Near To You (4 page)

Chapter Five

The kitchen still smelled of cooking lasagna, though the oven had been turned off an hour ago, as Brady gathered their dishes to take to the kitchen.

Dusk had settled half an hour earlier, bringing a chillier air with it, but Niara’s house was warm and comfortable. The afternoon had passed with easy conversation, the odd touch and kiss, but nothing more. He wanted more, yes—desperately so, craving Nia so bad he could barely see straight. But he wanted to wait, to prolong and savor it, so he continued working around her house until she went to put dinner in the oven. She’d given him use of her shower before dinner, and he’d cleaned up and changed into a spare T-shirt he had in the van. She’d showered and changed as well, wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a lavender button tee. She looked refreshed and alluring, and not reaching for her all evening had been killing him.

The languid meal around her small kitchen table, with a single low light hanging between them over the food and wine, had brought more conversation. She spoke a bit of her life after high school, about her disappointment in where her life had gone so far. Her marriage had been a flurry of excitement as she was taken in by a smooth talking man who chipped away at her little by little. The guy made good money, had a nice house—sounded like everything Brady wasn’t—and he’d hurt her. Even though she didn’t dwell on her ex-husband in conversation, he felt the pain coming off her in waves, helpless with no way to soothe her.

His own life, he hadn’t spoken much of. His sister Tracie and her family, briefly, but he skimmed over the rest as it wasn’t a pretty story. A couple of meaningless relationships on his part in college. Then his dad’s estrangement after his mom... And the girl he thought he’d loved for a few years who broke his heart at the worst possible time. None of it came into conversation and he bottled it up, holding on because he wanted this night to be about
her
.

He deposited the dishes by the sink while she returned the ice cream to the freezer, sexual tension creeping up in the silence. Her house was small but comfortable, faded wallpaper with yellow daisies in the kitchen and painted plaster elsewhere; hardwood floors creaked and had scratches, but otherwise seemed in good condition. The only light she’d left on was over the table, casting layers of shadows over the stacked boxes in the room beyond and leaving light to glare from the windows.

Nia moved toward the sink as he went to retrieve the wine, leaning over to run water with her back to him. He paused a moment, halfway between her and the table, and gave in. The running water masked his approach but she didn’t tense up when he reached for her, just let out a sigh and eased back into his arms. His fingers dragged up her neck, through her hair, tilted her head to the side so he could taste the smooth flesh of her throat. Goose bumps rose fast and hard, her hand coming up to touch the back of his head and pull him into her further.

Despite it all, his heart ached. This might be the only time this happened—even if he stuck around, she might never want more from him. He ingrained her scent in his memory—not the perfume smell of some women but fresh and natural, just soap from the shower. Memorized the curve of her neck, her smooth shoulders, the feel of her plush breasts as his hands traveled over her. Carved in him the little sighs and moans leaving her lips.

No more teasing. He was painfully hard, pressed firm against the soft cradle of her ass, and he’d been aching all day for release. Brady reached over and shut off the water, turned her, and devoured her mouth again, locking her against the counter. She wove her arms around his neck, pressing against him, and he went lightheaded, consumed by the feel of her.

He wanted her now. Right here against the counter, legs spread so he could kneel down and taste her cream. Or behind them, across the table, that luscious ass in the air and waiting for him. But despite all the fantasies, it had to be right—had to be respectful, memorable—in her bed among soft sheets, where he could lay her down and watch her writhe below him. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips, holding on while he walked out of the kitchen and then up the stairs.

Her bedroom was dark, rising moonlight coating the space in pale blue; he’d passed it briefly on the way to her shower earlier, and knew to turn in there without the overhead light as a guide. He set her down by the bed, found a lamp on the dresser, and switched it on.

Yellow cast a glow over her dark skin and her eyes, clouded with arousal, met his—held his. Immediately she began unbuttoning her shirt one button at a time. Though the action wasn’t specifically erotic—or at least not meant to be—there was something heartbreakingly charming in it. No pretense, no teasing, but her fingers trembled and chest rose and fell in quick, nervous breaths; he had the distinct impression she hadn’t done this in awhile. Not sex specifically—just the act of eagerly undressing in front of a lover.

