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  Think of something else, he ordered himself, and sat up. “What happened?”

  She shrugged, a lock of paint-streaked hair falling over her forehead into her eyes. It made his fingers twitch to stroke it aside.

  “I don’t know,” she said, and held up her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “One minute I’m grooving along with Aretha and painting, the next I’ve got a hundred and fifty pounds of wet dog trying to climb into my lap.”

  He grimaced and eyed Beau, who had the grace to look sheepish. Jackass, he thought. Out loud he said, “I’m sorry, the storm spooked him and he got away from me in the park.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” she crooned, and reached out to scratch Beau behind the ears. “Were you afraid the thunder would get you?”

  “He’s lucky a Ford pickup didn’t get him,” Nate muttered. “I’m not sure how he got in the door downstairs though.”

  “Oh, that might be my fault,” she said, still petting the dog. “I came in with my arms full earlier and kicked it shut. It might not have been closed all the way.”

  “And the apartment door?”

  She grinned at him. “I left it open, so I could get the cross breeze from the window on the landing.”

  “Ah.” He grinned at her all of the sudden. “You know, you’re wearing a lot of paint.”

  She grinned back. “Yeah? So are you.” She reached out and stroked her fingers down the side of his neck, holding them out for him to see the streaks of purple on them.

  “Nice color,” he said, and glanced up at the wall she had half done. “It’ll look nice in here when it’s finished.”

  “I think so,” she said then laughed. “I didn’t get as far as I wanted with it.”

  He chuckled. “I guess not.” He got to his feet and held out a hand. “I could give you a hand with it tomorrow, if you like.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, and put her hand in his. She shivered as he pulled her to her feet.

  “Cold?” he asked with a frown. It was a warm night, even with the rain.

  “No.” She laughed, the sound strained, and he noted with interest the blush that crept up into her cheeks.

  Nate ignored the nudge Beau gave his hand. “You’re shivering,” he murmured, and glided his hands down her bare arms. The shorts and tube top left little to his imagination, praise be. Her nipples were clearly outlined against the thin fabric. “You certainly look cold.”

  She looked up at him through the long sweep of her lashes, a half smile curing her lips. “Trust me,” she said, laying her hands on his chest. “I’m not cold.”

  “Really?” he murmured, sliding his hands to her hips. His fingers flexed, digging in to her soft flesh for a brief moment. She gave a little lurch forward, a shifting, seeking motion of her hips that made his fingers tighten even more. His nostrils flared, picking up the fine and subtle scent of her under the sharp tang of spilled paint and the stench of wet dog.

  “Really,” she sighed, a breathless little catch in her voice. He could all but feel his inner beast sit up and howl.

  Testing, he lowered his mouth slowly, deliberately, until it was a mere breath from hers. “So if you’re not cold,” he breathed, delighting in the way her eyes darkened and the shiver that ran over her skin as his breath washed over her, “then what could be making you shiver like that?”

  Her breath came out in a rush, and he had a moment to savor the sweet feel of it over his face before she said, “Oh fuck this,” and grabbed the back of his head.

  Her lips crashed into his with enough force to make him stagger. He dug his fingers into her hips to steady himself and, making a mental note to buy Beau the biggest soup bone the butcher could find, poured everything he had into kissing her back.

  God, she packed a punch. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like fine dark chocolate and warm spicy woman. The soft, whimpering moan that escaped her parted lips to vibrate against his had his libido growing fangs, and with a strangled moan of his own, he took control of the kiss.

  Oh my God, was all she could think as he all but swallowed her whole. She didn’t know what came over her, she’d never initiated a move like that in her life, but if this was what she got when she made the first move, she was absolutely going to do it more often.

  Her breath snarled in her throat when he pulled her to her toes by his grip on her hips. She knew she’d wear fingertip-sized bruises for days but couldn’t bring herself to care. Never in her life had a man kissed her like this, as though he’d starve without a taste of her. Her own fingers tightened on the back of his head, tangling in the wet strands of his hair as she gave as good as she got.

