Just Another Pretty Face (HT 459) (11 page)

They were wide open.

Nikki halted in indecision.

If he was asleep, would she wake him by closing them? And, if he was awake, would he read something other than professional concern for his safety into her actions? She tiptoed closer...a step...two...until she was standing in the open doorway. She leaned forward, peering into the darkness of his room. "Pierce?" she whispered, too low for anyone who was sleeping to hear her.

There was no answer.

How on earth can he be sleeping?
she wondered indignantly.

Here she was, unable to close her eyes, all tangled up inside with frustrated passion and wildly confused emotions—and he was sleeping like an innocent baby! She had half a mind to wake him up and tell him just what she thought of his callous, uncaring behavior. She took a step forward, halfway intending to do just that.

"Planning to murder me in my sleep?" said a voice from behind her.

Nikki whirled around as if she'd been shot, her hand going up to her mouth to cover a squeak of surprise. He was sitting at the patio table in his familiar loose-limbed slouch, barefoot, bare chested, in a pair of soft old sweatpants with the drawstring waist riding low on his nonexistent hips. "Pierce, what in heaven's name are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" she demanded peevishly, aghast at being caught hovering around his bedroom door.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I was just checking," she said quickly, "to, ah... to see if you'd closed and locked your doors like I told you to."

He gave her a knowing look. "Uh-huh."

"Well, I was."

"Uh-huh," he said again, letting her know he wasn't fooled in the least by her flimsy excuse. He gestured at the squat green bottle on the glass-topped table in front of him. "Care to join me in a drink?"

Nikki tiptoed a few steps closer. "What is it?" she asked, trying not to stare at his bare, hairy chest. It looked a mile wide and as hard as sculpted marble in the moonlight.

"Armagnac. Fifty-year-old Armagnac." He took a healthy swallow from the oversized snifter he held cradled in his hand. "Good for what ails you."

Nikki reached out and touched her fingertips to the high arched back of one of the wrought-iron chairs. "And what ails you?" she asked quietly.

Pierce snorted and gave her an incredulous look.

"Yeah, me, too," she admitted, surprising them both with her candidness. She pulled the chair away from the table and plopped down into it. "Sexual frustration is hell, isn't it?" she said forlornly, like a child who'd just discovered that sad fact.

Pierce very nearly smiled. "Indeed it is," he agreed. He held the snifter out to her. "Sip?"

She took the oversized balloon-shaped glass in both hands and brought it to her nose to sniff. "Does it help?"

"No," he said, watching her tongue flicker out to taste the fiery liquid before committing herself to anything more. Nikki Martinelli was a cautious woman. Why was he only just realizing that?

She looked at him over the rim of the glass. "Does anything?" she asked seriously, as if she really wanted to know. "Help, I mean?"

"Only giving in to what ails you in the first place," he said bluntly, fighting the urge to show her just exactly what
would
help.

Nikki put the drink down onto the table between them, untasted. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get you all... riled up and then—" what was it her brothers always said? "—and then not come across with the goods. I know how men feel about a tease." Which was why she'd never let herself get into a situation where she could be accused of teasing. Until now.

"It isn't teasing if you mean it," Pierce said gently, feeling guilty for making her feel guilty. "Even if you change your mind later." He ran a fingertip around the rim of the snifter, concentrating on the repetitive motion in an effort to keep his eyes off her legs. "Besides, I'd say it worked both ways tonight." He looked at her from under his lashes, one corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. "You did imply you were suffering from some degree of sexual frustration yourself."

"Well, yes," Nikki admitted, staring at his slowly circling finger. "But it's my own fault. You were willing to—" she licked her lower lip "—to, ah..."

Pierce smiled. "Come across with the goods?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

"I still am," he said simply. "Now. A week from now. A month from now." He leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual and nonthreatening. If a first move was going to be made tonight, she would have to make it. "Whenever you're ready."

She just looked at him, helplessly, not knowing what to do or say.

