Still on for dinner tonight?
Trent stared down at his cell phone, seated on the counter beside the stove. He was halfway through making breakfast when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The thought of seeing Lauren again had his heart sledgehammering his rib cage. Just reading her text made him so hard he ached.
He punched in a quick reply.
Yup. Can u b here by 6?
What they’d no doubt end up doing tonight filled his head, and if he didn’t cool his jets, he’d need a cold shower before she even got here. Either that or he’d pounce on her the minute she stepped through the damn door. His body burned, and the only thing capable of dousing this flame was her.
His phone beeped and her reply popped onto his screen.
I can. What’s for dinner?
That her reply arrived seconds after he’d sent his did nothing for the electricity fizzling along his nerve endings. It meant she was sitting somewhere doing the same thing he was—waiting on a text from him. Which filled his mind with visions of her. Was she in those pajamas he’d kill to peel off her? Or was she at work? He decided to ask.
Wait and see. ;) U at the shop?
Yes. Helping Elise fill all the custom orders. Anything I can bring tonight?
Nope. Just u. She was more than enough.
Great. C u later. I look forward 2 it, u know.
She had to go and say that. His cock twitched in his jeans, reminding him how long it had been since he’d last made love to a woman.
Me 2.
God help him when she got here.
* * *
By the time she actually arrived that night—five minutes early, no less—he was wound like a freaking top and so damn nervous he could barely stand himself. He’d spent the day reminding himself that he needed to take things slowly with her, for her sake, but one look at her as she stood on his doorstep had his brain scrambling. In a pair of jeans and a form-hugging, long-sleeved T-shirt, she looked good enough to eat, but those brown eyes filled with a heat and longing that burned him up from the inside out.
While some part of his brain said he ought to greet her, invite her in, Trent could only stare. Everything had changed between them. Their relationship had gone from platonic to sexual, and the quiet intimacy they’d shared last night flowed like an electric arc that leaped between them. Right then, he couldn’t remember a single reason why he shouldn’t pick her up and carry her back to his bed.
Focus, damn it! He wanted, needed, to do this right. According to their agreement, they’d make love for only one night, and he wanted her burning before that night arrived. She was a virgin, after all. He needed to take this one step at a time, not pounce on her like that jackass at her birthday party had.
He dragged a hand through his hair and stepped back, pulling the door open wider. “Come in.”
Lauren stepped over the threshold, standing close enough her perfume floated around him, and opened the lid of a small black box she’d brought with her. Inside were six perfect dark chocolate truffles, the top dusted with a sprinkle of spice.
“I know you said I didn’t need to bring anything, but I figured if you’re cooking, I’d bring dessert.” She plucked a chocolate from the box, holding it out to him. “Here, try one. These are new. I’ve started combining flavors. These are cardamom and chili.”
Damned if his mouth didn’t water at the sight. Since that first truffle she’d stuffed in his mouth that night nine months ago now, he’d become addicted to her chocolates. That was the night his attraction to her had started, and just like back then, taking this one from her meant eating it from her fingers. If he had to do that, he’d bust the damn zipper on his jeans.
When he didn’t immediately take the bite, she wiggled it. “Come on. They’re good. I promise. Try it.”
Despite every instinct warning him against it, he leaned down, biting the chocolate in half. The familiar flavor melted on his tongue. The slight citrusy flavor of cardamom and a hint of spicy chilies filled his mouth, along with sweet, velvety dark chocolate. He closed his eyes, savoring the lusciousness melting on his tongue, unable to stop a quiet moan from leaving his mouth. “These are my favorites.”
When he opened his eyes again, she studied him, keen interest mixing with a soft heat in her gaze. A pleased grin blossomed on her face, illuminating her eyes. “So you do eat my chocolate. I’m honored. I was sure after that first one I shoved in your mouth months ago you’d simply refuse to eat them.”
He plucked the other half from her fingers, holding it to her lips. She hesitated, then opened her mouth and leaned forward, accepting the bite from him. “Exactly the opposite, actually.”
The warmth of her mouth closing over his fingers had his heart skipping a beat. When her tongue actually brushed his index finger, his blood thickened, desire burning through him. When she closed her eyes and moaned, a soft little purr from the back of her throat, he fisted his hands to keep from bending down and tasting the chocolate on her lips. Oh, he hadn’t counted on that.
He cleared his throat, forcing his brain to work, but the words left his mouth on a hoarse whisper. “I’ve bought a box every month since that first one. It’s my guilty pleasure.”
