Forbidden Nights Page 3

  Those were notions that had no appeal to him. He’d been there, done that and had the ugly scars to prove it. A few years after earning his MBA and landing his first job in management at a startup, he’d met the woman of his dreams—a gorgeous artist, dark and beguiling, with haunting eyes and a wild spirit. He and Joanna fell fast and hard into love, the all-consuming, raw and passionate kind that becomes your oxygen. They relied on each other. They desperately needed each other, in every way. He would have done anything for her, and so he did. She was a struggling young sculptor aiming to return to graduate school, and since he had moved up quickly in his career, leaving the startup for a job in the hotel business, he paid for her MFA.

  And boy, did he ever pay when he learned she’d been having an affair with her sculpting professor, some supposed world-renowned artist named Claude who Nate only thought of as a world-renowned prick.

  Never again, he’d vowed. Never again would he put his heart on the line like that. It was far easier and a hell of a lot more fun to play the field, to bounce back and forth with women, never settling, never giving anyone his heart again. Call him a playboy. He was fine with that. There wasn’t a more fitting title for his relationship approach. Casey knew it, Jack knew it, his own sister, Kat, happily married and with twin daughters, knew it too, and Nate didn’t try to hide it from anyone.

  The one thing he hid well was his desire for Casey, but that was proving exceptionally challenging as she went on about this simmering mutual attraction she’d felt for the lingerie guy. “And I’ve been into him for so long, so when he said he wanted to get together . . .” she said, continuing her recap.

  He closed his eyes briefly as she talked, wishing this conversation didn’t bother him so much. There was no earthly reason why jealousy should be raging like white waters in his blood. He hadn’t put himself on the line for her. He hadn’t told her he wanted to crush her lips to his, to taste her kiss, to capture her moans and sighs in his mouth, because he could give no more than that. He had to keep his desires in check and focus on the friendship.

  “So what’s the problem then, Case?” he asked, doing his best to be dispassionate as he looked her in the eyes. “You like him, he likes you, you’ll make beautiful blue-eyed babies who grow up to run an empire of lingerie and sex toys. Sounds perfect.” He flashed her a smile so she knew he meant it. At least, he tried to mean it.

  “Here’s the problem,” she began, stopping to take a drink of iced water. “I want what I want. You know, in bed. I like to be on top. I like to say what I want; I like to be direct,” she said, and his head was swimming with images now. He’d take her on top. He’d have no problem whatsoever with her riding him, wild and free, her blond hair loose and tumbling across her shoulders, her perfect breasts bouncing.

  He spread the napkin further across his lap.

  “But Scott didn’t like that enough. And I don’t think that’s what a man like Grant wants either. And maybe that’s my problem. Maybe that’s why I’ve had such bad luck with men.”

  “Because you like to be on top?” He furrowed his brow. “You’re not even dating him yet. Why are you worried about what position he likes?”

  She shot him a look that said you can’t be serious. “C’mon. We’re not in high school. If I date him, chances are we’ll get to the bedroom soon enough.”

  The jealousy ran wild now, stampeding through his body. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Casey. Don’t you get it? If some guy doesn’t like who you are, you don’t need him.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then lowered her voice more. “But maybe it’s time to change. I want more from this life, Nate. I want to have a chance with Grant, and maybe I’d like letting go. Maybe I should try giving up control. I mean, do you like your women submissive? Are you a dominant?”

  He laughed at the fact that they were discussing this. He was fantasizing about her naked body and she wanted to know if he was dominant.

  She laughed too. “See? You know I’m direct. I speak my mind. I just asked if you were a Dom!”

  “Are you? Are you Mistress Casey? Is that the deep, dark secret of what you do after hours? Admit it, you’re a card-carrying member of that BDSM club you and Jack supported a couple years ago,” he said, egging her on.

  “No. I swear. I mean, hey, leather is great. And I would have no objection to wielding a crop and giving orders now and then, but no. I am not a Domme, and I’m not a member of a BDSM club, and I’m not a mistress. I’m just a woman who sells sex toys and loves to be in control. And evidently, that’s my problem. I’m not wild and free enough in bed or something,” she said, slapping her palm on the table in emphasis. Her champagne glass rattled slightly, and he grabbed it before it spilled. She took it from him and downed the rest of it. “What about you?”

