Cupid, Texas [1] Love at First Sight (21 page)

His mouth moved lower to her earlobe. “Do we really need to have this conversation?”

“We do.”

“Okay.” He raised his head.

“I’m not . . .”
Just say it!
“I’ve never done this before.”

Dade cocked his head, arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

She tilted up her chin. “Yes.”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, incredulous.

A heavy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “I am.”

He still looked like he didn’t believe her.

“I know. I’m too long in the tooth to be a virgin, but, well, I had a bum leg and no one was knocking down my door to get next to me and I decided, fine, I will wait for just the right guy, but then he never showed up and by then it was way past the time when most women lose their virginity and it was embarrassing and no one ever came along that was worth that kind of effort and—”

“I’m worth the effort?” He sounded gobsmacked.

She couldn’t believe that he was stunned. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he know? Had his life been so empty of love that he couldn’t fully wrap his head around what he’d found with her? “There is no one else.”

He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. “No man has ever cherished you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “And I was beginning to think no one ever would, I was almost ready to give up and then came you.”

“All I gotta say is there are some damn dumb men in this town.” He cupped her chin in his palm, smiled down at her.

“Hordes.”

“But I thought you said that you and Stan were lovers.”

“I was trying to make you jealous. I might have overstated that a bit.”

“It worked. I was damn jealous. What’s a bit?”

“Third base. We went to third base.”

“Did he kiss you here?” Dade’s hand had drifted to the sensitive spot between Natalie’s legs.

She squirmed. “No, not that.”

“Did you put your mouth on him down there?”

“No!”

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“Kissing. We kissed. And touched.”

“Touched?”

“You know, down there.”

“Hand jobs.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it so crudely, but yes.”

“Hate to break it to you, darlin’,” but you weren’t anywhere near third base,” he said, sounding utterly pleased.

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“But you and me . . .”

“Yes?” she whispered.

“We’re gonna hit a home run.”

Every muscle in her body tightened and melted in an alternating rhythm. A sharp, sweet ache speared the very core of her. She sank her top teeth into her bottom lip as her mind spun with a million dizzying erotic possibilities.

Dade bowed his head, pressed his mouth to hers, and sucked her bottom lip up between his teeth, nibbling lightly.

She lit up, a rocket of sensation shooting to the stars.

He placed soft kisses down her jaw to the throbbing pulse in the hollow of her throat. A shudder pushed clean through her. “You taste so good.”

His hand flicked to the clasp on the front of her bra; in a second, it was unfastened, dangling open. Dade slipped his fingers underneath the straps of her bra, eased it off her shoulders. She felt him drop it to the floor rather than saw it. Her gaze was adhered to his.

She arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward. She didn’t have to tell him what she needed. He just knew!

His unerring mouth found the peak of one hard nipple. He teased it playfully with his tongue until she was moaning softly and then he turned his attention to the other straining nipple. “You have such perfect breasts. Not too big. Not too small. Just right.”

Her face flushed in the darkness and she threaded her hands through his thick thatch of hair, tugged gently.

“More?” he murmured, his lips vibrating against her skin.

“More,” she croaked, shivered.

While his mouth explored her, her fingers massaged tiny circles up and down the back of his neck. Deep inside, she grew hotter and moister and more desperate—so damn desperate to have him inside her.

He raised his head, went back to her mouth again, slowing things down. She made a noise of frustration and he laughed. “We’ll get there, darlin’. It’s about the journey, not the destination.”

“Big talk, big man.”

“You’re not going to provoke me into rashness,” he said, squeezing her tightly against him and taking her mouth once more in a fiery kiss.

His fingers moved down her bare spine to her waist and on down to cup her blue-jeaned bottom in his palms. He pushed her firmly into his pelvis and she could feel his rock-solid erection growing against her.

“And you’re free to drive me crazy,” she gasped, wrenching her mouth from his.

“That’s pretty much the idea.”

She clung to his muscular biceps, reveled in his strength. He possessed so much self-control! She couldn’t wait to drive him wild.

But her plans were foiled when he kissed his way back to her breasts. He lingered, played, driving her completely insane, and then his demanding mouth traveled lower to the flat of her belly as he simultaneously sank to his knees in front of her.

Natalie gasped as his hot tongue explored her navel. Helplessly, she threaded her fingers through his shaggy hair. Oh God, he was so incredibly hot!

