Spice (10 page)

“I can handle it.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Thanks for inviting me. I know exposing your circle of friends to me, to us, has got to be a big deal for you.”

How the hell did he know that? “Have you been talking to Siobhan?”

“Why would I be talking to Siobhan?”

“You're being very accommodating,” she noted, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Of course.” He kissed her shoulder, then her collarbone, then her throat. “You're not too much trouble. Even if you were, you're worth it. Besides, I have the best incentive to be accommodating.”

She laughed. “I appreciate that. I do have the early shift at the café this Saturday, and prep work to do on Sunday. But I trade out with Jas, and he'll work next weekend.”

“Are you telling me that you're free next weekend?”

“Yep, that's exactly what I'm telling you.”

He rose to his feet, gathering their plates. “Great. Why don't I clean up while you finish making the cards? Then you can have the honors of the inaugural draw.”

“All right.” She took her wine then returned to the breakfast bar to finish writing out the notes, conscious of Kane moving around her kitchen with casual assurance. It should have bothered her, the easy way he had, but instead it gave her a sense of calm. His confidence relaxed her. He wasn't trying to prove anything. He simply was what he was.

He held out a canvas shopping bag to her. “I found this under the sink. Will it work to hold the notecards?”

“Perfect.”

She scooped up all the folded cards and dropped them into the bag. He shook it, tumbled the cards together, then held the open bag out to her. “Ready?”

With her nerves dancing with excitement, she reached in, pulled out a card. Kane leaned in close as she unfolded the card.
“El keurchi,”
she murmured, sure she'd butchered the pronunciation. “The fifteenth manner.”

“Belly to Belly.” Kane pulled her to her feet. “‘The man and the woman are standing upright, face-to-face; she opens her thighs; the man then brings his feet forward between those of the woman, who also advances hers a little.'”

With his hands to her hips, he subtly guided her into the proper stance. “‘In this position the man must have one of his feet somewhat in advance of the other. Each of the two has the arms round the other's hips; the man introduces his verge, and the two move thus intertwined.'”

Nadia's breath stuttered in her chest as she settled her hands on his hips. “This might be a little difficult to do, since I'm a few inches shorter than you.”

“Then you need to make sure you're wearing heels,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers. “When I see you on Friday.”

He stepped away. It wasn't until he replaced the books in his satchel that his words registered. “Friday? But today's Wednesday!”

“I have a late class tomorrow, and since you have to get up before the roosters do, I won't come by tomorrow.” He cupped her cheek before kissing her again. “I don't want your work to suffer. I take my responsibilities seriously. Besides, you're my sole supplier of sticky buns.”

His concern touched her, even if it didn't make her happy. She could go a couple of days with little sleep, but she knew she was at her best with at least six hours of rest. “I appreciate the concern, but we don't have to go—”

“Oh, and no masturbation without my permission.”

“What?”

Sternness hardened his features. “If you need self-gratification, you have to call me first. Though your reward will be greater if you wait until Friday.”

“But . . .” Two whole days? He'd ended her sexual drought with a thunderstorm of pleasure and now he wanted her to abstain for two whole days?

She opened her mouth to protest again, but he cupped the back of her neck with one hand, drew her closer. “You promised your orgasms to me, Nadia. Can I trust you?”

She stared up at him, one hand on his chest. She hadn't expected that he needed to trust her just as much as she needed to trust him. Trust had to go both ways, didn't it? “Does that mean you won't masturbate either?”

“It does. We're in this together.”

Well, as long as she didn't have to suffer alone. “All right then. Until Friday.”

She just hoped she could last until then.

N
adia and her friends made their way into the show level of Club Tatas on Bay Street, aiming for the left side of the stage. A sizeable crowd already clogged the floor, waiting for the Crimson Bay Bombshells to take the stage.

Siobhan had joined the group about a year and a half ago. Her vivacious personality, dangerous curves, and beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed looks made her a hit with the crowd. Why she didn't capitalize on the adulation and indulge in a steady stream of lovers was a continual topic of discussion in their Bitch Talk sessions. Nadia knew her friend still bore scars from her ruined marriage and estranged relationship with her daughter, but she didn't like that Siobhan thought she still had to do penance for that. Hopefully Nadia's affair with Kane would inspire her friend to move forward.

If Nadia didn't kill Kane first.

It had been the longest two days of her life. Thursday morning, the repercussions of her sexual acrobatics had come back to haunt her with long-unused muscles lodging a protest as she went about her duties at the café. Thursday night she'd indulged in a long soak in the tub, then distracted herself with a touch-base phone call with her fathers and entries in her recovery journal. While she did talk to Kane, their conversation had been brief, with neither taking the other up on the request to self-gratify. By the time she'd gotten dressed and met up with her friends, Nadia was spoiling for a fight and the need to come.

“I thought you were coming with the professor,” Jas, gorgeous in a black patent leather bustier and blue-black wig, said as Nadia slipped into one of the chairs that had been commandeered for their group. His girlfriend Tracy, wearing a black suit, smiled a welcome.

