trying to stay away from women. Maybe he’d played the field for so long that when he finally met someone he really liked—that tourist girl, perhaps—and she hadn’t returned the infatuation, he’d just given up altogether.

“I’m glad I was your first.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “So what’s the protocol here? I’m flying blind.”

“Wellll”—she stretched a hand across the cool expanse of sheet that separated them—“it feels like something died in my mouth, so kissing’s out of the question, but if you pull me to you and wrap yourself around me, you won’t hear any protests.”

He reached out those strong arms and did exactly as she said, all that naked skin sliding against hers and making her sigh. She buried her face in his warm neck and wrapped one
leg around his hips. There was confusion and satisfaction in his touch. One moment he clenched her tightly, the next he loosened as though he was about to let go.

“Make you breakfast?” he murmured into her hair.

“Absolutely.” She kissed his neck. “That’s really why I came over last night, you know. To trick you into cooking for me again. All this sex? Just a ruse.”

When he pulled back and gazed into her eyes, his close-lipped smile made her fall just a little bit harder for him. Because that’s definitely what had started to happen last night.

He rolled out of bed, his long legs striding for the dresser that had seen better days. He stepped gracefully into boxer briefs and then gray sweatpants. Though last night he hadn’t believed that she wanted to see his body, in reality he wasn’t at all shy about moving around without clothes.

“Can I borrow a T-shirt?” she asked.

He popped open the top dresser drawer an inch. What a strange thing to bring out his secret smile, but it did. “Help yourself. Take your time.”

Before he left the bedroom, he stood for a few seconds with his hand on the doorknob, staring at the wood. As though preparing himself for something that might be waiting on the other side. She recalled that odd moment last night when he’d slammed it. Now he opened it fast. His torso contracted as he exhaled heavily, then he walked down the hall and disappeared into the kitchen.

With a reluctant glance at the digital clock, she realized she didn’t have much time at all. She was supposed to have a lunch meeting with Helen to debrief last night’s event. No Michael, thank God. It was ten thirty now. Only an hour left with Xavier.