Cup of Sugar (4 page)

“On the couch.” Shit, now her cheeks were on fire. Meaning he’d for sure think she’d been referring to his cock—in her. Great, just great.

“Right.”

Assuming the snow let up and the roads cleared, they could be underway first thing in the morning. She just had to get through the next eight or so hours without saying—or doing—something she’d regret. Easy peasy.

Unless he stripped in front of her.

“Oh my god.” She spun on the spot, giving him her back and resisting the urge to peek over her shoulder when his t-shirt landed on the floor near her foot. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a hot shower.”
Zip.
“I didn’t have a chance to take one when I got home from work.” His warm breath rustled the hair at the side of her neck. “Did you?”

“I’m not showering with you.”

“It wasn’t an invitation, though I wouldn’t object if you want to conserve water by joining me.”

She pinched her eyes closed as his chuckle slid into her ear like a sexy, whispered promise. One she was quite sure he’d fulfill if she followed him into the bathroom.

“Hey, Nia.”

She knew better than to open her eyes, but she did it anyway. At the exact moment his jeans hit the bathroom tiles. Holy shit.

“Be ready to ring in the New Year when I’m done in here.”

All she could do was squeak. She really needed to learn to control that. “Ring it in…how?”

Another grin took over his sensual lips. He nodded at the flat-screen TV on top of the dresser. “By watching the ball drop in Times Square. Unless you come up with a better idea.” With a wink, he disappeared behind the door.

She waited for the sound of water, then fell face-first onto the bed. Oh, she had better ideas. Several. All of which she would resist. Somehow.

* * * * *

Conn turned off the water. World’s fastest shower, right there. He didn’t want Nia thinking he actually expected her to join him. Damn, though. Her pre-emptive protest had momentarily given him cause to hope. And the way she’d basically eaten him up with her eyes… He’d had to close the bathroom door in a hell of a hurry then. Otherwise she would have had a lot more to look at.

He’d pushed the envelope a bit—okay, more than a bit—in the other room. Taking his shirt off had been one thing. Dropping his pants in front of Nia could have sent her running out the door. Fastest way to assess the situation, though.

The talking, joking and flirting they’d shared while driving was great. After all the months she’d seemingly gone out of her way to avoid more than brief, basic conversation, he hadn’t anticipated her to relax as easily as she had. He’d like to think it was because of him. That his charm had unraveled Nia’s defenses as quickly as she had done to his. Thankfully, he had some sense to balance his ego.

She could have let her guard down because she intended to say goodbye later tonight. Because they were both safely contained by seatbelts and blanketed in the semi-anonymity of darkness. All of that had changed when they walked into this motel room. He’d had to make sure the connection he’d felt in the truck existed in a fully lit room. Particularly when the focal point of the room was a bed.

And oh hell yeah, the connection existed.

He secured the towel around his hips and opened the door. “Just grabbing my stuff,” he said while crossing the room.

“Sure. Whatever.” Indifferent words. A good match for her fixated stare at the TV.

He cut in front of the screen. Her gaze shifted and locked on the band of white hugging his below-the-belt region. And the best part? She didn’t seem to care that he’d caught her looking.

He could work with that. Absolutely. Sweatpants balled in one hand, he moved to the edge of the bed, where she’d propped up against the headboard, remote in hand. He adjusted the tucked-in knot of the towel, enjoying the hell out of her wide-eyed expression as he did so.

“You can’t get naked here.”

“You assume a lot, sweetheart. I was checking the status of the ball.” He nodded at the TV, where Dick Clark’s replacement was yapping away. “Not my balls.”

“Sorry. It’s just, I… Never mind.” She rolled her neck and shoulders. “I think the stress from the drive is finally hitting me. My left arm is a little stiff too.”

From using it to prevent Zeus from being thrown forward when they’d had the near-miss on the highway.

“I’m pretty good with my hands. Want me to rub it, work out some of the tension?”

She made one of those cute squeaks and turned six shades of pink. For someone so sweet and innocent looking, she sure seemed to have a dirty mind. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Probably true. Because once he touched her, he’d want to keep on touching her. All night long.

