Spiced Page 13

  He smoothed a firm hand up and down her back. The tension she’d held behind her shoulder blades put up a fight, but it was no match for his steady care.

  If she let herself relax, she’d cry. No, she’d sob. Wail. There would be no demure tears sliding gently down her cheeks. She would ugly-cry. With a blotchy face, snotty nose, and gaspy breaths.

  She latched onto his words—I needed this—because it was all she had.

  He needed her.

  He wasn’t related to her. He didn’t work for her. He wasn’t buying something from her. She’d flat-out told him she wouldn’t have sex with him. Ran away, even, the last time he kissed her. But here he was, asking for a simple hug.

  Did he need a hug? Or did he understand she couldn’t ask for this for herself, and he wanted to offer her comfort and affection for no other reason than that he was a good man?

  A tremble started in her core, and suddenly the hug wasn’t enough. She needed a solid connection. Grounding. An anchor.

  To escape from herself. From her brain.

  She grabbed him around the neck and pushed her lips to his. His arms tightened around her middle, holding her in a granite vise while his mouth opened to her. His tongue stroked her lip. She whimpered into his kiss.

  This. This kiss, this connection, this escape was everything she needed.

  She raked her hands into his hair and sucked his lip into her mouth. He pushed her against the wall, a rough rumble in his chest vibrating through her clothes and sending sparks racing over her skin.

  Her fingers twitched, her lips tingled, and an inferno roared to life deep in her belly.

  She wanted to have sex with Tony.

  Tonight. Now. Why couldn’t she? There was absolutely nothing standing in their way.

  Except, apparently, him.

  He wrenched himself free. “Pepper—”

  Her heart dipped to her belly. “I changed my mind.” Before her brain could catch up, before he could argue, she yanked on his hair and attacked him with another kiss.

  How long would it take to get him naked?

  Her nipples tightened into needy points, and she felt an unmistakable swell of hard male interest growing against her belly.

  George yipped, claws clicking against the wood floor. His furry body leapt on her leg. “Down,” she ordered, her voice strong and clear, all hints of sobs and tears beaten back by pure carnal desire.

  “You want me to go down on you?” Tony said.

  Looking in his eyes was like falling into a chocolate river, warm and delicious but fluid and unpredictable.

  “Yes,” she breathed. Who was that woman? She was sexy and breathless and panting. Would he pick up on how long it had been? Or did he think she did this all the time?

  “Upstairs,” she ordered.

  He didn’t move. “I didn’t come here for this.”

  “If you don’t have sex with me tonight, I will hate you forever.”

  Probably too strong there.

  His jaw worked up and down, and those inquisitive eyes demanded answers to questions she refused to acknowledge. If he turned her down, if he walked away, she’d shatter into a billion shards of brittle glass, and she’d never find normal again.

  So she did the only thing a self-respecting woman on the verge of falling apart could do.

  She licked his jaw while she yanked his ass, pressing his hardening shaft firmly against her.

  A growl rumbled from his throat. He released her and stripped out of his jacket, dropping it right there in the doorway. She tugged him to the stairs while he nuzzled her neck and slipped his hands beneath her shirt, his knuckles grazing her skin.

  She yelped.

  He pulled back, eyes wide. “Sorry, I—”

  “No, no.” She pulled his hands back to her waist. “Startled. Ticklish. Touch me. Now.”

  His dark gaze searched her face again. “Pepper—”

  She grabbed his cheeks and went up on tiptoe to capture his lips again.

  His response was slower. She grazed his lower lip with her teeth. His fingers dug into her waist, and he deepened the kiss.

  Reluctantly or eagerly, she didn’t care. All she cared about was the chocolate and coffee flooding her senses, erasing her thoughts, taking her away from everything but the experience of him. He leisurely explored her mouth, licking and sucking, nipping and soothing. They reached the stairs, and his hard thigh angled between her legs.

  This. This was what she needed.

