Only You
Page 35
We waited silently for the elevator, and when it arrived he guided me into it with one hand on my lower back. It was empty, and as soon as the doors were shut behind us, he spun me to face him and grabbed me tight around the waist with one arm. “You. Are. Gorgeous.”
The elevator began to descend, making me feel weightless. My heart beat faster. “Thank you.”
He buried his face in my neck. Inhaling deeply, he squeezed me tighter. “Thank you. For suggesting this. For arranging it.”
“Of course. You deserve a night out.”
He opened his mouth and kissed his way down the side of my throat, making my arms and legs tingle. “Easy, easy,” I admonished when I felt his hand brushing up my thigh. “We’ve got hours, don’t we?”
“Yes. And I intend to make every second count.” But he released me as the elevator slowed to a stop, and I straightened my dress before the doors opened into the parking garage beneath the building. Nate took my hand as we walked to his car, and opened the passenger door for me. Once I was seated, he closed it and walked around to the driver’s side.
“So where are we going?” I asked as he started the engine. “You’ve kept it a secret all week.”
Nate took my hand and kissed it before exiting the garage, but he said nothing.
I moaned with frustration as we eased into traffic, but secretly I loved that he wanted to surprise me. In a few minutes, we pulled up at the Detroit Foundation Hotel, a beautifully restored brick building that had been the Detroit Fire Department’s headquarters in the 1920s, complete with three huge sets of double doors painted bright red across the front. Immediately, one valet opened my door and offered me a hand as I stepped onto the curb. Nate accepted a slip of paper from a second valet, told him we were hotel guests, then came around and took my arm.
“Hotel guests?” I whispered as we headed for the entrance. “Why did you say that?”
Again, Nate only smiled as he opened the door to the restaurant for me. “So many questions,” he said, taking my arm again as we walked in together. “Don’t you trust me to do this right?”
The hostess greeted Nate by name and told him his table was ready. I saw the way her eyes lingered on his handsome features and broad chest, and felt proud to be the one on his arm. “I trust you,” I said, looking up at him as my pulse skittered out of control. It occurred to me that I couldn’t recall the last time I had trusted any man this way.
Once we’d been left alone, I looked at him across the table and realized that for once in my romantic life, everything was falling into place exactly the way I had imagined it. The crowded room, the arm in mine, the candlelight glowing softly between us. Beyond that, there was the beat of my heart, the look in his eye, the feeling that somehow we were doing this right.
We were finding our way.
Fourteen
Nate
The evening was perfect so far, everything I wanted for Emme.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was luminous in the candlelight, her blue eyes on fire, her red lips beckoning. Every time she took a bite of something, I watched her mouth, thinking about all the ways she used it on me. I imagined that red lipstick smeared on my cock, and got so hard I nearly asked for the check before the appetizer was gone. But it wasn’t only her mouth turning me on.
Her hands distracted me too. I’d watch them wrap around her cocktail glass or slowly butter a piece of bread or pop an olive from her martini between her lips, and a memory would hit me from the last two weeks—her fists tightening in my hair, her nails raking down my back, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, my arms, my ass. My hardened flesh sliding against her palms as her tongue stroked my chest, the unabashed way her hands explored every part of me, her fingers seeking out hidden places that made my body tremble and my vision fade. I’d had the most intense orgasms of my entire life with her, and I’d never even taken her to bed. Not properly, anyway.
Tonight would change all that, even if it was only for a couple hours.
Not that it was all about sex with Emme and me. It wasn’t. It never had been. In a way, that would have been much easier for me to deal with. But somehow, right from the start—actually before the start—I had known it would be different with her. She and I already had a connection, and it wasn’t based on sex. So I couldn’t start from there with her and simply keep it at the physical level, which for me was surface level. Things had never been just surface level with Emme. We’d cared about each other before we’d had sex. That was the difference.
That was the scary thing.
Because the sex only strengthened the original connection. Built it into something more. I felt something for her I had never felt for anyone. It was strange and foreign in a way, like it didn’t really belong to me, yet it was deeply rooted inside me. Every night when she went back to her apartment, it felt like a loss. I was constantly thinking about when I would see her again, the things we would do, what I could say to make her laugh. She was so easy to be with, so understanding of my erratic moods and silences, so free with her thoughts and feelings, even as I struggled to open up about mine. And she never pushed me too hard.
She deserved more of me than I was giving, I knew that for certain.
But I had no idea where to start.
After dinner, I asked her if she’d like to have dessert up in our room.
