Then He Kissed Me: A Cottonbloom Novel (23 page)

Thunder cracked. The storm suited her mood. Her customary T-shirt, jeans, and boots grounded her, and she headed to Nash’s house. She parked at the curb in front of the old house. The glow of a lamp outlined a figure against the lacy drapes in the front window.

Dark clouds had tossed them into a premature night. Maybe she could get this done and be gone before the rains came. The closer she got to his cottage the slower her steps grew.

He opened the door with her hand up to knock. He was barefoot and in a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with a slogan across the front. Avoiding his eyes, she stared at the shirt, ticking off the words in her head.
I’D FIND YOU MORE INTERESTING IF YOU WERE DEAD.

A nervous laugh snuck out. “Your shirt is cute.”

“Yeah? You like geeky history humor? There’s something we have in common.” He ushered her inside. Everything looked exactly as it had last time she was there. Books everywhere. “It was a gift from one of my students.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t a pair of panties.”

“I don’t wear women’s underwear.” His consternation was adorable. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, if that’s what you’re into. Which I’m not.”

More nervous laughter spurted out of her. “Not for you to wear, silly. Like a rock-star groupie. You know, girls tossing their underwear at you while you’re lecturing.”

“Have you got the wrong idea. If a majority of the class is still awake at the end of my classes, I’m thrilled. Especially if it’s at eight in the morning. You should come to one of my lectures this fall. If you feel the urge to throw your panties at me, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Hold up.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead wondering how the conversation had derailed so quickly into a flirtation. “I’m not here to talk about panties or sitting in on one of your lectures.”

He hummed and propped himself against the kitchen doorjamb, his smile turning her inside out. “That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind holding an in-depth discussion about your panties—including examples.”

How was she supposed to put the brakes on their relationship when he was being so laid back and funny? “We’re not discussing my panties. We’re going to talk about why we”—she waggled her finger between them—“would never work.”

“Because you can’t read as fast as I can?” The sardonic way he said it made her feel foolish.

“Not just that.”

“Then why?”

She cast around for another excuse. “Your aunt doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”

He pushed off the doorjamb and stalked her. She backed away, prey to his predator. “We’ve already discussed the fact she is predisposed to dislike you based on her supposed past relationship with your uncle. Try again.”

“You’ll get bored with me.” The backs of her knees hit the loveseat, and she plopped down.

He didn’t stop his pursuit, leaning closer and forcing her to scoot back into the pillows. “You are the most exciting, infuriating woman I’ve ever met. What else do you have?”

She ended up half-reclined on the loveseat, his knee planted between her spread legs and his chest hovering over hers. She wrapped her hands around his tensed biceps, the strength inciting a spike of arousal, which wasn’t doing her mental state any favors.

“I’m the bad girl from your past that you want to get out of your system. That’s all this is, Nash.”

“Bad girl?” His eyes sparked with emotion. “You are the purest, best thing from my memories.”

“There. Right there. I’m not pure or perfect or some embodiment of your dream girl. I’m emotionally stunted. Why can’t you see that?” She took his face between her hands with the intention of shaking sense into him, but ended up stroking her fingertips along his cheeks and jaw, committing him to her purest and best memories.

“See, that’s what you’re missing. I
do
see you. I see all your weird little idiosyncrasies and your perceived flaws, and they only make me want you more. I’m not trying to recapture my past, I’m trying to build my future. Why is it so wrong that I want you to be part of it?”

Her weird idiosyncrasies aside, his words turned her insides to a gooey, melty mess. Surrender hovered. She threw out her last excuse like a kamikaze pilot. “But Cottonbloom isn’t your home.”

He dropped closer, his elbows on the cushion by her head, his body pressing into hers. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him even closer.

“Cottonbloom has always been my home, Tallulah.” His whisper scraped away the rest of her defenses.

His sweet brown eyes were inciting foolish hopes, and she closed her eyes. “You’re an expert in European history. We are about as far from that world as possible. You don’t belong here anymore.”