“Good.” Lauren winked at him as she slipped her coat from her shoulders, then hung it on the rack by the door. As if to torment him further, she moved into the apartment, her fingers skimming his back as she passed him. The action set fire to every nerve ending she touched.
Halfway between the living room and the foyer, she stopped, sniffed the air, and peered back at him. Like she hadn’t a clue that she had him dangling by a thread. “Smells good in here. What’s for dinner?”
You.
He gave himself a mental shake and forced a smile. “You’ll see. Come on. The rice should be about done.”
He shoved his hands firmly in his pockets before leading her toward the living room. Halfway there, she wobbled on the stilts she was wearing and pitched sideways, catching his arm. He caught her around the waist, glancing at her shoes before looking over at her. “Why do you wear those things if you can’t walk in them?”
A becoming pink flush rushed into her cheeks as she straightened, pushing off his shoulder. “Steph says they make my legs look longer.”
He was married long enough to understand the hidden meaning in her shy statement. Namely, that she’d dressed for this date. So he did the only thing he could think of. He squatted at her feet, held out his hand, and peered up at her. “Give me your foot, please.”
She furrowed her brow but did as he asked, and he slipped the shoe off and hurled it in the direction of the foyer. If he didn’t get her out of these damn things, she’d either break her ankle or she’d be in his arms all night. He had plans for her, and they’d never get there if her soft body was plastered against his. He wanted to do this right, damn it. Not prove to her that he was just another selfish, clueless Neanderthal.
When her shoe hit the door with a loud thunk, the corners of her mouth tipped, amusement lighting in her eyes. “Hate my shoes that much?”
“No. I’d just rather you not break your ankle while you’re here.” He arched a brow and held out his hand. “Next foot, please.”
He sent that one to its mate, then pushed to his feet and took her hand, tugging her behind him. As they entered the kitchen, he darted a sidelong glance at her. “For the record?”
“Yeah?”
“She’s right. You look incredible in heels. I’d just rather you not hurt yourself.” He released her hand and moved to the stove. Lauren remained silent, but her gaze seared into his back. He didn’t dare look. If he did, he’d be doing everything he shouldn’t. Right then his whole body burned. How the hell he’d get through tonight without pinning her beneath him was a complete mystery.
It didn’t help that she stepped up beside him, her body brushing his arm. That musky perfume floated around him, teasing his senses, as she laid a hand on his back and leaned around his shoulder. “So, what’s for dinner, tough guy?”
Firmly ignoring the heat of her body calling to him like a siren’s song, he focused instead on the nickname. “Tough guy?”
She had the nerve to smile at him. Playful and, if he wasn’t mistaken, flirty. “Yeah, for a SEAL, you’re rather soft around the edges.”
He couldn’t help his grin. She was teasing him. The minx. Damn. She was in fine form tonight. Some logical part of his brain told him to let her comment go. Taking her up on the clear challenge in her eyes would do nothing but set their whole night off on the wrong foot. Slow. He was supposed to be taking this slow.
Once again, though, his mouth didn’t appear to have gotten the memo. He arched a brow, tossing her grin right back at her. “There’s nothing soft about me, doll.”
She turned back to the pot on the stove and lifted the lid on the rice. “I’d like very much to see that for myself.”
For a moment he could only stare and remember to drag in oxygen, because all his blood was currently seated in his jeans. Fuck. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this damn aroused, and she hadn’t even touched him.
Clearly she intended to kill him with sexual innuendos. When the hell had she learned to flirt like that?
“Rice pilaf.” She picked up the wooden spoon resting on the stove and gave the rice a stir. Like she had no idea she had him by the cock. “Impressive. What else have you got planned?”
She looked over at him, blinking in expectation of an answer, but damned if he could make his tongue work. His mouth had gone dry.
He cleared his throat and turned back to the stove, lifting the lid on the skillet. “Crab cakes, and”—he moved back and pulled open the oven door—“roasted asparagus.”
“I’m impressed. It smells divine and looks delicious.” She turned toward him, a gleam in her eye, and swirled her index finger over his chest as she spoke. “You went all out.”
He stifled a groan. Something was definitely different about her tonight, and if he didn’t find out what—and soon—he’d bust the zipper on his jeans.
He folded his arms across his chest, because he didn’t trust himself not to grab that finger and pull her in. “All right. I can’t stand it. What’s up with you? You’re not yourself tonight.”