  They ate at each other, tongues plundering, teeth nipping, lips sucking until Lily felt as though the top of her head were floating somewhere on the ceiling and her pulse had centered itself on the damp, needy flesh between her legs. Her hands clenched convulsively in his hair as he bit into her lower lip then soothed the tiny hurt with a swipe of his tongue.

  His own hands were far from still. He released his death grip on her hips when it became apparent she wasn’t going anywhere, and now they roamed restlessly over her body. Stroking down her back, the curve of her hips, the taut and heated flesh of her bare thighs, leaving little firebolts of sensation in their wake.

  Restless, eager, his mouth drifted from hers to trail kisses across her jaw to her ear. Lily’s head fell back on a ragged moan as his lips worried her earlobe, sending a fresh burst of shivers down her spine. Earlobes were her weakness.

  “This is crazy,” she breathed, her fingers clenched in his hair to hold his head in place.

  “Nuts,” he agreed, and swirled his tongue in her ear.

  “I never do stuff like this,” she told him. She hooked one leg over his hip and tilted her pelvis to cradle the happy-to-see-her bulge in his wet jeans.

  He groaned, the sound vibrating against her neck. “Me neither,” he assured her, and set his mouth on her skin.

  “Oh wow.” She shifted her grip from his head to his shoulders, and from there down to his upper arms where his triceps stood out in sharp relief and made her dizzy with lust.

  His hands clamped onto her ass and pulled her more fully into him. Their groans mingled to bounce off the walls as hard flesh met soft through the barrier of clothes, and Lily knew if her shorts and his jeans weren’t in the way they’d be fucking, standing up, with paint splattered everywhere and the dog watching.

  She jerked in his arms as that thought crossed her mind, and he picked up his head. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Beau,” she panted.

  Nate’s head swung around until he caught sight of his pet, lying in a puddle of spilled paint with his head between his paws, his eyes half closed and already starting to snore.

  “He’s fine,” Nate said, peppering her lips, her jaw, her neck with kisses. “He’s not even watching.”

  “He’s covered in paint, Nate,” she protested, even as her eyes drifted shut again.

  “It’s latex, right?”

  “What?” She blinked at him. “Oh, the paint. Yeah.”

  “He’ll wash,” he assured her. “Later. Much, much later.” Before she could protest he sealed his mouth to hers once again.

  She was breathless and aching when he lifted his head, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to trip him to the floor and have at it. But…

  “There’s paint everywhere,” she told him, even as she nibbled kisses along his jaw. “If it dries on the tiles, on the sink or tub…”

  “Latex,” he reminded her, and boosted her up so she had no choice but to wrap both legs around his waist. His eyes all but rolled back in his head as the heat of her pussy settled directly over his rigid erection. “It’ll scrape right off,” he managed, and started walking them both out of the room.

  Lily swallowed hard and told herself it would be extremely bad form to come in her pants. Every step bounced her engorged clit right against the hard ridge of him through his jeans, and she could feel h
erself slipping past the point of no return. Valiantly, she tried one more time for rational and responsible.

  “It would just take a minute to clean up…” she began then let out a faint squeak as he stopped just inside her bedroom door and fisted a hand in her hair.

  “Lily, I promise you,” he said, his brilliant gaze burning into hers with an intensity that would have frightened her if she hadn’t been so aroused herself, “I will personally go in there and clean every last speck of paint, mud, dog hair and water. I’ll scrub on my hands and knees if I have to. But please, in the name of Fats Waller and all that’s holy, let me have you first.”

  “Oh,” she sighed, even as her lips twitched as she recognized the quote from The Muppet Movie. “Well, as long as you promise…”

  “My hand to God,” he swore, and strode into the bedroom.

  Chapter Seven

  Lily couldn’t believe the heat. It threatened to burn her alive, little fires he set off with his hands, his mouth, the press of his body into hers on the big, wide bed. He was everywhere, surrounding her with it, smothering her, and she happily burned.