Her face lit up. “We have a room?”
Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to our temporary private oasis, and holding it open for her. Emme went straight to the window while I hung the Do Not Disturb sign and turned the lock.
“Oooh,” she said, placing one palm on the glass. “Look at this view of the city.”
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m sure it’s great, but I don’t give a fuck about the city tonight. Or anyone or anything outside this room. And the only view I want to see encompasses every square inch of your naked body.”
She laughed a little, low and deep at the back of her throat. “You might change your mind when you see what I’m wearing under this dress.”
I groaned, moving her hair aside so I could kiss her neck, and she tilted her head. Her skin was warm and satin smooth under my tongue. My hands moved over her breasts, down her stomach and up the sides of her thighs before undoing the little belt at her waist. Then I worked my way up the buttons on her chest. When they were undone, she turned to face me, raising her arms. I lifted the dress from the hem up over her head and tossed it onto a chair near the window.
When I saw what she was wearing, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. My dick, already hard, twitched excitedly in my pants. “Oh my God. You’re so fucking hot. Don’t move, I need to turn a light on.”
“I’ve got it.” She went over to the lamp by the chair and switched it on, turning her skin from ivory to gold, her lingerie from black to red, and my desire from hot to molten. She walked toward me again in her heels. “Like it?”
All I could do was nod. She took my breath away.
She smiled as she reached me and twined her arms around my neck, pressing close. “Good. Now let’s not waste any more time.”
Fuck, it was hard not to rush—knowing we only had a couple hours made us anxious to take advantage of every minute. I swear to God she wanted me inside her for every one of them, she begged and pleaded, teased and tempted. She used her hands, her mouth, her voice, her breasts, her hips, her hair, even her little red-painted toes to drive me wild. I held off as long as I could, because I knew once I was buried within her, there would be no holding back. And as desperate as I was to give her what she wanted—what we both wanted—I was just as determined to savor every single moment. I wanted to slow down, commit everything to memory. The sight of her lying back against snow-white sheets. The feel of that lace against my lips. The sound of her uninhibited cry of abandon as I brought her to orgasm, first with my fingers, then with my tongue.
She protested the second one. “No, stop,” she panted, trying to pull me up. “I want to come together. I feel so close to you when that happens.”
“We will,” I promised, kissing a path up her inner thigh.
“Not if you do it with your mouth next. I can’t come three times.”
The elevator began to descend, making me feel weightless. My heart beat faster. “Thank you.”
He buried his face in my neck. Inhaling deeply, he squeezed me tighter. “Thank you. For suggesting this. For arranging it.”
“Of course. You deserve a night out.”
He opened his mouth and kissed his way down the side of my throat, making my arms and legs tingle. “Easy, easy,” I admonished when I felt his hand brushing up my thigh. “We’ve got hours, don’t we?”
“Yes. And I intend to make every second count.” But he released me as the elevator slowed to a stop, and I straightened my dress before the doors opened into the parking garage beneath the building. Nate took my hand as we walked to his car, and opened the passenger door for me. Once I was seated, he closed it and walked around to the driver’s side.
“So where are we going?” I asked as he started the engine. “You’ve kept it a secret all week.”
Nate took my hand and kissed it before exiting the garage, but he said nothing.
I moaned with frustration as we eased into traffic, but secretly I loved that he wanted to surprise me. In a few minutes, we pulled up at the Detroit Foundation Hotel, a beautifully restored brick building that had been the Detroit Fire Department’s headquarters in the 1920s, complete with three huge sets of double doors painted bright red across the front. Immediately, one valet opened my door and offered me a hand as I stepped onto the curb. Nate accepted a slip of paper from a second valet, told him we were hotel guests, then came around and took my arm.
“Hotel guests?” I whispered as we headed for the entrance. “Why did you say that?”
Again, Nate only smiled as he opened the door to the restaurant for me. “So many questions,” he said, taking my arm again as we walked in together. “Don’t you trust me to do this right?”
The hostess greeted Nate by name and told him his table was ready. I saw the way her eyes lingered on his handsome features and broad chest, and felt proud to be the one on his arm. “I trust you,” I said, looking up at him as my pulse skittered out of control. It occurred to me that I couldn’t recall the last time I had trusted any man this way.
Once we’d been left alone, I looked at him across the table and realized that for once in my romantic life, everything was falling into place exactly the way I had imagined it. The crowded room, the arm in mine, the candlelight glowing softly between us. Beyond that, there was the beat of my heart, the look in his eye, the feeling that somehow we were doing this right.
