It wasn’t like she’d professed undying love or anything, but she felt a heck of a lot more raw with that random babble to Nick than she’d ever felt in any proclamation to Bradley.
Nick returned his attention to the credit card slip, and her heart sank. He added tip and total, scrawled his signature, then tossed the pen into the folder and stood.
“Okay, then,” she muttered under her breath, accepting the hand he extended to her.
He led her out of the restaurant, not saying a single word as he collected their coats from coat check, and helped her shrug into hers.
The restaurant he’d selected was just a couple of blocks from their apartment, so they’d opted to walk.
Taylor was about to snap at him that she wasn’t digging the silent treatment, but before she could, he reached for her hand, twining her fingers with his.
The gesture was sweet and unexpected, and she was so busy trying to figure out if it translated to I like you too that she didn’t even realize they were back in their apartment until he was shrugging out of his jacket.
“Okay, Ballantine,” she said, peeling off her own coat and tossing it on the back of a chair. “I realize I’m not very good at all this, but you’re apparently not very good at it either. What are you thinking?”
As Nick walked toward her she started to step back. Instead, though, she decided to hold her ground, and she lifted her chin stubbornly.
“I’m thinking”—he reached out and took her face in his hands—“that it’s time you and I stop playing games. That we stop letting whatever’s happening be about a timeline or sticking it to Calloway, or getting over Calloway, or winning some sort of stupid battle.
“I’m thinking,” he continued, stepping closer, “that we do what we want. What we both want. Not because it’s a certain time, but because it’s right.”
She lifted her hands and gripped his wrists. “Does that mean…tonight…?”
His smile was slow and sexy as hell. “That’s exactly what it means.”
Taylor met his kiss halfway, expecting it to be torrid and frantic, but was surprised to find it unhurried and a little bit sweet.
They stayed as they were for long moments, pressed together, his hands on her face, hers on his wrists as their mouths moved slowly together, their tongues flirting shyly.
She was both hungry for what was to come and nervous. Not a familiar combination of emotions for her, and not a particularly comfortable one.
Taylor wondered if Nick sensed this, because even when his hands left her face, he kept his touch gentle. His palms glided over her shoulders and down her sides until his fingers gripped her hips.
His lips found her neck and Taylor moaned, head falling back. Her hands slipped beneath his sweater and she put her palms on the hot skin of his back.
He growled, and just like that, his touch got a bit rougher, his mouth more demanding as he lifted his hands to her back, left bare by her dress.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and if he didn’t know it before, he had to know it now, with her hardened nipples nudging his chest as she wiggled to get closer.
She nipped at his neck, and he swore, turning her gently but firmly until she faced the counter.
Instinctively knowing what he wanted, she gathered her hair on one side and tipped her head forward so his lips could play along the back of her neck, then down her back in wet, warm kisses that left her shivering in anticipation.
His hands slipped into the open sides of her dress, palmed her breasts. Her nipples had always been sensitive, not particularly into rough play, but that too he seemed to know, touching her lightly, teasingly.
Taylor heard a low pleading noise and realized it was her, realized that she needed more. Now.
A second later he’d scooped her up, one arm around her shoulder, the other beneath her knees, and she laughed in delight, because nobody had ever made her feel quite so feminine.
“Where to?” he asked.
She shrugged and planted a quick kiss on his jaw. “You choose.” This wasn’t about his territory or hers; it was about wanting the other person so damn much it didn’t matter.
Nick turned toward his own bedroom, laying her down gently before lowering himself on top of her.
His mouth dropped to hers; the leisurely exploration of before was rapidly turning into urgent need. Her fingers wrangled his pants. His hands slid up her thighs, taking her dress with them.
Since Nick wore more clothing, they tackled him first, working together to rid him of every bit of clothing.
Taylor’s was easier. She kicked off her shoes as he eased the silky dress over her head.
He groaned a little at the sight of her sexy underwear, basic black in the front, but with an unexpected lace-up red bow in the back.
She gave him a knowing smile. “Thought you might like these.”
He proved her right by rolling her onto her stomach and flicking a finger over the playful ribbon before moving to the sides and tracing along the outer curve of her butt.
“I was wrong. The yoga pants don’t do this part of you justice at all,” he said, his voice raspy.
Taylor lifted herself on her elbows and gave him a smirk. “Nick Ballantine, are you an ass man?”
“When it comes to you, I’m an everything man.”
He hauled her hips upward, and before she could absorb what he intended, he hooked one finger into her underwear, pulling them aside before pressing his mouth to her ready wetness from behind.
She moaned into the comforter. The position was more vulnerable than she was used to, but she couldn’t bring herself to make him stop. Not when his tongue flicked at her clit, his hand pressed to her lower back to hold her in place.
Her breaths came faster and he licked her harder until Taylor cried out, coming harder than she ever had in her life. An earthquake of sensation that she thought might kill her.
She collapsed to her stomach, and he kissed up along her spine until shifting to the side to lay beside her, a warm hand against her back. “I always knew I could get you to be a screamer.”
Taylor let out a tired laugh. “I hate you. You killed me.”
“Isn’t that how you always figured this would go, though?” he said, kissing her shoulder. “One of us killing the other.”
She turned her head to give him a narrow-eyed look. “Now that you mention it, I did sort of have that premonition, except it wasn’t me doing the dying.”
Then she all but pounced on him, rolling him onto his back, her fingers pinning his hands to his pillow.
He could have thrown her off easily, but he didn’t, instead opting to lift his head and take a breast in his mouth.
She wiggled her hips, and they both groaned as the tip of his cock brushed against her. “On the pill,” she managed around a gasp. “Any reason I shouldn’t—”
In response Nick’s hands circled her waist, lifting her slightly before positioning her over him. His eyes were hungry as they held hers, and she knew he wanted nothing more than to take control, but instead he stayed still, letting her take charge. A gift of sorts.
She rewarded them both by lowering onto him slowly, each inch spreading her wider until she was snug around him.