Innocent Next Door (Military Men Book 1) (4 page)

“God, you’re stubborn. Just like Henry. No more arguing or I’ll paddle your butt.”

Right, that did it—underhand tactics required. She spun around and fluttered her lashes. “Oh, kinky. Sounds like fun.”

They stared at each other until he cleared his throat, breaking the silent challenge flaring between them. “I’d be gentle with you.”

A shiver rippled through her, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature in the dimly lit passage. “Yeah, but would you respect me in the morning?”

A bark of laughter escaped him, changing the harsh angles of his face to handsome. “I thought we’d established I’m too old for you to hone your skills on.”

She forced herself to move. What the heck was wrong with her? She wasn’t usually susceptible to a military man. “We discussed it, but I wasn’t aware we’d come to an agreement.” Oops, what had happened to the naïve country girl from Eketahuna? And the decision that he was too old for her?

Nikolai brushed past her, heading for the bathroom. She heard the bang of a cupboard as it closed, the slide of the medicine cabinet and the hitch of careful footsteps as he limped back. Her insides clenched in anticipation.

“This your room?”

She nodded, eyeing him warily. She wasn’t going to let him look at her butt, was she?

“On the bed.”

An order. She remained in the bedroom doorway. The room seemed smaller than she remembered and a lot messier. Her gaze darted to the filmy underwear littering the floor. The piles of bright, in-your-face colors lying on the green carpet reminded her of wildflowers. Not one pair of plain white granny pants in sight. She tried to take comfort from that fact.

“I wonder what they were looking for,” she mumbled. Conversation. That was what she required—something to distract both of them. “Do you think they were after goods to sell, because I haven’t found anything missing yet? And ‘they’ll be back’ sounds like a line from a second-rate movie.”

Nikolai stepped over a turquoise-colored bra with barely a pause. “Don’t try to change the subject. On the bed.”

The unyielding jaw suggested it was useless to argue, while her innate common sense suggested she close her eyes and think of…England.

While she hesitated, he straightened the covers and gestured impatiently. She hesitated until he quirked a challenging brow in her direction. Finally, she huffed out a put-upon sigh and stretched out, facedown on the bed, her pulse rate racing.

Silence fell, and her senses jump-started into hyperdrive. The groan of the first-aid box snapped like rifle fire when Nikolai opened it, the rustle of plasters and bandages, the return volley. The mattress depressed on one side as he sat beside her. Heat gathered in her face.

He was staring at her butt.

She just knew it.

The silk of her nightgown rustled as he raised the hem. Cool air brushed across the tops of her thighs.

“Hell, why didn’t you say something earlier? That must hurt.”

He was looking at her legs. Fingers curled into the duvet cover while she bit back a moan. Beneath the silk fabric of the nightgown bodice, her nipples tightened while liquid warmth between her legs made her heart stutter in distinct alarm.

His fingers trailed over her left calf and up her thigh. The emotion in her face sprinted downward and spread until her body burned with unrelenting heat. She squirmed inwardly. Thank goodness, he couldn’t see her expression or witness how turned-on she was, how much she wanted to explore his delectable body in return. Despite her virginal state, she lacked nothing in the imagination department.

“Can you hurry the process?” She wasn’t proud of the begging tone, but desperation left no room for dignity.

She heard him rummaging through the first-aid kit. A metallic clink.

“This will hurt,” he warned.

Not half as much as her pride. His fingers skimmed her thighs again. She trembled. Please let him hurry. She didn’t think she could take much more of this torture. Actually, the pain wasn’t too bad. At least it helped her concentrate on something other than his touch.

“All done.” The tweezers clattered against the kit as he put them down. “A little antiseptic and you’ll live. I’ll check the scratches for infection tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so. One free look at my butt is all you get.” She turned over and sat up, tugging the silk nightgown down as far as it would go. He had the gall to laugh—a low, sexy chortle that sucked at her insides.

“Will you be okay here for the rest of the night, or do you want to sleep at my house in case they decide to return?”

Her gaze shot to him. Exactly what was he offering? Sudden pressure in her lungs reminded her to breathe. “I’ll sleep here.” The flexing of his jaw indicated he intended to argue. “You gave me an option and I’ve answered. I’ll be fine. Despite the phone call, I doubt they’ll return tonight.”

