Charming You (Thirsty Hearts Book 1) (21 page)

M
icky twitched
with excitement even as her shoulders tightened from hunching over her computer mildly blind from the presentation slides and videos she'd reviewed all day. She leaned over her desk with her back arched into a cat-like stretch.

"Enough," she said to the walls of her empty office. She gathered her purse and laptop bag and headed for the elevator. Nick expected her at seven. He'd invited her to his place for dinner and to watch a movie. She brought her travel bag to work, complete with a change of clothing. Hopefully, she wasn't being presumptuous, but she figured she might end up staying the night. At the thought, Micky willed the tiny nerves eating at her into oblivion.

She stepped into the elevator and exhaled. Looking to the weeks ahead, her life promised her the best days she'd had in years. Nick. Her trip to Paris. The biggest event of her career. Micky closed her eyes.
No nerves. No suspicions. Let life be good.

Following Nick's directions, Micky easily found the high-rise condominium building where he lived. The gleaming tower of glass sprang up with several siblings in a line out of downtown. Dallas developers sought to provide more livable space and breathe life into an area that used to house mostly ghosts in the evenings and on weekends. Micky pulled around the block and into the guest parking lot. She sent Nick a quick text.

She knew Nick lived well. His law firm competed with only two or three others for the title of most prestigious in Texas. That he was on track to make partner signaled the level of business he brought to the firm and the level of income he must bring home.

Still, walking into his building, Micky raised her eyebrows as her heels glided through the glass and marble wrapped lobby. Fading twilight reflected off the floor-to-ceiling windows and a sapphire blue reflecting pool beneath the sweep of a glass staircase up to the second floor. Elegant white leather chairs with chrome frames sat in the waiting area at precise angles on top of a bright white runner splashed with rich blue and green.

Behind the glass and steel reception desk, a starched middle-aged man in a suit too expensive for your average security guard eyed her and stretched his mouth into something resembling a smile.

"May I help you?"

"I'm here to see Nick Halden."

"Is he expecting you?"

"Yes. We just spoke."

"Your name?"

Micky told him, and a spark of recognition warmed the man's carefully polite demeanor. He checked her ID against some list on his computer. She must have met his requirements because his attitude thawed yet again.

"You know his apartment number?" he asked. Micky nodded. "The elevator is through those doors. Head over there and I'll buzz you in."

Without needing further conversation, Micky turned and moved around the reception desk to a set of frosted glass doors. As she approached, they slid open. He didn't quite live on the penthouse level, but close to it. Micky arrived at the twenty-eighth floor and followed Nick's directions to the left, down a thickly-carpeted hallway, clearly designed to eliminate the noisy clatter of footsteps.

She checked her phone again for the right apartment number and stopped in front of 2841, taking a deep breath before knocking.

He answered almost immediately. "Hey, beautiful," he breathed into her neck, planting a small kiss.

Heat rolled down her body from the point of contact with his lips. Micky reflexively reached up to Nick's shoulders. One hand found its way behind his neck, and she played with dark brown curls that flirted with his collar. He might need a haircut, but the emerging waves in his longish hair felt silky and sexy between her fingers. Unable to help herself, she lifted her chin and gave him a lingering peck on the lips.

"I wasn't sure I was going to make it past the moat and the dragon," Micky joked. She stepped back from their embrace. Nick laughed.

"You are welcome at my castle anytime. I put your name on the regular guest list, but Marv is a stickler," he said in a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned toward her. She picked up his scent of sandalwood and spice and longed to press her face into the crook of his neck and just inhale.

"He was, but I know you must have to keep marauding hordes of females at bay," she replied, giving him a lingering kiss on the neck.

"I haven't seen any hordes. I haven't had a lot of women beating down my door of late."

"I find that hard to believe."

Micky peeled herself away from Nick to take in his apartment. Turning off the small foyer, she followed him down a short hall that expanded into a sleek, modern kitchen and living area. A circle of bay windows revealed a broad view of the fading sunlight over downtown. Everything in his kitchen was slate gray, granite, and chrome with hardwood floors so dark they were almost black. The only color came from a deep red area rug in the living room.

