The Sweetest Taboo (A Modern Vintage Romance)

Chapter 27

Bikini wax, check. Manicure, check. Pedicure, check. Shaved legs and underarms, check. Hair blow-dried, check. Matching bra and panties with no holes or loose elastic, check.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Rowan would be here in a half hour. He”d called from the airport. He flew commercial. I told him to come straight to the condo and not stop at a hotel.

What are you doing, Isha? I”m playing with fire.

I wore a black dress with an A-line skirt that I knew looked good on me. It cupped my breasts, and skimmed my trembling hands over my stomach and down my ass. I”d never been curvy, but I was filling up. I wasn”t twenty-one anymore, that was for sure. I had decent tits, I thought. Six years ago, they were a 32-B, and now they were still a 32-B. I would not win any wet T-shirt contests.

I took a picture of myself and sent it to Mick.

Me: How do I look?

Mick: I”d fuck you if I was straight.

Me: You sure?

Mick: No, I”m not sure. I”m not straight, you know that, right?

Me: I”m not 21 anymore.

Mick: None of us are.

Me: You know what I mean.

Mick: He looks at you like a dog does at a piece of steak after he hasn”t eaten for a week. You can wear a burlap sack, and he”ll still fuck you.

Me: I made lasagna for dinner. I bought some Chianti. Should I have booked a restaurant?

Mick: Only if you have a public sex kink.

Me: Shite. I don”t have any dessert. I forgot.

Mick: Just take your panties off and spread your legs. Pussy for dessert.

Me: Argh!

I set the table. White table cloth, candles, the nice silverware that I borrowed from Mick and Arturo because mine were IKEA all the way. I borrowed wine glasses from them as well, because mine came cheap from Amazon, so I didn”t have to care if they broke. Theirs were delicate and made a pleasant sound when clinked together.

Since Rowan kept saying I smelled like jasmine, I had a jasmine-scented candle flickering on the coffee table. The lasagna was keeping warm in the oven.

I opened the bottle of Chianti and made sure it wasn”t bad. I poured myself a little and guzzled it down.

I was nervous as hell.

I didn”t know how to have sex. I worked sixty hours a week and had a preschooler. I didn”t have time for sex. I didn”t have time to shave my legs most days. But Rowan, he”d been having sex. He had practice.

I”m going to be so lame in bed. Lamer than even last time.

Why, oh why had I asked him to stay the night? What was wrong with me?

I drank some more wine to take the edge off.

Moderate the wine, Isha, or you won”t just be taking your edge off. You”ll be sleeping on the dining table before dinner.

By the time the doorbell rang, I was ready to turn the lights off and pretend no one was home.

I gingerly opened the door. Rowan stood there with a leather bag slung over his shoulder.

”Wow,” he murmured when he looked at me, coming in and shutting the door behind him.

He dropped his bag on the floor, and pulled me to him. His mouth was on mine less than a minute after he was in the door.

Damn it, there goes my carefully applied lipstick.

His tongue was inside me as he tasted, nibbled…devoured.

He lifted his head, his eyes heated. The blue was darker somehow.

”My God, you”re so fucking beautiful. You make my head spin.” He nuzzled my neck. ”And you smell so good.”

He kissed my nose and smiled at me.

”Hi, Rowan, so glad you”re here.”

He laughed. ”I didn”t give you a chance to talk, did I?”

I shook my head, amused.

”I”ve been thinking about that kiss ever since you said I didn”t need a hotel. I”ve been thinking about this.” He put a hand on my hips and looked me up and down. ”I want you.”

”Dinner and then…?”

”I”m hungry, but not for food.”

He picked me up, bridal style and took me to my bedroom.

”Ah…I have candles and wine and….”

He dropped me on the bed. ”Stay still and hold that thought. And Isha, I mean it. Stay still.”

I raised both hands, palms out, sitting on the bed. ”I”m not going anywhere.”

He came back with the wine and wine glasses. ”Are you hungry or can dinner wait?”

”It can wait. And, no wine for me. I already had two glasses,” I blurted out.

He raised an eyebrow.

”I”m nervous, Rowan.”

He set the glasses on my dresser, and poured wine into one glass. He took it and came to sit next to me on the bed. He drank some and put the glass on the bedside table. He removed his shoes, then his socks. He pulled off his chambray shirt, and underneath, he wore a white t-shirt. I gulped.

He crouched in front of me, his hands on my knees. He then took off the ballet flats I was wearing, and slid his hands up my legs, up my thighs, and squeezed.

”How long since you last had sex?” he asked softly.

I licked my lips. ”I don”t want to tell you,” I said firmly. What loser wanted to admit that the last time they had sex was a gazillion years ago? Not this loser.

”It”s been a year…maybe a little more for me,” he confessed.

I gaped at him. ”Really?”

”Yeah.”

”Six years,” I revealed.

He narrowed his eyes. ”Not since us?”

