Sweet Trouble (5 page)

Bailey

I’m not sure how long I’ve slept because the sky is the same steel grey it was when I fell asleep. I roll over in the bed, catching a delicious whiff of Nick that floats up from the bedding. I might need to steal something from him. A pillow. A shirt. Anything to remind me of his scent.

It’s hard to know what to think about him. One minute he’s looking at me like he’s mad, like, really mad, and the next minute he’s a teddy bear.

My phone says it’s four o’clock. I have a message from my mom, hoping I’m having a nice weekend. She’d freak if she knew I was lying in some guy’s bed, a guy I barely know. My mom’s too busy for men. That’s what she tells me. She’s never dated. I think her heart broke when Dad died.

Instead, she throws herself into cat rescue and fostering. One time she had so many cats she got a citation. My mom refuses to give men her number but she’ll spend half the night coaxing a kitten from a storm drain.

I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want me dating either. Just wait, she likes to tell me. You have your whole life, but the unspoken message is,
don’t get pregnant on accident, like I did
.

A crack of lightning lights the bedroom and it’s followed by a boom of thunder that I can actually feel in my sternum. I yelp. “Holy crap.”

A voice behind me scares me again. “You slept all day,” Nick says. “It’s almost suppertime.”

The scowl is back and I feel awful that he’s stuck with me until the rain stops. I want to tell him that I’d leave if I could. I need to get home and try to get my car fixed and do a hundred errands. This morning, I told Sydney I’m moving out of Susanna’s house. She told me I should move in with her even though it’s just a little one-bedroom. I shudder at the memory of Susanna being with two guys at once, screaming out her pleasure like a porn star. I thought I knew her, but I don’t, and I can’t live with someone like that.

I have so much I need to do and I’m sure he’d rather be doing anything other playing host.

“I’m sorry I slept all day. I always need a day of sleep when I have time off. Working three, twelve-hour shifts at the hospital really takes the wind out of my sails. I’m always exhausted.” Plus, I’m babbling.

He squints like he’s trying to understand what I’m saying but it’s a lot of trouble.

I hop out of bed and hurry to the bathroom where my bag is. “Better get some actual clothes on. Can’t be a lady of leisure.”

Slamming the door behind me I stare at the lock. If I lock the door, he’ll hear and it will make me look paranoid all over again. For a minute or two, I stand there like an indecisive dork until I finally just lock the damn thing.

I put on a sweater and a skirt, a short mid-thigh one like last night because I think he liked it. It’s soft, made of cashmere, something Sydney got me. With the rain the air feels pretty cold, and the chill settles deep inside, but this sweater feels warm and comforting. I finish dressing and find him sitting in the den. A fire crackles in the fireplace and I draw close to warm my hands.

“Isn’t this romantic,” I tease. “I bet your girlfriends love your man cave and having a fire going on cold evenings.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I turn to look at him.

“I don’t have girlfriends, Bailey.”

“Oh come on. No future Mrs. McKinley? No small, baby mountains?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“Okay.” I turn back to the fireplace and leave the ogre to stew in his own grumpiness. No girlfriends. Fine. Not a huge surprise. I mean he’s big and bad and gorgeous but he’s not exactly Mr. Congeniality. The man never smiles, well, maybe once or twice, I recall. He does have nice white teeth and I noticed them when he did smile or bare his teeth, whatever the expression was.

“Did you know your uncle?” he asks.

I rub my hands together and relish the heat that’s traveling the length of my arms. “You mean my Uncle David?”

“That’s right.”

“Ugh, no. My mother never said anything good about the guy. She said if she ever saw him again she’d shoot him. And she doesn’t believe in guns. So, I always figured he was a bad apple.”

“A bad apple. A rotten apple.”

“Maybe that’s why he took his own life.” I shrug. “I don’t know much about my Dad’s side of the family. But my mother gets depressed when a potted plant dies. Mom is a flower child, literally. So I was pretty surprised when he died and all she had to say was,
Good riddance
.”

