What Love Tastes Like (14 page)

Tiffany reclined on the lounger by Nick's pool and tried to relax. It wasn't easy. Not when she'd vowed that this visit would be strictly platonic, yet felt her insides quiver as she watched Nick swim. The muscles in his arms, legs and back rippled as he sliced through the water.
Damn.
Fluctuating feelings aside, Tiffany was glad to be here with Nick, glad she'd accepted his invite to join him for a casual dinner. Especially when he said he'd cook. Tiffany smiled, remembering the conversation.

So here she was, and so far, Nick had been a man of his word. Tiffany had not lifted a finger. On the contrary, she'd felt like a princess as Nick insisted she rest on the lounger while he plied her with wine, cheese, and fruit. And aside from a brief hug and chaste kiss, there'd been no physical contact either. But as she watched Nick walk up the steps on the other side of the pool and then turn to come toward her, she knew that him keeping his hands off her was the last thing she wanted.

“Ready to eat?” Nick asked, as he reached for the towel on the lounger next to Tiffany and began drying off.

“I don't know,” Tiffany said, still not convinced Nick's food would be edible. “What are we having?”

“Ha! Still don't believe I can cook, huh. Girl, I can throw down! I know you don't want to swim, but why don't you at least enjoy the Jacuzzi while I finish our meal.”

“It'll sweat out my hair, Nick.”

“Okay, baby, then just relax. Dinner will be served shortly.” He bowed formally, and winked at Tiffany before walking back into the house.

Just under an hour later, Nick and Tiffany dined on swordfish burgers, organic root chips, an awesome salad, and chilled Chardonnay.

“This burger is amazing. Did you buy these at Whole Foods?”

“I had the fish filets delivered, and then assembled the burgers so they could marinate overnight.”

“You made this swordfish burger from scratch? But it's seasoned so well, the spices and…”

“I told you I could cook.”

“What kind of salad is this?” Tiffany asked, around a mouthful.

“A ‘whatever' salad.”

“I've never heard of such.”

“You haven't? It's easy to make. You just open up your refrigerator and whatever is in there goes into the mix.”

After poking through the salad and discovering romaine lettuce, cooked spinach, corn, black beans, tomatoes, onions, rice, raisins, sprouts, pine nuts and items she couldn't identify, Tiffany found the name to be appropriate. “It's good…what kind of dressing is this?”

“A secret kind.”

“Oh, please.”

“You're the cook, figure it out.”

Tiffany took a sip of lemon water and cleansed her palate. She took her finger, wiped it around the rim of the bowl where drops of dressing clung, and tasted slowly. “Olive oil, balsamic vinegar, some type of mustard for emulsion, spices…”

“What kind of spices?”

Tiffany wiped the bowl again. “Cinnamon for sure…that's different, but nice. A little ginger maybe, and some coriander.”

“You're good.”

“…poppy seeds, and what's making it sweet…agave?”

“Your finger.”

“C'mon, Nick, I'm serious.”

“So am I.” He laughed as Tiffany pouted. “Yeah, it's agave.”

“What about the other ingredients, was I right?”

“Just about.”

“What did I miss?”

“Woman, are you trying to make my mama turn over in her grave? Because that's what would happen if I told you the whole recipe!”

“I didn't know your mother cooked.”

“Not just her, but all the neighborhood mothers. That's how they often passed time on the base, hanging out in the kitchen and cooking up all kinds of dishes. My mother got pretty good at dressings, sauces, even jellies and jams. I totally ignored them, or so I thought. But I obviously picked up the love by osmosis.”

Conversation flowed easily as Nick and Tiffany finished their early dinner. “That was delicious, Nick. Thank you.” Tiffany stood, and reached for his empty plate.

“Sit down, woman. Guadalupe will clean up.”

“Oh, right,” Tiffany said as she sat down. “You have a housekeeper.”

“Yes, and you're not doing any work today, remember?”

Tiffany smiled. “As much as I enjoy cooking, it felt good to be served.”

“Service isn't over,
bella
,” Nick said, rising. “I hope you left room for dessert.” He held out his hand. “Come.”

Tiffany slipped into the jean skirt she'd worn over her swimsuit and soon joined Nick in the great room. This room, with its bold colors, abstract art and cushiony, oversized furniture, stood in refreshing contrast to the formality of the other rooms. She sank into a tan, suede-covered sectional, placed her bare feet beneath her and picked up her dessert bowl.

“Yum, you can never go wrong with chocolate,” she said, before taking a bite of chocolate chip cheese-cake. It melted in her mouth. Tiffany looked pointedly at Nick. “You didn't make this.”

Nick laughed. “No, this is Donny's handiwork.” Donny was Taste's prized pastry chef.

“I should have known. It's delicious.”

They continued chatting while eating dessert. Tiffany plied Nick with humorous stories about the war zone otherwise known as the Taste kitchen, while Nick briefed Tiffany on a new, huge business venture.

“You sound really excited about it, Nick,” Tiffany said sincerely, but with a tinge of sadness.

“I am, but it doesn't sound like you're too happy for me.”

“No, really, it sounds great. Your enthusiasm just then reminded me of my dad, that's all. I can remember being a little girl and hearing him talking on the phone about this or that business deal. He'd sound so excited! I'd run into the room, wanting to be a part of it all, a part of his world. He'd shoo me out of course, and later, when I'd ask him about it, he'd say, ‘just work, baby girl.' And then, he'd be out the door again.”