“I once asked you to run away with me.” A yearning weaved his words.

What could she say? Maybe fear had kept her in Cottonbloom, but with Cade home for good, her roots had dug even deeper. Slowly, fearing what she would see, she opened her eyes. Instead of disappointment, she only saw understanding and need.

“I can’t see into the future, but I have no plans to go anywhere anytime soon. Anyway, there’s been a development called an airplane that can get you across the world in hours.” His slow smile dissipated her worries like the sun over the foggy river.

“Our friendship is precious. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Sleeping together won’t turn us into adversaries. Now, unless you come up with some other excuse, I’d like to take you to bed.”

Although he still smiled, his voice had turned husky and seductive. A turning point loomed. Yes, they’d messed around, but once they slept together, no matter what he said, their friendship would be cast in different shades. Sex might destroy the ease that existed between them. A flicker of optimism beat back her doubts. Could something even more amazing take root, the past forming its foundation, solid and unshakable?

He waited, his gaze darting from her eyes to her mouth and back again. With a jolt, she realized he was waiting for an answer. Her past relationships had left the men with all the power, but Nash seemed more than willing to give her a voice. Confidence surged through her.

“All right, Professor. Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirteen

Nash felt like someone had just offered him a 1940s mint-condition Superman comic book. He tried to control his excitement. Tears gleamed in her eyes, and he could sense her trepidation. Maybe because the same fear loomed for him. Except he could see beyond it. She seemed paralyzed by it.

He needed to go slow with her, make her understand that he craved more than to be inside of her. Although now she’d given the green light, the urge to rip their clothes off and take her quick and hard kept inserting itself.

Reaching for a self-control he thought beyond him, he dropped his mouth to hers with the intention to woo her with gentle kisses. She annihilated his plans. At the first touch of his lips, she came alive. She clutched and pulled at his back and hooked her ankles around the back of his thighs, pulling him down on her.

He settled his hips between hers and rocked against her. A rather insistent and painfully large part of him wanted to take her on the loveseat. The rest of him balked. At least the first time, he wanted her naked and spread out for both their pleasure. The kiss stretched to forever, his tongue winding with hers, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

He raised his face and took deep breaths, his lungs squeezing in warning. He’d never had an asthma attack having sex. Sex had always been like working out, a physical release, not an emotional one.

He pushed off her, already missing her body against his. She lay sprawled on the loveseat, her legs spread and her expression dazed. He grabbed her hands and hauled her to standing, pulling her close into his body and laying a light kiss on her reddened lips.

“I want you naked,” he whispered in her ear.

She jerked, but wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her lips moving against his cheek. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

The years fell away to the terrible days after his mother died and he’d learned of his aunt’s plans. The thought of losing Tally too had sent him into despair. For a while, he wasn’t sure he’d survive, but he had, and now they’d come full circle. She was back in his arms, her lips against his cheek. He swept her into a cradle hold, her black motorcycle boots dangling.

“What’re you doing? I can walk.”

The breathless quality of her voice made him hope their connection was as unique to her as it was to him. “I know you can, but I want to carry you to bed like a gentleman.”

“I’m not sure a gentleman would take an unmarried woman to his bed.”

“Technicalities.” He took the steps one at a time, savoring the way she notched her face in his neck, kissing his jumping pulse point. When he thought of how close he’d been to losing her, he hugged her tighter. She seemed desperate to convince him they wouldn’t work, and with equal desperation, he would prove they would.

He laid her on the bed and resumed his earlier position, one knee between her legs, his elbows braced beside her head. This time she initiated the kiss, her hand tight around his nape. One night soon, he would spend hours making out with her, but not tonight.

He squatted back on his knees and shed his T-shirt. She propped herself on her elbows.

“I never imagined you’d grow up to be so sexy.”

His surprise turned into satisfaction and fueled his desire. “I don’t think of myself as sexy in the least.”

“I know. It makes you even sexier, trust me.” She shifted to sitting and grabbed the waistband of his jeans with both hands. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you looked that morning. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of pulling your underwear down and…” She ran her tongue along her puffy lower lip.