Nick's place was elegant, but slightly cold. She thought of her house—with its stacks of magazines, plush furniture, and dog hair, which seemed to permeate everything—and wondered if he thought she was a slob.

"It's not as homey as your place," Nick said. "I haven't spent much time here since I moved in. My sister keeps telling me to get a plant or a cat or something to liven the place up."

"It's nice. It's…" Micky paused, "very clean. Masculine. And you don't seem like a cat person."

"No. I'd have a dog if I had a yard. It seems mean to keep one cooped up in a high-rise apartment all day."

"I can see that." Micky crossed the room and gazed out at the Bank of America building, which reigned over the skyline with its long lines of green light. "Your view is spectacular. Do you have a balcony?"

"I do. It's through the glass doors there in the dining room. But it's pretty cold out, especially this high. It wraps around past the bedrooms," Nick said, walking up behind her.

Micky turned and looked back down the hall from where they entered the apartment. His room must be the other direction. She felt a twist in her gut that was only partly from hunger.

"So, are you going to feed me or what?" she asked him.

"Or what," he said, closing the gap between them.

Nick took his index finger and tipped her chin up toward him. Micky smiled just as his mouth claimed hers. His tongue parted her lips. Micky yielded to him instinctively, and his body tightened against hers. A groan escaped him. She clung to him and time fell away. Then, his mouth was gone. She licked her bottom lip, still tasting him. His fingers massaged the back of her neck, and she let her head fall back as she looked up at him.

"I was going to order pizza, but I didn't know what you liked. That's a vital piece of information about you that I don't have." He dropped a light kisses along her hairline.

"Hmmm," she said. "I like mushrooms and onions. If you like meat, I could do sausage. Confession? I hate pepperoni."

"Good. Me too. How about mushrooms and onions and plus sausage on half?"

"Perfect."

Nick ordered the pizza, then offered to continue the tour of his apartment.

"How long have you lived here?" Micky asked, following him down the short hallway.

"About three years. Ever since I finished law school," he explained. "There's the guest bathroom. I have another bathroom in my room here."

Nick pushed open the door. The walls were gray like the rest of the apartment. A French door led out to the balcony. A king bed covered in a navy linen duvet filled the large space. The decor was sparse, like the rest of his apartment. The dresser was a mix of walnut wood and stainless steel while nightstands were made of steel and glass.

Discarded dress shoes were the only clutter to be found. Everything was neat, modern, and linear. The most eye-catching object in the room was a bright abstract painting with triangular slashes of paint in numerous rich colors. Micky took a step into the room for a closer look.

"Are those boats?"

"Yes. Good eye. It's abstract, but if you look closely, the shapes are boats at a marina."

"It's beautiful. An original?"

"Yes. The artist shows in a gallery over in the design district. We should go one night. As you can see, no purple walls, but I try to keep things at least a little colorful. My —"

Nick stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. Micky turned around.

"What?" When Nick didn't answer, she smiled and repeated the question.

"It's just that my ex was an interior designer. She hated how little attention I paid to outfitting the apartment."

Micky shrugged. "It's your house to do with as you please. I couldn't keep things this clean if you paid me cash money."

"Yes, you could. You could hire a housekeeper like I do."

"Ah, okay. I'm standing here thinking, 'God, he probably thought my place was a wreck.'"

"No," Nick said, stroking her shoulders. "Your place looked like a home. It's nice. This is pretty much a crash pad. I don't spend much time here."

"This is a special event for you," Micky said, smiling.

"Of course. You're here."

"Such a charmer."

"I try," he murmured into her hair. His intake of breath on her scalp sent sparks throughout her body. Thank God she had washed her hair this morning. That didn't always happen.

