Tell Me You Crave Me
by Joya Ryan
Copyright © 2016 by Joya Ryan. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
Holy God, this was painful to watch, Easton Ambrose thought, wincing at the pitiful display in front of him.
Honey’s was the only bar/restaurant in town that boasted Southern hospitality, good food, and unique architecture, so it was the place to be on a Friday night. Hell, in his small town of Beaufort, North Carolina, it was where most of the ladies flocked, and East was nothing if not an avid hunter.
Seeing as how he “knew,” aka “saw naked in some capacity,” most of the women currently in the bar, he could spot a hot chick he didn’t recognize immediately. Even if all he could see was her sweet ass sitting in the barstool with her back to him. Hourglass figure. Prominent hourglass, to be exact. With her perfect posture and all that thick, dark hair falling over her trim shoulders, the delicate curve of her back leading to some serious hips and ass, he knew right away he’d remember a frame like that if he’d felt it before. And he was certain he hadn’t. Something he’d like to change tonight.
Not that he was a total playboy douche. Playboy maybe, but not a douche. No, he was upfront with women, cared about their needs, and was clear on his own. He wasn’t a commitment type, and he had good reason for that. But he enjoyed being loved on and lovin’ on someone—as long as it was one night at a time.
He took a swig of his beer and adjusted his Stetson back on his head just enough to get a better view of this mystery woman at the bar. Normally he’d be at the bar himself, tossing a few back with his buddies, likely all still in their search and rescue gear, but he’d taken tonight off. His buddies had handed in their man cards for “domestic bliss,” and that left East alone on the prowl in a white T-shirt and his favorite hat.
He shuddered and had to take another drink of beer at the words “domestic bliss.”
My ass…
There was nothing blissful about being tied down. Granted, his buddies Dex and Gage were roped to some seriously awesome women, but still. It wasn’t for East. It was a Friday night, and that meant the women from a few towns over always wandered in looking for the country boys and good times that Honey’s promised whenever live music was playing. Which it was. And East played his part well—not the music, but the game—and had his sights set on his opponent for the night.
Hourglass hottie was clearly on a terrible date with a boring guy. That was obvious. Poor sap didn’t stand a chance with a dime piece like this woman.
The boring guy was prattling on and on, and East couldn’t help but do his own muffled voiceover:
“The accounting firm I work at is super duper, and the only thing that gets my dick harder than my calculator watch and tax season is reruns of Golden Girls.” East’s voice was quiet but had a nerdy twang, and to his credit he kept in time with the boring guy’s mouth. Okay, it was kind of fun, so he went on. “Wanna come over to my mom’s house where I live in the basement, and I can heat us up some pot pies and pretend I know how to unfasten a bra?”
East snickered again. Fuckin’ boring guy. He just knew he wasn’t too far off on his commentary. But still, East was no asshole. He was a prick. Big difference. And he was only a prick sometimes. Particularly when he was riled up, or he saw a woman not being treated right. And man, did this woman look like she needed to be treated right. He could tell by her body language that she was begging for it. And the idiot she was with wasn’t getting the signals. Granted, now her shoulders were slumping, and the hair flick that should be flirty was more annoyed than it had been a minute ago. She knew the guy was lame and not her speed. East could show her what speed a pristine woman like her should be accelerated to.
Top gear, pedal to the metal, gasping for breath kind of speed.
And yeah…he got all that from Miss Hourglass without her even having to face him. The deep cut of her dress and perfect slope of her back was enough for him to know that woman was capable of moving in ways he could only dream of.
East was an easy going guy, and he wasn’t looking to cock block anyone. But when the boring guy did a double take at a woman walking by, East wasn’t the only one who noticed. Hourglass noticed, too. Her date had just openly checked out another woman right in front of her.
Dick.
That annoyed East because clearly the woman Boring Guy was with was hot. But her shoulders slumped a little more, and he could tell by the shift in her body language she felt defeated. He kind of wanted to punch Boring Guy. Thankfully, the idiot got up to use the bathroom, and East was done sitting back and watching this mess.
He was going in. Part of his job as a search and rescue medic for the North Carolina area was to assess a situation and save damsels in distress. Okay, so it was more like assess the situation and save lives, but Hourglass definitely needed to be saved. All of his years learning and knowing women told him that.
East made his way toward her at the bar, weaving around the packed area, casually holding his beer with one finger around the longneck and tipping his hat down just enough to shadow his eyes so that when he approached her, all she’d be hit with was his trademark smile, dimple included.