His hesitation urged her to assert herself before he started pushing her around. “I’ll lock the windows and doors.”

“I’ll stay here tonight,” he informed her as if she hadn’t said a word.

“In my bed?” To her immense frustration, her sentence ended on a squeak.

Nikolai glanced at the bed and back at her. His lips kicked up in a faint smile. “Does it look as if we’d both fit in this sorry excuse for a bed?”

“There’s no need for sarcasm.”

“I’ll sleep in Henry’s room.”

“Fine. You’re going to do what you want no matter what I say.” She stalked to her bedroom door and arched her brows in a silent order for him to leave. He made no effort to depart, and she spelled it out bluntly. “Good night.”

The instant he cleared the doorway, she slammed her door shut. She heard a chuckle before his slow, uneven retreat.
Good. He’s gone.

As she picked up a hairbrush and a tube of lipstick, she shoved Nikolai from her mind or tried to. Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of him. The first-aid kit still sat on her bed. Used pieces of cotton wool and a tube of antiseptic ointment were in plain sight, the impression his body had made on her duvet jolted her back in time. Lord, she could even smell the spicy scent of his soap.

Summer stomped around her bed and picked up a discarded drawer. She scooped up piles of silky lingerie and dumped them inside. She gathered a pile of books the intruders had tossed on the floor, along with the ring binder containing her study notes. Once the room looked more habitable, she decided to attempt sleep. She crawled under the covers and flicked off the bedside lamp.

Ten minutes later, she was still wide-awake. She reached over and turned on her lamp. She’d read. That was what she’d do. She checked the shelf where she’d left her parcel, frowned then fished inside the straw basket by her bed. Ah-ha! She extracted a package wrapped in brown paper from amongst two others and the rest of the junk in her basket. Ripping it open, she smiled and turned over the first book. Her satisfaction faded. She pulled the second book from the parcel and scanned the title, then the third.

This wasn’t her package.

These weren’t her books.

A frustrated scream lodged in her throat, but she bit down on her tongue and glared at a book on fly-fishing. She would’ve released the screech if it wasn’t for Nikolai’s presence.

A card fluttered free from one of the books. It read,
Special order for Alistair Martin
.

So much for the reading idea.

She groaned and hoped Alistair Martin appreciated her hot romances.

Chapter Four

Nikolai haunted her thoughts all day just as he’d inhabited her Technicolor dreams throughout the night. The naked visual in her memory combined with all the sexual how-to articles she’d read to produce a truly stunning fantasy.

Two people slow dancing, their arms wrapped around each other. She and the big, bad SAS man. Slowly undressing. Letting clothing fall to the carpet while they continued to move to the music, rubbing against each other, pausing to slide lips across each newly bared body part. Her breasts tingling as Nikolai slid his mouth across the upper slopes and curves then tugged at a straining nipple through the silky fabric of her lemon-colored bra. He pulled away, leaving a circle of wet fabric.

“Do you like that?”

Summer considered. “I’m not sure. You’d better do it again.”

Nikolai laughed, his dark eyes gleaming. “We can’t have that. A woman should have an opinion about something this important.” And he bent his dark head again, sucking the tip of her other fabric-covered nipple into his mouth.

A sensation of heat engulfed her entire body. She gripped his shoulder. “I need… It might be better if I took this off. I wouldn’t want you to get fluff-balls.”

Two dark brows shot toward his hairline as he released her nipple to stare at her. “Fluff-balls?”

“Like fur-balls in cats.”

“You know, I think you’re right.” His hand slid behind her back, and with a casual flick, her bra fell open. “While we’re at it, maybe we should get comfortable. How does the bed sound? We can try the kitchen table next time.”

Was he teasing? She tipped her head back to study his face, her pulse kicking up at the sensual promise in his slumberous eyes, his smiling lips.

The rest of their clothes dissolved. Suddenly, cool cotton sheets were at her back, and Nikolai leaned over her, his tanned fingers exploring her breasts. She stirred restlessly, her breasts aching for his touch. When he finally touched her nipples, he pinched them hard. The corresponding jolt between her legs made her cry out.