Micky lifted her head and trailed kisses along his jawline. A light growth of stubble prickled her lips. His arms tightened around her, encouraging her to continue her exploration. Micky unbuttoned his dress shirt, planting a kiss on each newly revealed patch of his chest and then belly.

"The pizza guy will be here soon."

"Then, we better hurry." Micky pulled his shirt completely out of his trousers and began slipping it off his shoulders.

"I can do this faster than you can." Nick finished stripping off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, and slid his dress pants down his legs, stepping out of them. Watching Nick reveal the corded muscles and long, lean planes of his body froze Micky in her tracks. She almost forgot if they were going to get it on before the pizza showed up, she needed to strip herself.

She kicked off her black, strappy high heels, which dropped her eye level to his chest. Micky motioned for Nick to unzip her red sheath dress. With a wiggle of her hips, the dress hit the floor, and Nick peered down. Her breasts sat atop a black lace demi-bra, rising and falling faster and faster. He ran the back of his fingertips down the valley between them before reaching behind her to unhook the bra.

"I can definitely do that faster than you," Micky teased. She popped the hooks loose behind her back. Nick shoved the straps of the hanging bra off her shoulders, and Micky discarded that as well, stepping back to examine him. His arousal tested the confines of his blue boxer briefs.

"Take those off," Nick ordered her, pointing to her the black lace underwear she'd worn to match her bra. He dispatched his underwear and kept his sharp green eyes on her.

Micky maintained eye contact with Nick as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and began pulling them down. She stepped out of the panties and threw them into a mixed pile of their discarded clothes. Nick's hands instantly went to her breasts. He thumbed her nipples in unison. The sensation of the rough pads of his fingers quickened her pulse, and Micky gasped. As delicious as it was, the movement kept her at arms length. That wouldn't do. She needed to be closer to him.

She grasped his wrists to stop him and turned around. She walked to bed, tossing a look over her shoulder. Nick wrapped his arms around her from behind as Micky climbed on to the bed and found herself on all fours. Before she could roll over and face him, Nick was on her.

He slid up behind her, nudging her legs wider with his knee. Micky rocked backward until she felt his erection against her ass. He suspended the weight of her breasts in his hands and picked up where he left off with his thumbs and her nipples. This time, he rolled them between his fingers. The heat of Nick on her back infused her. The spice of his aftershave surrounded her. She felt enveloped by him. Wave after sensual wave crashed over her. Nick roamed his hands down her stomach, around her waist, and to her hips. He pulled her to him and gave her a light smack on the rear.

"Hold right here," he said, jumping off the bed. Micky did as she was told. She stayed on her knees with her back arched and her knees wide. In a flash, he was back. The only sounds in the room were their erratic breaths and the tearing of a plastic wrapper. Micky grew impatient, but was glad he was thinking ahead. The waiting paid off, stretching her anticipation to the breaking point, when she felt Nick rub the tip of his cock between her folds. He slipped it forward and back. His thighs tensed behind her as he brought her closer and closer to the brink. His control was impressive, but infuriating.

"Fuck me. Now," Micky demanded, pressing her backside wantonly against him.

He laughed, breathless, and drove into her, fast and to the hilt. He slid out, and then rammed in again. His thrusts were hard and complete. She felt full and then empty every time he withdrew nearly completely, but then he came right back to her. Micky braced her arms firmly into the mattress to stay up as momentum pushed her forward, nearly knocking her flat into the pillows.

Nick put his hand in front of her, keeping them coupled while he stroked his fingers over her clit. His fingers picked up speed. Her desire felt like a taut string tying them together and he strummed it over and over until it snapped. A release of tension rolled from her core to her limbs. Her entire body buzzed. The sweet convulsions around him brought Nick along with her. He thrust deep inside her once more before crying out with a curse, gripping her hips.

Tomorrow, she might have bruises, but Micky couldn't make herself think about tomorrow.

They collapsed in a tangle of bodies and bed sheets as mixed together as their clothes on the floor. Slowly, Nick rolled to her side.

"I feel like I'm going to smother you," he said.

"You feel good."