Nick poured them both a cup of decaf coffee from the urn on the tray he'd brought in earlier. “How is your dad?” he asked, knowing he was stepping into sensitive waters. “I know you guys talked recently. Have you spoken to him again?”

“I saw him just the other day, for the first time in almost five years.” Tiffany's voice was barely above a whisper. Unconsciously, she withdrew into herself, wrapping her arms around her body and nestling against the sectional arm.

Nick reached over and eased Tiffany's leg out from under her. He began softly massaging her foot. “That must have been hard.”

“It was, at first.” Tiffany recounted parts of the conversation she'd had with her father, including the new things she'd learned about him. “We're a lot alike,” she concluded. “I'd never really realized that before.”

Nick let that statement hang in the air as he motioned for Tiffany to place her other foot in his lap, and he quietly continued to massage her feet. His hands itched to move higher, but he knew that such a move—caressing calves, thighs, and beyond—would likely send an already skittish Tiffany running for home. Nick knew that touching her at all was pushing it, so he let well enough alone. If there was a move to a more intimate encounter, she would have to make it.

Tiffany leaned back against the couch, relaxing as Nick massaged her feet. “That feels good, Nick,” she whispered.
Wait, did I say that out loud?
She'd been thinking it from the moment he touched her, and once he started massaging her feet, the rest of her body had cried out for attention.

“I can do your calves too, if you'd like. You're on your feet for hours every day, and that affects your calves, knees, everything. That has to take a toll after a while.”

Tiffany remembered how good her legs had felt after Picchu's massage. “I guess that will be okay,” she said, closing her eyes.

Nick finished massaging her heels, and then slowly slid his hands to the meaty part of her calves. His strokes were slow and deliberate. He kneaded her muscles, adding just the right amount of pressure to release the kinks. Tiffany's moan was barely audible, but Nick heard it. He dared move his hands over her knees, to her thighs, and continued the massage.

Stop him, Tiffany. Stop him now!
But she couldn't. His hands felt so good, and her pussy longed to be massaged as well. She squirmed, remembering how his mouth felt on her, how his dick felt inside her. She moaned again, louder this time, and shifted her body slightly.

You want it, brown sugar, and I want to give it to you, baby. But you'll have to tell me.
Nick eased his hands back down to her calves, and rubbed slowly to her feet. Then he stopped, and gently lifted her feet off of his lap. “Does that feel better?”

“Much better,” Tiffany said, forcing herself to a sitting position. Her stubborn logic warred with her sizzling body.
Don't stop touching me, Nick. I want to feel you…
Tiffany reached for her coffee cup. “Is the coffee still warm?”

Nick nodded. He leaned toward her, poured the coffee, and placed the carafe back on the tray. Tiffany stared at his large hands, at the strong fingers that gripped the pot handle, as if mesmerized. She wanted something hot, but it wasn't coffee. Logic snapped, and senses took over. She put down the cup, leaned into Nick, and seared him with a kiss.

Nick returned the kiss, but kept his hands by his side.

Tiffany wanted more. She straddled him, and kissed him again. Nick devoured her mouth, and hardened beneath her. Tiffany ground herself against his shaft, then reached for his arms and put them around her. “Nick,” she breathed into his mouth.

“Yes, love?”

“Ooh, please…” She placed her hand on his manhood.

“What do you want?” Nick slowly rotated his hips, pushing his hardness against the bikini bottoms under Tiffany's skirt.

In an uncharacteristic act of boldness, Tiffany reached behind her and unfastened her top. Her heavy breasts sprang from their confines, her hardened nipples ready for sucking.

“Tell me what you want, brown sugar,” Nick said huskily. “I will only do what you tell me to.”

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered.

“Where?” Nick placed his hands on her waist, but didn't move them.

Tiffany shifted her body and pushed her nipple between his lips. Nick hungrily twirled the areola with his tongue before taking as much of her as he could into his mouth.
His tongue feels so good! Oh my God…
Tiffany's nana tingled as she remembered just how good his tongue felt in other places.

“Nick, I want us to, I want you to…”

“What, baby?”

“Lick me…there…”

Nick smiled against Tiffany's skin. “Where?”

“Here,” Tiffany cried softly, taking his hand and placing it under her skirt.

“But you said you didn't want me to touch you like that…”

Tiffany jumped off Nick's lap abruptly.

Oh, hell,
Nick thought.
Time to run away.

But running was the last thing on Tiffany's mind. She knew what Nick was doing, and understood why he was doing it. She had rebuffed his advances and insisted on a platonic relationship. But now she was getting ready to show this man that it was a woman's prerogative to change her mind. She hurriedly shed her skirt and bikini bottoms, lay on the couch and spread her legs. “Here, okay?” she said, pointing toward the area she'd decided to have waxed after getting a manicure/pedicure. I want
your
tongue
here
!”

Nick chuckled, pleasantly surprised by Tiffany's brazenness. He wasted no time in fulfilling her request, stripping off his shorts and then burying his head between her legs. Before long, Tiffany's moans turned to loud whimpers as Nick orally plucked her feminine flower. He placed his hands under her butt and lifted her for better access, teasing her crevice with a long, strong finger as he tongued her folds, tickled her nub, and then pushed his tongue as deep as he could inside her. Tiffany's body began to shake with the oncoming orgasm. As she reached the peak and cried out, Nick spread her wide, plunged inside, and took them both on a raw, erotic journey.