Authors: Anya Breton
SweetlyBad (14 page)
Erica snapped the blanket onto the bed, furious with him.
With
herself
. She shouldn’t care what he thought about her. She was
healthy. She never had a problem doing anything that needed to be done—from
running to lifting heavy objects. Drew Haizea could take a flying leap off the
pier out back.
Nevertheless she stomped out of the guestroom and to the
kitchen. Her first thought was to devour the last of the pricey dark chocolate
she kept in the drawer for an emergency. But things like that were why she was
in this situation. Next she considered the open bottle of Lambrusco. Not a good
idea when she was bound to get drunk and shamefully proposition him.
Amanda’s words haunted her.
After he called a few dozen
women looking for a hook-up, you still slept with him.
She had. Because she was pathetic—a bleeding heart with a
lonely libido. Tomorrow she’d tow his car to Boston like she’d said. And then
life could go back to normal.
Drew stared up at the ceiling. It was flat and without
decoration. No crown molding or artistic swirls for
this
house. Yet he
smiled. Erica’s house didn’t need frivolous designs. It felt more like a home
than Haizea House ever had.
A sleepy snuffle caught his attention from the nearby room.
He wanted to be in there, spooned behind her curvy ass, caressing her
mouthwatering breasts. Drew groaned at the torment.
He sat up, staring at the sparse room in the darkness. This
was no fun. Drew of old would have walked out the second he discovered there’d
be no sex. That Drew wouldn’t have wanted to expend any effort to get what he
wanted.
He wasn’t Drew of old.
Drew tossed his legs over the edge, easing himself onto his
feet. He tiptoed into the corridor. Her next snuffle froze him in place.
Had she heard him?
When she said nothing for a pair of seconds, he continued.
But not to her bedroom. Instead he padded into the living room.
There’d be no sleeping tonight. He might as well catch up on
television while he waited for her to wake up. With the volume low, he flipped
through the stations.
She had satellite. A good package. Drew flicked the button
for the DVR. Several entries had been recorded. Romance. Rom com. Sweeping
epics about love.
Erica Pearce, auto mechanic and closet romantic.
He flipped back to the current offerings and scrolled
through the channels. One caught his attention and held. Drew glanced around,
an idea forming in his head.
It was perfect.
Another sound gripped her heart in fear. Drew. Was he okay?
Were more witches attacking?
Someone softly knocked at the door.
Attacking witches wouldn’t softly knock.
The door opened. Drew stepped inside, carrying a tray. He
was dressed in a crisp button-down dress shirt in a shade of blue that did
lovely things for his hazel eyes. A fresh pair of beige slacks hung from his
muscular legs. He looked as put together as he had when she’d picked him up on
Route 9, apart from the slight puffiness of his jaw. His tray was laden with plates,
a glass of magenta liquid and a lilac flower from the bush out back.
Erica’s heart lodged in her throat. She couldn’t breathe
through the phantom blockage.
“I made breakfast.” He closed the distance and then nodded
at her. “You’ll have to sit up if you want to eat.”
Her hand went to her hair. It had to be a mess. She’d slept
on it when it was wet. And her face…she hadn’t a speck of makeup on.
“You look beautiful in the morning,” he said as if guessing
her thoughts.
Warmth flushed her cheeks. “You say that to all the women.”
He gave a firm shake of his head. “I don’t stay until
morning.” Drew cleared his throat. “And I definitely don’t make them breakfast
in bed.”
Breakfast. In bed. Was there anything more decadent?
Erica sat up, scooching back against the pillows.
Drew arranged the tray on her lap. He gestured at the first
plate. “French toast lightly dusted with powdered sugar.”
The golden brown toast looked crispy and smelled sweet.
“Two eggs, sunny-side up.” He gestured at the next plate.
“Hash browns, toast with strawberry jelly and a fruit smoothie.”
He settled back, stiffly watching her.
Erica lifted her fork. It didn’t matter what it tasted like.
She’d tell him it was good.
Since he’d pointed out the French toast first, she set the
utensil to it. It broke through the crispy outer shell, sliding through the
fluffy interior. Sugared steam wafted into her nose. She lifted the first bite
to her mouth.
It tasted twice as good as it smelled. Erica moaned around
the fork then chewed rapidly. “Oh my god,” she said once she’d swallowed.
“That’s amazing, Drew.”
“It is?” His pitch lifted uncertainly.
“Yes. I’ve never had French toast I didn’t drown in syrup.”
“Do you want syrup?” He twisted as if he’d leave. “I can go
get it.”
“No,
no
. I meant this is so good I don’t have to
drench it.”
He beamed—a boyish expression that made her want to kiss
him.
But…last night, she’d thought he was disgusted with her.
Would a disgusted man make her breakfast in bed?
“Try the eggs,” he said. “I’m not sure about them.”