  She blinked her eyes open as he sat up. She couldn’t see his features as the light was going and they hadn’t bothered to turn on the bedroom light, but she could feel his eyes on her as sure as she could feel his hands when they reached for the button fly on her cutoffs.

  She expected, after the urgency in the bathroom, for him to tear them open and shuck them off. And she was fine with that, primed for it. So when he laid his hand over the button closure and thumbed open the first circle of brass with all the haste of molasses in January, she felt the first hitch in her stride.

  “I thought we were in a hurry,” she managed.

  He sent her one of those slow smiles that made her belly flip. “We were,” he told her. He thumbed open another button and smiled wider when her hips jerked. “But now I think I’d like to take my time. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

  Oh my. “No. If I get bored, I’ll just recite the ‘Magna Carta’ in my head.”

  His lips twitched as he popped button number three. “I’ll do my best to keep you entertained,” he said, and delved a hand into her open fly.

  Her hips shot off the bed, the breath strangling in her throat as his fingers unerringly found her clit. He stroked over it once, twice, before sliding down to her opening. The muscles there fluttered and clenched, eager to be invaded, but all he did was circle and tease. He drove her crazy with that one rough fingertip until finally, in self-defense, she reached for his belt buckle.

  Nate didn’t help or hinder her mad fumbling at his belt. He kept his hand tucked in the notch of her thighs, teasing and stroking and occasionally making her whimper in delight by flicking her clit with his thumb. He used his other hand to drag her tube top down around her waist, letting out a rumble of appreciation as her breasts bounced free. He spared her one brief smile that did nothing to reassure her and bent his head.

  Lily stopped trying to fight her way through his wet jeans and simply hung on for dear life. His tongue was swirling around her nipple, soothing and inciting at the same time. Between that and the finger that continued to tease and stroke between her legs she felt as thought she might go up in flames any second.

  She let out a vibrating moan as his mouth clamped down. “Nate. Nate, for God’s sake.”

  His head popped up, concern stamped on his features. “What? Too much?”

  “Not enough,” she gritted out, and clamped both hands on his face to ensure he paid attention. “If you don’t get us both naked right fucking now, I swear to God I’m going to break every bone in your body.”

  He choked out a laugh. “I do love an aggressive woman.”

  He had her out of her shorts in three seconds and solved the issue of her panties by simply tearing them off her. The quiet noise of ripping cotton never sounded so good.

  “Those were my good panties,” she managed when he sat up to fight with wet denim. Unable to lie still, she sat up and tugged at his shirt.

  “I’ll buy you a dozen more,” he promised. He fought to push his jeans past his hips, swearing when she tried to push his shirt over his head at the same time.

  “Sorry,” she panted, sighing in approval when he whipped it over his head and tossed it aside. She all but drooled as she got her first good look at his shirtless chest.

  Just hairy enough to be interesting, firmly muscled without being bulky, he had a swimmer’s build that made her want to rub herself against him and purr. So she did.

  She plastered herself against him, his skin cool against hers, still damp from the rain-soaked shirt. She shivered in dark delight and rubbed, dragging her breasts against the springy hair that fanned out from his breastbone. Her moan was nearly drowned out by his.

  “You’re killing me here,” he managed.

  “Serves you right,” she said, the words muffled against his skin as she nibbled on his collarbone.

  “Do you want me to get my pants off or not?” he demanded, desperation ringing in the words.

  “God yes,” she said, but didn’t relinquish her hold on him. She laved her tongue across one nipple and delighted in the way he jerked against her. “Hurry.”

  Nate struggled to shove the denim down his legs while she clung to him like a limpet. His curses rang in her ears, and she started giggling against his rib cage.

  “Laughing. You’re laughing?” he rumbled.

  She tilted her head back to do so in his face. “Frustrated?” she asked with mock concern. “Poor baby.”