“And,
what
?” He was damned either way. He had to hear her say it, even if he keeled over.

She tilted her head back, her green eyes huge, her face flushed. “I want you in my mouth so bad I can taste you.”

The bands around his lungs tightened. He groped for his nightstand.

“You don’t need a condom. I’m on the Pill. Unless you want to use a condom, which is fine.” Uncertainty had replaced her sexy confidence. The woman was a mass of contradictions.

He rocked back on his knees, took a pump off his inhaler, and held up a finger. The attack had been mild. The second time he’d had to use his inhaler with her. When he found his voice, it was hoarse. “Glad you’re on the Pill because I don’t have any condoms. I haven’t needed them since I moved back.”

“Did me telling you I want to go down on you give you an asthma attack?” Horror mixed with amusement in her voice.

“Yes, the thought of your mouth on me gave me an asthma attack. If you actually do it, I might have a heart attack.”

Laughter snuck out, but worry crinkled her eyes. “What if you have an attack in the middle of sex?”

“I won’t, but this is how things are going to have to happen. You’re going to let me touch you. Everywhere. You will orgasm. I’d like to guarantee that I’ll last long enough for you to come again, but I probably won’t.”

She collapsed to her back, giggling. “I appreciate your honesty.”

When she went to the button of her jeans, he stopped her, dropped over her long enough to brush his lips over hers and whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

“Nash.” His name fell from her lips, begging and desperate.

He slipped his hands under her T-shirt to the soft skin of her waist. Skimming his hands higher, he brought the shirt with him, up and over her bra. She raised her arms and shimmied like they had practiced the move, and he tossed the T-shirt over his head.

Her ponytail spread like a spilled plume of ink over his comforter. Her bra was a simple white, a shade lighter than her skin. Not that he expected fancy lingerie. It wasn’t her style. He snaked his hand under her back and fingered the clasp. “May I?”

Her throat worked, but no words came, instead she nodded, quick and jerky. As a teenager in college, he’d practiced undoing bras around a pillow until he was an expert. It had taken a few years until he got the chance to put his expertise into practice. Thankfully, it was like riding a bike.

Her bra loosened, and his breath caught as he drew the fabric away. Her hands fluttered to her stomach as if she were tempted to cover herself. Her breasts weren’t large, but beautifully full, the nipples small and peaked.

He scooped his arms under her shoulders and lifted her. He took one nipple straight into his mouth and sucked. She arched, her head falling back. Her moan carried the echo of his name, and she threaded her fingers in his hair, holding him close.

The sounds that emerged from his throat were closer to growls. Her skin was soft, her scent intoxicating. He transferred his attention to her other breast, teasing her nipple with teeth and tongue. She squirmed, her knees clasping him at his waist.

He settled her back against the bed and rolled to her side. He pinched one nipple and then the other, gauging her reaction. Her body went taut, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth. Again, he could spend all night teasing her breasts, but there was so much more he wanted.

With one hand, he unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down, skimming his hand into the front until they found the soft cotton of her panties. When she made a move to shimmy them down, he rose and tutted. “I told you that I’d take care of you. A foot, if you please.”

She raised her right one, and he worked her black leather kick-ass boot off to reveal a dark blue sock covered with Superman emblems. The sight was like a kick in the gut. He raised his gaze to meet hers.

“Comic books were easier to read. Less words, more pictures. I kept the stash you gave me as kids. I reread them so many times, I memorized them.” She shrugged. “The socks reminded me of you.”

He peeled the sock off and reached for her other boot, not trusting himself to speak. She’d held onto him in her own way. Time had tested but not severed their connection. He laid a kiss on the arch as he peeled her matching sock off.

He dropped her leg and grabbed the waistband of her jeans, pulling them off and tossing them aside. Her panties glowed white and very brief, hiding almost nothing from his greedy eyes. He reached for them as she raised her hips to help. She was naked, and he wished the storm away, wished the moon would light the curves and contours of her body.