Chapter 7 #2
She felt his lips smile and his growl vibrate against her suddenly sensitive breasts.
As his lips devoured hers, she dropped one hand to his waist and found the hem of his T-shirt, pressed her fingers beyond it to his bare skin.
To his flawless, hard abdomen and higher, again to his beautiful sculpted chest. As her hand kept caressing, exploring, her fingertips brushed over his nipple.
A sensitive nipple, judging by the way he moaned again and forgot to be so careful with her.
His reaction was heady, empowering, and the next thing she realized was his hand beneath her sweatshirt, easing its way toward the bottom curve of her breast, dipping beneath her bra.
When his work-roughened fingers rasped over her nipple, a shock of sensation shot to her core.
Her head swam, and her knees weakened. She grasped on to his sides to keep from swaying from the onslaught.
Nate lightened the kiss and moved his hands to her waist to steady her. “Sophie.” His voice was coarse and sexy and she’d done that to him. The knowledge was dizzying. “You just got home,” he said with some effort. “We need to take it easy.”
Her body screamed that she wanted anything but easy, but her confidence wasn’t quite there yet and kept her from telling him as she tried to breathe evenly. Forget evenly … just tried to breathe.
“I’m…” Her voice was barely there, so she cleared her throat. “I’m good.”
A low, sexy laugh rumbled from his chest. “You are definitely good.” He brushed his lips over her jaw, up close to her ear, making her shiver. “But you’re still recovering, and I’m being a selfish jackass.”
She opened her mouth to argue, and he planted a kiss there. He wove their fingers together, his strong ones dwarfing hers.
“We will pick up where we left off. Soon. But I don’t want to push you. And I promised you dinner.”
As he pierced her with the sincerity in his eyes, she couldn’t resist the urge to run her fingers over his scruffy jawline. The soft bristles sprang back and tickled her. Loving the masculine texture, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, letting the hair abrade her tender lips again.
In spite of the way her body still hummed with the need for more of him, his concern, his consideration evoked an even stronger reaction in her — one that made something catch in her chest. That response was more alarming than the physical one.
She could do sex. There’d been guys in the past who’d had no problem getting her revved up and into bed.
But the something else, the feelings that didn’t fall into the strip-me-naked-now category …
those were more foreign. Something she tended to avoid at the earliest hint.
And somehow, this man had sneaked past her early-alert system.
Yes, putting on the brakes was an excellent plan.
As if on cue, her stomach, which she’d neglected all day, rumbled.
Nate laughed, his eyes sparkling, and she wondered if her eyes ever sparkled like that. She had her doubts.
“Apparently, dinner is a fantastic idea.”
Several hours later, Nate climbed into his truck, adjusting his jeans, which had become too tight in the fly and damn uncomfortable.
The night had been torture. Beautiful, glorious torture.
He hadn’t fucked up the shrimp scampi he’d cooked for dinner — Sophie either really had loved it or was one hell of an actress.
They’d sat side by side at the bar, and as whipped as it made him sound, they’d talked and he’d loved every second of it.
He’d never felt like this before, never wanted to soak up everything he could learn about a woman, never been content to listen to one talk about whatever she wanted to talk about.
Fuck. He was in deep.
They’d talked about work (his and hers), the best bars and restaurants on the island (Shell Shack and Raul’s), and national economics.
She was smart, way too smart for him, but that was a turn-on.
Though they hadn’t talked about anything too personal, he felt like he knew her well, even though, technically, they’d only known each other for three days — two if you didn’t count the day she’d been practically unconscious.
And yet he wanted to know more. Wanted to know everything about her.
And physically … yeah. When they’d sat on the couch together watching the Food Network, which she admitted she’d never watched before, and she’d rested her head on his shoulder, he’d paid more attention to the light floral scent of her hair and the way her chest rose and fell with every breath than the TV.
Her tits were average size, nothing that would catch a guy’s eye, but he wanted nothing more than to feast on them — and the rest of her.
But not tonight. He’d been a fucking saint tonight — except for the scorching good-night kiss she’d initiated and he sure as hell hadn’t fought — holding himself back, letting her relax and recover, because if he’d given in to what he really wanted to do, she would’ve ended up hating him almost as much as he’d hate himself.
He didn’t know what he was getting himself into, but if he was honest, he didn’t want out. He wanted more. Wanted as much as she would give him. But tonight, while she recuperated from injuries, he’d have to settle for a cold shower.