He tipped his head up to look at her, his long black lashes softening the hard angles of his cheekbones, his coal-colored eyes searching hers. He looked so vulnerable and endearing in that moment that she touched three fingers to her lips. He might be strong and in control, but her love had the power to shatter him into a million pieces, and that knowledge shook Natalie to the core.

He trusted her!

And she knew how hard it was for him to do that. Her heart liquefied in her chest.

While his eyes stayed fixed on her, watching every emotion that flitted across her face, Dade’s fingers plucked at the snap of her jeans. The snap popped open. Millimeter by excruciating millimeter, he eased down the zipper.

Leisurely, he hooked a thumb in the waistband of her jeans at each hipbone and peeled the pants down her legs, his palms skimming the backs of her thighs as he went.

Awed, she stared down at him.

“Mmm,” he said. “You smell good enough to eat.”

Natalie swooned, had to clutch his hair in her hands to keep from toppling over.

His face was at the V between her legs. She still had her panties and shoes on, the jeans bunched around her ankles. He tugged at her panties with his teeth, and then pushed them down to her knees with his chin, sending a shuddering thrill shooting through her.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?”

“You don’t remove your hair down there.”

“Are you disappointed?” she asked, embarrassed. She wished she’d gone over to Junie Mae’s spa and had a wax job, but if she’d done that, Junie Mae would have known exactly what she was up to.

“Hell no,” he said. “Nothing about you disappoints me, Natalie. I’m just more accustomed to hairless women.”

Her jeans were still around her ankles, her panties at her knees. Gently, Dade pushed her backward onto the mattress. She caught herself on her elbows, sat watching while he took her right foot in his hand. She pulled it back, shying from him. “Don’t.”

“I thought you trusted me.”

“I do. I just don’t want you looking at it too closely. It’s . . .” She swallowed. “Ugly.”

“Nothing about you is ugly, Natalie McCleary,” he declared vehemently.

It took everything she had inside her to nod for him to continue. If she were being honest, she’d have to admit that the leg was the biggest reason she’d never had a lover. It took a lot for her to reveal her greatest wound to intense scrutiny.

Slowly, he undid the laces, slid off the red Keds and matching red sock. Next, he undid the straps on her AFO and slipped that off too.

In the candlelight, he studied her foot, turning it this way and that. Her last two toes were misshapen, and two long parallel scars ran lengthwise across the top of her foot, and there were six smaller round scars on the side of her foot where the pins had been. The scars were faded, silvered with age, but they were part and parcel of who she was.

Dade lowered his head, and one by one, tenderly kissed each scar.

Now who was vulnerable? Now who was in jeopardy of being shattered to pieces by love?

“Never be ashamed of your scars,” he said. “I’m not ashamed of mine.”

“Can I see them?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“What?”

“Your scars.”

“We’re getting there, darlin’, slow down.”

He peeled off her other sock and shoe, tugged the jeans off her ankles, and fished the panties from around her knees. He returned to her right leg, studying each scar he found—and there were a lot of them—kissing each one in turn on his way up her thigh. By the time he reached the last scar, halfway between her knee and her hip, Natalie was a quivering mess.

He stood and stared down at her. It didn’t seem fair that she was totally naked and he was still fully clothed.

“I’m at a disadvantage,” she pointed out. “It’s time for you to get naked.”

“There you go again,” he murmured. “Rushing things. Let me just look at you a minute.”

She squirmed beneath the heat of his gaze, uncomfortable with his cool assessment. She snatched up the corner of the quilt and covered herself with it. “Not until you get naked.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said, and slowly stripped off his T-shirt, giving her full view of his glorious abs.

She sighed happily. “Much better.”

His hand went to the snap of his jeans and he shucked them off.

Holy heavens!

He was going commando and he was . . . he was . . . Well . . . His height and broad shoulders weren’t the only big things about him. Natalie’s jaw unhinged and she stared at him openmouthed.

He held his arms wide. “Here I am.”

“Impressive,” she croaked.

“Now uncover yourself.”

She clung to the quilt, a flimsy barrier between them.

He grabbed the opposite end in his fist and began to tug it off her. “C’mon darlin’, fair’s fair. I got naked for you, time for you to be naked for me.”

Yipes!

“I’m feeling shy.”

“Past time for that. I’ve already kissed your leg.”

