In a moment of bravado, she’d asked Tag if she could see him again, but now Rachel was having second thoughts. After work, she trudged into Crane Tower, ready to sneak into her living room for a movie marathon—she could watch at least two before her eyes grew heavy—but didn’t make it to the elevators before she spotted Tag lounging at the bar to the left of the lobby.
His hair was down, his long-sleeved navy Henley hugging impressive biceps. A draft beer stood virtually untouched at his right elbow and his eyes were glued to a paperback novel.
He was quite possibly the sexiest vision she’d ever seen. An answering tingle started at her lips and radiated to her breasts before fluttering in her tummy. She could have him whenever she said the word. He’d made that abundantly clear.
Her penetrating fear was strong…but she was beginning to think her desire for him was even stronger.
“Thor,” she tossed out his nickname.
He lifted his head and a smile pulled his beard; then he turned to her and raised an eyebrow. A second later, the book was shut, and he swiveled to face her. She floated to him like he had a gravitational pull.
“What are you up to?” she asked. “I don’t see many readers at my bar.”
“Waiting on my date.” He pulled out the barstool next to him. “She just got here.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I take it you’ve had practice learning to be irresistible.” She dropped her purse over the back of the chair, then took off her coat, which Tag helped her with.
“You find me irresistible?” He folded his elbows on the bar, leaning close when she sat. His blue eyes, wavy hair, the tempting curve of his mouth she now knew tasted both spicy and inviting…He knew he was irresistible.
“I’m not answering that question.” She mimicked his body language and folded her arms on the bar top. The bartender, an older woman with short gray hair, took Rachel’s order and delivered a glass of white wine.
“What are you reading?” Rachel lifted her glass and sipped.
“Murder mystery.” He showed her the cover. The book wasn’t new, with a few well-worn creases in the spine and dog-eared pages. She cringed.
“You need a bookmark.”
“Use is a sign of love,” he said simply, dropping the book back onto the bar.
She couldn’t tear her eyes off him. Once, he’d accused her of just that. She couldn’t help it. He was crazy beautiful. Being this close to him was like being granted access to the tigers at the zoo. Something about him was dangerous, but she knew he wouldn’t harm her. She was more concerned she’d swim in way over her head and drown.
Drown happily, the vixen currently residing inside her suggested. There was no other way to regain her fearlessness other than to be fearless. Being bold took practice. Boldness was something the man before her wasn’t short on.
“Were you…” She started to ask him if he was really waiting for her, but that sounded needy in her head, so she paused and rerouted. “Did you have a good day at work?”
He laughed, a low rumble she liked far too much. “Is that what you really want to ask me, Dimples?”
Busted, she answered honestly. “No.”
He leaned close, keeping his arms in front of him, and challenged her with his eyes and his words. “Then why don’t you tell me what you want.”
So tempting. So, so tempting.
“Okay.” She reached for her wineglass and downed half the golden liquid before turning back to him, swiping her lips with her tongue and saying, “You.”
Tag was off his stool in a flash, tossing money on the bar.
“We’re done here,” he told the woman behind the bar, then snatched his book and Rachel’s coat and purse, before offering a hand.
Rachel laughed in shock. She’d never dreamed he’d react instantly. She was trying to flirt, to tease him, and thought he’d flirt back.
“Not now,” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” he argued. “Right now.”
She didn’t move, frozen in place, hand still on her wineglass. This was it. Really it. Oh God. She wasn’t ready.
Tag dropped his hand, took a deep, and possibly impatient, breath, and leaned so his lips grazed her ear. “Dimples, hop off that stool and take your gorgeous, round ass upstairs and into my bed.”
Her nipples grew hard, the heat in her belly trickling lower until parts of her were pulsing mercilessly. He pulled back and some of her hair stuck to his beard.
His mouth. She wanted his mouth all over her. She wanted her mouth all over him.
Oh boy.
“Now,” he said, and his tone brooked no argument.
