What Not to Were (7 page)

You must do this, Calla
.
You can’t go on denying yourself—and Nash—the level of intimacy you both so desperately want. Sex is part of every healthy relationship, and you need to know if this is something Nash can handle because if it’s not, you’re moving on faster than you can say “yeehaw”.

Kicking off her shoes, Calla unsnapped the front closure on her bra and let it fall open—the soft gel prosthetic in the left cup dropping to the floor.

Instantly, her hands went to protect, to cover the space where she should have a breast, but then Nash was there, gripping her wrists and holding her arms away from her body.

He looked down at her, examining every square inch of her exposed flesh until she thought she would crumble at his feet, until her limbs shook and her heart throbbed hard against her ribs.

And then Nash looked into her eyes, searching them, reading her emotions, letting her hands go in favor of wiping the single tear dripping from the corner.

Calla held her breath as she tried to hold his gaze. She wasn’t ashamed of her deformity, for lack of a better word. She wasn’t even ashamed that her pack considered her inferior.

She was ashamed that anyone considered her body
less than
—that, for its lack of proportion, it deserved more critical attention than her brain or her heart. She was ashamed that she had once thought those same things, too—that she’d allowed anyone to crawl inside her head and twist her sense of self.

But she wasn’t ashamed anymore, and even the small niggle of fear Nash would reject her, would find her repulsive, didn’t keep her from standing up straighter and wiping those thoughts from her mind.

This was who she was, but it wasn’t all she was.

If Nash turned her away, it was on him. She was more than a missing piece of flesh.

“
This
? This is what’s been troubling you all this time?”

Her mouth went dry at his astonishment. “I was born this way, and I can’t have a surgical implant because the silicone and my shifts would never mesh,” she blurted.

“And?”

He’d caught her off guard, knocking the wind out of her sails. She’d expected surprise, anticipated disgust, maybe even a bit of fear. But he gave off none of those things.

“A…and what?”

“And
so what
?”

Relief, in all its knee-melting, limp-limbed glory, washed over her. “You don’t care?”

His eyes flashed brilliant colors under the moon he’d created; his jaw was tight and clenched. “I care about you, Calla.
You
. Your heart. Your mind, the way you treat the people of this town. The way you baked cupcakes for old man Patterson’s birthday because his son was stuck in Hong Kong on business. I care about your strong ties to your grandfather, your loyalty to your friends, the wall full of pictures you encourage the kids to color for you at the center. The way you patiently tell Gus he absolutely cannot look up your skirt without breaking a sweat. I won’t say your body isn’t a big part of your appeal, and I won’t tell you that part of that is the way you fill out a pair of jeans, because I’d be lying. I’m insanely attracted to you. But that attraction has many, many layers, Calla. Only one of which is your body.”

Calla gulped, speechless. She’d only had a few lovers in her rather long lifetime, and while a couple truly hadn’t cared about her breast, they hadn’t cared about
her
, either. Not the way Nash did. So it hadn’t mattered if they’d accepted her in her entirety because she hadn’t wanted them for forever.

“Do you hear me, Calla? If this is part of the reason you’ve held off making love with me, then we have no reasons left not to, do we? Because I don’t care,” he repeated, sliding the straps of her bra over her shoulders and down along her arms until she was almost entirely naked.

Another tear slipped from her eye, but Nash wiped it away with his callused thumb. “I love you, Calla Allen. You could have no breasts, two heads, three eyeballs, and I’d still love you.”

“That’s a lot of eyeballs.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed down at her. “And a lot of mascara I’d have to wait for you to put on before we go out to dinner. But not my point. Do you hear me?
I. Love. You
. Now say it back so we can break out the condoms and the lube and get this party started.”

Letting her head fall back on her shoulders, she laughed, forgetting she was almost naked, forgetting everything but the idea of seeing Nash just as naked.

Rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his hard jaw, her fingertips smoothing over the stubble. “First, we don’t really need birth control. I’ll explain the mating cycle of a werewolf later. But bring on the birth control and KY anyway—because who says no to lube? Oh, and I love you, too, Nash Ryder.”