He leaned against the dresser and watched, taking her form in, coiling his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. She cast the shirt on the end of the bed, standing in a crème-colored lacey bra that contrasted beautifully with her skin. Full cups caressed her firm, high breasts, and he wondered if her panties matched beneath her skinny, dark blue jeans.

A wry grin touched his lips. “Pants too.”

She cocked a brow but reached for the button on her jeans. “Demanding.”

“Impatient. I—” He cut the sentence off, but then wondered why the hell not? Why not tell her? Sure, it might make her nervous, or she might think it was too much and ask him to leave. But if this was all she wanted right now, he didn’t have a whole lot left to lose.

“You?” she prompted, thumbs hooked in the waistband of her jeans as she shimmied out of them.

He watched the sway of her hips and at last she stood free of them, her panties all lace and boycut. “I liked you in high school.
Really
liked you. For a long time.”

Her smile softened, wistful. “You should have asked me out then. Now I’m worried I don’t live up to expectations.”

The woman was mad. Totally and utterly mad. But his heart eased a little and weight lifted from his shoulders. Sure, he’d kissed her today, felt her satiny flesh in great detail, but he hadn’t confessed
that
. And it was small, as far as confessions went—not even the big speech he’d prepared that day of graduation when he’d last seen her.

But maybe it didn’t need to be grand. Just true.

Brady stepped up to her, cupped her jaw in his hands, and tilted her face up to his as he held her gaze. “You’re beautiful.”

Niara stared back at him, lips parted though she said nothing. She’d said she was a little damaged, pushed down fairly low from a cheating husband. That would do a number on any woman’s self worth, so perhaps she didn’t believe him.

He’d just have to spend some time convincing her, then.

A gentle nudge against her shoulders and she took the signal, moving back onto the bed to sit against the assortment of colorful pillows by the headboard. Brady stripped his T-shirt off first, pride warming him as her gaze openly roamed over his body; his cock went harder, something he scarce thought possible. His jeans he discarded next but left his boxer briefs, and climbed up the bed toward her.

She shivered under his touch and he leaned down to kiss her again. Her back bowed, hands snaking around him, but he didn’t linger at her lips; instead he traced her jaw, her chin, her throat. He swiftly unhooked her bra and slipped it off, his lips diving down to catch her left nipple as her breasts fell free.

Another moan and it was all he could do not to tear the rest of their clothes off. He held back, coiling his wants up into a tightly wound ball, and restrained it while he focused on her pleasure. His tongue teased her nipple into a hard peak, then he abandoned it for the other while she drove her fingers through his hair.

“Brady,” she whispered in a throaty voice. He loved the sound of his name on her lips—how long had he dreamed of hearing it? All through high school, he’d never dreamed, though, that it would feel like
this
.

Both hands came up to cup her breasts, rolling and teasing them, and then his lips descended. He trailed kisses and licks down her taut stomach to the band of her panties. A deep breath in and he inhaled her musk, her desire. He dragged her panties down and off her feet, then pressed his hands to her quivering inner thighs, parting them. Her big dark eyes watched him, quick, panting breaths leaving her kiss-swollen lips.

His first lick pressed her clit; she arched and gasped, hands grasping the bedspread on either side of her hips. His tongue swept over her labia and then dipped between her folds. Each deliberate taste had her moving against him, hips lifting off the bed. She wouldn’t last long and it would only be the first of a few times he planned to see her come tonight, so he indulged.

He drew one finger up, tracing her slit and taunting her, and then slipped inside the opening of her pussy. Her channel was slick, ready, and he could only imagine how it would feel to drive his cock into her at last. He brought a second finger to join the first, pumping into her, and glided his tongue back up to flick against her clitoris with quick, firm strokes.

“
Brady
...” she breathed out again, her voice fading as she undulated against him. He glanced up, watching her tip her head back, imagined her eyes closed as she thrashed beneath his ministrations. She whimpered, hips rising steadily off the bed, then she cried out as her pussy clenched his fingers. She rode the wave of orgasm and then slumped on the bed, panting, shaking still.