She slid from the stool and followed obediently, loving the command in his voice, the cocksure strength and confidence in the way he spoke to her. Shaun had been bossy, but also whiny. She thought as she walked with Tag to the elevators how this was different. Tag wasn’t being bossy; he was demanding she obey. There was a subtle yet fulfilling shift. One she was willing to embrace.
In the elevator, he waited until the doors shut, then crowded her to one corner. Her coat, purse, and his book were in one of his hands and he pressed the other against the wall over her head.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“For you?” Her voice was paper-thin. “I don’t think so.”
He grinned. It was predatory and wicked and downright yummy. Her pulse skyrocketed. At the top floor, he reached for his key.
“Adonis.” She’d totally forgotten about the poor dog. “Shit.” She turned to punch the elevator button, but a big hand wrapped around her wrist.
“How mad would you be if I told you I made a copy of Oliver’s key when you gave it to me the other day and I’ve already spent the evening with Adonis?” Tag’s eyebrows rose as he waited for her answer.
“Not even a little.” Relief flooded her. Going downstairs to tend to the dog would have definitely given her time to think. In this case, thinking was not advised. Fortune favors the bold, right?
Her eyes roamed over Tag’s broad, tall build as he swaggered into his penthouse and dumped their belongings on a chair.
Yeah. She was so not mad.
Inside, she shut the door, and he faced her, rubbing his large hands together and smiling as his eyes roamed over her body. “Man. I don’t know where to start.”
Her face lit. She felt the heat hit her cheeks and spread down her neck.
“This is your fantasy, Dimples. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
There was an invitation if she’d ever heard one. Her fantasy. And how accurate was that? Tag Crane at her disposal. But her fantasy wasn’t to tell him what to do; her fantasy was to let him lead.
As sex lives went, hers had been terribly lacking. Even when she’d done the horizontal mambo, Shaun had made some uncomfortable suggestions. He’d asked her to talk dirty. He’d commanded she arch or stretch in a certain way so that he could get off properly. In short, Shaun hadn’t found her very sexy, and her memories of being with him were more about the humiliation of trying what he wanted and failing miserably at satisfying him.
Was it any wonder they’d stopped having sex if neither of them were enjoying it?
At the thought, her shoulders curled in, her hands clasped in front of her nervously. Tag noticed and walked to her.
“Where’d you go just now?” he asked, taking her hands in his. “Fun and flirty Rachel swapped places with tentative, frightened Rachel.”
“I’m not frightened,” she said, shaking out of his grip.
“You’re something. Want to tell me about it?” He looked serious, his eyebrows centered over his nose, and now she was seriously humiliated.
“I’d rather die.” She crossed her arms over her stomach protectively, realizing she was once again chickening out like she did last night. Her evening would end with a movie marathon she wasn’t the least bit excited about any longer.
“How about instead you level with me.” Tag unfolded her arms.
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I want to know you.” There was so much sincerity on his face right then, she didn’t know how to react. Had anyone ever said those words to her? The request was simple yet radiated in the center of her heart. She wanted to be known.
“I’ll make you a deal.” Tag’s cocksure smirk was back in place, sincerity switching places with his typical bravado. “For each embarrassing secret you tell me, I’ll take off an article of clothing.”
She laughed. “You’re going to strip for me?”
“Why not?” One eyebrow arched. So dead sexy. This was insane. “Whatever part I expose, you can touch. How’s that?”
She swallowed past her very dry throat, taking in all of him. So much of him. So much to touch…
“That is a yes if I’ve ever seen one. My God, woman.” His nostrils flared as he took her head in the palm of his hand. “One kiss and then we’ll start.”
Without waiting for her response, he lowered his lips to hers for the briefest, gentlest kiss. A kiss that still managed to turn her inside out. Then he walked to the kitchen, hooked a chair with one hand, and put it in the center of his living room. He sat her on the couch and straddled the chair.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. He looked like a dream come to life with his thick arms folded over the back of the chair, his hair rolling over his wide shoulders.
“I do have to, or we’ll keep doing this dance where you only want me for a few minutes and then you bolt. To be honest, I don’t think my balls can take the abuse.”