And that was all either of them needed to say. She pulled him to her then, lifting the edges of his T-shirt and driving it up over his head. Her heart crashed in her breast at the sight of his bare chest—smooth with only a sprinkle of dark hair between his pecs.

He was strong from long days working the ranch, his abs so defined, they almost didn’t look real. Her fingers went to the smooth expanse of skin stretched tight over rippled planes, reveling in the heat under her palms when she skimmed them over his dusky nipples.

Nash groaned his pleasure when her hands surfed down his abdomen to the wide buckle of his belt and tugged it open. Her mouth watered when she popped the button and unzipped the zipper, dragging both his pants and his boxer-briefs over his hips.

Nash kicked off his boots, leaving him with nothing but his black socks. Calla’s breath hitched in her throat when she looked down. His thighs—heavily muscled—flexed and bulged; his cock stood rigid and thick, pushing upward.

The air in the room grew still despite the warm breeze he’d created. She’d never seen a man as beautiful as Nash Ryder. Every inch of him, from his gruff, chiseled face to the lean cut of his hipbones, was bronzed, lickable.

He wiggled a finger between them at her lace panties. “Ahem. Those have to go. Take them off before I tear them off, and that would be a shame because they’re pretty dang hot.”

His approving eyes on her, intense and amused at the same time, left her feeling alive, sexy, so she shimmied the pink-lace scrap down over her hips and to her feet in a flirtatious manner.

“So the rumor about Miss Dottie’s is true,” he said, his voice tight and thick, the muscles of his neck working.

Calla smiled, planting her hands on her hips. “I guess it is,” she responded teasingly, her heart crashing against her ribs, heat pooling between her thighs.

Nash wiggled his finger at the spot on the floor directly in front of him, his grin rakish. “Here. Now.”

Calla closed the space between them until they were but an inch apart and then Nash hauled her into his arms, molding her to him, their flesh meeting for the first time, making them both groan into each other’s mouths.

She saw stars when his tongue dipped between her lips, stroking hers as his hands roamed over her back and down along the cheeks of her ass. Strong, callused, skilled, his fingers teased her, avoiding the space between her legs until she wanted to beg him to touch her.

Nash walked her backward toward the bed until the mattress hit the backs of her knees and she was sitting on the cool comforter. Placing himself between her thighs, he knelt before her and slid her bottom to the edge of the bed.

Her hands instantly wove through his thick hair, loving the feel of the silky strands threading through her fingers.

Nuzzling her chin, Nash moved along her jaw to her earlobe and whispered, “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” before he wrapped his hand around the length of her hair and tilted her head back until her neck and spine arched in unison.

“Spread your legs, Calla,” he ordered husky and low as his tongue wisped over the length of her neck and over her collarbone.

She was vulnerable in this position, her soul as naked as her body. Yet, there was no hesitation—no fear.

He nipped at her skin, setting it on fire with each rasp of his tongue. Nearing her breast, Nash leaned into her, letting his head rest against her chest.

Her unconscious impulse was to pull him away when she stiffened, but Nash kept a firm grip on her hair. “Don’t. Don’t ever hide from me, Calla.”

Her shoulders sagged and as he let her hair go, and her head lifted, she glanced down at him, his face nestled at her chest. The stark contrast of pale skin and his dark hair made her stomach clench, her heart twist and shudder.

Then he took his first swipe of her tight nipple, making her forget everything but the heat of his tongue, the white-hot need settling between her legs.

Nash cupped her breast, rolling his thumb over her peaked nipple, chasing that thumb with his mouth until her hips bucked upward at the raw, achy pleasure he was evoking.

Calla’s hands went to his head again, keeping him close, savoring the scent of his arousal, the hard press of his body against hers.

Splaying his hand over her belly, he gave her a gentle nudge, pushing her to her back and spreading her legs wide. He hooked her knees over his broad shoulders, dropping kisses along her inner thighs, making her squirm with anticipation.

Her mouth was dry, her senses keen when he spread her wet flesh and took his first stroke to her clit. Her hips bounced upward in response to the wicked feel of his tongue on the most intimate part of her body, her chest went tight as she gripped the comforter with hard fists.