Sensing her confusion, touched by it, he reached out and covered her hand with his where it lay on the table. "It's become very apparent to me that I tried to push you too far, too fast. You're not a woman who rushes into things. You need time to get to know me. To feel comfortable with me. To get used to being touched by me in a casual way before you commit yourself to anything more. That's nothing to feel guilty about. Hell," he said, and squeezed her hand, "in this day and age, that's a laudable approach to intimacy."

"That's not the reason I said no," she said, staring at his hand on hers. "Not the main reason, anyway. Mainly, I said no because—" she shrugged "—well, partially because you're my boss. And partially because you're who you are. I meant what I said earlier about not standing in line." She drew her hand out from under his and clasped both hers together in her lap to keep from reaching for him. "But mostly because..."

"Because?" Pierce prompted.

"There's something you should know about me," she said.

Pierce sat quietly, waiting for her to go on, wondering what terrible thing she was about to confess. From the look on her face it had to be something serious.

Nikki took a deep breath and lifted her gaze to his. There was no easy way to say, "I'm a sucker for a pretty face," she said, as if admitting to a strong liking for kinky sex acts.

Relief flooded through him. "And?" he prompted, trying to keep his lips from twitching.

"I'm... drawn to good-looking men, I guess you could say. I know it's shallow of me. That it's superficial. And stupid, considering all the grief they've given me. But I can't seem to help it. Every guy I've ever been attracted to has been good-looking. Not nearly as good looking as you," she added honestly, letting her gaze drift over his face for a moment. "But more than commonly attractive." She shrugged and looked down at her lap again. "I think it's probably some kind of Freudian complex or something. My father and all my brothers are big, good looking men, especially when they're all decked out in their navy whites. All the guys I had unrequited crushes on in every high school I ever went to were good-looking, too. And my fiance was a walking, talking navy recruiting poster."

"And he cheated on you."

That brought her gaze up to his. "How did you know?"

"The remark you made about not standing in line for any man again." He shrugged. "It wasn't difficult to figure out." He looked at the top of her bent head. "Want to tell me about it?"

"There's not much to tell. I fell head over heels in love with a pretty face and he fell head over heels in love with my father's rank and what he thought it could do for him. End of story."

"Hardly." Pierce's voice was dry and disbelieving.

"No, that's pretty much it," Nikki said. "The rest is the old familiar tale of a woman scorned. I went over to his apartment one afternoon with a picnic lunch, a surprise to welcome him home from an extended training mission." She gave a short mirthless little laugh. "The surprise was on me."

"He was with another woman."

"Yes. Buck naked and thrashing around on the living room floor in the final throes of ecstasy."

"It must have hurt."

"Like hell," Nikki admitted. "Especially since he'd refused to make love to
me.
I'd shown him in every way I knew how that I was willing to sleep with him anytime he wanted me, but he said he wanted to do everything right, to wait until the wedding night, and I'd agreed because I thought it was so romantic and gallant of him. The truth was that he was afraid my father or one of my brothers would find out if he took me to bed before the ceremony and it would ruin his chances for a fast promotion. Bump him right off the fast track. He didn't want me enough to risk it."

"The fool." Pierce's voice was scathing.

"No, he was right, it probably would have affected his career. The men in my family are stereotypical Italians when it comes to their women. Any one of them would have squashed him like a bug if they thought he'd taken advantage of me."

"So did you ruin him instead?"

"No. I told my family I'd changed my mind about getting married and ran off to join the marines."

"And vowed never to trust another good-looking man again as long as you lived."

"And vowed never to trust
myself
with another good-looking man as long as I lived," Nikki corrected him.

Pierce looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment, wondering what he could say to convince her that she could trust herself to him, especially when he wasn't sure she could, completely. "I'd never cheat on you," he said at last, because it was the only promise he could make. He reached out and touched her cheek, stroking it gently with the backs of his fingers. "And I want you enough to risk anything, even the wrath of your menfolk." His fingers drifted under her chin, lifting it. "The question is, do you want me enough to take a few risks of your own?"

And that,
Nikki thought, staring into his eyes,
is the sixty-four thousand dollar question.
Did she want him enough to cast aside all her doubts and hesitations? Did she want him enough to take another chance on getting hurt? She took a shaky breath. "Yes," she said, realizing as she said it that it was truer than anything had ever been. She wanted him enough to risk anything.