Lucky for him, he did enjoy the hunt. And Honey’s was a massive old Victorian mansion that had been renovated into a huge restaurant and bar. It even had a few shops hidden within what were once bedrooms. So he moved stealthy and finally closed in on his prey.
“Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?” he asked Hourglass as he came right up to her. All that long, chocolate hair smelled amazing, and damn, it looked thick and glossy. She clearly took care of herself. “Or maybe we can skip the drink and go straight for dessert,” he finished.
He leaned in just as she turned to face him. Here it came…he unleashed the smile just as she faced him, and he caught her scent of vanilla, spice and—
Oh shit…
“East?” Hourglass’s voice wasn’t lyrical. It was penetrating and damn near shrieking. Mostly because that voice, which was tied to the hot bod of Hourglass, was none other than Natalie St. Claire, his childhood nemesis.
She hit him with a glare, and East tried real hard to hit her with one back, but the dress she wore showed way too much cleavage, and he had a difficult time remembering why they’d never liked each other.
“Did you just hit on me?” She spun in her stool to face him fully, and that glare turned to a scowl. “What the hell is the matter with you? Don’t think you’ll get my cupcakes for free just by tossing out any old line you use on all your other conquests.”
Oh, right. Now he remembered. She was a mouthy pain in the ass. She’d treated him more like an older brother—one she hated—than she did her own actual brother, and that dynamic had never faded. It didn’t help that she was now her own boss with her own cupcake bakery. She had nobody to talk any sense into her.
Normally he had no problem accepting that they were natural enemies, except that tonight there was nothing normal about Miss Natalie. She was smoking hot. She’d ditched her messy pile of hair for sleek waves, and her oversize flour-covered apron for a sexy little dress. Which again, he shouldn’t be appreciating as much as he was, because she was Natalie Fucking St. Clair. Her last name was a damn legacy in the town, and her family was the only one he’d ever had.
They’d taken him in when he was a young teenager. His dad had never been around, and his mom had barely been there, either. And then, when his mom had taken off and overdosed on her final drug bender, the St. Clairs had become his legal guardians. Lemon-Anne St. Clair was the only woman he really knew as a mom. She’d raised him. Nurtured him. He knew he was trash, as wrong a match for their high class as oil was for water, but they’d loved him anyway. He’d already been best friends with Matt at school, but after that, Matt had been like a brother, Natalie like his sister. Their parents like his parents. He owed everything to the St. Clairs, even if Lemon-Anne St. Clair sometimes liked to remind him of the fact a little too much.
And when Waylon St. Claire passed away three years ago, they all grieved together as a family at losing their patriarch, the only father East had known.
Which was why, even after he’d lain awake at night for years, unable to stop thinking about Natalie and how much he wanted her, he’d never pursued her. To the St. Clairs they were brother and sister. Hell, that was how East thought of them, too. It just wouldn’t be right.
So yeah, little Natalie needed to get out of that little dress really damn quick before his not-so-little dick started hurting.
And not in the way he wanted her out of it…
“Sorry, darlin’. Never expected you to clean up so well.”
And damn had she cleaned up well. He took another look. Couldn’t help himself. He was used to seeing Natalie in baggy jeans and an apron covered in some kind of mess, and thank god for that. He could see her as simply Nat, nothing else and nothing more. The cute little girl grown up into the cute town cupcake baker.
But today? Tonight? Wearing that dress? Every ounce of desire he’d tamped down threatened to rise up.
Get a hold of yourself!
What the hell was wrong with him? The way she pushed his buttons, and the way he felt watching her go out with idiots from her teenage years to now had always come with the territory.
Territory…like the uncharted territory that trailed right between some serious creamy cleavage—
“Get out of that dress,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?” she said and folded her arms over her chest.
Great, that made the “territory” way more enticing to explore. Which was fine for him. But if it attracted more idiots like the one she’d been talking to, he’d never forgive himself.
“I just don’t know why you’re dressed like that.”
She glanced down at herself. “Um, because I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman and can dress myself in whatever I want, that’s why.”
And there was that attitude. But he’d always dealt with her snark in fine fashion, and he’d deal with it now. No matter how much she delighted in pushing his buttons— She. Would. Not. Win.
“Why are you staring at me?” she said.
’Cause you look like a fuckin’ bombshell.
Then her green eyes went wide. “Oh God, is there something in my teeth?” She grabbed the butter knife next to her and examined her reflection.