I shook my head. ”Not for lack of trying…well, I didn”t have time to try. I had school. I had Flora. I never did casual, so it wasn”t like I was just going to pick up some bloke and shag him, you know?”

”Okay.”

”Who was the last woman you had sex with?” I asked. It was probably a one-night stand, and I already hated that woman.

Jealousy was a nasty bitch, just like the woman he”d last fucked,I thought pettily.

”Can”t remember her name. I met her at a hotel in Chicago. I was there for a meeting with a meat processing company. I went to her room. We fucked. I left.”

”Was she pretty?”

His hand moved to my hips, and he pulled my underpants down. I helped by lifting my hips a little. He looked at my underwear. ”Sexy.”

”She was sexy?” I demanded.

”No, your panties are sexy. I can”t remember how she looked. Gun to my head, I wouldn”t be able to pick her out in a line up.”

”Why am I jealous?”

He cupped my pussy, and my hips jerked.

”So warm, so wet,” he murmured, looking into my eyes. ”You”re jealous because you love me, and you feel possessive about me. The feeling, darlin”, is entirely mutual.”

He put a finger inside me, and I jolted.

”Shh, I just want to see how tight you are.” He slid a finger in and out, and I moaned at the intrusion. He brought the finger to his mouth and sucked on it, tasting me.

He stood up and held out a hand. I put my hand in his. He pulled me up to stand in front of him. He slid to his knees and lifted my dress. My hands were on his head, in his hair.

”Wider, baby.” He parted my thighs, and I complied.

The dress dropped around him as he kissed my pussy. His hands moved, and as he rose, he pushed my dress up and above my body. He took it off, and I stood in a black lacy bra and nothing else.

”Fuck,” he breathed. ”Fuckin” hell.”

”I put on some weight, and it”s age, you know, and—”

”Shut up, Isha.”

He ran a hand over my breasts and tweaked a nipple. I whimpered. He found the clasp on the back of my bra and removed it. I stood naked in front of him while he was still in jeans and a shirt.

”Lie back down, baby. I need to taste you.”

I sat down on the bed instead. ”Rowan?”

He looked at me. ”Yeah, baby?”

”I”m scared.”

He sat down next to me. It made me feel stupid. I was naked, and he was mostly clothed. Could this get any weirder?

He put an arm around me and pulled me close. ”Tell me what scares you.”

”I got a bikini wax, and got my hair blow-dried, and—” I gasped because his hand was stroking me between my legs.

”I like that you don”t have all the hair removed. I like this.” He didn”t stop touching me while he spoke. ”What scares you, baby?”

”Sex.” Head slap!

”What about sex?”

”Everything,” I moaned because he was circling my clit. ”I…I”m uncomfortable sitting here naked, and you still have your clothes on. Just let me put something on.”

”I don”t think so.”

Rowan stood up and removed all his clothes. He pushed me onto the bed, so I was lying on my back. He lay on his side, his cheek propped up on his elbow. ”Better?”

”Now you”re naked, too.”

”Yeah.”

”You have an erection.”

”Yeah. That happens when you”re naked, and I”ve been touching you and tasting you.”

I breathed slowly and paused when he traced a nipple with a finger.

”I love how dark your nipples are. How beautiful your skin is. Soft.”

My nipples puckered at his words. He touched the peaks reverently.

”Rowan, I”m scared that we”ll have sex, and you”ll hate it, and say something horrible to me.”

His hand stilled, and then he cupped my breast and squeezed. ”What”s the worst thing you think I can say?”

”What?”

”What is the worst thing I could say?”

”That it was horrible sex.”

”Okay. What else?”

I blinked. ”That I”m a whore.”

I saw something move in his eyes. His hand moved to my stomach, caressing, stroking, soothing. ”What else?”

”That I”m bad at sex.”

He let out a short laugh. ”Anything else?”

”That you hate me.”

His hand wandered between my thighs, and his fingers ran through my trimmed pubic hair.

”So, you think I”m going to say the sex was horrible, you”re a whore, you”re bad at sex, and that I hate you? Is that it?”

”Okay, now that you put it like that, it sounds silly.”

”No. The last time we had sex, I called you a whore…more or less. Now, what are the chances that a man who has been begging to spend time with you, taking whatever scraps you throw at him, is going to finally fuck you after he”s not had sex for over a year, will actually say those things?” He slid a finger inside me, and my breath caught. He pumped in and out gently.

He leaned close to me, his lips near mine. ”What are the chances, Isha?”

I licked my lips. ”Slim to none?”

”Yeah. Now, can we fuck?”

Something churned inside me, something warm and heavenly. If I had to conjure up a man I”d want to be with, I couldn”t have designed him better than Rowan. He”d not ignored my fears. He”d heard them and turned them around—and did what I thought would never be possible, made me trust him, just a little.

”Yes, please.”

”So fucking prim and proper, my English Rose.”