idyllic.”
“You’ll see soon enough for yourself.”
She fell silent as they entered Scenic Drive, letting her body sway with the roll of the car as they wound on the narrow ribbon of road higher into the ranges, before winding back down again on the other side. She must have dozed off a little because the next thing she knew the Maserati was driving up a steep incline and pulling into a well-lit garage. A glance at her watch said it was almost 2:00 a.m. The drive had taken nearly an hour. She was miles from anyone she knew, miles from home. She should find the fact daunting—she didn’t. In fact, she welcomed it. Knew that with her choice to come home with Nate that she’d thrown her cares to the wind.
“Home sweet home,” Nate said, coming around to her side of the car and opening the door for her.
Nicole accepted his hand as he helped her out the car, her senses purring at his touch. To her surprise he didn’t let go, instead leading her to a doorway which, when opened, revealed a short set of stairs leading down into a massive open-plan living/dining and kitchen area.
The furnishings were comfortable but spoke plainly of their price in the elegantly simple designs and top-quality fabrics. A large, open fireplace, bordered with gray slate, occupied space on one wall. Even the artworks on the walls and small sculptures on the occasional shelving were beautiful and no doubt expensive. What he surrounded himself with said a lot about him and, so far, she liked it.
“Still feel like that drink?” Nate asked, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against her knuckles.
“Sure, what are we having?”
“There’s champagne in the fridge, or we could have a liqueur.”
“A liqueur, I think.”
Something potent and heady, just like him, she thought privately. Nate let her hand go and moved toward a built-in sideboard on the other side of the room. She gravitated toward the wall of glass that faced the inky darkness outside. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows she could hear the sound of waves rolling heavily into shore.
In the reflection of the glass she saw Nate come to stand behind her, one arm coming around to offer her a small glass of golden liquid.
“A toast, I think,” he said, his breath warm in her hair and making her scalp prickle in awareness.
“To what in particular?” Nicole asked, accepting her glass and raising it toward Nate’s pale facsimile mirrored before her.
“To wounded souls, and the healing of them.”
She nodded and raised her glass to her lips, her taste buds reacting instantly to the smooth, sweet tang of aged malt whiskey. She allowed the liquid to stay on her tongue for a moment before swallowing.
“Now that is pretty fine,” she said, turning to face Nate.
Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the look in his eyes. Eyes that were only a shade darker than the deep gold fluid in their glasses.
“Only the best,” he answered before closing the distance between their faces.
Nicole felt her heart race in her chest. If this kiss was to be anything like the one at the club she couldn’t wait to experience it. Her lips parted expectantly, her gaze focused solely on the shape of his mouth, on the sheen left there by the liqueur. Her eyelids slid closed as she felt the warmth of him, as his lips took hers, as his tongue swept gently across the soft fullness of her lower lip.
He made a sound of appreciation. “Now that’s what I call the best.”
His lips pressed against hers once more and she curved into his body as one arm slid around her back and drew her closer to him. He was already aroused, a fact that triggered an insistent throb in her veins—a throb that went deeper into her center. She pressed her hips against him, feeling his length, his hardness. Feeling her body respond with heat and moisture and need.
She could taste the liqueur on his lips, on his tongue—its fusion of flavors intrinsically blended with his own. When he withdrew she felt herself move with him, toward him. Drawn as if by some magnetic force.
Nate put his liqueur glass on a shelf nearby before also taking hers and doing the same again. He then lifted his hands to her hair, pushing his fingers through the long mass until his fingertips massaged the back of her scalp, gently tilting her face to his once more. This time his kiss held a stronger taste of hunger, a promise of things to come.
Nicole tugged his shirt free of his waistband and shoved her hands underneath, her nails gently scoring his back as she traced the line of his spine, up, then down. Logic tickled at the back of her mind a final time, telling her she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this, but need and desire overcame logic with the same inexorable surge and release of the waves that echoed on the darkened shore outside.
He wanted her. She wanted him. It was basic and primal and it was all she needed for now. That, and a whole lot of satisfaction.
Nate’s hand shifted to the buttons on her jacket, swiftly loosening them from their button holes and pushing aside the fabric, exposing her to him. His hands were broad and warm as they swept around the curve of her waist before skimming her rib cage and moving up toward her bra.
He released her lips, bending his head lower, along her jaw line, down the sensitive cord of her neck and across her collarbone. She felt her breasts grow heavy. Her nipples beading tight, almost painfully so, behind her expensive lace-covered satin bra. When the tip of his tongue swept across one creamy swell she shuddered in response, the sensation of the point of his tongue electric as it traced a fine line across the curve of one breast. He awarded the same attention to her other breast, this time sending a sharp spear straight to her core.
His tongue followed the edge of her bra before dipping in the valley between. Her breath came in quick pants, her heart continuing to race in her chest. She felt his hand at her back, felt the freedom of the clasp of her bra being released, the weight of her breasts falling free as he slid her jacket off her shoulders and pushed her bra straps down to follow. With scant regard for the designer labels of both garments, Nate let them drop to the polished timber floor.
Nicole was beyond caring as his mouth captured one extended nipple, pulling it gently between his teeth, laving it with the heat of his tongue. Her legs began to tremble and she clung to him, near mindless with the pleasure his touch brought her. When his hands went to the waistband of her skirt she barely noticed, and then, with a slither of silk lining, her skirt joined her bra and jacket on the floor at her feet.
Dressed only in a scanty pair of black-and-gold panties and her high-heeled, black patent pumps she should have felt vulnerable, but as Nate pulled away, his eyes caressing every inch of her, she felt powerful. Needed. Wanted.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice a low demand that vibrated across the space between them.
“I want you to touch me,” she replied softly.
“Show me where.”
She lifted her hands to her bare breasts, her fingers cupping their smooth fullness, lifting them slightly before her fingertips abraded the distended tips, sending another shudder through her.
“Here,” she said, her voice thicker now.
“And?”
