More Than a Man (11 page)

Long moments later, Aya pulled himself free.
Slowly, he unwrapped the tentacle from her head and retracted it
into his abdomen. She blinked in the light, her hazel eyes wavering
between mossy green and a stormy gray, the emotion unreadable.

The other tentacle he lifted to his mouth.
While she watched, eyes wide, he licked the tip clean. She tasted
of salt and musk and something citrusy. The flavor reminded him of
this morning, when he could have spent hours buried between her
thighs tasting her cream but for the interruption of a ‘fone call.
He could spend hours eating her tonight. After they got home.

“Better than dessert.” He stroked her hair
before offering his hand to help her off the floor. Not speaking,
she grasped his fingers and pushed herself to stand, swaying
slightly with the effort.

Aya absorbed the tentacle and reached across
to the sink to dampen a wash cloth. They both needed a bit of clean
up before returning to the patio. He studied her for a moment
before moving to wipe her thighs. Noelle leaned against his
shoulder, her silence soft instead of hard. She was much more
relaxed, more focused on him and her own body. Hopefully it was
enough to last until they left.

Chapter Six

The strain of dinner was nothing compared to
Noelle’s nervousness while she waited for Aya to join her for bed.
She splashed water over her face and tried to reclaim some of the
calm, cared-for feeling she’d enjoyed after their interlude in her
parents’ guest bathroom. Upon their return, Joy had suggested a
walk down to the neighborhood’s manmade pond while Richard and
Vivian tidied after the meal and relaxed with the remainder of the
wine from dinner. Noelle was happy for the opportunity to distance
herself from her mother and avoid further upsetting Aya with her
interpretation of her mother’s attitude toward him.

Joy and Aya got on well together, with Joy
leading the conversation and Noelle content to focus on the warmth
of his fingers twined with hers. She discovered he had a talent for
mimicking birdcall and a genuine interest in film production, which
was something Joy could talk about for hours given half the chance.
Watching him smile openly for her sister continued to leave her
raw. She envied the easy connection between her husband and sister
and found herself wishing she’d met him without any preconceived
ideas about personalities or roles. Aya was a man who would have
challenged her commitment to Manporium matches, who could have
persuaded her of the merits of eyes-across-a-crowded-room
attraction.

She was just as uncertain with him as she
would’ve been with a stranger, anyway, wondering whether he found
her attractive, whether he found her likeable. He professed desire
for her. The physical evidence was undeniable. Her lips quirked as
she dried her face with a hand towel. His “physical evidence” was
freaking amazing. As delectable as he’d been in her mouth, she
couldn’t wait to feel him inside, his hard, hot body covering and
claiming her.

Despite her eagerness to hold him in her
arms, the anxiety wouldn’t fade. Noelle tried to ignore it and
occupied herself with quickly clearing storage space so he’d have a
place for his belongings, which currently occupied a canvas bag in
one corner of her bedroom. It was silly for her to be so nervous.
It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done everything short of actual sex.
There wasn’t a part of her body he hadn’t seen or touched.

Except…tonight
was
different. If
they’d gone ahead and done the deed earlier, it would have seemed
natural, an outgrowth of the frenzy she seemed to experience all
day. But now she wasn’t desperate. She wasn’t so horny that it
overcame her doubts. She’d had more orgasms today than she could
remember ever having in a twenty-four hour period. His knowledge of
her body both comforted and frightened her. On the one hand, he
cared enough about her pleasure to seek out the places, the
sensations that worked best for her. A lover so committed to her
pleasure had a strong appeal. On the other hand, his intensity was
more than a little overwhelming. He was so determined to learn
everything about her, to leave her no secrets, she feared losing
herself in him. Fear. Yeah, that was the problem. Disgusted with
herself, she stripped, dumped her clothes in the hamper, and dove
under the covers. And waited.

And waited.

Frowning, she sat up and squinted at the
clock.

He’d said he had a few things to take care of
before bed. That had been nearly half an hour ago. What was he
doing?

Should she get up? Go see what he was up
to?