  “You want to know if I’m dominant in bed? If I like whips and chains?” he asked, and this was a much more pleasurable direction than discussing her desires for other men. Especially when she used words like wild and free.

  She nodded, an eager look in her eyes. “I do want to know. Do you like to be in control? Do you need a woman to call you Sir or Master?”

  He leaned back in his chair, savoring the moment, enjoying the question. Even if they never did more than talk, this was a hell of a fun way to spend the evening together. “When it comes to women, you could say I’m an omnivore,” he said, his lips curving into a grin.

  “What do you mean?”

  He stretched out in the chair, gesturing widely with his arms. “I like everything. I’m equal opportunity. I like a woman on top, I like to be on top, I like a woman on all fours, I like her bent over, I like her up against the wall. I’m good with reverse cowgirl, sixty-nine, inside, outside, upside-down,” he said, and her eyes widened with each suggestive term. Oh, he was having too much fun rattling off all the things he liked, because he was being one hundred percent truthful. Everything rocked when you were into a woman. “Blow jobs, hand jobs, going downtown, spankings, ropes, scarves, handcuffs. Fingers, toys, beads, blindfolds—you name it, I’m your man. If it happens naked with a woman I want, I like it, and chances are, I’m making her cry out in pleasure,” he said, arching an eyebrow playfully at the last line. It was cocky, and he knew it, but let her have an orgasmic image in her mind.

  Casey grabbed at the neckline of her tank and tugged it away from her chest. “Whew. Someone get me a fan,” she said with a wink, and he laughed.

  But one thing he didn’t like hearing about was her trying to change for some guy. Because this guy didn’t deserve her if he wanted her to be someone other than herself. He was about to tell her when she moved even closer, and grasped his hands, sending electric sparks through him. God, the slightest touch from her was such a turn-on. When he was alone later in his room, he’d be thinking of all the omnivorous ways he could consume her. He’d be picturing running through every option on the list he’d just shared.

  “I have a crazy idea,” she said, her blue eyes lit up with mischief.

  “Is it feeding you cake? Because we tried that and it didn’t work.”

  She shook her head, and bit her lower lip briefly. “Teach me,” she breathed out, and all the air swept out of his lungs. He froze, as shock spread through his body in a nanosecond.

  “Teach you what?” he asked in a wobbly voice as he began to recover the power of speech.

  “Teach me how to let go. Teach me how to give up control.”

  He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, and swallowed. His throat was dry. He grabbed for a glass and downed the rest of his water. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m not kidding. I know it sounds crazy. But maybe it’s not crazy. I’m the head of a damn sex toy company and I don’t know how to give up control. Maybe because I’m surrounded by all these toys. Because I’ve learned every detail of my own body and what I like, and how to turn up the setting higher, or adjust the vibration lower, or thrust harder, or tease more, to yield the result,” she said, laying out he
r pleasure-seeking clinically like it was a math problem, when to him it was a vision of sensual beauty—her on the bed, legs spread, learning the intricacies of her own body, a territory he longed to explore intimately. “And now, when I’m with a guy, and God knows it’s been a long time since that,” she said with a scoff, “it’s so hard for me to let go of the reins I’ve been holding onto for so long. But I want to learn. And we’re friends. I trust you completely, and it would never ruin our friendship because there would never be anything more.”

  “You want me to give you lessons in seduction?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t imagining this. Because he’d had these sort of dreams before.

  She straightened her spine and shook her head. “I don’t want lessons in seduction. I want lessons in submission.”

  Holy shit. Screw the New Orleans heat wave. It was a certified scorcher in this small little bistro. His neck was hot, his jeans were tight. His mind was operating in overdrive. He started to open his mouth to speak, but everything was a jumble.

  She brought her hand to her mouth, covering it. “Shit,” she muttered. “That was a ridiculous thing to ask. Completely presumptuous. You’re probably not even attracted to me. Forget I said it.” She backpedaled as she clearly misinterpreted his silence.