He tipped his head toward the bathroom door while slinging the pants over his shoulder. “I’m going to go pull these on. Then it’s all yours.” The bathroom, the remainder of the evening, his body…let her take that offer any way she wanted.

* * * * *

Why did women take so damn long to do simple things?

Nia had sprung to her feet, overnight bag in hand, when he exited the bathroom. First, she’d made a comment about “changing into something more comfortable.” Then she’d blushed. A second comment to the tune of, “getting ready for bed” had deepened the blush tinting her fair cheeks. After that she’d scurried into the bathroom and shut the door. That was fifteen minutes ago.

Conn was about to call out a warning that she’d miss the ball dropping if she didn’t hurry up. The door opening saved him the trouble. The sight stepping through that open door rendered him mute.

Guys liked lingerie. Oh yeah. Judging by the advertising campaigns and porn vids out there, the majority of men liked it super skimpy, lacy, preferably in red or black. Hot, no question, but not at the top of Conn’s list. The skimpy stuff left nothing to the imagination. And the imagination was a terrible thing to waste.

Right now he was imagining Nia’s breasts, full and free and warm beneath the silky, white tank top she wore. Not skintight, but the top skimmed her curves nice and close. And when she took a deep breath, the material went taut across her cleavage, revealing two hard-peaked nipples. Jesus, what a beautiful sight.

She took a few hesitant steps closer, eyes darting between his position on the couch, the TV and the empty bed. “Did I miss much?”

“Not really. A couple songs, a bunch of talking.” The countdown celebration from New York City continued on the TV screen, but it was just part of the background blur now. Conn only saw Nia.

“Oops, the light.” She turned, hurrying back to the bathroom to correct her mistake.

He groaned inwardly. The satiny material lay smooth against her perfectly rounded ass. Her pale-pink pants weren’t see-through, but they might as well have been, because it was plenty evident she didn’t have anything underneath. With each step she took, the little tank top shifted, rising to tease him with a hint of creamy skin. Those pants rode damn low on her hips. Hips he needed to run his hands over while
she
rode
him
.

“Oh, look…” She pointed at the TV while crawling onto the bed. “Robin Thicke is performing.”

Conn didn’t want to look. He didn’t care who was performing. Hell, they could dedicate the next song to him, live from New York City, and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

Her breasts bounced as she settled into place with her back against the headboard. Light from the table lamp glinted off her long, blonde hair as she flipped it behind her shoulders. And when she smiled at him with her strawberry-colored lips, he had no choice but to casually slide his arm across his lap to cover the tent pole that’d popped up. Long night ahead—hell yes.

“I could go for some room service.”

“I can help with that.” He grinned at her instant blush. Grinned wider still when her lips parted as he stood and headed her way. He scooped his duffel bag from the floor beside Zeus’ snoring form and gently tossed it on the bed. “Room service. You told me to pack snacks, remember?” He returned to the short couch and stretched to the best of his ability, overhanging the end by a good foot and a half. “Go ahead, check it out. My stash is your stash. Help yourself.”

She peeked inside tentatively.

“Don’t worry, nothing too weird in there.” When she looked up at him, he added, “I think.”

“Hmm. I don’t know…” She pulled out a bag of potato chips. “Dill pickle flavor has always weirded me out a little.”

“You don’t like them?”

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “No way. Even the smell makes me gag.”

He cupped his hands over his heart. “And here I thought we were soul mates.”

“Not if these are your thing.” She held the bag between pinched fingers, as if handling toxic waste.

“I’ve got other stuff. Root around in there and see if you can find something you like.”

She poked around some more, a giddy smile on her face when she extracted a small bag of pizza-flavored Combos. “Oh my god—now these, I love.”

“So I’m forgiven for the dill pickle chips?”

“Totally. If you like these,” she clutched the bag of pretzel crackers against her chest, “we may just be soul mates after all.”

A prospect that didn’t spook him in the slightest, despite the havoc Tracy had wreaked on his life less than a year ago. Of course, he might just be distracted by the way the package disappeared between Nia’s breasts when she hugged it. What he wouldn’t give to be that bag of Combos right now.