  She only laughed harder when he covered her face with one broad palm and pushed, tumbling her onto her back. She propped herself up on her elbows, still giggling as he fought his way clear of his jeans. His boxer briefs followed the T-shirt across the room. Then he was coming down on top of her in all his naked glory.

  Breathless from the giggles, and from the brief glimpse she’d had of his erect cock—Christ, was the man part horse?—she reached up to rest her hands on his shoulders. “I’m still wearing my tube top,” she pointed out, gesturing to the fabric still bunched around her waist.

  He grinned at her now, a feral baring of teeth that managed to convey both humor and predatory intent. “It’s not going to get in my way,” he assured her, and set about destroying her.

  The laughter dried up in her throat when he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue swept into her mouth, plundering like a midnight raider, demanding surrender. She gave it without hesitation, and let the sensations swamp her.

  Time drifted away as his hands moved over her, broad palms and calloused fingertips stroking and teasing until she thought she’d go mad. His mouth slid to her breast to suckle and destroy, and the fog of desire that clouded her mind left little room for thought. All she could think was give me more.

  Her breath escaped on a hiss when those clever, nimble fingers danced over her belly, dipping briefly into the shallow pool of her bellybutton and making the muscles there jump in response. They continued to quiver in reaction as his fingers glided once again through slick and heat to delve into the core of her.

  Lily moaned in relief as his flingers slid into her without hesitation this time, plunging smoothly so she felt full and stretched. Yearning, straining, she tangled one hand in the damp hair at his nape and blindly dragged his mouth back to hers.

  Her mouth was voracious on his, desperately seeking as her hips pumped madly against his hand. The pressure was building inside her, coiling tighter with every push and twist of his fingers. Her free hand flew down to clamp on his wrist, holding him there, keeping the pressure where she wanted it.

  And suddenly it was gone because he dragged his hand free with hers still clinging to his wrist.

  “What the hell?” she managed, blinking the pre-orgasmic haze from her eyes.

  He was fumbling with his one free hand—she still had a death grip on the other—in the pocket of his discarded pants.

  “You’re not having th
is party without me, baby,” he panted, holding up the liberated condom. He tore into it with his teeth, rolled it on with one hand and a speed that had her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

  She caught her breath as he slid over her, his large frame dwarfing her slighter one. She automatically lifted her knees to slide them along his hips, and they both stilled at the first nudge of his cock against her pussy.

  “Ready?” he murmured, and she couldn’t look away from his eyes. They burned, saw into her in a way that made her want to close her eyes and hide, but still she couldn’t look away.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” she whispered, and on a chuckle, he gave her what she wanted.

  Dual moans echoed around the room as he slid home.

  “Oh…my,” she managed, her fingers biting into his shoulders. Her breath stuttered in her throat as her body struggled to adapt to the invasion of his. As ready as she was, as eager as she was, the reality of him deep inside her was almost overwhelming.

  His dropped to her shoulder with a groan. Lily could feel him holding back, his muscles all but vibrated with the effort of holding still. More than ready for him to start moving, she thought about telling him that. But then she thought of a better way to let him know she was ready.

  His head popped up like a puppet on a string when he felt the clenching of her sheath around him, cautious hope in his eyes. It flared to intent purpose when she did it again, slowly and deliberately, and a feral grin curled his lips.

  “Oh, hell yeah,” he rumbled, and started to move.

  Lily gasped when he moved back, dragging the broad shaft of his cock along sensitive tissues, whimpered when he plunged back in to the hilt, then simply hung on for the ride.

  She lost track of time, of where they were, of her own name. All she knew was the steady plunge of his body into hers, the way the muscles of his back bunched and stretched under her clinging hands. She felt as though she were in the middle of a tornado, and he was the only solid thing in the world.

  It was spinning out of control so fast. Her hips pumped up to meet his without conscious thought, her mouth sought his skin. The salty taste of him as she pressed her lips to his chest exploded on her tongue. She whimpered and pushed harder, clung tighter, and his thrusts grew heavier in response.