The Perfect Man (6 page)

He lifted a brow. “Grew up around cats. Like dogs, too, if that makes you feel any better. I say what I say because I mean it. I like doing nice things for people. Excuse me if my parents raised me to have manners. Nice guys do exist. We’re not fuckin’ unicorns. I kiss you like I care? I kiss you like you’re a beautiful woman who deserves sweetness. You didn’t see your face after you ran into Jonah. You were sheet white. You were shaking. I wanted to kiss you the moment I saw your face in that closet, but if I’d kissed you like I did when I dropped you off, I wouldn’t be here. It would have scared you away, and that’s the last thing I wanted. Taking my time and being sweet about it wasn’t a hardship. It felt—” He glanced down at Lucien, one finger idly stroking over his ears, his cheeks turning a dull red. “It felt natural. To kiss you like that. As for turning you into a puddle of mush? You ain’t mush yet, sweetheart.” His eyes flashed with heat, and he bent to set the kitten on the floor. “You got a towel or something I can wipe this sauce up with?”

Dammit.

I needed to lighten up. I was not going to argue over the finer points of a currently nonexistent relationship. He was perfect. He disagreed. We’d talk it in circles and still come to the same conclusions. So we’d put it aside. For now.

I set the spoon down and moved toward him. He had sauce on the back of his hand, a splatter of it high on his right bicep, more on his wrist. I started with his hand. The faint salt of his skin mixed with the tang of the sauce over my tongue. I worked my way down to his wrist, scraping my teeth over the thin inner skin, smiling when he hissed. I peeked at him through my lashes, the potent desire on his face filling me with a reckless need to throw caution to the wind. My lids drifted shut, and I lick the remaining sauce from his arm. Balancing on my toes, I planted a chaste kiss on his mouth. “Dinner in a few,” I murmured.

“Tease,” he muttered. But he let me go back to the stove. The pasta wasn’t quite done, so I told him more about Lucy while he let the kittens climb their way up his jeans.

Minutes later, we carried our bowls of pasta into the living room and settled in front of the fire. He slid me a look. “You’re going to pay for that little trick with the sauce, you know.”

I smirked, my heart thudding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

*

“Oh, dear god,” I moaned. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“If I knew you’d make sex noises, I would have skipped right to the sex.” Alex glared at me as I licked dripping chocolate from my thumb. After dinner, he went on a scavenger hunt through my kitchen, turning up the makings for s’mores. The snow was still falling thick and fast outside, the cars fluffy lumps under the white. When I opened the window and stuck my head outside, I was met with utter silence. No cars, no shouts, no plows.

He was here for the night.

I caught another drip of chocolate working its way down to my palm, grinning at Alex as I did so. “You know, if you wanted to lick it off, you shouldn’t have just sat there.”

He put down the box of crackers and got on his knees, prowling until I ended up on my back, staring up at him. “I think you’re done.”

I nodded, more than ready to move to the bedroom. There’d been a vague ache between my legs since I licked the sauce from his arm, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I licked my lips, heart pounding. “Please tell me you have condoms.”

His smile was slow and wicked. “What do you think took me so long? Had to make a stop on the way.” He got up and walked over to his coat, and I twisted onto my side and propped my head on my hand. He pulled out a box and held it up.

Condoms. Magnums. Sweet baby Jesus, what did I get myself into?

He stalked back to me and scooped me up, ignoring my squeak. Down the hall, into the darkened bedroom. He took a quick glance around before kicking the door shut behind him. A moment later I heard the tiny thunder of little paws and the pitiful meows. I giggled. Poor things. They’d just have to deal.

Instead of laying me on the bed, he set me on my feet next to it. He switched on the small lamp on my bedside table and set the box of condoms down. “There’s six in there. Want to see how many we can use in one night?”

My eyes widened. “Alex—”

He took my mouth, swallowing my response. His tongue swept over mine, igniting a liquid fire in my belly. Perfect man or not, there was no way in hell I was going to tell him to stop. The word no longer existed in my vocabulary.

I clung to him, certain if I let go I’d fall flat on my face. Kiss after kiss, pushing me higher, farther, faster, until my head spun and I was doing my best to meld my body to his, heedless of the layers of clothing between us. My earlier reservations shattered under the sheer
want
for him.