“She was,” Audie quipped. “Several times from what I heard.”

“That's what you get for hanging around outside my door,” Nadia snarked before turning back to their laughing friends. “Kane had some last-minute stuff he had to do. He's going to meet us here later.”

“You did let him know what kind of club Tatas is, right?” Jas asked. “I'm surprised you're not standing at the door waiting to claim him as soon as he walks in.”

“He's a grown man, he can take care of himself.” Nadia looked around for a waiter, wanting to dodge the questions she knew were on the way. “Besides, I don't need to stake a claim. It's not like that.”

“So you're saying you're not exclusive?” Audie wondered, her eyebrows shooting skyward in surprise. “That doesn't seem like the kind of relationship you would go for.”

“Kane and I are sexually exclusive,” Nadia explained, trying to capture a waiter's attention. “That's about as relationship as this thing is going to get.”

She could tell herself that while sitting here with her friends. She could tell herself that at work or when she was alone. When she was with Kane, when they were breathing the same air, her brain seemed to short-circuit. All she could think about was having more of him as soon as possible. Even now she could feel the desire rising up in her, a craving that overrode everything else. Just like—

No. She shook her head. Craving Kane was nothing like craving a drug-induced high. She wasn't hurting anyone by having sex with Kane. Her eyes were wide open, she knew what she was doing. And what she was doing was having the best sex of her life with a man who wasn't going to try to break her to make her more dependent on him. Who wasn't going to complicate things. The moment it became more than that, she'd walk away. She'd have to.

“It's just sex.”

“Okay,” Vanessa said, her tone soothing. “It's just sex, not a relationship. At least the professor is living up to his nickname.”

Nadia pressed her thighs together. “He most definitely is.”

Audie leaned close. “Have y'all done anything kinky yet?”

“Audie!” Nadia turned. “Where is the waiter for this section?”

“Don't try to deflect the conversation!” the redhead exclaimed. “You know I had to ask you about that. The professor wouldn't have the nickname he does just from the missionary position.”

“I'm not giving you guys any more details,” Nadia insisted, looking around to avoid eye contact with her friends. They talked, they shared, they bullshitted each other, but she wasn't feeling it at the moment. Probably not ever, not about Kane. It was one thing to talk about having sex, but the details, the other . . . it was too intense, too everything to share it. “Screw the waiter, I'm headed to the bar. Anybody want anything?”

Audie ordered two tequila shots. Vanessa gave Nadia a sympathetic smile before ordering a bottle of water. As a recovering alcoholic, Vanessa was the de facto designated driver. Nadia usually stayed sober with her, if only so she could cock-block for Audie to help her with her mission to limit her one-night stands.

Nadia made her way to the bar, holding down her flouncy skirt along the way. Everyone dressed up for the burlesque shows, the costumes ranging from saloon girls to steampunk to fifties rockabilly and mobsters. She'd chosen an imperial red corset with a cherry blossom pattern atop a black ruffled miniskirt that was more petticoat than skirt. Thigh-high red and black striped stockings, platform Mary Janes and a red and black fascinator completed her look. She hoped Kane would swallow his tongue when he saw her. She hoped he'd show up. She hoped he'd regret not coming over after his class ended.

Not wanting to examine her thoughts on the matter too closely—
keep it light, keep it light, girl
—she caught the bartender's attention and placed her order. Kane filled her mind, and only a few of her thoughts were charitable.

He'd sent her a text saying he'd meet her at Tatas. He hadn't mentioned a time and she hadn't wanted to ask. That wasn't what keeping things casual was about. She wanted to be cool and collected and prove that she wasn't sitting around waiting for him even if that was exactly what she was doing.

“Heh. I sure would like to steam her punk.”

Nadia rolled her eyes at the large brown-haired man laughing with one of his friends. How unoriginal. She inhaled, torn between ignoring the guy and offering a pithy comeback, when another voice said, “That's not how you pick up a lady.”

“Kane.” Nadia's heart did one heavy thud as she turned around, then promptly forgot her anger as she caught sight of him sitting on a barstool.

He'd dressed to the theme of the night. Wine-red shirt beneath a black pinstriped vest complete with pocket watch and chain. Loose-fitting black trousers, shiny black shoes, and a black Fedora with a red satin band completed his look. Oh yeah, she'd be his gun moll any day.

Not that he needed to know that. Yet. “How would you pick me up?' she asked, ignoring the frat guy and his friend.

“I'd appeal to your sense of daring while offering a better alternative than steaming your punk.”

He lightly grasped her fingers, his licorice-dark eyes glinting with appreciation and mischief as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “‘The languishing eye puts in connection soul with soul, and the tender kiss takes the message from member to vulva.'”

Poetry and descriptions that she'd laughed over in college provoked a different response when Kane spoke them. Her blood heated, her sex growing damp and heavy with the need to be filled.