“Jesus, Natalie, this is date behavior?” he asked. And no, there was nothing in her perfectly straight white teeth. In fact, she had pristinely lined red lipstick. A very good look. But not on her, he reminded himself.
She put the knife down. “Like you have room to critique—the one man in history who’s never been on an actual date,” those red lips shot back at him.
“Hey, I’ve taken women to—”
“Your truck?”
She had a point there. “My truck is very nice. And besides, I’m sure I’ve taken a woman out for a meal before.”
Though he couldn’t recall who or when. But surely he must have. Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to lead anyone on. The women he saw always knew upfront that he was a casual, one night at a time, no strings kind of guy. And if that one night happened in his truck, well then, who was he to deny a lady? Besides, he never treated them poorly. Ever. In fact, he took pride in being so direct with them from the get-go that a relationship was never on the table.
He leaned his elbow on the bar and took another swig of his beer. “Why would you care anyway, Nat? You’re not even enjoying yourself.”
She frowned at him. “How would you know?”
“Because I saw you.”
“Stalker,” she mumbled.
“Observant,” he corrected. “It’s easy to see how awkward you are with that guy.” And how the man she was with clearly didn’t appreciate her the way he should. Why the hell would he look at another woman with Natalie in all her irritating beauty right in front of him?
She opened her mouth like she was ready to argue, but then they both caught sight of Boring Guy.
“Awkward,” she repeated, and for some reason East’s chest hurt for a second. It was the way she’d said that one word, like just the sound of the letters were distasteful. Her pretty, red-painted mouth turned down and her brows furrowed. She looked lost. Like she didn’t know what to say. Like…Jesus, like she was suddenly awkward with him. And he didn’t like it.
But in true Natalie fashion, she shook off the expression and hustled off the bar stool.
“What the—” East said, but he didn’t get any more words out, because the woman grabbed her purse and bolted around the back of the bar and toward the narrow hallway. She kept her head down to skirt past Boring Guy and make a beeline toward her cupcake shop.
East didn’t know whether to call after her or chuckle at her discomfort. Natalie St. Clair had a stigma of being awkward and nervous, but somehow everyone’s best friend. Hell, giving her shit for being so fidgety had been half the fun for East and Matt when they were all teenagers. She’d always taken it in good stride, though. Always laughed along.
Tonight she’d looked disappointed, though. Sad. And as much as he wanted to kick Boring Guy’s throat in for caring so little about giving her what she needed, he couldn’t forget that brief moment where she’d seemed at a loss for words with him. East and Natalie. No matter how much they’d gotten on each other’s nerves, she’d never been awkward with him. But something was different tonight. Something that had sent her out the bar without another word. Something that made every protective instinct in his body light on fire.
He went after her.
Natalie darted inside the quiet space of her cupcake shop and shut the door. It was dark, thank God, since she was closed and far enough away from the main restaurant and the hustle and bustle of the bar patrons. Gotta love this old mansion. It gave her the privacy she needed without her having to go more than a winding hallway away.
The muffled sound of everyone talking off in the distance did little to calm her, so she busted open her secret stash of bourbon, reserved for her bourbon cupcakes, and took a few hefty swallows. She didn’t even bother turning on the lights. The low-lit hallway cast enough of a glow for her to see. Besides, she knew her small shop by heart—little display case in the front next to the checkout counter, and the prepping table, stoves, and endless counter space in the back.
It was all hers. Not her family’s. Definitely not her mother’s idea of a “prestigious career path,” but the little bakery was all Natalie’s. And she loved it.
A buzz came from her phone. She glanced at the screen. Speaking of her mother… She kept a tight grip on the bourbon bottle with one hand and held her phone with the other to read the text.
How’s the date going? A suitable gentleman, I hope? You tweezed your eyebrows and are remembering your manners, correct?
Natalie sighed and took a big swig of bourbon. It wasn’t so much the way her mother treated her like a child that bothered her; it was that she treated her like half a person. Like Natalie would never be a “whole” person unless she had a “suitable gentleman.” A fact that had never bothered her—much—before. But come on, everyone she knew was getting hitched to the loves of their lives. And here she was, having a hard time just finding someone who didn’t make her want to claw her eyes out.
She hit a few keys and responded to her mother.
Texting during a date is rude. And, yes, I have manners.
She smirked. She’d never be a pain in the ass to her mother on purpose, but she couldn’t handle her right now. Because the truth was, while Natalie didn’t “need” a man the way her mother wanted her to, she was getting fed up with the loneliness. And the constant berating from her mother about how she’d die a spinster.