He expected a playful retort. For her to toss something else provocative at him that would sever the last thread of his willpower. Instead, a soft pink flush stained her cheeks, flowing all the way up her neck.
Lauren rolled her eyes and pivoted away from him, leaning back against the counter. “I was trying to seduce you. Steph’s idea. Apparently, it’s not working.”
He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “That explains a lot.”
“Don’t. Laugh. You.” She glared at him and jabbed a pointed finger at his chest, but the corners of her mouth twitched.
The last of his willpower went up in a puff of smoke. He turned toward her and pinned her back against the counter, cupped her ass in his hands, and lifted her off her feet, setting her down on the surface. Eye to eye now, he moved between her sleek thighs and leaned his hands on the counter on either side of her.
“I’m not laughing, doll, but if you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going to plaster my mouth to yours, and I’m not sure I can stop there.” He couldn’t resist tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. Soft. She was so fucking soft, and he wanted to wrap himself up in her. “You have me so aroused right now I can’t think straight. At least not about anything but burying myself inside you.”
She slid her hands onto his waist and scooted closer, until her breasts grazed his chest and her heat settled against the bulge in his jeans. When he was taking every breath with her, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue along his lower lip. “So stop resisting.”
He was going to have to get really honest with her. Any second now, she could decide she was done being patient with him and leave, and who the hell could blame her?
He sighed and set his forehead against hers. “It’s been a while for me, doll, and my need is great. And you’re a virgin. Chances are I’m going to hurt you just by default, and it scares the hell out of me. What if I can’t be as gentle as you need me to be?”
Christ. That had to be the most honest he’d ever been with her. And it didn’t make him feel strong to admit it, either. That he hadn’t a freaking clue what he was doing. All he could do now was wait for the fallout of his confession. He was a Navy SEAL. He’d made it through BUD/S training and Hell Week. He’d been shot at by men intent on killing him. Hell, he’d been blown up. But not a single damn thing scared him more than she did.
She stroked a hand over his cheek, tender, warm, soothing. “I may not have experience in this department, but I don’t believe that for one second. I don’t want you to be anybody but you, Trent. And for the record, I happen to like you the way you are. A tough SEAL with a big soft heart. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”
Relief flooded his chest, and some of the tension knotting his shoulders finally eased. “Thank you. I just thought if we took it slow, did everything else first, by the time we get to the main course, you’ll be so turned on, so wet, I’ll just slide inside you, and it won’t hurt so much. Because all you’ll be thinking about is how much you want me.”
“I appreciate that. And I’m okay with it.” She brushed her mouth over his, a series of tiny kisses. “I’m told slow can be really good.”
When he was crumbling at her feet, she pulled back, a wicked glint her eye, and braced her hands against his chest. She shoved him back, then hopped off the counter. Standing belly to belly with him, she once again held his gaze and his complete attention.
“Now, come on. You owe me dinner, and I don’t know about you”—she tossed a saucy wink at him before turning back to the stove—“but I’m starved.”
* * *
Heart hammering from somewhere around her tonsils, Lauren turned to the stove. Behind her, Trent had gone silent. His gaze, however, followed her every move, burning into her back, and it made her tremble. As she pulled the asparagus out of the oven, her hands shook so much the pan hit the edge of the stovetop in her clumsy attempt to set it down. Luckily, she managed to recover it in time to keep the damn thing from clattering to the floor.
She had no freaking clue what she was doing. After Trent left her apartment yesterday, she’d immediately called Steph. Steph had promised not to spill the beans to Mandy, for which she was grateful, then offered “pointers.” Lauren had marched over here positive she could do this.
Until Trent plunked her ass on the counter and edged between her thighs. They’d officially reached the point where she was one hundred and ten percent out of her element. Her only plus right now was that he seemed to be responding to her awkward flirting. Who knew?
“Dinner can wait.” Trent grabbed her hand and led her out of the kitchen. “I have something for you. I’d like to give it to you now, before I forget.”
He led her down a long hallway toward the back of his apartment, then moved into his bedroom, stopping in the doorway of a walk-in closet on the right side of the room. “It’s where I’ve hidden your birthday present.”
Lauren couldn’t help the soft gasp that left her. Instead of clothing hanging from racks, there were shelves lining the walls, each one holding hundreds of wooden carvings in a range of sizes.
She darted a glance at him. “You did all this?”
He released her hand and moved into the space. “It’s a hobby. It keeps the mind occupied. Well, most of the time.” He shrugged.