Suddenly tired, she breathed in deeply.
Forget it. He’d get here when he did. She wasn’t going to chase him
all over the house. Hurt balled in her chest, mixed with what might
have been resignation. Well, the rest of the relationship was going
faster than her previous ones. Why not this, too? It had taken
months before the others had been distracted enough to start
pursuing their hobbies. It figured Aya would move into his
independence faster, too. Then again, he seemed generally
more…complete than either John or Micah. Both previous husbands had
needed to find what made them whole. She, of course, had been part
of that. But not all of it. John had needed the rush of
adrenaline–and it had been her list that had given him that need.
She’d learned though, and for Micah had pulled back. Even so, Micah
had needed to be out there, needed to push himself. While she’d
lost John to the adrenaline rush and not some small bit of ego,
she’d lost Micah to the overdeveloped desire to be a hero.

Again, she’d asked for it, she’d made him put
other people above his own safety, had him created to seek out ways
to be a hero. Deity, that had hurt. She’d loved John in the
carefree, shallow way of youth, enjoying the fall and the rush of
first love. Micah had been more. Even now guilt and grief warred
with pride when she considered him. Guilt for her part in creating
him, grief over the loss, and pride that he’d been a good man.

Noelle dashed the tears from her cheeks. It
was her first night with her new husband. She should be looking
forward, not back. Already Aya had set roots into her heart that
had taken faster than either John or Micah. John had never been a
deep love, and Micah had been a slow, steady warmth.

Aya was a raging inferno.

Oh, Deity. Her lungs seized up. She’d gone
back too soon. She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready for the emotional
storm Aya created in her. Wasn’t ready to open herself to the hurt
again. Another loss would destroy her. Losing Aya... She couldn’t
think about it. No. Just no.

She flipped over, punched the pillow.

To distract herself, she ran through the
groundwork of the corporate trust agreement she needed to finalize
this week. Closing her eyes, she visualized the clause structure.
They needed to clarify clause 13.2.4 before they could rework
section 14. Maybe…

Warmth bloomed in her belly. Soothing, soft,
safe. Easy, feathered touches brushed over her skin, along her
arms, over her belly. It was lovely, undemanding. She didn’t need
to do anything, just float in the glow.

Noelle sighed, stretched. Stayed stretched.
Some kind of gentle pressure at her arms, her ankles. Her skin
pulled taut, her nerves sensitizing to the light caresses. Sweet
shivers ran under her skin, prickled along her spine. Pleasure was
a haze in her brain, fogging her thoughts. No need to think. Just
feel. Let it all go.

Slowly, arousal crept into the easy pleasure.
Heat seeped into the warmth, pulling her closer to
consciousness.

It occurred to her, finally, to wonder.
What—or who—was the source of her pleasure? Still, it seemed too
difficult to open her eyes. Too difficult to think.

One thing at a time.

Why was she stretched?

Her eyes flew open. She was tied to the bed
and the sweet tang of pine needles and apple cider warmed the room.
“Aya?”

He chuckled, breath warm against her waist.
“Yes.”

“What are you doing?” The room was dim, lit
only by the stubs of her Christmas candles, which explained the
pine tree scent. Not enough light to dispel the darkness, not
enough to see him clearly.

“I’d think that was obvious.” He ran a
fingertip up the center of her breastbone to the base of her
throat. Chills spread over her chest, beading her nipples.

Even in the gloom, she could see the white
flash of his teeth.

“I was asleep. Nothing’s obvious when I just
wake up.” Her shoulders and arms pulled upwards, lashed to the
headboard. Noelle tugged to test the bonds. She shook her head,
trying to clear it. “It’s obvious you’ve tied me up. Why am I tied
to the bed?”

“Because you like it. And because I like it.”
He ignored her proffered breasts, instead tracing tiny circles
across the top of her chest before moving to the sensitive skin
under her arms. Any other time, any faster or more firm with the
pressure, and it would have tickled. Instead, her nipples tightened
painfully and her hips twitched in response.

Well. He had a point there. She did like it.
Raising her head, she focused on his shadowy form. Candlelight
glinted off the hoops in his nipples. Her pulse leapt and her mouth
dried. He was still beautiful. She hadn’t dreamt that. “I want to
touch you.”