It didn’t help that she was the “local” girl and had been in the friend zone with most of the men in town since about second grade. But she loved her town, loved her shop, and wouldn’t ever move. She’d find the kind of happiness she wanted, right here in Beaufort.
“Fuckin’ friend zone,” she muttered, and took another hefty swallow of alcohol.
And tonight, just when she’d thought the night couldn’t get any worse, the one man that got to her like no one else had shown up.
Easton Ambrose.
“What the hell was I thinking?” she mumbled around another swallow. Another awful date with a boring guy who looked at her like she was little more than adorable at best. Which super sucked, since she’d spent her last paycheck on that dress from her friend Michelle’s boutique. Deep down, she knew that no dress or makeup could change her curse.
No one wanted her. Not like that.
And the guys who might want her…well, her big brother Matt was the town’s pride and joy. The man had practically ridden out of here on a float when he left for college. East had taken it upon himself to annoy the shit out of her in Matt’s absence.
Hold on. East hadn’t just annoyed her tonight. He’d intervened. Was that another reason why so many guys gave her such a wide berth? Because for big brother Matt and big pseudo-brother East, no one was ever going to be good enough for her?
She took another swig.
They were probably right. They just had it backward. She was the one who would never be good enough. She was plain at best. Quirky at worst. And somewhere in between, she was sick of it. Her few experiences with sex were anything but stellar, but damn it, she wanted to feel something. Everyone around here, her best friends, were all happy and settling down. Even her own brother was getting married.
She didn’t need all of that. Not marriage. Not kids. Not even commitment. She just wanted a chance at that whole passion thing everyone seemed to be raving about. It looked…nice.
Better than nice.
She’d seen the way her friend Chloe’s husband kissed her neck whenever she was within a few inches of him. Watched how her other friend Michelle had her ass squeezed by her fiancé constantly because he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her.
“Must be nice,” Natalie said to her bottle of bourbon, and took another drink. Yeah, must be nice. To be wanted like that. Treated like you were…sexy. Desirable. Just once she wanted to feel that.
She’d had high hopes for her date tonight. But he’d turned out to be a dud, and then stupid Easton Ambrose with his stupid muscles and stupid smile came in and made her feel weird. Not just weird—more like hot and buzzing. But what else was new? He’d made her feel that way since she was a teenager.
But between her brother being his best friend, and East never looking at her twice except to flick her forehead or tug her pigtail, she’d determined a long time ago that they were just bound to be enemies. Mostly because the man irritated her like no other. He’d been the senior varsity quarterback of the football team when she’s been a freshman band geek. And not much had changed. Well, other than East had somehow gotten sexier, and she’d given up playing the clarinet. God, going through puberty with the hottest man on the planet under the same roof had been no easy feat.
He was blunt and cocky and so damn good looking it hurt to look at him sometimes. Even if he weren’t basically her second older brother, her mother wouldn’t call him “a suitable gentleman.” But he was more of a member of her own family than she was. Hell, her parents had taken him in and raised him like their own child! Maybe that was why they’d always treated East with class and respect. He was family to them, and family deserved unconditional love.
As if her mother was summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed again. And again. Nope. She wasn’t looking at that now. Wasn’t dealing with her mother or her ideas on how Natalie was failing at life and love.
At least here she was far away from East, and that ridiculous look he’d given her in the bar. What had that been about, anyway? It had almost looked like…jealousy. Well, screw him and any hint of jealousy. He had no right.
“Dick,” she mumbled.
“If that’s what you’re after, all you have to do is ask,” East said from the entry of her shop. She spun to face him. He had his forearm casually resting against the doorframe, and the light of the hallway haloed him like he was Christ himself. And damn…he looked good. A Stetson, white T-shirt, and dark jeans had never looked more perfect on a man. She wanted to punch him in the throat. How dare he stand there looking like…that!
“Actually.” She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “I was just thinking of you, and ‘dick’ was the most suitable word that came to mind.”
He raised a brow. “That right? Well, I’m glad you think of my dick. Gotta admit, I would have taken you more for a good girl whose thoughts were full of rainbows and unicorns.”
That fueled the fire she had been tamping down. One, because she wasn’t thinking of his dick. Okay, maybe she was. Kind of. Whatever! He didn’t need to know that. And second, “I’m not a good girl! Now get out of here.”
“Sorry, can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re okay.”