“They look fine.” But she tried them anyway. Butter exploded
onto her taste buds. Again she moaned. “Oh god. That’s really good. Are you
sure you had a housekeeper to cook for you?”
His beam turned into a grin. “I’m sure.” Drew winked at her.
“I should suffer from insomnia more often.”
“You didn’t sleep?”
He shook his head. “No. I spent the whole night watching the
Food Network for ideas on what I could make you for breakfast.”
Erica stared at him in silent shock.
He’d planned this all night? What did that mean?
Could he truly have meant what he’d said about becoming
worthy?
Drew pulled back, eyeing her warily. “What?”
“I thought I disgusted you,” she blurted out.
“What?” Drew surged forward and sat on the edge of the bed
beside her. “Why would you think that?”
“I…I thought I heard you in the shower. I thought…if you had
to do that it must mean I disgusted you.”
Drew curled his hand over her ankle beneath the comforter.
Awareness of his touch shivered up her leg. “I think you’re so fucking sexy,
Erica. It was you I imagined in the shower. But you said you couldn’t deal with
another asshole ex so I left you alone.”
Yet he’d made her breakfast in bed.
“I know it’s not much.” He gestured at the tray. “But I
don’t know how to do much. I can learn. I
want
to learn. I want to be
worthy.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Stupid, ridiculous tears. “You’re
being so sweet. How do I know this isn’t just one of your playboy tricks?”
“I’m not sweet. I’m bad. But I mean to change that. This
isn’t a playboy trick. I was far too lazy to cook for a woman. But I’d do just
about anything for you, Erica.”
“You
are
sweet.” Erica leaned over the tray. “Maybe
you’re sweetly bad.”
His lips spread into his boyish smile. “Sweetly bad. I like
that.”
Drew pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of her lips.
Heat filled her limbs. He transferred to the opposite side and then feathered
his mouth over hers. The gossamer touches threatened to make her cry. He’d
learned and he hadn’t forgotten.
When she finally opened her mouth, allowing the slide of his
tongue, she thought she’d catch on fire. Erica moaned deep in her throat,
clinging to him.
He pulled back, panting slightly. “You should finish your
breakfast.”
“I found something sweeter.”
Drew laughed—a nervous sound that seemed uncharacteristic.
“Air, I fell hard.”
“What does air have to do with falling hard? Wouldn’t that
be gravity?”
“Not air.” He smiled. “
Aer
with an ‘e’—another name
for Khaos, the Greek goddess of air. She’s our patron deity. But neither air
nor Aer had anything to do with my fall. Only you are to blame for that.”
“And you say you’re bad,” Erica said as she kissed his
cheek. “Your breakfast is amazing, Drew. But I want you more.”
“In that case…” He stood, setting the tray on the floor
beside the bed. He leaned over her, framing her face in his palms for another
delicate kiss.
Too nice, far too sweet. She wanted desperate Drew, the
devourer.
Erica entwined her fingers behind his neck and tugged him
forward. He fell against her left side, weighing her down with his trim frame.
His cock nudged her thigh above the blanket. Maybe he really
did
think
she was beautiful.
Drew shoved at the blanket so he could get at the hem of her
latest tank top. Up, he tugged the ribbed cotton and revealed her lack of a
bra. His groan warmed parts deep inside her.
“Aer, I need…” He didn’t explain what he needed before his
mouth closed over her nipple. He laved, licked and flicked the sensitive peak
while he massaged its partner to stiffened heights.
Erica wiggled beneath him, arching her pelvis against his
stiff organ as a hint to what
she
needed.
He pulled the tank top the rest of the way over her head
then fastened his mouth over her dry nipple. Its moist mate pulsed in time with
the throbbing of her pussy. Erica rubbed herself over him in an effort to
soothe the throb, gasping at the pressure on her clit. Drew groaned again and
vibrated the flesh between his teeth.
He released a breast, skimming his palm down her belly. She
sucked in a breath as he dipped beneath the drawstring on her knit pants. Drew
caressed the cropped hair at the junction of her thighs, teasing her with lower
dips after each motion.
Erica reached for his shirt while she still could. She
fumbled with the buttons as he worked at her breast and tickled her mons. Drew
pressed her thigh down, widening her for his invasion. His shirt came free
before he brushed his hand over her folds. She spread her legs, opening fully
for him.
Up, he massaged, pulling a moan from her at the delicious
heat licking her insides. Down, he stroked and exposed her damp sex to his
touch. One finger tested her. Finding her drenched, he groaned again and sucked
harder on her breast.
Without warning he dropped his thigh beside hers so he could
sit upright and then he shucked the blanket. Her knit pants and satin panties
were soon on the floor. And then Drew hovered above her, staring deep into her
eyes.
Clad only in his slacks, he was as hot as any print model.
He was too beautiful for words as he gazed at her. She glanced away, ashamed of
her body compared to his.
“Erica.”