  Pure carnal escape.

  “You feel so damn good,” he whispered.

  George jumped on her calf and wrapped his front legs around her shin. She shook him off, but he jumped right back on. “Shoo.”

  Tony straightened again.

  “No, not you. The dog. You stay.”

  She grabbed his hand and tugged him up the stairs. When she had him in the bedroom, she shut the door in George’s face, then tugged Tony’s hand to her breast. The steel cords in his forearms flexed. His erection pulsed against her. Did she have condoms somewhere in here?

  As if it mattered.

  She couldn’t get pregnant.

  “If you don’t want to—” he started.

  “Do you not want to?”

  “Oh, I want to.”

  “Me too.”

  He brushed his lips across hers, a featherlight touch of velvet skin, and squeezed her breast. “What changed your mind?”

  Nope. Not going there. “I came to my senses.”

  Before he could respond, she kissed him again.

  Because if he stopped touching her, if he stopped holding her, if he stopped kissing her, the delicate crystal web holding her together would shatter.

  He growled out an approving rumble and pushed her against the door.

  Too soon, he broke the kiss again, but his pirate’s grin sent hot heat coursing through her blood.

  “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he murmured.

  Everywhere. Her nerve endings were frayed and on fire, but if he would just keep touching her—“Try me.”

  He pulled back enough to sweep a lazy glance over her figure, and the first bit of apprehension slithered through her belly.

  What if he was used to sleeping with more experienced women? Or kinky women? Did he want her bossy? Or compliant?

  Why couldn’t she simply enjoy this?

  His hand slid down her side. She held her breath and fought against the quiver in her skin. There. So ticklish there.

  Playful was good. Playful wasn’t real. And she needed all of today not to be real.

  “Are you?” she hissed out between clenched teeth.

  “Am I…?”

  “Ticklish.”

  His lips spread in a naughty smile that made her core pulse. She blinked, and his shirt fluttered to the ground on her soft green bedroom rug.

  “Better idea,” he said. “You try me.”

  Firm olive skin and a sprinkling of dark hair covered the rigid muscles of his chest and abdomen. His hips were cut, his collarbones thick and straight, leading to wide, sculpted shoulders and well-defined arms. A tattoo—a scroll with vivi, ridi, ama scripted across it—decorated his upper arm.

  Her mouth went dry.

  This was hers tonight. Hers to explore. Hers to own. Hers to lose herself in.

  She had to pause and swallow. “Making pizza must be quite the workout.”

  His left eye crinkled tighter than his right when his smile grew. “More than dancing around with fluffy dresses all day.”

  “Dresses are heavy.” His skin was rough satin, pebbling in goose bumps beneath her fingertips while she traced the ridges of his ribs and abs. “You might be in good enough shape to try one on.”

  “Keep talking, I’ll tickle you on purpose.”

  She hooked her thumbs beneath his waistband and splayed her fingers over the denim covering his butt. “Kiss me again.”

  He obliged, his breath tickling her cheek while his tongue teased hers.

  The needy ache gre
w between her legs. She pulled him closer, itching to pull her own shirt off but reluctant to break the connection, even for a moment.

  “So good,” he murmured against her lips.

  Maybe she could just shimmy out of her pants. That was the necessary part. He’d be back for more, and she could show him all of the goods next time.

  He would be back for more…wouldn’t he?

  The way he was licking at that spot where her neck and shoulder met—she yelped again, because ticklish, then quickly grabbed his head and held him in the crook of her neck before he decided to get gentlemanly. “Do that again.”

  He obliged. Along with suckling on her neck, he slid his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. A rush of potent pleasure flooded her limbs when he brushed the silk covering her nipples. Her neck arched back, her breasts pushed into the solid wall of his chest, and her hips bucked.

  She rocked against Tony’s thigh. She had to get her shirt off. Then her pants. And his pants.

  His pants definitely had to go.

