Nikki

Tulsa rolls to his back.

No!

That’s not what I want. That’s not what I want at all.

He looks back and says, “I want to kiss you, more than you know, but if I kiss you, you’re going to want more, and then I’m going to give you more because I want more too. Then we’ll wind up in a full-on love affair, sneaking around for quickies backstage and at hotels. Little looks of lust exchanged between sets and hiding how we feel from everyone else. Then what? We’ll end up becoming a couple and eventually falling in love, which will lead to marriage, a new Crow tattoo, and a baby in the baby carriage.”

My mouth is hanging open. “I only wanted a kiss.”

“But a kiss can lead to so much more. Are you ready for more?”

My head jerks back. “Are you?”

“Your brother will hate me.”

“He’ll get over it.” Wait, what am I doing? Am I actually trying to convince him to kiss me, or more? Tricky bastard. “Look. It’s been a while. Fine, you got me to admit that, but I’m not desperate. Sex is dispensable, just like women are disposable to you.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. Just because there have been a few doesn’t mean women are expendable to me.”

He says all this while sitting with an obvious hard-on. His eyes dip to my breasts, and I guess I can’t blame him. My nipples are seemingly clambering toward him like the little whores they are. I cross my arms over my chest in a failed attempt to hide them.

But when he stops staring down, I find myself more annoyed. Ugh. I’m such a mess. This is what hot guys do to me. They make me stupid.

Flipping the covers off, I stand, keeping the bed between us, and cross my arms over my traitorous breasts again. “Look, Crow, this reverse psychology won’t work on me. I’ve gone a long time without getting involved with someone for good reasons. That includes sex. Sex leads to entanglements I don’t need. I’m good. I’m great, in fact. Never better. Once I dug myself out from the hole my ex-boyfriend put me in, I’ve done nothing but soar. So, I don’t need a guy to make me feel better about my life or to ride in like some suave superhero ready to save my vagina’s day.”

“What are the reasons?”

“What?”

He stands across from me, mimicking my position—arms crossed, tense jaw, turned on.

I can use reverse psychology like the best of them, whoever “them” are. Right now, it’s Tulsa. My gaze glides over each amazing ab until all eight have been properly eye-fucked, and then I go lower.

Convincing me I’m the one who wants him is not easy when his body clearly gives him away. “Those underwear don’t hide much,” I remark, feeling awfully smug about now.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He shifts and tugs on that lower lip of his, making me wish it was my lip instead. “I really like what I see.”

“We’re not going to have sex, Crow, so get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I swear I thought you were begging me to kiss you a minute ago.”

“You thought wrong.” I lick my lips because, holy dryness. I think all the moisture in my body has flowed to my lower half. “These babies have more interesting things to kiss than your mouth.”

His hand covers his cock, and he shifts. “Damn, woman. You know how to tease a guy.”

I hate that he makes me want to touch myself. I hate that I’m already plotting to get off when I get back to my room. I really hate the way he looks at me like he can picture all the ways he wants to make me come, but not really. “Fine.”

An eyebrow goes up, and he asks, “Fine?”

“I’ll let you kiss me.”

He’s smart enough not to laugh, but the restrained smile he’s sporting kind of says it all. “All right. Do you want to stand or lie on the bed?”

Hmm. Decisions. Decisions. “Stand.”

When he comes around, I ogle him because nobody works that hard on a body and doesn’t want others to appreciate it. So I appreciate it . . . uh . . . him and all that hard work. So what if I lick my lips while I ogle—I mean, appreciate him as he comes closer.

I’ve stood beside him before, but there’s something about him standing in front me mostly naked, completely invading my personal space with all his manliness and a scent that speaks to my hormones now. Traitors.

Tulsa doesn’t touch me, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze all over my body. I shift because it’s not just lust residing in his eyes. If I’m not mistaken, it looks to be more. I swallow, staring intently into his eyes. “Are you going to kiss me, Crow?”

“I am. Just give me a moment.”

When he doesn’t move, I get impatient. “For what?”

“I like to take my time.”

I lift to kiss this impossible man, but just as I do, he catches my hips, and I’m anchored to the floor. “Calm down, sweetheart. It takes time to get to the good stuff.”

“And by good stuff, you’re talking about you?”

“Sure am.”

“Either do it or don’t, Tulsa. I don’t like feeling rejected. Remember, I’m sober here.”

“Why do you feel rejected when I stop to admire you? Why would you ever feel rejected when I just told you, not five minutes ago, I want to do more than kiss you? My cock is hard for you. It’s not flowers, but it’s a pretty damn good indicator that I want you.”

I smile because maybe he’s not reading poetry or serenading me, but he is clearly attracted to me, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “Why are we still talking and not kissing? Are we doing this?” I ask, feeling frustrated—emotionally and sexually.

His hands still hold me by the hips as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me. He’s deft at popping my jeans open and pulling my zipper down as I suck in a breath at the feel of his fingers running along my lower belly. “Yes, I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to use my lips to feel the softness of yours. I’m going to use my tongue to taste you—inside and out. And if you’re a really good girl, I’m going to seduce you with my mouth until you come in it. Does that work for you, darlin’?”

My mind is still stuck on tasting and coming, but he’s looking at me, waiting for me to answer. “I want your words, Nikki.”

“I want that. I want you to do all of that.”

“Good.” Standing, he cups my face. “I want that too, but I want our first kiss to go like this.” He leans in and closes his eyes. My eyelids fall when his firm and possessive lips press to mine.