She moved into the rectangular space, skimming her fingers along some of the smaller pieces lining the shelves. There were at least a dozen Santas, some that resembled trolls, more than a few dogs, and several garden gnomes. On the floor, carved from what must have been a tree stump, was a small black bear holding a three-tiered wedding cake. There was even a puppy hanging from a welcome sign. Trent had serious talent.
“Ever think about selling this stuff? I know all kinds of women who’d snatch this stuff up in a heartbeat. I could set up a counter in the bakery…” She moved to the cake-holding bear and touched his head, the possibilities rolling through her mind. “Set this guy up by the front door. Customers would go nuts for this stuff.”
He stepped up to her side, staring down at the bear, the same way she was. “He’s for you, by the way. The cake needs to be painted, but I thought I’d ask what colors you preferred before I did it.”
Lauren jerked her gaze to his, unable to stop her mouth from dropping open. “You carved him…for me?”
He hitched a shoulder but didn’t look at her. “A few of these pieces were inspired by you, actually. Like those gnomes over there? Mandy told me once you had a love affair with garden gnomes.”
Lauren could only blink for a second. Not a single man in her life had ever done something so sweet before. She pivoted toward him and threw her arms around him. “This has to be one of the sweetest things anybody’s ever done for me. Thank you.”
He chuckled, his hands falling to rest on her waist. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s beautiful. I love it. That had to have taken you months to do.” She pecked his stubbled cheek, then pulled back. She turned, intending to ask him about the puppy sign, when a large cross seated upright on an eye-level shelf caught her eye. It was tall and thin, much like the ones littering the war cemetery, but with an intricately carved design around the edges. She traced her fingertips over the name carved into the wood. “The young man who died.”
Trent made a sound of acknowledgment as he came to stand beside her but didn’t otherwise offer anything more. A glance at him found him staring at the cross with sightless eyes. No doubt lost in memories.
She laid a hand against his arm. “You should hang this on a wall.”
He shrugged. “Don’t know where to put it.”
She studied him for a moment. He was stoic and withdrawn as always. Needing, somehow, to lighten the heaviness suddenly hanging over him, she carefully picked up the cross and turned it over to look at the back.
“Just needs a hook. You can get those in any craft store.” She carefully tucked the cross under her left arm and took his hand, tugging him behind her as she made her way back into the living room.
He stood silent as she scanned the room. His furniture was sparse and practical, the space immaculately neat and clean. It honestly looked like it had been done up for an advertisement. The only human touch in the room were the pictures of his family on the mantel above the fireplace. She wanted to ask how he slept in this place, but she knew the answer. He didn’t. At least not well.
“There.” She tugged him around the couch and stopped in front of the fireplace. “On the wall. Or you could just set it on the mantel, I suppose, but it deserves a place of honor, because clearly he meant a lot to you.”
When she looked over at him he was staring at her, blue eyes alight. He gave a slow shake of his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and turned. “Come on. Dinner’s getting cold.”
* * *
Lauren set the last glass into the top rack of the dishwasher and closed the door. Dinner had been…awkward. They’d made small talk, but tension had risen so high she’d expected something to shatter at any second. All the things they weren’t saying to each other rose like a living, breathing entity. There was also an unrestrained hunger in Trent’s gaze she’d never seen before, and it made her shiver.
Over the last twenty minutes, since they’d left the table, they’d cleaned the kitchen together, but the small talk had dwindled to only what was necessary to accomplish their task. Variations of “Hand me that plate? Thanks,” and “You really don’t have to do those.”
It made her insides shake. She had no idea what the hell happened now.
She pushed the button to start the dishwasher, then leaned back against the counter beside Trent. “You’ve been very quiet.”
He turned to her, his hands settling on her waist, and leaned into her. Whatever she’d been thinking deserted her. Trent was aroused. His erection was a thick bulge behind his zipper.
“Sorry. I’m nervous.” He lifted a hand, his gaze following as he stroked his thumb along her lower lip. “I haven’t done this in a while, and you’re, well, you.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “That makes us even then, because so am I.” She lifted onto her toes, closing the gap between them, until her mouth hovered an inch from his. “Trent?”
“Hmm?” His gaze dropped, his voice taking on a distracted edge.
She flicked her tongue against his lower lip. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Whatever had held him back up until this point seemed to fray. The same man who’d always been reserved and almost docile in her presence growled as he claimed her mouth. His hands shook as he cupped her ass and pulled her hard into him, rocking his erection into her soft belly.