He had at that, but she stubbornly held on to the covers.

“You wanna talk about it?” He let go of the quilt and settled on the mattress beside her, his beautiful penis still standing at attention.

For her!

He stroked her cheek with the pad of his calloused index finger. “We can talk all night if you’d rather do that.”

“Really?” She breathed. “You’d settle for that?”

“Absolutely. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.”

“A week?”

“Months.”

“A year?”

“Ten.”

“If you wait ten years for me, that means you’ll have to move to Cupid.”

“Not necessarily.” His finger slipped to her lips. “You could come with me.”

Leave Cupid? Here was her golden ticket out, she could follow him anywhere, but she was terrified by the thought of leaving the only home she’d ever known.

Too scary.

Now that it was finally happening, it was all moving too fast. It was too big of a step, and suddenly Natalie could not catch her breath.

Chapter 16

And once the physical bond has been cemented, the emotional knot fully sets.

—MILLIE GREENWOOD

“N
atalie?” Dade crooned. “You still with me?”

She gaped at him; all the air was trapped inside her lungs and she could not exhale.

Why was she getting cold feet? Ten minutes ago she’d been within inches of raping him and now she couldn’t catch her breath and her mouth was dry. What was up with that?

Maybe it was the penis. The thing
was
quite impressive. Not that she had any hands-on experience in measuring erections, but big was big. She was even afraid to look at it.

“You want me to go?” He touched her ankle that was sticking out from under the cover, and an avalanche of heat pushed the air out of her chest.

“No!”

“All right. Talk to me,” he coaxed. “What’s bothering you?”

“I’m afraid,” she confessed.

“Because it’s your first time? I’ll be gentle. We’ll take our time. Slow and easy.”

She cast a sideways glance at his erection. You had to sneak up on something of that magnitude. Quick peek. Look away. Come back again for another sizing up. “It’s not that. I trust you in that regard.”

“What is it then?”

“I’m afraid that I won’t measure up. I don’t know what I’m doing. My inexperience was one of the reasons Stan and I broke up. He was afraid I’d be too conservative in bed. Of course we never got far enough along to find out if—”

“Screw Stan,” he said vehemently. “No wait, don’t screw Stan, screw me.”

“It wasn’t any better with Joe either.”

“Who was Joe?”

“The first guy I almost slept with. I’m too conventional.”

“Says who? Stan and Joe?”

She nodded.

“Look at me.”

She met his smoldering black eyes.

“Do I look like Stan or Joe?”

“No.”

“Well then, stop assuming I’m going to react like those jokers.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. “Natty, I like you just the way you are.”

Everyone had told her it would be this way when you found The One. He would get you to your core. Why was she testing it? Why was she gumming things up when they’d been moving along so nicely?

“This is our time. Just me and you. No old boyfriends or girlfriends allowed in here. Got it?”

“Got it.”

He kissed her sweetly, softly, and very conventionally, and she loved it.

“You set the pace.” He kissed her again. “You tell me what feels good.” Another kiss. “When you’re ready for more adventure, I’m here. I’ve got your back, Natalie.”

This time, he touched the tip of his tongue to her lips and she parted her teeth, letting him slip in, wet and hot. The quilt was the only thing between his naked body and hers.

“Since you don’t want to come out from under the covers, I’m going to slip underneath there with you. Will that be okay?”

It touched her to hear this commanding, forceful man asking her permission. She smiled and raised the quilt.

He slipped in beside her.

Gently, he stroked his knuckles over her skin. Everywhere he touched, she ignited. The fabric of their bodies fit beautifully together like denim and silk, an unexpected combination that worked.

Separately, they were inertly innocuous. Dade. Natalie. He on one side of life. She on the other. But together? Dade and Natalie. Natalie and Dade. Datalie. Nade. She giggled. Together, they became something else entirely. Another entity. Active. Dynamic. Explosive.

Her fingers traced over his face, memorizing the texture of him. He cradled her to him and they stared into each other. His intense dark eyes stirred her soul. The moment was sweet poetry full of achy yearning and tremulous hope, a fragile cobweb of delicate intricacy.

His mouth!

Oh, the things he knew to do with his mouth! His sinful mouth seemed to be everywhere at once—on her lips, on her chin, on her belly and her shins. And then he honed in on his target, one central gathering place of erotic tenderness.