She rolled her eyes. Was that why he’d followed her? Because he was worried about her? The guy needed to realize he was the reason she was upset in the first place.
“I’m fine. I don’t need your ‘saving’ or your pity. Now leave.”
“Sweet thing like you shouldn’t be left alone in your state of distress,” he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
He was doing the same thing he’d done all their lives. Teasing her. Flicking little words and retorts that got under her skin. God, he knew her so well. He got a rise out of her, and that fire made her forget about being awkward and pushed her to simply speak her mind. Not that knowing this made it any easier to resist. He wanted to challenge her? Game on. He was going down.
She set the bottle on the counter, squared her shoulders, and hit him with a hard glare she could feel all the way to her toes. Power. She harnessed whatever kind she had, and she took aim at that big playboy pain in her ass.
“Easton Ambrose…” Her voice came out as a deep rasp that clearly got his attention because he straightened his posture. “Call me a good girl one more time, and I’ll show you just how wrong you are.”
There was a spell of silence, but even in the low light, she could see his perfect smile. “Oh darlin’, you’re all things good.” He took a step inside, and the door closed behind him. Her blood heated another degree. Challenge. He wasn’t backing down. He was coming after her. Again. And she’d rise. She would rise this time.
“And sweet,” he said, adding that extra bit of What are you going to say to that? attitude. He came up to the counter. The only thing separating them was that, a triple tier of her best cupcakes sitting near the register for presentation tomorrow morning, and the bottle of bourbon.
That and the fact that he was all but her brother. If only they didn’t have this history—
Whoa. Where had that thought came from? What did it matter what he was to her? He was off-limits. Period.
“In fact,” he said, “you’re so good and so sweet, I think you’ll go down in history as the Best Friend of Beaufort.” With that, he swiped his finger along one of her pristine gourmet cupcakes on display and licked the frosting from his finger.
Oh, he was really fucking with her now.
“You prick!” she said, and grabbed up the now-ruined mini chocolate cake.
“Come on, Nat, lighten up. I’ll pay for it.”
But that wasn’t the point. He was standing there, in her shop, eating her frosting, telling her she was sweet? Telling her she was nothing more than Beaufort’s town buddy? No. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was face-to-face with the last man who’d ever call her sweet again. Especially when she was feeling anything but.
“You have no idea who I really am.” She stepped toward him. “I’m capable of way, way more than sweet.”
East shot her a look like he was examining a baby duck trying to fly for the first time. But just before she bought into that look, she saw a flash of lust in his eyes, especially when those eyes landed on her mouth, then her breasts. But he recovered quickly and patted the top of her head. “Just because you got a new dress, doesn’t change anything. You’re still sweet, darlin’.”
His words made her anger rise, but his gaze told a different story. Had he just done a double take? He had! He’d totally just checked her out! She wasn’t certain the first time, but she was now.
Easton Ambrose wanted her.
Her!
Holee-crap-on-a-cracker!
“Maybe not,” she said, determined to not only challenge him right back, but to force his acknowledgment. “But you seem to appreciate the dress.”
He snapped his eyes away and shrugged like he hadn’t just been staring down her body. “Just wondering where the rest of it was. You think your brother would let you—”
“My brother lets me do nothing. I let myself do what I want. Because I’m a grown woman. When are you going to stop being an idiot?”
“Oh, I’m the idiot?” His voice rose a tad. “You’re the one out there chasing a loser guy who apparently can’t see jack shit.”
She moved around the counter to face him head on, because it’d be easier to scratch his eyes out if she were toe-to-toe with him.
“Actually…” She nudged his chest with a pointed finger. “I ran from him because you’re right—he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.” She tapped his chest again, her other hand still holding the cupcake he’d desecrated. She knew they were talking about different things now. But she didn’t care. It was time to call a spade a spade. Or an East an East.
“Don’t push me, Natalie. That’s not very nice.” He was so close, looming over her, his warm breath hitting her mouth and his clean masculine scent surrounding her.
“I don’t feel very nice right now.” She tapped his shoulder again just to prove a point, and he gave a low growl. “Oh?” she said with mock concern. “Does that not feel good? Getting bossed around? Someone telling you what you are and what you’re not?” She tapped him again, and this time he took a step back, so she took a step forward until he was only a foot away from the counter.
“I’m warning you—”
“I warned you, Easton. Call me sweet again, and I promise you’ll regret it.”
He snarled at her. “You’re not sweet…you’re sugar incarnate.”