We were finding our way.
Fourteen
Nate
The evening was perfect so far, everything I wanted for Emme.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was luminous in the candlelight, her blue eyes on fire, her red lips beckoning. Every time she took a bite of something, I watched her mouth, thinking about all the ways she used it on me. I imagined that red lipstick smeared on my cock, and got so hard I nearly asked for the check before the appetizer was gone. But it wasn’t only her mouth turning me on.
Her hands distracted me too. I’d watch them wrap around her cocktail glass or slowly butter a piece of bread or pop an olive from her martini between her lips, and a memory would hit me from the last two weeks—her fists tightening in my hair, her nails raking down my back, her fingers clutching at my shoulders, my arms, my ass. My hardened flesh sliding against her palms as her tongue stroked my chest, the unabashed way her hands explored every part of me, her fingers seeking out hidden places that made my body tremble and my vision fade. I’d had the most intense orgasms of my entire life with her, and I’d never even taken her to bed. Not properly, anyway.
Tonight would change all that, even if it was only for a couple hours.
Not that it was all about sex with Emme and me. It wasn’t. It never had been. In a way, that would have been much easier for me to deal with. But somehow, right from the start—actually before the start—I had known it would be different with her. She and I already had a connection, and it wasn’t based on sex. So I couldn’t start from there with her and simply keep it at the physical level, which for me was surface level. Things had never been just surface level with Emme. We’d cared about each other before we’d had sex. That was the difference.
That was the scary thing.
Because the sex only strengthened the original connection. Built it into something more. I felt something for her I had never felt for anyone. It was strange and foreign in a way, like it didn’t really belong to me, yet it was deeply rooted inside me. Every night when she went back to her apartment, it felt like a loss. I was constantly thinking about when I would see her again, the things we would do, what I could say to make her laugh. She was so easy to be with, so understanding of my erratic moods and silences, so free with her thoughts and feelings, even as I struggled to open up about mine. And she never pushed me too hard.
She deserved more of me than I was giving, I knew that for certain.
But I had no idea where to start.
After dinner, I asked her if she’d like to have dessert up in our room.
Her face lit up. “We have a room?”
Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to our temporary private oasis, and holding it open for her. Emme went straight to the window while I hung the Do Not Disturb sign and turned the lock.
“Oooh,” she said, placing one palm on the glass. “Look at this view of the city.”
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “I’m sure it’s great, but I don’t give a fuck about the city tonight. Or anyone or anything outside this room. And the only view I want to see encompasses every square inch of your naked body.”
She laughed a little, low and deep at the back of her throat. “You might change your mind when you see what I’m wearing under this dress.”
I groaned, moving her hair aside so I could kiss her neck, and she tilted her head. Her skin was warm and satin smooth under my tongue. My hands moved over her breasts, down her stomach and up the sides of her thighs before undoing the little belt at her waist. Then I worked my way up the buttons on her chest. When they were undone, she turned to face me, raising her arms. I lifted the dress from the hem up over her head and tossed it onto a chair near the window.
When I saw what she was wearing, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. My dick, already hard, twitched excitedly in my pants. “Oh my God. You’re so fucking hot. Don’t move, I need to turn a light on.”
“I’ve got it.” She went over to the lamp by the chair and switched it on, turning her skin from ivory to gold, her lingerie from black to red, and my desire from hot to molten. She walked toward me again in her heels. “Like it?”
All I could do was nod. She took my breath away.
She smiled as she reached me and twined her arms around my neck, pressing close. “Good. Now let’s not waste any more time.”
Fuck, it was hard not to rush—knowing we only had a couple hours made us anxious to take advantage of every minute. I swear to God she wanted me inside her for every one of them, she begged and pleaded, teased and tempted. She used her hands, her mouth, her voice, her breasts, her hips, her hair, even her little red-painted toes to drive me wild. I held off as long as I could, because I knew once I was buried within her, there would be no holding back. And as desperate as I was to give her what she wanted—what we both wanted—I was just as determined to savor every single moment. I wanted to slow down, commit everything to memory. The sight of her lying back against snow-white sheets. The feel of that lace against my lips. The sound of her uninhibited cry of abandon as I brought her to orgasm, first with my fingers, then with my tongue.
She protested the second one. “No, stop,” she panted, trying to pull me up. “I want to come together. I feel so close to you when that happens.”
“We will,” I promised, kissing a path up her inner thigh.
“Not if you do it with your mouth next. I can’t come three times.”