None of my past experiences prepared me for this.

He curled his fingers into the hem of my tank and he broke the kiss, whipping the shirt over my head. “Take your pants off for me, Hannah.”

It took a couple tries to get my fingers under the waistband of my pants, my hands were trembling so bad. “Hey,” he whispered, covering my hands with his. “Do you want to slow down?”

All at once, my hands stopped shaking. No, I didn’t want to slow down. I wanted him naked. I wanted his skin against mine. I wanted him in my bed, above me, behind me, under me, it didn’t matter. The way my body responded to his touch scared me, but I wasn’t going to let the fear keep this from happening.

I rose up and pressed my mouth to his. “I don’t want to slow down.” Together, we pushed the heavy fabric down and off. I slid my panties over my hips and down my legs, then reached for his fly. “Fair’s fair.”

Seconds later, we were both naked, clothing puddled on the floor around our feet. He lifted a single finger and ran it along my jaw, down my neck, wandering along my collarbone and down my chest, circling a nipple before continuing its journey south, dipping into my belly button, drifting down, down, down to trace a taunting circle my clit. I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed at how wet I was from so little foreplay. But my body didn’t care. It wanted more.

“I like this,” he murmured. He started to stroke, slip, slide, my hips following the movement, and he nipped into my jaw. “Fuckin’ hot.”

He caught my hand as I reached between our bodies, needing more pressure. “What’s the rush?” His finger bumped over my clit again and pressed down on the aching bundle of nerves. A wash of pleasure heated my skin. It wasn’t enough. I whined, jerking my hips.

He dropped his hand, and I cursed, glaring at him when he smirked. “On the bed, Hannah.”

I flipped the covers back and boosted myself up, shooting a glance over my shoulder as I crawled to the center of the bed. His gaze was fixed on my lower back, eyes gleaming darkly in the low light.

The last tattoo.

I rose up on my knees, holding out a hand to him. He took it, his free hand brushing over the ink. Gently, slowly, he turned my back to him, then bent me over so I was on my hands and knees. My heart skittered against my rib cage, his touch almost feather-light as he mapped the lines.

He started at the top, tracing down over the knuckles of the fingers cupping the bleeding heart. He found every drop of blood, every wrinkle in those palms, bringing tears to my eyes and making my sex clench. He kissed a line up, up, up, until he covered my back with his chest, the hard planes of it causing my brain to misfire. It was all too easy to imagine him like this, deep inside me, fucking me slow, pressing me into the bed.

His teeth closed around my nape, and I arched into him, the head of his cock parting my folds. “Christ. Hannah. Not yet.” He hauled me upright, palming a breast, and rolled the nipple between his fingers until it hardened. His mouth was busy licking and sucking at every part of me he could reach, the shell of my ear, the curve of my neck, the sloping line of my shoulder. He switched hands, and switched sides, tugging at my nipple to the point of pain, little pricks of it making me roll my hips, seeking relief.

But he didn’t venture any further south.

I reached behind me and gripped him, ran my nails along the underside of his cock, smiling when he groaned. If my arousal was going to go unsated and left to drip down my legs, I was going to give as good as I got. With my hands behind my back, I couldn’t touch as much of him as I wanted. I rubbed my thumb over his frenulum and cupped his balls in my other hand, testing their weight.

He released me so quickly I almost fell forward. “You win,” he growled. He fumbled with the box of condoms, tearing open the box and ripping into one of the foil packets. Smoothing the contents over his dick, he urged me back onto my hands. The head of his cock nudged my entrance, no preamble, no teasing, and he slid inside, inch by torturous inch.

It took everything I had not to shove my hips back at him, to take him in one swift thrust. When he was seated to the hilt, I was glad I’d been patient. After more than a year without sex, I needed to adjust.

His broken, jagged groan sent a shiver down my spine. “This one’s not going to last, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.”

Then he moved.

The fluttering started almost immediately, tiny ripples as he pushed in, pulled out, rolling his hips in a rough circle on the end of each thrust. Need rose and spiraled, threatening to consume me. In. Out. The air grew thick and heavy around us, closing in. The flutters slid into a constant pulse, and he groaned again, speeding up. I couldn’t breathe. My heart tripped and settled into a wild, uneven beat, the edge of orgasm rushing up as the pulse became a throb.