That was it. She shoved the cupcake at his mouth, effectively shutting him up, and the big search-and-rescuer was left wide-eyed and speechless. But only for a moment, because when he registered that she’d just shoved food in his face, he swallowed a piece down and glared hard.
“Ballsy move there, darlin’.” He ran one thumb along his lower lip then sucked off the frosting he’d collected. “But I’m a retaliation kind of guy.” With that, he grabbed the largest vanilla cupcake on the top tier of the display and smashed it into her cleavage, frosting first.
She gasped sharply and looked down at herself. “You son of a bitch!”
“That’s not news, darlin’,” he said with an easy chuckle.
She pushed him hard, but he caught her arms and spun her until her butt was against the counter’s edge. Instead of shoving another cupcake at him, she shoved her tongue into his mouth.
What shocked her wasn’t how amazing he tasted, or how good his mouth felt. It was how quickly her body registered him as a deep, desperate want. And he seemed to register her back. Because there was no hesitation. His talented tongue devoured her like he had no care in the world about who she was or how sweet—or not-so-sweet—she felt.
Her entire body ignited like fireworks popping off in succession. She was ravenous. Needy. Horny. And pissed.
She nipped at his lower lip then sucked his top one. He groaned, and his hands instantly landed on her ass and hefted her up to fully sit on the counter.
“Not so sweet now, am I?” she said, and bit his lip hard.
He lifted her briefly to swat her ass once, then dropped her back on the counter with a loud thud. Damn he was strong, lifting and working her body like she weighed nothing.
“You’re a vicious little thing,” he rasped in her ear.
She clawed at his shirt, and he buried his head in her breasts and licked and nibbled on the frosting that covered them. She cupped the back of his neck and leaned away to give him better access. Which he took. The man had a mouth on him that made her whole body light up like a furnace. He licked along her neck, then lower, and he shoved aside the deep V of her dress and bared her still bra-covered breasts. The brim of his Stetson scratched her throat as he sucked along the exposed flesh of her chest. He was making a mess of her and her new dress. But when he brought one breast out of her bra and sucked hard on her nipple, she didn’t care in the least. Fulfilling this forbidden fantasy was wrong on so many levels, but with his mouth on her, it felt so right.
“I still think you’re sweet,” East growled, blindly grabbing another cupcake from the display and slapping another heap of the cake and frosting on the top of her thighs. She wiggled in his arms, but he kept her right on him and spread her legs and stepped between them.
“Well, I still think you’re a pain.” She tugged him close for a kiss.
He squeezed her thighs until she yipped. “I think you like my version of pain.” He bit her neck, and she moaned. Maybe she did like it. A lot. She’d never been so turned on before. Never wanted someone so badly. But she knew, even through her foggy thoughts…
“You are so so wrong for me,” she said.
Shit. Was he going to stop now? Should he stop now? If anyone from her family saw them like this—
“Testify, darlin’,” he agreed, his thumb digging into her frosting-covered thighs while he sucked at her breast.
Okay, so they were both on the same page. Kind of. Because he didn’t stop kissing her, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to stop letting him. Every breath, every touch of his hands, and she knew this was that thing she’d been looking for.
Passion.
It was amazing and heady and deliciously weighty. And she felt it settle all over her like her own personal gravity of bliss, and she wanted to roll around in it like a warm blanket and never let it go. Jesus, this was drugging. She could see how people became addicted to sex. Not that she and East had even had sex yet—God, “yet” implied she wanted it to happen—but just the hot and heavy frosting-fondling was enough to make her hips rock to press her center against his jean-clad erection.
“Look at you,” he said, and ran his fingers through the frosting on her leg and up her inner thigh. “You’re close already, and I’ve barely touched you.”
“Barely touched me?” She looked down. “You’ve covered me in frosting and there’s going to be bruises on my ass and thighs from your manhandling.”
“Well, say the word, darlin’, and I’ll stop all the handling,” he teased just as his sugary fingers found her panties.
“You stop and I’ll kill you.”
“You’re hot when you’re giving out threats, Little Natalie.”
Little Natalie. The mocking name he’d given her when they were teenagers to let her know he was older and always knew better. Well, she’d grown up since then, and she wasn’t going to let him lord anything over her anymore. Certainly not tonight.
She reached between them and grabbed his hard cock through his jeans. He instantly stilled.
“If you call me Little Natalie again, I’ll start calling you Little Easton.” She squeezed harder, and he gritted his teeth, biting back a hiss. “And not in the good way.”