  She lifted a leg to wrap around his hips, but she couldn’t get it high enough. Couldn’t bend right.

  She tried again and ended up with a charley horse in the back of her thigh. “Aah!” She bounced on one foot and grabbed at the tight muscle while Tony reared back.

  “Did I…?”

  “Bed,” she panted while she rubbed her hamstring. “Lose the pants. We’re doing this, dammit.”

  If Cinna or Gran came home right now, Pepper would kill them.

  “Pepper—”

  She tore her shirt off and glared at him.

  His lips parted and his eyes glossed over. “Damn, you’re hot,” he murmured.

  Right.

  She and her charley horse limp and those extra ten pounds no amount of diet or exercise could shake were so sexy.

  But his eyes were black satin, and that reverent adoration in his expression suggested his sentiment might’ve been the most honest thing he’d ever said aloud.

  No thinking. No looking. No emotions.

  She just needed to touch. That was all this was.

  Touching. Physical release.

  She unsnapped her jeans. “Pants off,” she ordered again.

  In one smooth motion, he had his pants at his ankles. His belt buckle clinked to the ground.

  She hadn’t seen a man standing at attention in months. Her greedy fingers reached for him, needing the connection, needing to feel, but not think. She’d forgotten the seductiveness of a well-built man. The cords of muscle in his arms. The indent of his spine. The curve of his ass.

  The slight taste of anticipation mixed with fear that came from wondering if he’d fit.

  He gripped her waist again. His lips settled over hers while he took his time hooking his thumbs beneath her waistband and inching her jeans down over her hips.

  This was happening.

  He wanted her.

  She’d been poked and prodded by so many medical devices over the last year, but she hadn’t felt a man’s touch, a man’s taste, a man’s arousal in so long. Too long.

  She needed this. Needed to remember the primal basics of coupling. Of being a woman being with a man. She needed to know she could still give and take pleasure.

  No thinking.

  She squeezed and stroked him harder. He bit down on her lip, another groan emanating from his throat. She pulled back with a squeak. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” he gasped, but was that pain? Or was that enjoyment?

  Or…both?

  Was Tony kinky? Did he think she’d want to be tied to the bed? Or blindfolded? Or licked in odd places? And what counted as odd places these days?

  Had sex changed since the last time she’d had a real boyfriend?

  He claimed her mouth again and lowered her to the bed, pausing only long enough to pull her pants off the rest of the way before settling beside her. His hard length bobbed against her hip while he cradled her head and feasted on her mouth.

  Her teeth bumped his, and an odd slurping noise slipped out of her mouth.

  A mortified giggle caught in her throat.

  Tony lifted his head. “Is this okay?”

  Oh, jeez.

  There it was again. She wanted to laugh.

  Had she always been this awkward?

  She hadn’t thought to pull the duvet cover off, and one of the buttons pushed into her left butt cheek. She jiggled and shifted, and when Tony started to pull away, she gripped the velvet skin around his shaft and gave his steel length another squeeze.

  “Oh, god,” he moaned into her mouth.

  Oh, god. She was holding onto her jerk neighbor’s dick.

  Without warning, he yelped and jerked out of her grasp.

  “Did I squeeze too hard? I didn’t mean to, I just—”

  His audible breath came quickly while he sprang off the bed and turned in a circle. “Something licked my ass.”

  Sadie panted happily on the floor, her big brown eyes going from Tony’s erection to Pepper’s boobs.

  She clamped a hand to her mouth, but another giggle caught in her windpipe and nearly choked her.

  He turned a flat, so not amused glare in her direction.

  Sadie’s pink tongue darted out under her dark snout, and she bunny-hopped the two feet necessary to lick Tony’s calf. He stared down at the dog, his shaft losing some steam, and Pepper had to bury her face in a pillow to stifle a snort of laughter.

  “Right,” he said. “No sex. I get it.”

  She jerked upright. “No, I want to—”

  “Your dog doesn’t.”