She laughed again, this time embarrassed. But he wasn’t going to back down. And hell, they were here anyway. May as well tackle her fears. Then him. In that order.
“Last time you had sex,” he said, reaching down to untie his boots. He paused to look up at her, hand on the heel of one shoe.
“A…while.”
“Be more specific.” He tossed one boot to the side and stripped his sock off.
She did a quick calculation. “Last year, Valentine’s Day.”
He blinked but doled out no judgment.
“Is that when you and the ex-boyfriend broke up?” He moved to his other shoe.
“No. We broke up later. Around Thanksgiving.”
Shoe and sock off, he rested his arms on the back of the chair. “Assuming you don’t want to touch my feet.”
“They’re very nice, but no,” she said with a grin. He grinned back and for a moment they did nothing but stare at each other. They might make it through this inquisition after all.
“Fair enough.” He narrowed his eyes in thought, then reached for the neck of his shirt. Her breath caught in anticipation of seeing his naked chest. “Why didn’t you like it?”
“Like what?”
“Sex. With your boyfriend. What did he do wrong?” He tugged the Henley, revealing a slice of his firm belly, then stopped. He was holding her hostage for the answer.
“Who said he did anything wrong?” she hedged.
“Beautiful girlfriend he doesn’t fuck for nine months, he was doing something wrong. Either he cheated, or he admitted he was gay, or he was suffering from early onset ED.”
That last barb made her smile slightly but when she remembered the real reason why, her discomfort crept back in. “None of those.”
“Then why?” Tag stood from the chair, came to her, and pulled his shirt off. Her eyes feasted on golden skin and rippling muscles. “Tell me, honey.”
He took her hand and put it on his body. His flesh was hot and hard and made her want to sin. She squeezed her eyes closed and told him the truth.
“I’m…I’m…rigid.”
Rigid and boring. That was what Shaun had always told her.
“You’re going to have to be more specific. Explain while you take my belt off.”
She was staring at his belly button because she couldn’t bear to look any lower. But then she did. And she saw the outline of his manhood pressing against the canvas of his pants.
Wow.
“Do it, Rachel. Let’s get through this.”
Hands shaking, she slid the thick leather from the metal buckle. As she tugged the belt from his pants loops, she told him some more truth.
“Shaun found me boring in bed. Sometimes he couldn’t even finish. He said it was because I’m…”
“Don’t say ‘rigid,’” came Tag’s already familiar, low, and commanding voice. She screwed her eyes up to meet his penetrating gaze from overhead and saw he looked as serious as he sounded.
“I’m not good in bed, Tag.” Belt free, she dropped it into her lap. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
“Open my pants.”
She frowned up at him.
“Now. And while you do, tell me what you’re thinking about.”
Heat stole her face as she reached for his fly. She undid the button and drew the zipper down, her heart pounding so hard she swore they could both hear it. What she thought about was him naked. Him in control. Him taking her in a way she’d never experienced before.
“I’m not hearing any talking, Dimples.” He pulled his pants off and stood before her in naught but a pair of tight, black boxer briefs. “What do you want?”
“I want to…” She shook her head, rubbing one eyebrow as she shielded her face. She couldn’t do it. Which proved Shaun right about her, but she still couldn’t freaking do it.
Tag bent, took her wrist in his hand, and said, “Look at me.”
She did.
“Want me to tell you what I’m thinking about?”
Probably a blow job. Wasn’t that what most men were thinking about? She’d never cared to dole those out, but Tag standing in front of her made her think she might actually enjoy it.
She nodded, anticipation squirming in her tummy.
“I want to strip you bare and lay you flat on your back on this couch.”
He reached for her sweater and the shirt she wore beneath it and whipped both over her head. She gasped when the cool air in the room hit her feverish skin.
“I’ll start by kissing your breasts,” he said, tugging off her boots and dropping them to the floor.
Meanwhile, her brain was racing to comprehend how good his mouth on her breasts would feel.