He growled and nipped along her neck. “There’s nothing little about me,” he said, and he thrust his hips toward her so that her grip on his shaft had no choice but to move along it. Oh yeah, there was nothing little about him. She could attest to that. The hard cock in her grasp was impressive, and she hadn’t even properly seen or felt all of it yet.
But East didn’t seem to mind how hard she was gripping him, so she rubbed along the steel rod in his jeans, then grabbed him even harder.
“Fuck, baby,” he said, switching from the “darlin’” she was used to. Watching his face tense with pleasure while he called her “baby” was so…hot. It made her feel sexy, like the woman she wanted to be.
Not sweet.
“Rethinking your stance on me yet, Easton?” she asked with more confidence than she’d felt in a long time. He gave her a satisfied “mmm” just as he thrust into her hand.
He threw his head back. “Yes. But you best be warned, I like it rough.”
His words sparked through her whole body until her nipples zinged so hard with anticipation it almost hurt. She’d wanted this—wanted him—for longer than she dared admit. And now, though she knew she should stop here, ought to send him out and forget this had ever happened, she had him in her hands and heaven help her, she couldn’t stop herself. She needed more, and it looked like he needed more, so she did the only logical thing:
She went for it.
She unfastened his belt, unzipped his jeans, and shoved them low on his waist. His cock was big, hard, and…wow.
“Oh my…” She gasped and ran her fingers along the deeply grooved V of his hips. Though his shirt covered most of him, even in the low light she could still see the tops of his powerful thighs and smooth skin—
“Now look who’s star struck,” he said, with all the cockiness in the world. Which only irritated her. She was not star struck by him! She was just new to this whole passionate, half-naked messing around thing. And she’d prove it!
She grabbed the bottom hem of his white T-shirt, lifted it up, and shoved the bunched cotton in his mouth.
“Will you shut up for a second so I can enjoy this, please?” she said.
Even with the bottom of his own shirt stuffed in his mouth, she saw him smile around the cotton.
At least he was quiet for the moment. And sweet baby Jesus, he was on display. For her.
The hips she’d been touching apparently had been just the beginning of a rocking body. She ran her fingers up his endless abs. She’d had no idea muscles could be so hard. She wove her fingertips along the defined grooves and trailed up to his chiseled chest and small brown nipples. Everything about the man was hard.
He was being a good sport. But he’d tortured her as a teenager, and she had every intention of making him suffer now. She’d take her time with him, go so slow it made him ache. His swollen cock was begging for attention, and she really wanted to give it. But not yet. Nope, Easton Ambrose would have to earn it, at least a little, when it came to her. For all the times he’d annoyed her, poked at her, challenged her, this was her time to poke back.
Besides, he was about the finest specimen of man she’d ever seen. He stood between her spread thighs, jeans tugged down, holding his shirt up with his teeth and smiling at her from beneath the shadow of his Stetson, and she was certain she’d never seen a sexier sight.
But that didn’t mean she had to feed his ego.
“You know, honestly?” She trailed her palms down his abs until her thumbs teased inches from his straining erection. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
He growled at her, and when she ever so gently ran her fingertip along the pulsing head of his cock, she barely saw what happened next.
East’s hat and shirt were gone in one swoop, and his hands were on the backs of her knees, yanking her body into his. Somewhere along the lines he’d torn her panties off because suddenly she felt his skin against hers.
She gasped when velvet steel slid between her folds. Not breaching her, but pressing on her clit so hard, she might have just had a mini orgasm from the single touch.
“Getting mouthy is one thing,” he growled, his lips on hers. “But lying is another.” He ground against her and ran his cock up and down her folds. The crown of him caught the sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that shot electricity through her veins like a bullet.
“Oh God!” she gasped, slapping her hands on his shoulders, looking for anything to hang onto and finding only him.
“I’m sorry,” East said harshly and thrust against her again. “I didn’t hear you, baby.” He tugged hard on the backs of her knees, and he pressed her closer against him. “Did you just call me a god? Because a second ago, I thought you said you couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.” The way his deep voice danced over the shell of her ear just before he bit down made her nails sink in as she clung to him.
“I…I…” She struggled for words. Struggled to keep the upper hand and not give in. But this felt so good. Too good.
“You what?” he asked. “You thinking maybe you like it?”
He slowly slid his cock down…
“Thinking maybe you do want me, and want to tell me how sorry you are for hurting my poor little feelings?”