  He sat on the edge of her forest green duvet cover, bent over toward the floor. When he stood, dimples sat on either side of his spine above the swell of his cheeks, disappearing when he yanked his pants up.

  “I’ll put her out,” Pepper said. She started to move, but he was reaching for his shirt.

  Once again, she’d been a disappointment.

  She was an utter failure at being a woman.

  “My place tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll cook you dinner.”

  That was the most stilted invitation she’d ever received. “I have a Knot Fest thing tomorrow night.”

  His lips thinned. “Thursday?”

  So he was busy Wednesday. She wanted to ask with what, but it was probably none of her business.

  And she didn’t have much confidence he actually wanted to see her. Naked or otherwise.

  She was a hell of a lot of trouble. “Sure. Thursday sounds great. Can I bring anything?”

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  They sounded like two awkward horny people trying to plan a date somewhere that her dogs wouldn’t care where Tony stuck his penis.

  Not like two people who were friends.

  Might as well just schedule a nooner.

  The physical release was all sex was good for anyway, wasn’t it?

  And—oh, no.

  They weren’t breaking up on Thursday.

  Her family would expect to see him at the wedding. Probably at the rehearsal dinner too.

  Because she owed him one.

  Something caught in her throat again, but her giggles were gone. She curled into the duvet and tried to cover herself, suddenly painfully aware of how naked she was. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  He didn’t look at her. “Yeah. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

  Sadie wagged her tail.

  And this time, when one more door shut in her life, Pepper finally let herself cry.

  10

  Tony didn’t sleep Monday night.

  He tried. He flung himself into bed, his face so hot he was surprised it didn’t burn a hole in his pillow. He recited his family tree to take his mind off his utter failure with Pepper, but his mortification reigned supreme.

  He’d had a woman throw herself at him, an attractive woman who had inspired his body to act like it could perform, but as soon as he got naked, performance anxiety had taken over.

  Yeah, he’d be
en hard as a pipe while she’d been touching him, but it hadn’t felt…right.

  And as soon as she’d let go, the deflation had begun.

  The dog licking his ass had been a relief, if he were being honest.

  And he knew she’d seen him losing his steam.

  He punched his mattress. Even if he’d been able to slide inside her, he wouldn’t have lasted ten seconds.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Lucky didn’t join him on the bed. When he came down the creaky stairs Tuesday morning, she lifted her head and watched him from the lambskin cat bed he’d set up for her by the radiator in the kitchen, but she didn’t move.

  Big improvement from the skittish thing she’d been when he took her in three months ago. The freaked-out animal that had gone ballistic on Pepper’s bunny-dog. Hell, even three weeks ago she wouldn’t have let him catch her sleeping. But that little victory of knowing his cat finally trusted her home wasn’t enough to break his foul mood.

  He’d been getting better the last three months too. Adjusting to his new life. Finding the good. Getting back into working shape.

  Until last night.

  Bright sunshine and clear blue skies mocked him on his way to Pepperoni Tony’s. The frigid air barely registered. Good day to check up on his Willow Glen shop.

  He was in the mood for it.

  Since September, he’d told everyone that getting the Bliss store up and running was taking all of his time, but he’d never been able to deny to himself that he had too many memories here in his original restaurant in Willow Glen.

  He’d reconnected with Tabitha, his high school love, here. They’d had sex in the office. Planned their wedding in the corner booth.

  She’d been between jobs when they were engaged, so he’d let her redecorate the dining room, moving away from his mom’s vision of down-home Italian—like his store in Bliss—in favor of his wife’s vision of modern sophistication, which had honestly been neither modern nor sophisticated, but it had made her happy and sales hadn’t suffered, so it had made him happy.

  She’d told him she was pregnant here.

  And he couldn’t stand being here anymore.

  But he still owned the place, and he still had responsibilities to his employees, and though he trusted his manager implicitly, he wasn’t fool enough not to check up on things.