  “I assure you, my attraction to you is not the issue. I think the bigger issue is—are you attracted to me?”

  “You’re handsome,” she said, her lips curving in a sweet smile as she locked eyes with him. “You’re very, very handsome, Nate.”

  Handsome was good. He could work with handsome. And because he didn’t even want her to ask the question about herself, he preempted her. “And for the record, Casey, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

  She beamed. “Thank you. So will you do it then? Will you teach me? Or is there some bro code you won’t cross because of my brother?”

  He laughed at the notion of Jack Sullivan having a problem with the two of them. That simply wasn’t Jack’s style. He didn’t issue hard and fast rules about anyone’s love life, or say things like don’t touch my sister. He wasn’t that kind of guy. “Jack’s not like that. You know that as well as I do.”

  “I know. He’s not a rules guy.”

  Hell, Nate wasn’t either. He wasn’t even that ticked off when his college buddy Bryan had hooked up with his own sister, Kat, especially since those two were happily married now. Not that marriage was on the table in this scenario with Casey. Nor was a real relationship either.

  Sex was on the table.

  Sex was what he wanted.

  He wanted nothing more than to teach her, to take her, to please her. But something nagged at him. A relationship that was far more important than a bro code would ever be—his relationship with her. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said because as much as he wanted her, he didn’t want to lose her.

  “I don’t either. That’s why this is perfect. We’re friends, and we’re not trying to be anything more. You’re in between women. I’m not dating Grant yet and won’t even have dinner with him for a month because he’s going out of the country. So we have this little block of time, and no one gets hurt because we know exactly what it is. And when we’re done with your . . .” she stopped and tilted her head coquettishly, “. . . tutoring, we go back to being just friends. You’re not the committed type, so this is perfect. It can never be more than it is, and therefore neither one of us can get hurt. Perfect. Business. Arrangement.” She finished by brushing one palm neatly against the other.

  He shook his head, impressed with her negotiating style. Direct and downright enticing.

  Still, were they really going to attempt this? His analytical mind began to turn it around like a Rubik’s cube. On the one side was their friendship. On the other was his desire for her. But if they went in with eyes wide open and expectations clearly laid out from the start, they’d be fine, right? She was a woman who deserved a man who could commit, but she wasn’t asking him to be that man. She was asking him to show her how to get down on her knees.

  Fuck analysis.

  With that image in mind, there was only one answer, because this was heaven—this was his chance to have his hands and tongue on the woman he’d lusted after, fantasized about and dreamed of, and still keep her in his life as a friend. This was the chance to drive her wild with pleasure and know that the next night, next week, next month they’d still be in each other’s lives. This was having your cake and eating it too.

  “You want this, Casey? You really want this? No feelings, no strings, just lessons?”

  “Yes. There’s no reason this won’t work perfectly. I mean, except for the fact that it’s one-sided. I’d be getting a lot more out of it than you would. What can I do for you?” she asked, so damn earnest and cute.

  He laughed once more. “Trust me. I’ll be getting plenty out of it.”

  Namely, he’d be getting her out of his system, and once he did it would be even easier to be around her. Maybe he wouldn’t be in a state of constant arousal every time they went to the movies or dinner.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Casey. You’re going to need to stop questioning me,” he said in a commanding tone. “That’s your first lesson. The next one starts now.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  New Orleans, evening . . .

  He threw the napkin on the table and reached for her hand. Her expression was one of complete surprise. “Dance with me.”

  Her lips quirked up and she seemed to understand what he’d done. Given her an order. She nodded demurely and he led her to a small sliver of a dance floor, near where the woman with the microphone was singing a Billie Holiday number. He pulled Casey in close. She tensed briefly, as if unsure where to rest her hands, whether on his shoulders or waist. He planted them firmly on his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her sexy, slim waist that fit perfectly in his hands.

  “Just relax and let me lead,” he said, whispering in her ear, a waft of her tropical scent drifting by his nostrils. She shivered briefly against him, and that nearly did him in. He stayed strong, swaying gently, guiding her in slow, sensuous moves. “I’ll show you how to let go, but you have to trust me. And that’s where it starts. With trust. I’m not a Dom, you’re not my Sub—we’re not going to join a BDSM club, or sign a contract. But I can show you how good it will feel when you give up control.”