Staring at the flames, I feel my body relax. I’m mesmerized.

I turn around to face him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Want to watch a movie or play a game?”

He’s drinking a beer, sprawled across his couch, his immense build taking up more than his share. I sit beside him and tug the bottle from his hand.

A flare of emotion flickers behind his eyes. I shouldn’t provoke him but I want to so badly. I drain the last few sips of beer and hand it back to him. “Want to play spin the bottle?”

Leaning forward, he sets the bottle on its side in the middle of the coffee table and spins it. I draw a sharp breath because I didn’t actually expect him to do that. I’ve never even played this game and I sure wouldn’t have thrown that out there if I’d imagined he’d actually take me up on it. The bottle twirls and spins and with each rotation slows, finally stopping, pointing at me.

He smiles. I wait.

“What do you suppose,” he drawls, “would happen…” he brushes his thumb across my lips, “if we kissed?”

Nick

While I’ve never asked a girl that question before, I would have expected a couple of possible answers. Maybe she’d act coy and like she didn’t really want to kiss. Or she could come back with something flirty. Knowing Bailey, I sort of expected the first scenario.

What I didn’t expect was for her to pounce on me, like a puma in mating season.

She throws herself at me so hard my head smacks the back of the wall and I’m not sure if the stars that spin in my field of vision are from a concussion or how fucking amazing it is to kiss Bailey Voss. Her mouth is soft, lips pressed together. After I lean back on the couch, taking her down with me, I stroke her lips with my tongue. She moans and the sound goes all the way down my spine straight to my cock. I stroke her again but her mouth is like a steel vault.

Even though she’s lying on top of me, wriggling and squirming, she thinks I’ll let her get away with a closed mouth kiss. That’s not happening. I growl a warning and she parts her lips immediately. Sliding my tongue between her lips turns my growl into a groan of pleasure.

Her submission is pure sweetness. Angling my head, I grip her hair to keep her right where I want her. Our kiss is lewd, obscene, and I feel my cock jump. I cup her ass, squeeze it, hard enough to make her give a small sound of surprise. I soothe the hurt, caressing it gently.

She’s squirming impatiently. Restless, needing something she’s not sure of, but I am. I brush my hand along her side and flick the clasp of her bra open.

Flipping her beneath me, I press her to the couch with my body, easing myself between her thighs. My cock is beyond frustrated and I love the way it feels to grind into her soft warmth. I slip my hand beneath her skirt and grip her hip. She wriggles and arches her back. She’s tempting me. Asking me. Pleading for me to touch her breasts.

I’m going to make her wait for it because once I get my hands on her tits, there’s only one way this thing is going to go.

The sun has set and the house is almost dark. Her face is lit by the light of the fire and her hair is a gorgeous mass I want to wrap around my fist while I drive deep inside her.

I sit up and pull her onto my lap so she’s straddling me. “Take the sweater off, baby.”

She doesn’t make a move.

“Take it
off
, Bailey.”

She pulls off her sweater and slips her bra from her narrow shoulders. I keep my eyes on hers the whole time. “Good girl.”

I lift my hand and as I near her breast she arches her back. She does it without thinking, pure animal instinct sparked by our raunchy, make-out session. I haven’t made out on a couch in fifteen years or more. Bailey might never have done that. I growl softly at the thought and let my gaze fall down the front of her body. Fuck. She’s flawless.

Her breasts are perfect. Each breast is a mouth-watering teardrop tipped with a small pink nipple and I cup one of them, stroking my thumb across the stiff tip. I watch her face and see a thousand emotions play out. She wants to act like she can handle anything I dish out, but her eyes give her away. Her eyes are lit with desire, but she’s wary, too. She should be.

A surge of pure primitive need surges through my bloodstream, searing my veins.