Lauren couldn’t stop a quiet moan from leaving her. God, it was only a kiss. It wasn’t even their first. Instead of tender and coaxing, he was fierce and demanding. Heat flicked along every nerve ending, lighting that ember in her belly to a full-body burn. Shivers chased each other over the surface of her skin, leaving goose bumps, and everything south of the border became a hot liquid mass of need.
When she wound her arms around his neck and pushed back, rocking her hips into the intense connection, Trent leaned his forehead against hers, his fingers curling almost painfully into the flesh of her ass. His breaths blew harsh and ragged against her skin. “I don’t know if I can be as gentle as you’re going to need me to be. If I’m too rough, I need you to tell me. You’ve never been shy with me before. Please don’t start now.”
Was he really afraid he’d hurt her? She opened her mouth to reassure him, but he furrowed his brow, halting the words before they could leave her tongue.
“Promise me.”
She rubbed the center of his chest, aiming for soothing. “I don’t believe for one second that you’d hurt me or I wouldn’t be here. Relax, Trent. I’m not worried. Neither should you be.”
His breath left his mouth in a rush, his shoulders rounding as the tension left him.
She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, then slipped her hand into his and led him out of the kitchen. She stopped at the edge of the living room and turned to look at him. “Here or…the bedroom?”
Amusement glinted in his eyes. “We should probably stick with the living room for now.”
She nodded and moved around the recliner that marked the beginning of the living room. The short walk to the sectional lining the far wall was the most nerve-racking one of her life. Trent followed in silence, but his gaze seared into her. By the time she came to a stop in front of his worn blue sofa, all the bravado she’d marched in there with deserted her.
She let out an uncomfortable laugh as she turned to him, flashing what had to look like a terrified smile. “I have to admit, now that I’ve dragged you in here, I haven’t a clue what happens next.”
One corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he hooked an arm around her waist, tugging her against him. “Well, it requires us to get a little closer.”
The hunger in his eyes made her insides wobble, but the press of his warm, deliciously hard body against her had the butterfly party starting in her stomach. Her hands came to rest on his chest, but the only word she could manage to form was “Hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned and leaned down to brush his mouth over hers, then released her, took a seat on the couch, and crooked a finger at her.
Lauren swallowed the lump of rising fear, braced her hands on his shoulders, and climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. He sat for a moment, eyes heavy-lidded and filled with a heat that scorched her insides.
He slid his big, warm hands up her thighs to curl around her ass and tugged, pulling her tight against the hard bulge in his jeans, then caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “I need you. Too much.”
Clearly he was more nervous than she was, the thought of which relaxed the tight ball in her stomach. At least she wasn’t the only one with something at stake here.
She stroked her fingertips through the short hairs at his nape. “Tell me something. Do you like it rough?”
“Yes and no.” He shrugged, but heat flared in his eyes. “Sometimes a good hard fuck is exactly what you need. Wild and unrestrained.”
She had no idea if he meant his words as the tease they were, but a hot little shiver raked the length of her spine, settling in her damp panties. The meaning behind the words, however, told her a lot. “And you can’t do that with me.”
Trent cupped her cheeks in his hands, thumbs sweeping her skin. “Not yet.”
She leaned in, pressed her breasts against his chest, and brushed her mouth over his. “Trent?”
His gaze locked on hers, eyes blazing. “Hmm?”
“For the record…that thought turns me on more than a little. You pinning my hands above my head so I can’t move and shoving so hard into me the headboard knocks the wall.”
She closed her eyes as the image slid over her. She could almost hear the huff of his breathing in her ear, the slap of flesh on flesh. Her insides clenched in luscious anticipation and, unable to help herself, she rolled her hips, grinding against the bulge behind his zipper. Pleasure erupted from the point of contact, seeping over her nerve endings, and a quiet, needy moan escaped.
“God, that’s the stuff of fantasies.” She forced herself to pull back, because she needed him to know, to understand. “It’s important to me that you enjoy this, too. I don’t want you to hold back. If you get nothing out of this, then I don’t either.”
He let out a low, husky laugh and nipped at her bottom lip. “Oh, believe me, doll. I’m going to enjoy the hell out of you.”
Lauren rolled her hips again, grinding against him, and bent her head, scraping her teeth over the fleshy muscle of his shoulder. “Trent?”
A shudder moved through him, and his fingers tightened on her ass. When she pulled back, he had his eyes closed, mouth hanging open in awe. “Yeah?”
She leaned her mouth to his ear. “Then shut up and fuck me.”