Page 96 of Ace of Spades
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Nate could breathe again. He’d never thought he would tell a woman he loved her, and when he finally had, her first word had beencrapas coffee had dripped down her chin. About the time he’d decided to leave—to retreat and regroup—she’d started laughing and had insanely said that she couldn’t say the words back in a stained T-shirt.
So instead of temporarily walking out—temporarily, because there was no way he was going to give up on her now that she owned his heart—he found himself laughing with her as she led him to her bedroom.
“Oh, my flowers. I need them.”
When she tried to return to the living room, he tugged on her hand. “Go on. I’ll get them.” He liked that she wanted them with her. At the florist shop, he’d considered roses again, but he’d done those already. And then he’d spied the wildflowers in a mason jar, and they’d seemed to be something she’d like. Halfway to her house, he’d hadsecond thoughts, questioning his decision not to go with something fancier.
The jar of flowers in hand, he headed for Taylor’s bedroom. Seriously? Wildflowers? He’d really screwed this night up. What he should have done was plan a special night. Except he had no experience in planning romantic evenings. He should have asked his sisters-in-law for advice, but he’d been too anxious to see Taylor to even think of doing that.
He snorted. Who was this man wishing he’d asked for romance advice? But when he walked into the bedroom and saw Taylor, wearing nothing but tiny blue panties, standing at the end of her bed, a shy smile on her face, whatever he’d been thinking was lost.
“Tur ...” He cleared his throat. “Turn around.” She slowly pivoted. Yep, it was a thong. His eyes landed on her creamy-white ass cheeks. God help him. He might never be able to think again.
She peeked at him over her shoulder. “I was going to put a shirt or something on, but I figured you’d just take it right back off.”
“You figured right. Don’t move.” He set her flowers on the nightstand, then prowled toward her, his gaze focused on her back. When he reached her, he lifted her hair and put his mouth to her neck. She was warm, with that hint of lemons he’d come to love.
“You smell good. You taste good,” he said, moving his lips against her skin. She shivered, and he nipped at her neck and was rewarded with another shiver. He loved that he could make her do that. Truthfully, there was nothing he didn’t love about her. Except maybe that she still hadn’t said she loved him. He would torture it out of her if he had to, but it would be a torture she’d enjoy.
When she wiggled against him, he put his hands on her hips, holding her still. As turned on as he was already, he’d lose it before he had his clothes off if she kept doing that. What he wanted tonight—wanted for them—was something so special that they’d still be talking about it years from now.
He wrapped one arm around her chest, holding her tight against him. “I’m going to make you come,” he whispered into her ear. She moaned as he danced his fingers down her stomach, occasionally pausing, waiting for her to push her belly against his hand, wanting him to keep on going.
There was something sexy about the thin barrier of his shirt and pants between them. He was dying to be inside her, but not yet. He trailed his tongue from her neck to across her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the mirror over her dresser.
“Walk,” he said, pushing her with his body to that mirror where he could see her face when he made her come. Standing in front of it, her eyes found his in the reflection. Taylor, when not in the thrones of passion, had blue eyes that made him think of the sky on a cloudless day, but Taylor turned on? Hot damn. Those eyes were as dark blue as storm clouds just before they turned black.
Right then, there was nothing he wanted more than to chase that storm, even if it destroyed him. He watched her in the mirror as his fingers found her sex. She watched him back. She let out a low moan when he dipped his hand under the band of her panties and slipped a finger inside her. And wasn’t that the hottest thing he’d ever heard?
He toyed with her, played her with his fingers. At the moment he recognized she was going to come, he stilled.
“Tell me you love me.”
“I might tell you that later,” she said as she put her hands over his, trying to force him to continue pleasuring her.
She could out-technique him on the mat, but she wasn’t strong enough to make his fingers move when he didn’t want them to. “That doesn’t work for me, tiger. Tell me now.” And there, that was what he loved about her, that challenge in her eyes. His equal. She wasn’t going to say a word until she was good and ready. Well, he’d see about that.
“If you want to come, say it.” He played with her some more, stopping again when he saw that she was on the edge. “Say it, Taylor.”
Now he was the one pleading. And interestingly enough, he didn’t care. She could fight him all she wanted if she’d just say the words he wanted to hear. The ones he needed to hear.
She smirked. “I don’t feel like saying them yet.”
“Little brat.” He hoped this was like it would always be between them. Neither giving an inch.
“You have too many clothes on,” she said, trying to turn around.
“They’ll come off when you say what I want to hear.” He tightened his arm around her breasts, holding her in place. As he let his fingers move again, he pressed against her, letting her feel how much he wanted her. “Say it.” In the mirror, he watched her bite down on her bottom lip, challenge lighting a fire in her eyes.
“Make me.”
“Now you’ve gone and done it.” He fought a grin and failed. Yeah, the woman was going to always keep him on his toes. He spun her around, then pulled her panties down as he dropped to his knees. She was going to say the damn words.
He peppered kisses on her inner thighs, smiling against her leg when she bucked. He hadn’t even reached the best part of her yet. With each kiss on her skin, he inched closer to his prize. She buried her fingers in his hair, then tried to guide him to her core. He wasn’t having it. This was going to happen on his terms.
“Nate, please.”