Her gaze is fixed on me, wide-eyed and wondering what’s next. The panties, of course… they’re next. I want them gone. I wrap the lace around my fingers and tear the fabric. She draws a sharp breath. They give easily and I toss the remnants aside. I’ll let her keep her skirt. I don’t want to tear that off her because I like it. I like the idea of her wearing it without her panties on underneath.

I set her on my lap, her legs straddling me, she’s open and as I trail my fingers under the hem of her skirt she whimpers. I draw a fingertip across her, touching her slowly. She’s slick. Swollen. And her clit is like a little pearl. Setting her hands on my shoulders she fists my shirt.

“That’s right, Bailey. Hold on to me.”

I lean forward, suck her nipple between my lips and begin stroking her with my tongue as I tease her clit with my thumb. She lifts onto her knees and rides my hand. My other hand moves up the back of her thigh, slips under her skirt to cup her sweet ass. I can feel her response building. Small sounds fall from her lips. She gasps for breath. I graze the tip of her nipple with my teeth and she arches, throws her head back and cries out.

“
Nick
…”

Her muscles grow taut and she shudders with a beautiful release.

Her orgasm is fucking gorgeous. But so fast, and too easy. I can’t wait to hear that again as I’m devouring that sweet pussy. I hold her as her climax fades, kissing her neck and lips as she sinks into my arms. She’s weak and spent but I’m just getting warmed up. Easing her down to the couch, I kiss a trail down the front of her body. I descend past her breasts and her narrow waist.

My hands skim over her silken skin and I’m about to nudge her thighs apart when she grips my hair in her fist. I happen to like a little biting and scratching and hair-pulling, but her tug is a little more than your usual fun and games.

“Nick,” she whispers.

My brain snaps out of its lust-addled fog and I lift to look at her. She jerks to a sitting position, grabs a pillow to cover her chest.

“I don’t know if I can handle this.” She clears her throat. “Sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs and I can tell she’s trying to cop a little bit of an attitude. But something in her eyes is so fragile, I’m sure she might start crying. I want to taste her. And I want to know what’s happened that she can’t handle my doing that.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It just freaks me, like you’re too much for me to handle.”

“You’ve never done this before?”

She shakes her head. “I just panicked a little. Watching you. Sometimes your expression is so intense, it scares me.”

“Let me take you to the bedroom. It’s dark. We’ll go slow.”

She smiles and it’s not the type of smile she gets when she’s giving me shit, the one that shows off her dimples. It’s a sweet smile. Trusting and it makes something inside my chest crack. I can’t breathe. I wait for her to say something to break the spell.

“All right, Nick.” She nods. “Maybe it would be easier in the dark.”

Bailey

I don’t like the idea of handing control over to someone. It’s not like I’m some sort of control freak, but I like to call my own shots. I don’t even like getting bossed by doctors. And yet here I am. Wearing a skirt and nothing more, letting Nick lead me down the hallway to his bedroom where I’m going to let him do things to me I’ve only ever dreamed of.

I lie back on the bed, feeling awkward and exposed. Closing my eyes, I’m aware of my fretfulness ebbing. This is Nick. He’s looked out for me. Taken care of me. I’ve never felt that way before. Safe. Sheltered. Protected.

There was something that shifted while we messed around on the couch. I felt a sense of menace behind the lust. Like he was keeping a tight leash on his desire and any minute it might snap. I’m overthinking things. I should just stop and let him do what I’m sure he does very, very well. The next time the girls get together for drinks I’ll have a story to match theirs.

The mattress dips and I sense him over me and his lips on mine are soft and warm. His kiss is tender. He laces his fingers through mine and kisses me. I writhe under him, my core throbbing with need. What I want is too feel him inside me but I can’t break the kiss to tell him anything.

My thoughts are too scattered to form any protest. He breaks the kiss and moves to my neck, nuzzling and kissing the tender skin. His beard scratches. I love it and squirm beneath him, needing more.

Slowly he lowers to my breasts and teases my nipples, stroking the tight buds with his tongue. He sucks gently. Each kiss makes my heart clench. His touch is slow, questioning, nothing like the way he’s treated me so far. All of this is pure seduction.