He rose above her and looked into her eyes.
“You will. I just want to do this first. I promise I’ll let you
go.”

Something about that phrasing tickled her
lawyer’s mind. “When?”

His teeth shone again. “Soon. Now stop
talking and enjoy.”

His fingers trailed up to stroke the
sensitive insides of her elbows, making it hard to argue. He hadn’t
touched her anywhere truly intimate, but the sense of intimacy from
his touch was profound. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t break the
connection he forged between them. With every careful stroke he
drew her closer, deeper into himself, into the two of them
together. It was almost painfully erotic.

Aya dropped his face toward hers, moving with
aching slowness. Finally, finally, his lips met hers. She arched
her neck, eager to blend their tastes, thirsty for his kiss. Still,
he held back. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her
mouth, probing gently at the corners to find pleasure points she
hadn’t known she had.

Moaning, Noelle tilted her head, trying to
capture his kiss. She wanted his warm cookie flavor more than she
had ever wanted anything, more than she’d wanted sex. How did he do
this to her?

By increments, he sank his mouth into hers,
meshing lips and tongues in a tangle of emotions for which she had
no words. Desire, lust, affection, comfort. All of those were true,
but they weren’t Truth. Something dark and profound began to rise
from the deepest parts of her soul. Something sweet and sharp and
beautiful. Something she didn’t want to name.

Suddenly frightened, she wrenched her mouth
from his and gasped, “Wait.”

He pulled back, eyes dark and serious in the
flickering shadows. “You’re scared.”

She was. Terrified of the extent of her
reaction to him. Instead of answering, she lowered her eyes.

“Look at me.” He cupped her face, his touch
gentle at the corners of her eyes. “It’s all right. I’m scared,
too.”

“You can’t be. Not the same way I am.”
Straining against her bonds, she tipped her elbows toward her head.
She needed somewhere to hide.

But Aya wouldn’t let her hide. His thumbs
brushed her cheekbones. “Why can’t I? You’re different and new to
me, too. I want in and you want to crouch behind the shields you’ve
built. Why can’t I be afraid of falling in love with you, of
feeling more than what I’ve been conditioned to feel, when you’re
fighting so hard to keep me out?”

The dark, profound thing surged behind her
ribs, demanding she acknowledge it. Noelle swallowed. “I’m afraid.”
She said it out loud, though she suspected he already knew.

His lips grazed her jaw and he licked behind
her ear, raising goosebumps across every inch of her skin. She
shivered in response to his whispered, “Let me show you what we can
be together. Don’t shut me out. Trust me.”

”I let you tie me up.” More, she’d blindly
knelt at his feet and sucked his cock in her parents’ house. She’d
let him pin her like a butterfly in the dressing room of a public
store. What was she doing if not trusting him?

His beard growth rasped her cheek. “That’s
not what I mean.”

Confusion and anxiety sharpened her tone.
“Then I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. But for now, I want you to let
me pleasure you. Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Aya slid his parted lips along her
collarbone, a damp drag of heat that rekindled the warmth in her
belly. He skimmed the outer curves of her breasts, teasing her with
the promise of touches to come. Infinitely patient, he eased her
back from her panic, using small touches and fleeting kisses to
gentle her. Slowly, the hard knot in her chest eased and her breath
stopped catching in her throat. Something rooted deeper than her
uncertainty and she shuddered, resistance falling away under his
relentless gentleness. More than gentleness. His touch was caring,
seeking and soothing, arousing and calming. She couldn’t fight
that. She couldn’t fight herself.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered against her
neck, his tongue flicking along a tendon.

She closed her eyes, let the darkness and the
sensation swamp her. It was freeing, in a way. No responsibility,
no expectation, just her body’s response to Aya.

He took his time exploring her, less hurried,
less urgent than he’d been that morning. His tongue catalogued
every hidden pleasure center. Some she expected: inner elbows, the
dip of her waist, the line under her ribs, the soft lower curve of
her breast. Others…Aya found spots nobody else had ever discovered.
In the hollow of her hip a light brush coaxed a whimper. A questing
lick along the ridge of her ankle bone elicited moans.