The Best Kind of Trouble. Lauren DaneЧитать онлайн книгу.
and he didn’t stop even after he’d realized that.
There were three movies. Horror, a thriller and some comedy bro-flick. He’d let her choose.
In the shower he considered jerking off so he’d be more relaxed. Thinking about her had him tense and agitated, but in a way he sort of dug. He hadn’t had to work this hard for a woman, well, ever, actually. He’d had her before, which only spiced things up. He knew what it was like to be inside her. Knew what her lips felt like wrapped around his cock. Knew what she tasted like.
He’d thought he’d remembered her body. He’d seen it naked an awful lot. But in the brief glimpses of her he caught out at the river, he’d noted curves. More than she’d had then. He had tended toward tall women with big tits and a lean look. But Natalie was voluptuous. He hadn’t realized he had a thing for all that swoop and dip, but he was utterly converted. Nicely though, the big boobs part was there, too. He’d been so focused on the curves, he’d only barely noticed the ink and hoped for a far closer inspection very soon.
So yeah, he soaped a hand up and wrapped it around his cock as he imagined her naked. Wet, but not from swimming. Flushed from orgasm. On her back in his bed. Her lips swollen from his kisses and from sucking his cock. Her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.
“Open those thighs.”
She complied with that smile of hers. Unashamed of what she wanted, of what he did to her. She was slick, dark with desire and when he fed her his cock, pressing in slow and steady, she made a sound that wrapped around his balls and tightened.
She wound her legs around his waist, grabbing two handfuls of his ass and pulling him closer, urging him on. She loved fucking as much as he did. That wouldn’t have changed. Tight and hot, her inner muscles would flutter around him as she got closer. As he got closer. Her nails dug into his skin as she arched, her neck bared to his lips as he licked and nibbled.
Climax shot through him, yanking him from that fantasy as his dream Natalie dissolved, leaving him alone and still half hard as the water rushed over his skin.
* * *
SHE’D GONE WITH casual that night. Her favorite supersoft T-shirt with the V-neck and some jeans. No heels this time. He lived on a farm so if he wanted her to walk or do something outdoorsy, she’d be better off in the sneakers she’d chosen instead of sandals.
Of course, as she followed the road, drove through a gate that he’d given her the code to and continued on, she realized the word farm probably wasn’t adequate for the land, the orchards and fields in the distance. She saw lights from a few houses and passed two until she saw the turnoff for his.
Off the main road, she could see the river in the distance as she parked in his driveway. All glass and gorgeous, warm wood, his house was Northwestern modern. The opposite of her Victorian, but it fit him.
She didn’t get the chance to knock; he opened up with a smile before she’d even been able to raise her hand.
“Hey, you found me.”
“Yes. Your instructions were perfect, thanks.”
He opened the door wider and motioned her inside.
“Are you a shoes-off house?”
He snorted. “No. If you want to, go on ahead. I’m not wearing shoes because I don’t want to. But it’s your choice.” He paused and bent to kiss her quickly. “Sorry to burst your foot-fetish suspicions.”
She laughed and put her bag down in the entry.
He took her hand. “Want a tour?”
“Yes, please.”
It was a great house. Clean. Very modern but warm at the same time. His living space was great with big couches and chairs.
“Is yours the house everyone hangs out at?”
“We split it up pretty evenly. My house is the middle point between Ezra, who is closest to the big house where my parents are, and Damien, who lives the farthest from it. We spend more time at Damien’s these days because Mary is such a great cook.” He paused. “Want to see the upstairs?”
Natalie nodded, and he took her up the stairs fronted by a wall of glass. “This view is insane.”
“We all worked with the same architect who took the land and views into account as she worked. All our houses are unique and fit our individual tastes, but they’re on the same continuum so you can see the thread. It’s a light touch. Each room has something about it that I love. My work space has excellent afternoon light. My bedroom gets the sunset. Kitchen gets morning light. All that jazz.”
He opened the door to a huge room with several guitars on stands, a large desk with two monitors, big chairs and a wet-bar-sized sink and fridge. “This is my work space.”
She went in, impressed. “Wow.”
He blushed, brushing his fingertips over the neck of a guitar. “I spend more time in here than any other place but my bedroom. I can run tracks in here. We’re all hooked into a network with the board in the barn, that’s our studio here. I write here. Ezra sleeps on that big couch a lot.” He snorted a laugh.
“You and he do the writing?”
“About eighty percent of it is me and Ezra. Ezra does the bulk of production. Damien and Vaughan write a song or two each album.”
“So you’re closest to Ezra, then?”
He laughed. “Ezra and I collaborate really well, but we’re too much alike in some ways, so we fight a lot. In the old days, it was nose-breaking sort of fighting, but now it’s more pissy bickering. Though we do occasionally get physical. He knows how to push my buttons. He and Damien are closer. Vaughan and I tend to pal around more, but he’s been away a lot over the last month. His girls just went back to school, so he’s been spending time with them. But, and don’t tell Ez this, Ezra is the person whose advice I seek out when I need an honest take. He’s pretty wise for a dick.”
She shook her head, imagining what it was like for their mother to have four really handsome sons who got into all the trouble they did.
He opened another door.
“My bedroom.”
She walked into the room, spinning slowly. Stunned.
“What? Why do you have that look on your face?”
“I never expected this.” Where the rest of his house was modern though comfortable, his bedroom was homey. His huge bed dominated one wall and was dressed with fluffy bedding. Heavy drapes were pulled back to expose sheers and windows looking out to the fields beyond, and if she was right, Mt. Hood on clear days.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. She traced her fingertips over the spines. This was the bedroom of a hedonist. Of the kind of person who spent the entire day in bed reading and watching movies.
Fucking.
“Never expected what?”
She turned to him. “This warm, inviting, comfortable space. It’s womblike. I want to take a nap in your bed right this instant.”
The worry on his features wisped away with a pleased grin. “Well, go on ahead. But only if I can nap with you. I love a good nap.”
“I can tell.” Napping was one of her biggest vices.
There was a big chair near the fireplace with an ottoman and a blanket on the back. She pointed. “Where’d you get that chair? I want one like it in my bedroom so I can read and nap on rainy days.”
“If I told you, I’d be discouraging you from coming here on rainy days to read and nap, instead. That’s self-defeating, Nat.”
“You travel a lot. How can I leave my napping needs up to chance? You’re quite heartless to make me, Patrick.”
“Your sense of humor turns me on.”