ROMANCE: MENAGE ROMANCE: Tapped and Taken by Two (Pregnancy Sports MMA UFC Fighter Romance) (Alpha Male Romance) (22 page)

“Yeah, I don’t keep in contact with them. I have nothing to say to them.”

“Are you also an only child?”

He nodded. “It was probably best that they didn’t have any other children. I was just lucky I had my aunt…”

What was he implying would have happened if he hadn’t had his aunt to look after him? Even with his eyes lowered to his plate as he spoke, I could see the distance in them, continuing the thoughts he left unspoken. And with it came the slow beginning of an awkward silence. I didn’t know what else to say. Would changing the subject to dessert be too abrupt? I didn’t want him to think I didn’t care about his past, but I also didn’t want to make him feel like uncomfortable. I felt like an idiot teenager unable to makeup her mind.

I swallowed my indecisiveness and took his hand from across the table. He looked up at me, almost startled, at my touch.

“Hey,” I said, looking into his eyes. “The present is what’s important now, right?” I squeezed his hand and smiled sympathetically.

The rich color returned to his eyes and he returned the smile. “Right,” he said. “Sorry about that. How could I let myself get distracted from such a lovely woman as yourself, Claire?” He ran his thumb over the back of my hand. It made my heart flutter and I grinned stupidly.

“Let’s finish eating,” he said. “Then we can get you some dessert. I can see in your eyes that you’ve been thinking about it.”

Derek caught the waitress walking by and said a few sentences to her that I couldn’t hear about the noise of the restaurant. When Derek saw the waitress on her way back he leaned in.

“Close your eyes,” Derek said and I could hear the sound of plates being set on the table.

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

I frowned, suspicious, but curiosity won and I sighed, closing my eyes.

“Now open your mouth.”

“On a first date? In public?” I could feel my face heating up as I imagined the scene from an outsider’s perspective.

“Yes,
in public
.” The tone of his voice made me suddenly feel like a miniature furnace.

I laughed, unable to retort, then leaned forward in my chair. “Fine, but just one bite.”

I parted my lips and closed them around the spoon of Greek yogurt he offered me.

“Okay, that’s beyond delicious,” I said after swallowing, still swirling the sweet taste of the honey around in my mouth.

“You have a little on your face,” he said.

I groaned internally, automatically drawing a hand up to cover my mouth.

“Just joking.”

I harrumphed at him and turned my attention to continuing dessert.

“Hey, where’s mine, Claire?”

“You’re not getting one,” I said teasingly.

An expression of dramatic hurt took over his face, but was then replaced by a devious one. “What about later?”

“I make no promises,” I said with a purse of my lips, and helped myself to a piece of baklava. 

~

Somewhere between leaving the restaurant and flagging a taxi, I agreed to go to his place. He had posed the question casually, landing a soft kiss on my cheek, as if it was already part of our plan. His method prompted honesty, and so I agreed without wasting another breath.

His place was on the twelfth floor of an average-looking apartment building. There was no peeling paint, but the front foyer had tiles that could use replacing and it wouldn’t hurt if the decor had some updating to the 21
st
century. I was expecting a bachelor pad, and that was what I got. It was small, but a decent size for a single person.

“Want a glass of wine?” Derek asked from inside the open-concept kitchen while I stood in the living area trying to stop my brain from picking apart the way he arranged the model sports cars on the fireplace mantel. “Champagne? Or something else?”

“Wine’s fine,” I said.

“Take a seat on the couch, I’ll be there in a minute.”

I did as he said, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that yes, I was in Derek’s house; yes, he was about to bring me more wine; and yes, there was a high likelihood of the night becoming quite heated. I watched Derek as he poured the wine into the glasses. With the way his shoulders and biceps shifted under his shirt, he made the mundane movement arousing. The realization was a bit alarming since I thought I would have been nervous—it had been a while since I was last with a man. I decided he didn’t have to know.

“Here,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the glass.

He picked up a small remote and the stereo came to life. He fiddled with it for a moment, then set it down. Gentle music came from the speakers.

“You like jazz?” I asked, honestly taken aback with disbelief.

“I do,” he said, moving to light a handful of blood-orange colored candles positioned around the room. “If the occasion and mood is right.”

I set my wine on the coffee table and shifted on the couch, trying to subtly stop the hem of my dress from riding up. When I had my glass back to my mouth, Derek was next to me, leaning back into the couch with an air luxury about him. He didn’t look anything like what I would picture a typical military man to embody. His black pants that I suspected had been recently pressed and equally crisp navy top, reclining with a glass of wine. His eyes matched his hair in the dim lighting and reflected the flimsy amber glow from the candles.

He drew a sip of his wine and I caught a flash of his tongue.

“Claire,” he said. “You do things to me, you know?”

I tried to keep a straight face and not blush too hard.

“Do I?” I asked, trying on my best flirting tone.

He took another, deep sip and placed his glass to the table. He slid closer to me and brought a hand up to my face. My glass joined his, discarded, and my eyes became trapped in his. I felt like I was being sucked into an ocean—something so vast and deep that I could never understand it all, but I still wanted to try.

Derek drew my face to his and his lips brushed mine, moving to the corner of my mouth and then jumping to the side of my neck. My breath started to punctuate, my eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his supple lips planting slow, even kisses along my neck, reaching up, and up, until his teeth grazed my earlobe and his mouth breathed warm air over my ear. Finally his mouth found mine again.