He kissed the inside of her left thigh, then the right. Pressed another to her hip. Damned if he wanted to let her rest awhile, but he didn’t think he could wait much longer to sheath himself in her at last.

And after he had, he knew his plans to leave tomorrow might slip away entirely.

****

Niara struggled to catch her breath and calm her rapidly beating heart. Her limbs felt weighted, and she couldn’t do much more than lie there sprawled. Eventually she got a hand up to swipe sweat-damp hair from her forehead and flickered her eyes open when she felt the mattress shift under Brady’s weight.

He kissed her shoulder, then his lips moved over her collar bone and throat. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

The pet named warmed her through and she felt a happy fluttering in her belly. “Mmm. Lovely.”

“Good.” Another long, open-mouthed kiss on her throat. “You are.”

God help her, but she almost believed it. She gazed at him, met his warm, dark blue stare, and scratch that, she
did
believe it. Believed
him
. A strange sort of realization opened up before her and she understood, then, what had been missing from her marriage—missing from her life. Regardless of Ron’s douchebag ways, there had never been
this
. He’d never looked at her as if she was beautiful, as if he sought her pleasure above all else. Even tonight over dinner, Brady Trewin had shown more interest in what she had to say than damn near any man ever had.

He’d wanted her since high school and here, now, she had no sense that she lacked in any way, that she’d let down any of the expectations he had of her.

And she wanted him to feel the same way.

She nudged him over so he flopped against the pillows, grinning at her playfulness right until the moment she climbed over him to straddle his hips. Then his head tipped back and eyes went heavy-lidded as she rocked against his cock. Just the thin layer of his cotton boxer briefs separated him, but she rode up and down his huge, hard length, cradling him against her pussy.

“God,
Nia
,” he whispered, hands gliding up her thighs, her belly, to her breasts. He lingered there a moment, electric currents rushing through her as his thumbs teased her nipples, then he reached up to her face and leaned up to kiss her.

She enjoyed his mouth for a moment, tasting his soft lips, reveling in the contrast of his rough unshaven jaw against her smooth skin. But she didn’t linger, instead dragging kisses over his jaw and neck, down to the taut muscles of his chest. Head to toe he was any girl’s dream, and she could spend hours traveling his perfectly carved pecks and six-pack. A blushed touched her cheeks at her forwardness, but she swallowed back any nervous feelings and wrapped her fingers around his boxer-briefs to drag them down. His long, thick cock bobbed free and she felt fresh moisture between her legs—soon his hard length would be inside her, pushing her to even greater pleasure.

Niara cast his boxer-briefs aside and knelt between his legs, dipping her head down. She turned a glance up at him as she ran her hands up his thighs, meeting his stare. His stomach quivered as she lowered her mouth and flickered her tongue against the glorious, thick dome of his cock.

His hips jerked and he hissed a breath. His reaction spurring her, she parted her lips and took him in, sliding her mouth down his length and running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. He groaned, thrusting up to meet her. She’d never wanted to please a man like this before, never felt so rewarded with the moan and shudder he gave her.

Too soon, his hands lifted her face. “Condoms? Shit, please tell me you have...”

She blushed—that box Deena made her get had been opened, with packages dispersed, once again at her friend’s advice, all over. Pocket of her jeans, pocket of her robe, bathroom and bedroom.
In case of emergency
, Deena had said. Of course, she’d rather he not know that. “Nightstand.”

Nia drew herself up on her knees, hands loosely held in her lap, feeling suddenly awkward with her flushed breasts on display while he shifted to open the drawer and retrieve a small silver package.

The wrapper crinkled and moments later he rose on his knees as well with the thin latex sheathed over his erection. His gaze moved to her, hands reaching, and she closed the distance to him in an instant. His chest crushed hers, arms wrapping around her torso. Happy shivers danced down her flesh as he mouthed her neck. She raked her hands over his shoulders, through his silky dark hair, unable to get enough of him.