A demand for attention. She forced herself to give it to
him.
“I’ve always liked curvy women,” he said without a trace of
shame. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to. But I was an idiot…in so many ways.
However, I can’t complain. If I’d realized it then, I wouldn’t be here with you
now. What I’m trying to say in my inept way is that you’re the sexiest fucking
thing I’ve ever seen and I’m going to fuck you six ways to Sunday.”
The cock straining his slacks hinted he hadn’t lied. His
warm gaze skimming her breasts and hungrily landing on her pussy made her feel
sensual.
“It is Sunday,” Erica said.
“Who said anything about this Sunday?” He grinned as he
grabbed his waistband. “I’ll have to fuck you six ways every day until next
Sunday. Or maybe the Sunday after. Better yet, how about a Sunday in December?”
His gaze flew to hers. Vulnerability softened his eyes—the
lost pup from last night. Oh god. Her bleeding heart. She was a goner.
“Let’s just concentrate on this Sunday,” she said.
He didn’t pout. He merely nodded and then continued
unfastening his slacks. His erection popped free, perfect and eager.
Drew kicked his pants off the bed and then lowered himself
between her legs. He caressed her folds with a single finger. Heat licked her
insides, shaking her outsides.
“I don’t want to scare you off, but I usually don’t go down
on women.”
Somehow she wasn’t surprised.
“Usually they don’t taste like sugar and heat,” he said.
Erica laughed nervously.
“I’m not joking.” He leaned forward, flicking his tongue
into her pussy. A contented sound rumbled the chest resting on her thigh.
Drew met her gaze. The dark expression caught her breath. He
looked as though he was intent on some campaign.
The campaign began with his hands curled beneath her thighs.
He tugged her down. That’s when Drew the devourer returned, only this time it
wasn’t her mouth he devoured. Erica writhed beneath the long strokes of his
tongue, whimpering each time he flicked her clit and then soothed it with a
delicate brush.
Devouring wasn’t enough for him. He had to make her
brainless as well. Two fingers slipped within her core, satisfying her need
while simultaneously creating another.
“This isn’t fair,” she gasped out.
“Why,” he asked in between a luscious lick, “not?”
“
You
made
me
breakfast in bed. Yet I’m the—
oh
—one
getting the treat.”
“Didn’t I say…” He licked longer. A groan slipped out of
him. “That you tasted like sugar?”
“That’s ridiculous. No one tastes like sugar.”
“You do.”
“At least let me see if you taste like sugar too.”
Drew paused his licks, looking up the length of her as he
stroked her inner walls. “Are you offering to go down on me?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her clit between his lips, sucking until she
screamed. Drew’s fingers fucked her faster. Apparently she’d gotten an answer.
There’d be no going down on him. At least until he finished.
Erica smiled as she threw her head back, stretching her legs
out straight from the delectable pressure forming.
His fingers withdrew. Her eyelids flew open. A wail escaped
her before she could stop it.
Drew didn’t smile. He didn’t grin. Instead he leaned along the
edge of the bed, reaching for something. When he knelt again it was with a
condom in his hands. He tore the thing with his teeth, staring at her with grim
focus.
Erica sat up on trembling muscles. She reached for him,
skimming along his abdomen. His body trembled at her touch. He released a quiet
sigh.
She gripped his cock before he could sheath it.
“Erica,” he said warningly.
“Just let me taste it.”
“I can’t
just
let you do that. The second your lips
close around me, I’ll be lost. And I’m not finished with you.”
“But if you finish with me, I won’t be able to do this.” She
extended her tongue to his tip.
His groan sounded pained. “Trust me.”
She’d asked him to trust her yesterday and he had. He
deserved the same courtesy. Erica nodded and let go.
Drew exhaled shakily. He rolled the condom over his
erection, piercing her with his hot gaze.
She let him push her back onto the bed. And managed to bite
back a protest when he resumed his attention on her pussy. Why did he need a
condom if he was going to finger-fuck her?
Was she honestly
complaining
?
Erica let her body relax…as much as it could under his
steady attention. The pressure rapidly rebuilt, stronger than before he’d
paused. He’d done that on purpose, hadn’t he? Bringing her nearly to climax and
then
pausing
simply so he could take her higher.
A third finger pressed her pussy tight, hitting her G-spot
at precisely the same time Drew’s tongue circled her clit. Erica bent backward,
digging her skull into the pillows as she howled her release.
When the quivering slowed, Drew slid his cock into her
entrance. He muttered an oath to Aer and surged forward.
Erica forced herself up so she could cling to him. He tugged
her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was such a sweet motion that
Erica could have cried.
Who was this man? He wasn’t the asshole she’d towed into her
garage. That man wouldn’t have made her breakfast. He wouldn’t have seen to her
pleasure first.
Whoever this man was, she wanted him. Now. Next Sunday. A
Sunday in December.