“May I have them?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

She tore into the bag like a kid would a Christmas present. She popped the first pretzel piece into her mouth and closed her eyes. Her lips moved in a circular motion and her cheeks hollowed. Then she moaned. The woman looked and sounded as if she was on the verge of an orgasm. From pretzels.

Jesus, how would she respond to his face between her legs, or his cock buried deep in her body while he kissed her? He was never going to make it through this night.

“Want some?”

Hell yes, he wanted some. So badly his cock could probably be used as a battering ram. He shook his head. “You have them. Enjoy.”

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, the wheels turning behind the pretty eyes locked on his face. “I’d enjoy them more if we shared.”

“All right.” He stood, using his forearm to shove his hard-on aside as much as possible—which wasn’t nearly enough.

Before he could scoop a few pretzels from the bag in her outstretched hand, she pulled it back. “You could sit over here and watch the show.” For the dozenth time tonight, her cheeks turned pretty pink. “If you want to, I mean.”

If?
Apparently she hadn’t noticed his mammoth erection. Yet. “Sounds good.”

She raised a pale-brown eyebrow when he left the widest possible buffer between them. “Do I smell bad?”

“The opposite, sweetheart.”

“It’s probably the Combos.” She waggled the fingertips she’d just licked at him. “Perfume has nothing on the allure of grease and spices.”

“It’s not the food. Not perfume either.”

“Oh.” A shy smile played on her lips. “I don’t mind if you move over… You know, so you don’t fall off the edge of the bed.”

Invitation accepted. The springy mattress pitched her against him as he edged closer. Her breast pressed against his biceps and her hand landed high on his quadriceps. A couple inches to the north and she’d have had something entirely different to grab hold of.

“Sorry.” Her apology came out soft and breathy. She hadn’t stopped leaning on his arm. Nor had she looked away.

“Don’t be.” He trapped her hand with one of his.

“Okay.” Beautiful brown eyes stared up at him. Her lips parted and beneath his palm, her thumb brushed back and forth over his thigh.

Sparks shot up the inside of his leg. He wanted her hand higher. Wanted those delicate fingers curled around his cock. For starters.

Noise erupted from the TV. Thousands of people cheering from Times Square mixed with the host’s excited voice as he started the final countdown to midnight.

“The ball’s dropping,” she said.

“So it is.” Speaking of balls, time for him to grow a pair and make the next move.

“Only twenty-five seconds to go—”
came the warning from the TV.

If it was now or never, he was going with now. He slid his hand up her bare arm. “So soft. Even softer than I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about touching me?”

“Oh yeah. All the time.” He rounded her shoulder and threaded his fingers through her golden hair. “About doing this too.”

“Fifteen more seconds—”

“It’s almost time,” she whispered, her warm breath tickling his lips, they were that close.

“Ready for it?”

“Very.”

“Three, two, one—”

“Happy New Year.” Hand in her hair, he drew her toward him. Much as he wanted to dive in, he took it slow, brushing his lips across hers softly. Then again and again, lingering longer with each pass without pushing for more. But Jesus, he wanted more.

And hallelujah, so did Nia.

“Conn…”

He groaned at the whisper of his name against his lips. The press of her breasts against his chest as she straddled his lap.

He cupped her hips and pulled her down. Forget the celebration happening on the TV, they had plenty of fireworks going on right here.

* * *

Oh god. First, she’d invited Conn to join her on the bed. Then she’d encouraged him to kiss her. And now she’d climbed onto his lap. She shouldn’t be doing this, but god, his hands felt good on her body. And the way he looked at her, kissed her…gah. She hadn’t expected a man as large and strong as Conn to be so gentle. It was almost a tease. Or a challenge. Whatever it was, he was making her crazy.

“Tell me what you want, Nia.” His thumb swept over her bottom lip. His gaze wandered over her face and breasts, sending tingly goodness rushing to her nipples—and between her legs.

She arched her back and moved against him. He rolled his hips upward in an answering movement. That’s what she wanted. More pressure, more pleasure. Conn’s big, hard body giving it to her. But she couldn’t tell him. Because she couldn’t have what she wanted. Riding the hot neighbor was definitely in violation of the rule.