He made short work of her jeans before tearing them down her legs. “Then I’ll move down to your belly”—her socks went next—“and tease the inside of your thighs with the tip of my tongue.”
And now she couldn’t breathe.
He smiled at her reaction—unadulterated want she had no doubt was reflecting in her eyes. He wrapped his hands around her and unhooked her bra. Her gasp this time had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with her nerves. This was it. Really, really it. No running from her desires this time unless she wanted to stand stark naked in the hallway.
“Breathe.” He took off her bra and she breathed, feeling his eyes dance along her bare breasts though he still hadn’t touched them.
“But the real fun will come”—he worked her panties down her thighs, keeping his eyes on hers as he slipped them from her legs—“when you open your legs and let me kiss you there.” His gaze snaked down her body and she pressed her thighs together.
“I’m really bad at that, too,” she said quickly. Because her ex hadn’t enjoyed going down on her, and she couldn’t blame him. It had never seemed very sexy to her. She’d only ever panted and moaned to make him think she was done.
“Then that’s where we’ll start.” Tag’s mouth parted into a grin that was positively drugging. He kissed her and she caught his head, feeding her fingers into his hair as he lifted and laid her flat on the couch. Her heart thudded out an SOS.
This was a bad idea.
“No,” she said between kisses. He backed off immediately with his mouth, but his fingers pinched and pulled each of her nipples. A ripple of satisfaction tore through her, and before she’d meant to, her back was arching and she was crying out in pleasure.
“Funny, that didn’t sound like a no.” He gave her an affected, confused expression and moved his fingers between her legs.
“Tag…” But no words followed.
“Yes or no, Rachel.” He hesitated and left her dangling from the ledge where desire met danger. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
His insistent touch was too much for her to deny. He wanted to know her, and she wanted to know him. Like, biblically.
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Have you imagined me here?” He stroked her center, finding her clit and moving over the tender bud. His touch was rough, firm—absolutely perfect. “It’ll feel like this.” Her eyes shut, her head falling back as she enjoyed his words as much as his touch. “Except hot. Wet.”
She loved the way he talked. The way he guided her, never making her feel forced, only pampered.
“Tag.” Her voice was a whimper and she let her legs fall open as he continued to finger her. He felt so much better than her own hands that she thought if he only did this, it might be enough.
“I know, sweetheart. You need it, don’t you? I’m going to give it to you. And you’re going to let go. Put your ankle on my shoulder.”
Her eyes flew open. “What? I can’t!”
She’d be open and exposed and—
But then he did it for her, giving her no choice. He placed a few torturous kisses on first one inner thigh and then the other as he’d promised.
“Breathe, Dimples.” His warm breath rolled over her flesh as he lowered his mouth and though she breathed, her arms were strung tight, fists gripping the fabric of his sofa cushions.
Then his tongue slicked along her swollen center and she let out a moan that relaxed her muscles on contact.
Yes, yes, yes.
He continued the torturous assault, reaching up to gently pinch her nipples in tandem with his flicking tongue. She forgot about faking. The pleasured sounds coming from her mouth were the real deal. Real and raw and desperate. She’d never felt this free, this good, not ever.
A sharp, thin breath came from her mouth followed by, “Tag, please.”
He took her plea to heart, increasing the speed of his tongue, pinching her nipples again. With one powerful arm, he held her thighs open, gently pinning her so she was unable to do anything but lie there and writhe, and…
Oh, God.
Spots dotted her eyelids, sparking into miniature fireworks that blotted out her mind; then she was coming, her orgasm cresting into a wave before crashing her to earth and leaving every bone in her body liquid.
She was vaguely aware of Tag moving, resting her legs on the couch, and reaching for his shirt. When she opened her eyes, she saw him swipe his face with his discarded Henley.
His smile was as satisfied as if he’d also had a flooring orgasm.
“Wow. I—you’re good at that.” Surprisingly she didn’t feel heat flush her cheeks. She was too pleased to do anything but smile.
“So are you.” He winked. “You taste good, Dimples.”