  She breathed in sharply, as if acclimating to new air on a distant planet. “Why do men like a woman to give up control? What is it about the lack of control that men like so much?”

  “It’s not that they like a lack of control. But a man wants a woman who gives herself to him. He wants a woman to melt into his arms, to get aroused from a kiss on the back of her neck,” he said, and traced a fingertip gently under her hair, watching her reaction as she drew in a breath. “It’s the hand on her arm.” He trailed his fingers down her bare skin to her elbow as he leaned in to whisper, “Or warm breath near her ear.” She gasped, and he kept going. “He wants a woman who’s so turned on, she’ll nearly beg for it. He wants her abandon. He wants to be the only one to make her feel that way.”

  She parted her lips to speak, but he shushed her with his fingertip against them. God, he was so tempted to let her suck on his finger right now, to watch her simulate a blow job, to let her show him what she could do. But that would come later. He needed to kiss her first.

  That is, after he teased her.

  “At some point soon, some point very, very soon, I’m going to kiss you,” he said, watching the expression in her eyes shift to a heady kind of desire. Her fingers curved into his shoulders, holding on tightly to him. “You’re going to close your eyes,” he said, and then her lids fluttered closed. “And you’re not going to know when it’s coming. You’re going to want it. Your body is going to be crying out for a kiss,” he said, his voice husky and raw as her chest rose and fell, and she moved closer to him as they swayed. He cupped the back of her neck, watching her response to every touch,
from the way her lips parted as he threaded his hands through her hair, to how she leaned back into him, almost relishing the way his fingers ran slowly through those soft, wavy strands. A sigh came next, a desperate needy sigh, and a barely-there arch of her back, her body seeking out more contact. “But I might not kiss you yet. I might run my hands down your arms,” he said, then did just that. “Or maybe I’ll stop telling you what I’m going to do.”

  He swore she murmured a no, but then her sounds were swallowed by a sexy gasp as he dipped his mouth to her chest, kissing her above her breasts. Immediately, she reached for him, her hands shooting around his neck.

  He tsked her, moving her hands, gently but firmly, to his shoulders. Then he yanked her closer, so their bodies were snug and neatly aligned. He pressed his groin against her hip, letting her know how immensely turned on he was. A small moan escaped her lips, and her reaction thrilled him. Gently pushing her hair off her shoulder, he pressed his lips in a soft, sweet kiss on her collarbone. She wriggled closer as he mapped a path up her neck, the tip of his tongue tasting her as he found her ear, then nipped on her earlobe.

  “And only then, after I’ve teased you, after I’ve made you think the kiss might come at any second, will I actually kiss you. But you’ll need to say please.”

  “Please,” she whispered and her voice was so barren, so strung out with need that he knew he’d succeeded at his first mission. Not a lesson, but rather his driving goal to turn her arousal meter way past high.

  “I need you to keep your hands on my shoulders, Casey. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “No place else. Got it?” he asked, and it pained him to ask her to hold back. But this was what she wanted. To learn how.

  “I promise to be good,” she said, on a sexy smile as she dug her fingers into his shoulders to emphasize that she was listening.

  “You’re such a good student,” he whispered.

  She licked her lips once, and he took his time, wanting to memorize every second of his first kiss with the woman he’d lusted after for years. Her cheeks were flush, her lips were open, and her expression was so damn inviting. He ran a finger against her lips, eliciting another small gasp from her. He couldn’t wait any more. Their lips met, and for the first few seconds it was soft and sweet, a gentle taste and tease. It was an exploration—her lips, her mouth, her breath that ghosted over him. She tasted like chocolate cake, and he relished every millimeter of her lips, tugging on her bottom one, then nipping the top with his teeth, making her want him. Making her want so much more. His hands trailed down the bare flesh of her arms, and he felt the goosebumps rise on her skin, all from the teasing, taunting kisses. The swell of her lips, the curve of her mouth, the sweetness of her breath—all of it collided in his senses, along with his heightened awareness of this intensely sexually aware woman who was now asking him to take her to new places and explore unchartered territory.