It wouldn’t last. It
couldn't
. Something this hot was meant to flare and consume and burn out fast, and I stretched toward that flame, wanting the devastation it promised.

With one last, vicious burst, I fell apart. I went blind, deaf, lost in my first release, true, tangible pleasure in more than a year. My arms gave out and I twisted my head to the side as I came down, Alex plunging hard once more and holding himself inside me, cursing as he came.

Boneless, damp with sweat, my legs began to shake. He pulled out and I winced. My legs gave out and I sprawled in an unattractive tangle of limbs in the center of the bed, watching through half-hooded eyes as he stumbled for the bathroom.

He returned a minute later carrying a glass of water. I managed to shift onto my side and sit up. “Please tell me that’s for me.”

He held up the glass. “What, this? Nah. You’ve got legs. You can get your own.” I poked my lower lip out, and he laughed, climbing onto the bed next to me. He handed over the water, and I drained half of it. He downed the rest, put the glass on the bedside table, then pulled me into his arms.

We lay back, and I molded myself to his side, my head on his chest, his heart thumping under my ear. “So tell me more about this perfect man.” His chest rumbled with the words, the vibrations rolling through me.

My breathing hitched in, and I swallowed hard. The click he’d spoken of had only gotten louder with the sex, to the point I had to strain to hear past it. I needed a wall. A barrier, to hold myself back, because clicks aside, I had to be sure what was between us had staying power. “Well,” I said, drawing the word out, “he’d be tall. Handsome. He’d have superb dragon slaying skills, and his horse would be a Pegasus. It’d be nice if the horse pooped rainbows, but it’s not a requirement.” He snorted. “He’d cook and shoo me out of the kitchen if I tried to help. He’d—” Alex’s hand had wandered down to palm my ass, stroking it possessively. Breathe. I needed to breathe. “He’d know my favorite color and my favorite movie without having to ask, and he’d let me control the remote.” I traced hearts over his chest.
You. You're perfect. You're perfect and you scare the crap out of me but I don't want to let you go. Not yet.

He slid his hand so it was under my thigh, and shifted my leg up. “I stand corrected. The perfect man is a myth. You’ll just have to settle for mere humans.” I laughed, and he rolled us so fast the laugh ended on a gasp. “And we’ll have to find out the answers by asking the questions.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “Favorite movie?” He started kissing his way along the side of my face, pausing to nuzzle at the soft spot under my ear.

“
Thomas Crown Affair
.” I splayed my hands over his back, tilting my head to give him better access. “The original, with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway.”

He licked a burning line down my throat. “Favorite color?”

Arousal flickered and caught, spreading slow heat through my veins. “Green.”

“Favorite book.” A nip into the crook of my neck, and I dug my nails into his back.

“
Perla
.”

He’d kissed his way to my breasts, and he flicked his tongue over a nipple. “Haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s by—” dear GOD he needed to do that again— “Carolina DeRobertis. It’s about the lost children of Argentina’s Dirty War.”

“Hmm.” His lips were sealed around my nipple as he hummed, and the sensation arrowed straight to my core. I wound my legs around his hips. “Favorite cartoon from when you were a kid?” The question came out a little ragged, and I rocked my hips against him, smiling when he hissed.

“
Thundercats
,” I murmured.

He resumed his torture, scraping his teeth over my other nipple, chuckling when I squealed. “Favorite 90’s band?”

I wanted him to stop talking. I wanted him to recite the phone book. Because his voice, in between the sensual taunts he lobbed at me with his mouth on my skin, had my hips rocking in greedy little thrusts. “Garbage,” I gasped.

His mouth moved over my stomach, and I tensed with anticipation. He wasn’t— Was he? He’d taste the latex, left over from the condom. He couldn’t—

He did.

The broad flat of his tongue swiped over my labia, parting the slick skin. “
Alex
.” I propped myself up on my elbows. He lifted his head, fire in his eyes. Using his fingers, he held me open and traced the sensitive flesh with his tongue. On a moan, I fell back. If the taste didn’t bother him, who was I to complain?