Nash hummed approval against her, stroking, licking, tasting before sliding a finger deeply within her, thrusting, pushing against her body.

Her pulse raced as hot flames licked at her veins, a swirling vortex of desperate need building until Calla thought her eyes would roll to the back of her head.

She almost came, the pleasure was so deep, but he withdrew, sensing the tightening of her body, making her cry out when he removed his finger, soothing her with his hands as he ran them over her thighs.

Her body shuddered, trembled with a need so sharp, she wanted to scream at him to finish her off, make her come until she was wrung dry, but Nash was determined to keep her on that ledge.

Nash began to stoke her throbbing clit again in long, slow swipes, slipping his hand beneath her ass and pressing his mouth flush to her.

Flashes of brilliant color flitted behind her eyelids, her thighs clenched and tightened when she reared up against the silky press of his lips, suspended for a moment before she nosedived into her orgasm.

Shivers of delight coursed through her body as she thrust against Nash’s mouth, rode his tongue, dug her heels into his strong back, rocking against him.

Her breath exploded with a gasp, a hissing attempt to pull air into her lungs while her hips fell back to the bed and she struggled to regain balance while the world tilted sideways.

Nash slid up her body, letting it graze every part of her flesh, damp from sweat. He covered her frame with his, and sunk into her. Their bodies touched at every point, their breathing mingled, their skin rubbed with delicious friction.

Slipping a hand between them, she reached for his cock, thick, rock-hard, and wrapped her hand around it. Her first stroke made him buck forward into the cavern of her hand, hiss a groan of pleasure, but then he was brushing her away.

Cradling her face with his hands, he murmured against her lips, “I’ll never last, honey. I’ve waited a long time for this. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Calla’s heart fisted and shuddered with pleasure. Without a word, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles together in agreement.

Wrapping his elbow at the bend of her knee, he lifted her leg high and poised at her entrance.

Her hips bucked in response as she writhed beneath him, luxuriating in his raw strength, loving the feel of his heavy weight on top of her.

And then he was thrusting upward, stretching her, filling her, his shaft hot and pulsing. Calla cried out, gripping his shoulders with her hands and raising the lower half of her body until Nash was deeply imbedded inside her.

His slick thrusts made her dig her nails into his back, grind against him until her head swam, and that tendril of white-hot heat bloomed into a raging fire, a quest for fulfillment.

Neither of them denied the rush of climax, it happened suddenly and simultaneously, each of them lost in the wonder of this pleasure they’d found with one another.

Nash’s low groan tickled her ear, the flex and release of his muscles matching her own as they sought their final release—together.

Calla’s breathing wheezed from her lungs as she gasped for air while Nash smoothed her hair, damp from perspiration on her forehead.

Raising himself up on his elbows, he gazed down into her eyes. “You, Miss Cupcake Maker, were totally worth the wait.”

She giggled beneath him, sighing into his mouth when he took her lips and gave her a quick kiss. “Just you remember that, Cowboy,” she teased, content and so happy her toes tingled.

“What just happened here is something I’ll never forget.”

Snuggling beneath him, she let Nash roll her to her side, tucking her back close to his chest. He nipped her shoulder and whispered, “Stay the night?”

“Like you could get rid of me.”

“Will Ezra and Twyla Faye worry?”

She loved that about Nash. He was always thinking of everyone around him. “Are you kidding? If I’d let him, he would have bought a subscription for the condom of the month club after our first date. You have Gramps’ seal of approval.”

Sliding his hand over her ass and slipping it between her legs, Nash chuckled, the deep rumble penetrating her back. “Phew. He’s a tough old codger to impress. Glad to have passed inspection.”

“Enough talk, Cowboy. There are raffles and pools all over Paris tonight betting on whether we’re making each other’s eyeballs roll. You’re better get to the business at hand or suffer the humiliation when I tell everyone we only did it once.”

Cupping her breast, he moaned a laugh when she arched her back against him, his cock rigid again. “I’m a little crazy about you, you know that, Cupcake Lady?”