He wedged himself between her legs, dipped his head, touched her with his tongue, and began to do unspeakably beautiful things to her. A rumpus of sensation bashed into her like a storm—raw scorched lightning, a loud crack of emotional thunder, a bullwhip of wind.

Dade seized full control of Natalie’s body on July first in the wee hours of Monday morning. He loved her with this mouth, and then with his hands, and finally, he tackled the last barrier.

And she finally understood what all the fuss was about as her virginity was delicately, sweetly, painstakingly breached and then she was an innocent no more. This man—her experienced lover—taught her the mysteries of the universe.

A thousand alert nerve endings cheered, spun from synapse to synapse, hummed dizzy tunes of joy, and looted every last ounce of reason she possessed.

In that honeyed night, Natalie learned that the tongue was an amazing utility tool. It could furl and unfurl, flick and lick, curl and flatten. An attentive tongue could stroke and lash, circle and caress, bathe and lave. It could rim membranes, soak up juices, and send an intrepid explorer to Mount Everest heights and then gently set her down on butterfly wings.

Her central nervous system lit up like the ghostly Marfa Lights—mysterious and mystifying, compelling and haunting. When her education on the power of the human tongue was complete, Natalie lay underneath the quilt, shattered and sated and clutching Dade’s hair in both hands, as the final rumblings of an earthquake quivered through her.

Dade rose up, peeled back the covers, peered down at her with a glistening grin. “How was that?”

Unable to answer, she closed her eyes and sighed, and when she opened them again, Dade was strutting to the adjoining bathroom, cocky as a rooster. “We’re not done yet, darlin’, not by a long shot. This is just intermission.”

What a beautiful threat!

Her heart thumped as she watched him walk away, his gloriously muscled butt on full display.

On his way back from the bathroom, he cast a sidelong glance into the open door of her closet, did a double take, stopped and switched on the closet light.

“Well, well,” Dade said, staring at the rows of pristine high-heeled shoes she’d collected for fourteen years. “What is this? It’s Prada Marfa right here in Natalie McCleary’s bedroom.”

“No Prada. Prada is out of my budget. But I’ve got Stuart Weitzman and Kate Spade and Michael Kors.”

Dade selected a pair of pink Brian Atwood snakeskin sling backs with a three-inch stiletto heel that Natalie had bought half-price from Neiman Marcus online during their last-call sale two Christmases ago, free shipping included.

“We’ll start with these.” He smiled.

“I don’t wear those. I can’t wear those.”

“And yet.” He strolled closer. “They’re in your closet. Imagine that.”

She sat up. “I just buy them. I can’t stand up in them.”

“You just plan on letting them go to waste.” He clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”

“They’re like art to me. My one indulgence. I don’t splurge on myself otherwise. So what if I can’t wear them?” She tilted her chin up.

He shook his head. “I’m not buying it.”

“No.”

“You bought them for a reason.”

“I did?”

He nodded.

“What reason is that?”

“For me.”

“Are you saying I bought them for you to wear? ’Cause if you are, I don’t think they’re going to fit.”

He grinned. “Nope. You’re going to wear them
for 
me.”

“I told you I can’t stand up in them.”

“You also told me you couldn’t dance.”

“I didn’t dance. You dragged me around the dance floor and we stood there swaying a lot.”

“So what?”

“If I put high heels on I topple over and I get instant back pain.”

“Not in bed you won’t.” He looked at her like she was the most desirable woman in the whole world and he had devilish plans for her. “Have you ever even tried them on?”

“No,” she admitted.

“We’re going to change things around here.”

Natalie held her breath.

He reached the end of the bed, paused there for a moment, stroking her with heated eyes. He was a house of bricks, a fluid mountain lion, a stealth ninja, a sex maniac.

And she loved him!

Leisurely, he crawled up on the mattress toward her, the pink snakeskin sling backs clutched in his hand. She scooted backward until she bumped against the headboard. No escape now.

He stretched his body up over hers, trailing delicious kisses as he went until he got to her mouth. He peered down at her. She sank back into the pillow. Dade claimed her mouth, kissed her long and hard.

Then before she knew it, he had whisked the quilt off the bed, leaving her naked and exposed, and he had taken firm control of her right foot.

“D
ade! Let me go!”

