Part 7 (1/2)

Nick tried to control the urge to push deeper. He tried to keep his hips on the mattress, when every nerve in his body was signaling him to buck. The vibration of her moan ran through him, and he almost lost it. He struggled with his need to come-and the desire to be inside her when he did. ”Lee, stop.”

He wondered if his plea sounded as halfhearted as hers had.

Nick tugged on her hair, and she released him. ”What?”

”Guys shouldn't come until their partner's satisfied.”

”Since when?” she mumbled before he rolled them both over. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting a heady mixture of himself and her, while he reached blindly for the condoms he'd left on the nightstand.

She took him in hand and managed to flip around. Her hand worked in tandem with her mouth. The suction, the flick of her tongue, the gentle teasing of his b.a.l.l.s had him so tied up in knots, he couldn't stop her. He was going to come, and when he did, he wanted her to come, too.

He threw the condoms aside and slid his hand over her body, into her heat. G.o.d, she was so wet. He buried two fingers inside her and felt her body tighten around them, sucking them in deeper. He circled her c.l.i.t with his thumb and flicked it lightly. Her mouth went lax, and she pulled away, her cheek rested against his thigh, her hand still encircling him. Pumping.

”Oh G.o.d, Nick... Yes...” For a moment, she seemed to forget what she was doing. He slid his fingers in and out of her and continued to stroke her. She vibrated with excitement, her body tightening around him. Her hand following his rhythm, she screamed as her o.r.g.a.s.m took hold. Her body milked his fingers. He pressed them deeper, and when he felt her o.r.g.a.s.m explode, he followed her over.

Nick locked eyes with hers, and she watched his face as he came. He looked as shocked as she'd been.

Her heart felt as if it were going to break out of her rib cage, and she couldn't catch her breath. Nick wasn't doing any better in the breathing department. She wondered if a person could die of o.r.g.a.s.mic bliss. Maybe they should call 911.

Rosalie thought nothing could shock her more than having an o.r.g.a.s.m that wasn't self-induced, but two? Not that she was complaining. Who needed to breathe, anyway?

Nick pulled her back into his arms, and she nuzzled his neck. He smelled like a wonderful mix of hot, sweaty man, a deep woodsy cologne, and s.e.x. She couldn't help but wiggle. Aftershocks buzzed though her body. He groaned. The next thing she knew, he'd rolled both of them over, as if she weighed nothing. Oh, s.h.i.+t, his hands were all over her big b.u.t.t. She tried to push herself off him, but he tightened his hold.

”Oh, no, you don't. I'm not letting you go yet.”

Rosalie was at a loss for words. He seemed to have that effect on her.

She closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. She didn't want it to be over. She could wait an eternity before that awkward ”was it good for you” conversation. This time, at least, she wouldn't have to lie.

”Lee?”

”Hmm?”

Rosalie thought women were the ones who always wanted to talk after s.e.x. Leave it to her to find the one chatty man. He rolled them onto their sides and pulled his chest away from hers. They'd felt glued together with sweat. Rosalie lay with her eyes closed but felt his stare.

”Lee? Are you okay?”

”Fine.” She opened her eyes, blinked, and saw concern on his face. She tried not to cringe when she thought about how she must look.

Nick pushed away and sat, running his hands through his hair. ”It's a little late for regrets.”

Whoa, where'd that come from? ”What are you talking about?”

His back was to her, his shoulders rigidly straight. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

”Look, I'm sorry. I didn't plan to attack you the minute I walked through the door. I saw you, and all I could think of was being with you. All I felt was wanting you.”

Rosalie sat, pulling the sheet around her and taking in the state of her bed. ”I don't have any regrets.”

”Yeah? Then why were you looking at me like you want to disappear?”

”I was thinking about how awful I must look...” G.o.d, she sounded like one of those needy women fis.h.i.+ng for compliments.

Nick turned and tipped her face up, so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

”You look beautiful-good enough to eat. But that will have to wait 'til later. Right now, I need sustenance. Are we going out or staying in?”

Rosalie shrugged, too stunned to answer.

”Do you like pizza?” ”Yeah, sure.”

Nick reached across her for his cell phone. ”Do you want a salad pizza?” ”A what?”

”You know, one of those pizzas with nothing but veggies and no cheese. It looks like salad on pizza dough.”

”No. Why would I want that? I like mine with everything but green pepper, but I can pick them off.”

”Everything? Even anchovies?”

”I love anchovies, but don't get them if you don't.”

”No, anchovies are good. I've never met a girl who'd eat them.”

”I have DiLorenzo's on speed dial, unless you want to order from somewhere else.”

While Nick ordered, Rosalie slipped out of bed and did her best to fade into the wallpaper on the way to the bathroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, wondering what to do. Her only robe was in the closet.

Nick rapped on the door and then shoved it open, sticking his head in and smirking. ”It'll be at least forty minutes-I told them not to rush. We have time for a shower.” He slipped through the door, walked bare-a.s.sed to the tub, and started the water. ”Come on, I've wanted to see you wet and soapy for a while now.”

”Oh, yeah, it's been ages.” Rosalie didn't hide the sarcasm.

He cut her off with a kiss, lifted her into the shower, and slid her down his body with a groan.

Chapter Six.

Rosalie stepped out of the bathroom as Nick ran for the front door, wearing only a towel. She'd never seen a better-looking man naked, not even if you count that picture of Keith Urban in Playgirl Playgirl-which you couldn't, since Keith held his guitar in front of everything interesting. Besides, no sane woman would go for a man who was prettier than she was, not to mention thinner, which explains why he married Nicole Kidman.

The only things pretty about Nick were his eyes. A woman could wax poetic about their color or kill for his lashes-curled, dark, and so thick, they held water. Mmmm... That was only one of the wonderful tidbits she'd discovered. The other was that self-induced o.r.g.a.s.ms didn't register on the Richter scale compared to those given by Nick. h.e.l.l, o.r.g.a.s.ms induced by her battery-operated boyfriend, BOB, didn't even measure up to Nick-induced aftershocks. The real things rated at least a 6.7, and that was without doing the deed. It boggled the mind.

Rosalie pulled a T-s.h.i.+rt and flannel pants from one of the clean laundry piles, thankful for the time it would take Nick to deal with the delivery boy. She wasn't uncomfortable with her body, but she was uncomfortable displaying it to gorgeous men. Guys like Nick went for tall, skinny blondes, surgically enhanced to bring their cup size up to the highest letter they could recite without singing. Not that her cup size wasn't respectable-if anything, it was too respectable. The discomfort lay in the fact that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were proportionate to the rest of her body. Nick was probably used to women who looked like swizzle sticks with b.o.o.bs, and Rosalie was so so not that. not that.

Nick strolled in, wearing nothing but a smile and holding a pizza and beer. If he ever posed for Play girl, Play girl, hiding the goods would not be on his agenda. The smile turned into a flat line and a raised eyebrow. hiding the goods would not be on his agenda. The smile turned into a flat line and a raised eyebrow.

”I thought you wanted to eat in bed.”

”I do.”