He didn’t respond, simply pressed his fingers gently against her scalp in a gesture that felt more like a caress than anything she’d felt in a long time—maybe ever.
Nick tipped her head back, and she obliged, letting the stream of water rinse her hair clean.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an unreadable expression.
“Conditioner?” she asked. She aimed for cheeky, but it came out…quiet.
One corner of his mouth lifted, and instead of reaching for the conditioner bottle, he slid a hand behind the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his for a kiss.
He tasted like toothpaste and Nick, and she drew him closer, pressing her wet body to his. Nick groaned, his hands slicking down her back to cup her butt, pulling her all the way against him.
Taylor went on her toes, tilting her hips to rock against his erection, and he smacked her ass lightly. “There you go again, trying to rush my timetable.”
“Just want to get to the good stuff.”
His grin was wicked. “You want the good stuff, hmm?”
Taylor didn’t object as he slowly turned her toward the wall of the shower, although she gasped when he pushed her gently all the way against the cold tiles. “What are you—”
Her words dissolved into a moan as he moved her hair to the side and trailed hot kisses from the tip of her shoulder to between her shoulder blades and all the way down her spine.
His hands cupped her ass, and she could have sworn she heard a whispered “Perfect” before he nipped a cheek lightly, then soothed the spot with a kiss before turning her around.
Nick’s eyes found hers a split second before he pressed his tongue to her melting core. Taylor gasped his name, hands going to his head, fingers holding on to his damp hair for dear life.
Nick wasn’t the least bit shy, and refused to let her be either. His hand lifted her left leg slightly, opening her all the way as he licked her.
As on the day she’d worn the trench coat, he seemed to know everything she liked, every touch she needed, even before she knew it.
The pleasure became almost unbearable, his mouth hot against her body, the shower wall cool against her back. The sound of her panting mingling with the splash of the shower was like their own erotic soundtrack.
Two fingers slid inside her as his tongue circled her clit, over and over until she broke. She shattered like a piece of fine china, her body, her soul, everything shattering in a million different directions.
His hands held her steady as he stood, lips trailing up her body until he nuzzled her neck.
“Conditioner time now?” he whispered against her ear.
Taylor laughed, a ragged, exhausted sound. “Something like that.”
And then, before he could stop her, her fingers wrapped around him. She was turned on all over again by how hard he’d gotten from pleasuring her.
He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers as she touched him in slow, hot strokes. It was wonderfully intimate, watching his face as he got closer and closer to the edge. She found herself strangely emotional at the way he let her observe him, as though refusing to let either one of them deny what was happening between them.
She watched as the cords of his neck strained and his teeth clenched. Watched as his eyes turned from warm brown to molten chocolate. Waited until his eyes finally slammed shut as he yielded to the pleasure with a quiet roar.
When he stopped gasping, he opened his eyes and looked at her with bemusement. “What are we going to do with us, Carr?”
“Not a clue.”
Smiling, he handed her the conditioner bottle and shampooed his own hair before putting shower gel on her loofah and washing both of them with short, effective motions that were so guy-like it made her laugh.
Minutes later they were in the kitchen, her in her robe, him with a towel knotted around his waist as he poured them each a cup of coffee.
“Got plans tonight?” he asked, pulling his usual box of Chex out of the cabinet.
She took a sip of her coffee. “No. I was supposed to go get drinks with Brit, but she’s got the flu. Another friend’s having a birthday party, but it’s the tequila-shot and dance-all-night crew, and I don’t know if I have that in me. Am I getting old? Don’t answer that.”
He went to the fridge, pulled out one of her raspberry yogurt containers, set that and a spoon in front of her. “Go out with me.”
She froze in the process of opening the yogurt. “Be more specific.”
He glugged milk into his bowl. “You. Me. Dinner.”
Taylor gave a very slow smile. “Are you asking me on a date, Ballantine?”
“Depends. You gonna put out?”
“Hey, I’m not the one holding out on us,” she said, waving her spoon in his direction before dunking it into her yogurt.
“Didn’t feel like either one of us was holding out just a few minutes ago.”
She cleaned her spoon, considering. “Dinner sounds nice. If I pay, then will you put out?”
He grinned and shoveled a bite of cereal into his mouth. “Wear something sexy. Just in case.”
Chapter 22
In the end, she wore something sexy—a short backless black dress.
But she didn’t pay for dinner.
Nick had refused to let her even touch the bill before dropping his credit card into the folder.
“My idea, my treat.”
“This means I’m not gonna get lucky, huh?” she said, scraping her spoon around the side of the dish to get at the last of the crème br?lée.
He made a clucking sound. “Is sex all you think about?”
She set her spoon down, a little chagrined. “I guess I must be making you feel like a piece of meat, huh?”
He looked at her curiously, and she rushed on. “I’m sorry. I’m really not as sex-fixated as I seem. I guess it just feels easier to focus on that. On sex.”
“As opposed to…?”
Taylor looked away. “Other stuff.”
“Other stuff?” he said, voice teasing as he leaned forward. “Do tell.”
“No,” she said stubbornly.
He smiled. “Carr. Talk to me.”
“I’m not good at this,” she said, fiddling with her nearly empty wineglass. “I’m really good at hookups, but relationships tend to blow up in my face.”
“You did okay with Calloway,” he said, his voice hardening slightly.
“Did I?” she said, giving him a look. “Anyway, that was…different.”
“Ah. Got it.”
Though his jaw was tense, his eyes looked almost…hurt.
“No, that’s not…” She blew out a breath. “See, this is what I mean. I make a mess of anything that involves delicacy.”
Or emotion.
There was a moment of silence as the server brought back the bill and Nick’s credit card.
“I’m not delicate, Carr,” he snapped, picking up the pen to sign the slip. “Just say whatever you need to say.”
“Fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms and sitting back in her chair. “I think I like you. Sort of. Like, a lot. When I’m not hating you, I mean.”
Nick’s pen went still, and then he looked up, his expression stunned.
Taylor swallowed. The silence was…awful.