Natalie wriggled away from him, but Dade held tight, cupping her right heel in his palm. Clearly flustered at his attention on her right leg, she kicked at him with her other leg. He was not going to let her go. He wanted her to understand there was nothing wrong with her. In his eyes there was no damage.

She was perfect.

And she’d just given him the priceless gift of her virginity. He wanted to do something extra special for her.

He slipped the pretty pink shoe onto her foot. It fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper. He reached for the other foot. Slipped the shoe on that one too. “Well, look at that, you didn’t die.”

She met his gaze. “Seriously? Shoes in bed?”

“Why not? Stranger things have happened in bed.”

“Not in my bed,” she mumbled.

“Like I said, darlin’, we’re going to change things around here.”

She raised her defiant little chin. “I don’t like change.”

“Yes you do. You’re just scared of it.”

“You think you know me so well.”

“I’m working on it. I want to know everything there is to know about you.”

Her beautiful blue eyes widened and he realized it was true. He
did
want to know everything there was to know about her.

“Hmm, let’s see if these shoes really were made for walking.”

“I told you I can’t—”

“Tut, tut.” He leaned over to lay an index finger across her lips. “You can just pretend I’m the floor.”

He knelt on the mattress at the end of the bed, braced her feet against his knees. “Walk up me.”

“This is silly.”

“Only because you’re not used to having fun. You’re always thinking about other people’s needs, well, it’s high time someone met yours.”

“Take off the shoes and then you can meet my needs.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re going to have the pleasure of wearing these shoes. I’m beginning to think you buy them just to punish yourself.”

“That’s twisted psychology.”

“Exactly.”

“Dade . . .”

“Natalie,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

“Oh, easy for you to say, not so easy for you to do. A bit hypocritical, don’t you think, Vega?”

“Pay attention, we’re getting somewhere here.”

“You think?”

“Walk up me, baby.” He braced his knees against the bottoms of her feet.

“What’s the deal? You got a shoe fetish or something?”

“After seeing your closet, maybe I’ll develop one. Walk.”

She planted her left foot higher up on his right leg.

“Good girl. Now the other one.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not enjoying this.”

“Stop resisting and just relax.” He cradled her right calf in his palm. Her hamstrings were clenched tight. “Relax,” he crooned, kneading her leg. Slowly, he lifted her right leg and placed it parallel on his thigh with her other leg.

He looked down at her.

God, she was so beautiful, from her slender legs to that dark tuft of hair between her thighs to her firm breasts with the pert nipples. She had the creamy skin of a Scandinavian princess, and her curly pecan brown hair cascaded over the purple pillowcase. The girl must like purple, purple bra and panties, purple sheets. The color of royalty, and she was royal. His princess.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Huh?” He blinked.

“You’re staring.”

“Mesmerized,” he said. “I don’t know how you did it, Natalie McCleary, but you’ve got me under your spell.”

Even in the darkened room, he could see her blush. She blushed so easily. He liked that about her. Her feelings showed up on her face, real and unguarded. No hidden agendas with this one. What you saw was what you got, and damn, what a sight!

“Walk,” he said, getting back to the task he’d set for her. “Climb me, woman.”

She moved her legs up his body. With each step she took, he leaned forward just a little bit more. She stopped when she reached the top of his thighs. He was so hard now that it felt as if all the thundering blood through his body had rushed straight to his dick.

“Keep going,” he croaked.

She walked those saucy pink shoes up his hips to his belly. He groaned when the spiky stiletto heels dug into his stomach. Immediately, she drew her knees up, but he grabbed her legs and held her in place. “No, no, that was a good groan. Keep going.”

“I’m not hurting you?”

“The perfect kind of pain,” he said. “So pleasurable it hurts.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to show you.”

“Dade . . .”

“Keep going.”

She climbed.

He moved forward with her steps until he was hovering between her knees, bracing his palms against the mattress either side of her shoulders, her sharp heels poking into his nipples, his dick hot and hard as Mediterranean marble aiming straight for her feminine tunnel. All he’d have to do was sink lower a few inches and he’d be inside her.

She peered into his eyes, bit down on that plump bottom lip of hers.

Sweat popped up on his brow. Holy shit, this was erotic.

The heavy aching in his groin was almost too much to bear. It took every ounce of control he possessed not to push into her.

“What now?” she whispered.

“Keep walking.”

“I’m stretching like a pretzel.”