This is what love-making is, I think. I know it’s just kissing but if feels like so much more. Offering no resistance, I open beneath him. My responses don’t belong to me anymore.

He kisses my stomach, nipping me playfully and then he’s between my legs, his lips on my intimate flesh, kissing me there too.

His hands caress my thighs and he presses them open. He takes a tiny lick and I feel him shudder.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Totally perfect.”

Then he starts licking faster and harder. I want to scoot away from him but I can’t move with his arm pinning my hips down. He groans and the sound registers along around my breasts. He caresses my thigh and his touch heats my skin. Every lash of his tongue drives my arousal higher until I’m begging. Pleading. Not with real words but with mindless, primitive sounds.

Just when I’m sure I can’t take another moment, he sucks my clit between his lips and it’s too much. That small tug sends me over the edge. My back bows off the bed and I cry out, shattering beneath him. Light explodes behind my eyes and I gasp for air.

Vaguely, I’m aware of him prowling up the length of my body and crouching above me. He lowers and his lips brush mine. They’re wet with my essence.

“Baby,” he says gently. “I need to be inside you.”

I nod, or rather I’m aware of the fact that I’m nodding, because there was no thought. Just response.

“Yes. I want that, too.”

He whispers the words. “I’ve never gone without a condom, but I want to feel you. All of you.”

“I want to feel you too.”

“You’re so beautiful. You probably think I’m going to let you go when the rain lets up, don’t you?”

His voice is teasing but I can’t say anything because my mind churns with questions. Should I tell him I haven’t done this before? What, exactly is the etiquette for having sex for the first time?

He presses against me and eases in a tiny bit. Then he lowers to settle between my thighs and kisses me. When he pushes deeper the discomfort grows and after the next thrust he stops. Lying on top of me, he’s very still.

“Bailey,” he says from between gritted teeth. “You’re so tight. Am I hurting you?”

The sting has grown into something more but I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone. “Don’t stop.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I should have. I want this. Please.”

He cups my face and kisses me, small kisses along my jaw and across my lips, pressing deeper inside me. The fullness is almost too much and then there’s a jolt of pain. I bite my lip and taste blood. It’s too dark to see anything, but I’m almost afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes. Is he the type of guy that’s spooked by having sex with a virgin? Too much commitment there?

But he offers sweet, soothing words. Telling me how much he loves being with me.

“Put your arms around me,” he says.

I obey him and wrap my arms across the expanse of his powerful back and he begins moving again. His gaze holds mine and he’s watching me for a sign I want him to stop. I don’t. I try to tell him by pressing my fingers into the bands of muscle that flex beneath my hands. He’s so big. Like a fortress.

“You think you can come?” he asks.

Without waiting for a reply he rolls over, taking me with him. Suddenly, I’m on top of him and he pushes me halfway to a sitting position. My eyes have adjusted to the dark and I see a smile tugging his lips.

“This might be easier on you.”

After a tentative movement, I can see why he set me here, impaled on his shaft. I can control the pressure and as I rock slowly a swirl of pleasure gathers inside me. “Oh!”

He nods, his smile grows a little wider. “Atta girl.”

Cupping his shoulders, I move a little more in earnest. My breasts bounce and he smiles. His gaze flicks to my breasts and back to my eyes. His grip on my hips tightens, as he guides my movements. My breathing is ragged and I’m sure that my fingernails are digging into him, but I can’t control anything.

The sounds coming from my lips don’t sound like anything I’ve ever uttered before. They’re small cries, because I’m so close to heaven, I can almost touch it. My eyelids flutter and I see his eyes hooded with arousal. And then I break. It’s soundless and hits me like a tidal wave carrying me. The only thing I know is that I’ve collapsed and I’m lying on his chest. His arms wrap around me. He rolls me over and thrusts hard, snarling as he finds his own release.