“I’m going to make you so hot for me you’ll beg,” he whispered against her belly. “I’m going to make you wet and hungry. Your pussy is going to weep for my possession.” He kissed her quivering belly and used his tongue to trace her belly button. “I’m going to lap your juices and tease your clit like this.” His tongue darted inside her navel then he licked around the rim.

His demonstration hiked her pulse rate. Excitement and anticipation warred as his hands alternatively soothed and plucked her breasts, and his mouth explored her belly button. The juncture of her thighs ached. She writhed and squirmed as her hips lifted. Liquid honey flowed from her cleft.

Her breath caught as Nikolai moved lower, his hot breath stirring the short hair on her mound. His tongue traced the heart-shaped thatch, leaving a gleaming wet path in his wake.

Summer’s legs splayed, and she lifted her hips shamelessly, silently begging for his intimate touch. She felt so wet. So needy.

Nikolai parted her legs even farther, baring her to his sight.

“You’re wet for me.” His breath washed against her swollen clit. He blew against the tiny nub, and an intense shiver racked her body. “But you haven’t begged yet. Ask, Summer. Ask me to give you pleasure. Tell me what you’d like. My mouth. My cock.” He looked up at her then, their gazes colliding. His dark eyes compelling, dominant and so heavy with heat and promise that another shudder swept her body. “Tell me you want me.”

“Please, Nikolai. I need you inside me. Please ease the sweet ache. Nikolai. Please.”

She’d woken tingling, shuddering and so hot that a slow, cruising finger across her engorged clitoris had thrown her headlong into a toe-tingling orgasm. Now she craved the real thing, with the original Nikolai instead of a dream figure.

Oh, yeah.

Flapping a hand in front of her hot face, she shoved a returned library book from her trolley onto the shelf. But she refused to replace her well-meaning family with a bossy boyfriend. She sighed in resignation. Perhaps she’d buy a copy of the magazine with the article about sex toys. Then she could make an informed choice in the adult shop she’d seen in Papakura. Sex toys were the way to go until she met a worthy man, one that wouldn’t boss her around and lay down the law.

“Wake up, Summer,” the head librarian snapped, appearing from behind the animal husbandry section. “You’ve shelved that book in the wrong place.”

The thin, dark-haired woman plucked the hardcover from the section on agriculture and thrust it at her. “Find its correct home then you may leave. I trust you’ll pay more attention tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Ferguson.” Something else to blame on
him
. She shoved the tome on the science shelf and stomped off to grab her orange straw basket and car keys.

She hoped this Alistair Martin was home because she wanted her books. Needed them. It was enough to drive a girl to write her own romances. In fact, she’d started composing chapter one in her head last night. The idea would’ve worked if the hero hadn’t morphed into Nikolai. Her character had appeared with a distinctive bossy streak along with a hot body. Suffice to say, her sleep had become restless.

Summer fired up her rattle-trap car and backed from the parking space. She needed her hot and steamy romances. Fly-fishing just didn’t do it for her. After driving down Queen Street, she indicated and transferred to the lane heading for Parnell.

“Number fifty-five, fifty-seven… A restaurant? That can’t be right.” She glanced at the card again. Definitely fifty-nine. A vacant car park decided the situation. She zipped into the space, scooped up the books and exited her vehicle.

The restaurant was beautiful. Classy. At least to the eyes of a woman from small town Eketahuna. Her heels clicked over the mocha-colored tiles and intricate mosaic insets until she stood in a reception area. Over to her left, there was a bar area with plush chocolate carpets and built-in leather seating. Two couples sat in a booth, drinks before them, while four businessmen stood at the bar.

A stylish woman appeared in front of her. “Hello. Table for one?”

“Yes, please.” A drink was a good idea.

She followed the woman to a table in an outside courtyard. Cacti and succulents in ceramic planters were arranged around the cobbled patio. Red and green umbrellas provided shade while music with a Spanish vibe gave an exotic ambience. She half expected a man in a swirling black cape with a rose clamped between his teeth to appear from next door.

The woman seated her and produced a menu. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”