He slowly slid his cock back up…
She gritted her teeth. He was baiting her. Her body was shaking, already on the verge of exploding with pleasure. But she couldn’t give in.
“Thinking maybe you want more?” He took a taste of her sweetly sticky nipple, then was back at her ear. “Want to tell me how I’m going to make you come and I’m not even inside you yet?”
That did her in. The way he talked to her, a little deep, a little dirty, and a lot hot, had her melting. She wasn’t Little Natalie, wasn’t awkward. She was a woman. A woman he wanted, and he was treating her like she’d never been treated before.
She couldn’t hold back, she was so close. Needed him so much. And there was only one thing she could say.
“Yes.” She threw her hips out to try to run herself along his cock, but instead impaled herself in one motion. “Oh, East!” He was inside her. Deep and fast and hard, and she came instantly.
“Fuck, baby!” he groaned, but she barely heard it. She was too busy clawing at his back and locking her legs around his hips to keep him right where it was. Deep. Because her entire body was spiraling around him, and he was the only gravity she held to.
Light flashed behind her eyes as every single nerve snapped and pulsed with white-hot pleasure, warming her skin and curling her toes. Her core shuddered, over and over, milking the hard cock that was still inside her. Just still. No movement. No thrusting, as if he were taking in every moment of her core squeezing him.
“Baby,” he said. “We can’t…we have to stop…”
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
The pulses got faster, hotter. She bit down on his shoulder and rode out the best release of her life, while his grip tightened on the backs of her knees and he held her through it.
When the pleasure started winding down, she couldn’t breathe. She only felt. Felt spent and alive and wild and exhausted all at the same time. But when East pulled quickly out of her, she knew right away she wasn’t done. She wanted to scream and cry and beg him to come back. She barely had her eyes open to watch him take a condom from his pocket, rip it open with his teeth, and cover himself. Thank God, he didn’t look to be done, either.
“Please, baby,” he said, coming back between her legs. “Let me feel you do that again.”
He gripped the nape of her neck with one hand, and the other wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto his hard cock.
She instantly lost her breath and gave in to the incredible feeling of what it was like to be a part of Easton Ambrose. He’d made her feel better than any man ever had, and he’d barely had to try. Not to mention…he wanted her to come again?
She kissed his lips softly and finally answered his plea:
“Make me.”
She felt him smile against her mouth and slowly shake his head. “Oh, baby, I intend to.”
With that, he yanked her body into his as he thrust even deeper than she’d thought possible. Her ass almost came off the counter, but East was right there to catch her. He held her steady between his strong grip and massive cock, and he worked in and out of her like his sole mission on earth was to make her body feel alive.
And God did he do that well.
He held her tight, pumped in and out, and hit an amazingly sensitive spot inside she never knew existed. The way he ground his hips, stirred deep after a forceful thrust, hit every nerve she had, she had no choice but to throw her head back and moan while he turned her body into a blissful puddle.
“Oh no you don’t,” he rasped, the grip on the back of her neck tightening and forcing her face up to look at him. “You watch me.” He punctuated his demand with a succession of perfect pumps into her. “You watch me fuck this tight”—thrust—“hot”—thrust—“pussy. And you remember what you asked for.”
Her blood started to snap in her veins like a freshly struck match. Not quite igniting…so close…
Snap…
“You wanted me to make you come?” he rasped, and when his hand slid to the back of her head and tunneled into her hair, he tugged hard and caused her chin to lift toward the ceiling and her eyes to hit his. “I expect to see it. Unless you were bluffing? Maybe you want something softer…sweeter…”
Snap…
She snarled at him at that word, “sweeter.” He was like a sexy wolf. The glow of the hall light hit his chiseled frame and shone off his bright eyes and perfect face.
Always challenging me.
She slid her hands to his bulging biceps and sank her nails in as she kicked her hips out, all the way off the counter to meet his wild fucking.
Snap!
The match lit. Her body caught fire, and the flame surged along every muscle and bone and atom she had. She shattered into a thousand pieces as East fucked her through an even more intense orgasm than the last.
“Ah, God, yes!” he yelled to the ceiling. He didn’t go softer. Didn’t go sweeter like he’d threatened. He fucked her harder, until she was certain the entire shop was shaking.
“Natalie…” he said. The way he rasped her name into her ear made her cling tighter. His whole body tensed and shuddered with his own release. She locked her legs around him and pulled him as deep and as close as she could.
She held him there as the bliss of what had just happened faded. Her eyes were too heavy to open and face what they’d just done.
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