"I'm not promising you a lifetime of tomorrows, or some rosy happily ever after," he warned her, compelled to be brutally honest. "I don't have that in me. But I am promising complete faithfulness while we're together. If that isn't enough, well—" he let his hand drop from her face "—then I'll back off now."

Nikki reached out and captured the hand that had been caressing her face. "It's enough," she said, and brought it to her T-shirt covered breast.

Pierce's breath hissed inward with excitement, but he controlled himself. He curled his fingers very gently around her softness. "You're sure?" he murmured.

"Yes," she said fiercely, closing her eyes against the pleasure of his touch. "Yes."

"You don't want to wait to get to know me a little better first?"

She opened her eyes. "Not unless you do," she began uncertainly, and Pierce could see the self-doubt building in her eyes.

Cursing himself for his clumsiness, Pierce surged to his feet and pulled her out of the chair and into his arms. One big hand curved over her tight little buttocks, pressing her lower body against the granite hardness of his loins. "I don't even want to wait to get you into bed." He growled the words into her ear. "But I think I can manage to restrain myself until then. Barely," he said, bending down to swoop her up into his arms.

He carried her across the stone terrace and through the open doors into his bedroom. She felt the tangled sheets under her back—evidence of his previous restlessness—as he laid her on the bed. And then his body came down on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress, and all she could feel was him.

He forgot his promise to himself to go slowly as her arms came up around his neck. He forgot about savoring and feasting and prolonging consummation until they were both crazy for it. All he could think about, now, with her soft and sweet and yielding beneath him, was the driving need for immediate possession.

He covered her mouth with his, roughly, thrusting his tongue between her lips, demanding immediate entrance. His hands skimmed along her sides, grasping her hips to pull her more fully under him, then smoothing down her thighs to the backs of her knees, lifting them high so he could settle himself more firmly between her legs. He thrust against her heavily, in fevered simulation of the act to come. Instinctively, wanting him even closer, she locked her ankles across the small of his back and lifted her hips into the blatantly carnal caress. He groaned, deep in his chest, and pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could look down at her.

"I fantasized about this from the minute I saw you," he said raggedly, holding her head cradled in his palms. "You, under me, with your gorgeous legs wrapped around my waist." He pressed soft, openmouthed kisses over her face as he slowly rotated his hips against the apex of her thighs. "I promised to lick every inch of your legs... remember?"

Her lips trembled against his. "I remember," she said.

"And I will," he promised hoarsely. "Later." He kissed her again, hotly, deeply, his fingers spread in the short feathery layers of her silky hair, his thumbs stroking the delicate underside of her jaw, his mouth open wide over hers, as if he meant to consume her. They were both breathing hard when he lifted his head again. "Right now, I just want to be inside you. I need to be inside you," he confessed gruffly, his voice thick with passion. He reached down as he spoke, catching the hem of her T-shirt in his hands, dragging it up and over her head. "Let's get this off."

Nikki helped him, arching her back, lifting her shoulders, raising her arms to facilitate the garment's removal. It was nothing but a barrier to what she wanted with every fiber of her being. She reached down as he tossed the T-shirt away, hooking her thumbs in the elastic of her panties, frantically trying to wriggle out of them.

He levered himself up off her body, rolling to the side to rid himself of his own remaining garment. He kicked his sweatpants to the floor and reached for her, one arm sliding under her shoulders to hold her close, the other hand reaching for the treasure hidden between her legs. Her hips bucked when he touched the slick wet heat of her and she grabbed his upper arms, biting down on her bottom lip to hold back a whimper as he gently probed her body's most delicate folds. The whimper escaped as he inserted one long finger into her, and she tensed, her heels pressing into the mattress, her body going as stiff as a board. He withdrew, then entered her again, even more gently than before, going a bit deeper this time. Her whimper turned to a little gasping pant, a sound that was half primal feminine fear, half unbearable excitement. Her hands tightened on his arms, her fingers digging into the rock-hard muscles of his biceps as she waited for him to take the next step.