Our lips part, and I slowly reopen my eyes to find his still closed as if he’s savoring me. When he opens his eyes, it’s not the Tulsa Special at play, but a smile that’s more intimate, more personal, as if created just for me.

He licks me off his lips, then touches his finger to mine, tracing them once. “Now that I’ve tasted these lips.” His other hand slides into my open jeans. “I’m ready to taste your others.”

There are a million reasons to stop him, to tell him no, reasons that seemed rational before. Explanations he mentioned too. This tour. The Resistance catching us in the act. His brothers. Mine. But none of it seems to matter right now because Tulsa Crow is going to kiss me where no one has been in ages, and I want this.

I want him.

My mind loses all ability to think clearly. Instead, I feel the heat of his palm as it slides against my stomach and into my jeans. I almost reach out and touch him, but I was promised kisses and tasting and coming, and I’m willing to let him keep that promise.

The scruff of his jaw scrapes against my neck, and he whispers in my ear, “Do you still want to stand?”

“No.”

“I want you to take off your clothes. Will you do that for me, Nikki?”

“Yes.” I tug my jeans off and climb onto the bed with my thong still on.

I flash my ass in his direction. I’m used to wearing barely-there swimwear. I do yoga most days and jog a little—very little—but still. I’m twenty-three, for fuck’s sake. Like him, I’m not shy about showing some skin.

I turn my head quickly and catch him staring. No apologies.

Lying on my back with a pillow beneath my head, I crook my finger for him to come hither. He stands beside the bed, all six feet plus looming over me as he takes me in. I wave my hand in front of my vagina. “Proceed.”

Chuckling, he says, “I’d almost forgotten who I was with. Miss San Diego County herself. Or should I call you queen?”

“I’m partial to queen,” I tease because I hate being called a beauty queen. But I hate not having his mouth on me more, so if letting him call me queen gets him to do the deed sooner, he can go right ahead.

Kneeling, he runs his hands from my ankles to my knees so slowly I think I might combust before his mouth even reaches me. “I’m partial to you, my queen.”

I should have known better. That tricky bastard makes his move and has the nerve to lift my foot and kiss the top of my ankle with so much tenderness I close my eyes and give in to the sensations.

His fingers on my skin. His hands on my body. His lips caressing me like this might be that more he spoke about earlier. This feels too good. Too damn good.

I snap my legs together and sit up. “I’m nervous. I might talk too much. I want you to want me.”

There’s that genuine smile again. “I do want you. I want you badly.”

“I want you to feel good.” Kissing my knee, he rests his chin on top. “I want you, but I’m okay if we take this slowly.”

My shoulders begin to relax, the tension drifting away. “And here I thought I was just another notch.”

He whispers, “Here’s a secret—there are no notches, only a past that doesn’t matter when I’m with you.”

“Why doesn’t your past matter with me?”

“Because when I’m with you, I only want to live in the present.”

“No future?”

Smiling again, he asks, “You sure do talk a lot.”

“I told you I was nervous.”

“You don’t have to be. Not with me.”

His lips make me want to kiss him again, but his eyes and how he looks at me makes me want to do so much more. “I don’t like to owe anyone anything. If we do this tonight, I get to return the favor tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” he whispers against the inside of my knee, and then kisses me there. “Lie back, baby.”

Baby. I swoon as I lie back, letting my arms rest wide as he parts my legs. Lifting my ass, he takes off my underwear. I try not to look at him as he takes me in for the first time—my body and my scar.

The rough skin, the size of a soda can on its side, lies above any bikini line. Although my heart is racing as his eyes land on it, he doesn’t pull back or flinch. No cringing happens, though I begin to cover it.

His voice is a mere whisper to himself as he takes my hand and then kisses the scar that runs deeper on the inside. “Beautiful.”

Under his gaze, he’s made me feel nothing less than perfect. I haven’t told him everything, but he’s cleared the way for me to know I can. “We don’t know each other—”

“But I want to. I want to kiss every inch of your incredible body. I want to know its history. I want to know you, so when you’re ready to share, I’ll be here.”

Tulsa’s used to women falling over him—it’s not about his body. That’s so easy to see now that I’ve dropped my walls low enough to see the real man behind the roguish grin.

I reach down and touch his cheek. “I want to know you too.” I want him kissing me on the lips and between my legs. It feels shallow to admit, but I like the way this feels with him—how we are when we’re together like this. I want this with him. “I want you.”

Bending over me, his lips touch the tops of my thighs, and he peppers kisses until I’m calm again. I close my eyes as those broad shoulders angle under my knees. First, two fingers stroke along the crease of my leg and then they part me. As I inhale, his breath warms me.

He places the gentlest of kisses, his mouth lingering. When I peek, his eyes are closed, and his breathing is deep. I try to keep my body still, taking in every sensation. His tongue flattens across me, and he licks from bottom to top, and I can’t stop myself from crying out. “Oh, God, you feel amazing.”

The scruff of his beard scrapes the inside of my thighs, and I about lose all my senses when his tongue circles my clit. Sexy bastard. “Light My Fire” has never sounded better than from his throat, hummed against me. I start to move, my hips bucking of their own accord.

Tulsa works faster, harder, and then adds his finger, sliding into me slowly and steadily. His other hand flattens against my lower stomach to hold me in place. By the time he reaches the end of the song, my body lets go, as if it were holding out for the finale. I fall apart, my eyes closing tightly, my teeth clenching, my thighs squeezing. He definitely kept his promise to me.

When he lifts his head from between my legs, I open my eyes but don’t find the predicted smirk. This time, I’m gifted with a smile.