“You win.” She forgot about her erstwhile suitor as the heat in Kane's dark gaze captivated her, lured her in.

“I always try to.” He passed several bills to the bartender, then settled his hand on her back, his fingers lightly tracing her corset lacing. “Especially when the prize is as worth it as you are.”

Nadia sighed, fighting to keep her eyes from sliding closed as Kane's fingers worked their magic on her bare skin. Some people were pure swagger and false bravado with nothing to back it up. There was nothing fake about Kane. His natural assurance was sexy because he knew who he was, what he wanted, and what he was capable of. “Have you been here the entire time?”

“Not long.” He tugged on her laces, and she swallowed a moan. “What are you thinking, Nadia?”

“That you're dangerous.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing her cheek. “You think you aren't?” His hand tightened on her laces again. “Especially wearing this?”

His hold and his voice caused a slow roll of lust low in her belly. “I hope you like what you see.”

“
Like
doesn't come close to describing what I think about you in this corset.” His index finger stroked her spine. “How long is the performance tonight?”

“N-ninety minutes.”

“Ninety minutes to be on our best behavior. I don't know whether to weep or applaud. This is definitely going to be a test.”

“What do you mean?”

“You'll see soon enough.” He gathered half her drinks. “Let's go join your friends.”

Nadia led the way back to their group, only to discover that all but one of the chairs had been filled. “Thanks for savings us seats, guys.”

Audie gave her an apologetic smile as she gestured to the guy occupying one of the seats. “I hope you don't mind. Jack—”

“Jace,” the stranger corrected, his gaze fixed on Audie's ample cleavage.

“—Jace is here alone, so I said he could sit with us.”

“We're short a seat,” Nadia pointed out. When it came to bagging guys Audie operated with single-minded focus, damn the consequences, and sometimes, her friends.

Kane solved the problem by putting down the drinks, sliding into the chair, and patting his lap. “Sit here.”

Nadia hesitated. She knew how the night would go. Audie wouldn't last half the performance before making out with the new guy, if she didn't disappear with him outright. What could Nadia say though, without looking like a bitch?

Truthfully, Nadia wasn't sure she could survive an hour and a half sitting on Kane's lap. She'd been on a low simmer for the last forty-eight hours and she desperately needed relief. She didn't know if Audie's need for sex was mental more than physical, but if the redhead felt anything close to what Nadia had endured for the last two days, Nadia could almost understand why Audie was continually on the hunt.

Kane curled his fingers into the lacing across her back, snagging her attention. She saw the command in his expression but also concern and silent support. She immediately relaxed. She was there to have fun with her friends and watch Siobhan perform. Audie was grown and her choices were her own. She didn't need Nadia to play babysitter.

Nadia sank onto Kane's lap. Her short skirt and thong provided zero coverage, her bare buttocks sliding across the smooth fabric of his pants as she settled into place. His erection pressed against the back of her thighs, the heat of him branding her through the fabric.

She darted a glance at him. “A test for both of us, as I said.” The velvet of his voice slid over her senses, pebbling her skin. “Ninety minutes until
el keurchi
. Now introduce me to your friends.”

She belatedly made introductions, heat staining her cheeks as she noted the knowing glances from her extended circle of friends. With another fifteen minutes until show time, Nadia expected Kane to be bombarded with questions. He was, but he handled it well, engaging Vanessa in college talk and asking Jas about his cupcake-decorating technique, posing for photos. All the while, he would take sips of his icy drink, then trace his chilled fingertips over her spine, keeping her desire on a slow simmer. But if she thought that would be the extent of her torture, she was mistaken.

When the house lights dimmed and the mistress of ceremonies took the stage, Kane shifted his left hand. Nadia held her breath, tension filling her as she tracked his movement from her knee to her thigh, then to the hem of her skirt. He wouldn't, would he?

The first act took the stage, a ribald flasher skit that got the crowd roaring with laughter. Kane's hand slipped under her skirt and between her thighs. Nadia froze, biting her lip against a gasp of pleasure as his forefinger unerringly found her clit.

“Kane?”

He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I said you couldn't self-gratify,” he said, his voice for her alone. “I never said I wouldn't pleasure you. Open your legs.”

She couldn't. She shouldn't, not with her friends here, not with the crowd, the performers. But . . . it was dark enough, the table tall enough, her friends distracted enough.

Kane pinched the inside of her thigh. Nadia jumped, unable to hold back a
squee
of surprise. “Are you all right, Nadia?” Vanessa asked from the opposite side of the table.

“Y-yes,” she answered, shifting to the position Kane demanded. “I just got hit with a draft of cold air.”

Vanessa smiled. “Kane needs to do a better job of keeping you warm.”

“I'll try harder, ma'am,” the man in question said, his expert fingers finding their way beneath the flimsy barrier of the thong. He brushed his lips against her shoulder again. “If you want me to stop, you know what you have to say.”