A firm palm pressed against my chest, his other hand behind my head, and he lowered me down on the couch. My heart was thumping steady as I watched the light from the candles dance shadows along the lines of his face. They were solid lines, but not harsh. For the first time, I noticed a softness to them. I reached up and ran my hand through his espresso hair. There was a tuff that flicked out from behind his right ear that I somehow hadn’t noticed before.

He kissed me again, and I kissed him back. The taste of him made my head spin. His shirt was on the floor. Our breath became one. His hand ran up my thigh, while my fingers traced lines down his bare chest and over his firm abs. My mind no longer had room for any stray thoughts. I was fully consumed by the moment we were creating. My body ached for more. My heart longed for it. To have Derek wrap me fully in his arms and take me elsewhere. Someplace new and separate from the caution and worry I had lived for so long. 

His lips tugged at mine as he pulled back. He brushed my hair with his fingers, kissed the side of my face and whispered into my ear. 

I kissed the side of his face back, and a breathless nod was all I could give him.

Quickly, he swept me up into his arms and carried me to his bed with a strength that surprised me. His taste lingered with me the whole way down the hall to his bedroom. On the bed he started to kiss my neck and unbuttoning the front of my dress exposed the sexy lace bra I put on subconsciously preparing for something like this. I felt his powerful chest and moved my hands down to start on his belt and the button and zipper of his pants. Soon he started working on my underwear and I could feel him through his boxer shorts on my thigh. As he took off the bra and flung it aside I started to grind his member feeling its stone like firmness and size through the matching lace panties I wore as he cupped my breasts in his strong hands. Momentarily we stayed like that feeling as much of each other as we could. Soon though he was moving down, tugging my panties down from the hips, kissing every piece of newly exposed flesh. He planted his face between my thighs and started working his tongue between my folds, tasting my uncontrollable wetness. The sensations were instant. Shudders and flashes of light. Wanting to return the favour I pulled him up after orgasming from another’s touch for the first time in too long of a time. I turned him around so he lay down on the bed, his huge erection sticking up into the air almost surging as my breath started to caress it. He breathed deeply through his nose as the head passed my lips and I worked it with my tongue totally enraptured by the taste of him. When both of us seemed like we couldn’t take anymore I moved to  straddle him slowly sliding him inside me and working my hips until I had all of him fully inside me. I couldn’t stop myself from working my body the way I did. I couldn’t stop needing to receive his solid plunging thrusts from beneath me starting to bring us both to completion. It had been too long for me and I couldn’t control what my body was doing. Moans escaped my lips that I didn’t mean to make.

~

I rolled over in the blue sheets and found Derek, hair particularly unruly, looking at me with bright eyes. I felt myself flush.

“Hey,” he said. “Morning.” Light filtered in from a gap in the curtains, highlighting the curves of his body and reminding me that I had slept with him.

I smiled at him. “Good morning.”

He leaned over and landed a brief kiss on my lips. “Come here.”

I squirmed towards him, not quite as graceful as I hoped I would be, with the bottom of the sheets tangled about my legs. He helped untangle my legs and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. His face nestled against mine and into my hair. He kissed me again, but this time just below my ear. I ran my hands over his shoulders and arms, my heart swelling as I thought back to the night before. The touch of his fingers, how gentle and courteous he had been.

We laid in each other's’ arms for some time, too comfortable to want to get up too quickly. The only sound was that of our breathing. It was nice. Peaceful. He played with my hair a little, and I could have stayed there in his bed all day without minding in the slightest.

Without warning, my stomach made a gurgle that evolved into a full-scale growl.

“Hungry?” Derek said, removing his arm from under my head.

“Maybe a little,” I said, embarrassed. I could always leave it to my stomach to ruin a great moment.

“I’ll make breakfast,” he said. “Waffles sound good?”

I grinned. “You bet they do.”

“Great.” He gave me a peck on the lips and then swung himself out of bed. I couldn’t complain about the view. His thighs, his calves, his arms, his rippled abs all looked like something sculpted from stone and not part of a living breathing man. I caught sight of that gorgeous piece of him and remembered the feeling of it being rock hard and steadily driving deep inside of me. I thought back on the events of last night and was relieved to recall Derek putting on a condom somewhere in between tearing each other’s clothes off and me riding him late into the night. I wanted to feel all of him but my cautious side was always pretty loud no matter how much wine I drink. Plus I felt good knowing I still regularly took the pill even though I hadn’t been with anyone for quite a while.

“You can lay in bed longer if you like.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”

I sat up and looked for where I had thrown my clothes the night before—or, more accurately, where Derek had thrown them.

“Don’t distract me while I’m cooking,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled on a pair of shorts.

“I make no promises.”

Derek didn’t put on a shirt before he walked down to the hall to the kitchen. He tried to make small talk with me as he cracked eggs and measured the flour, but I was a little distracted. It was strange to think that this body that could be so tender was also that of a soldier. Someone who was trained to kill and defend his country, and here he was whisking waffle batter in his underwear for me.

Topped with a ring of whipped cream and sliced peaches, the waffles looked—and smelled—fantastic. Derek also made us coffee from freshly ground beans from Brazil. It was the most impressive breakfast I had had in a while, especially one I didn’t have in a restaurant. And one I hadn’t made myself.

“Here’s syrup, if you want,” Derek said, plopping a plastic bottle down in the center of the circular dining table.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle and drizzling some over my still-steaming waffles.

We ate to the background din of the radio and the sound of passing traffic outside. It was late morning, and I was glad that I didn’t have to head into work until afternoon. The morning had a weekend feel to it, for the obvious reasons, and I groaned internally that it was, in fact, a Monday.

“Are you busy today?” I asked, feeling the need to drown out the radio host going on about a particular traffic accident downtown.