Sweet on You (10 page)

She hummed as his hand ran all the way up the back of her leg. It didn't stop until his fingers found the edge of her lacy new underwear.

"Do you rip the wrapping off your presents?" she asked as she nuzzled his neck where his shirt opened at the collar. "Or do you enjoy the wrapping just as much as what's underneath?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you should take the time to appreciate the wrapping once in a while."

He lifted his head and looked at her with that enigmatic gaze. Then he turned her around.

She frowned, her hands bracing on the glass. "What are you doing?"

"Unwrapping my present," he whispered in her ear as he unzipped the back of her dress. "Slowly."

The lace gave way, loosening at the top and then all the way down to her hips. Nico's hands slid under the straps and dragged them down her arms. She shimmied her arms out to help him.

Her dress fell to the floor.

She stepped out of it and kicked it aside, so she stood there in her heels and the new red number.

There was silence behind her. She saw his reflection in the window, staring at her body like it was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.

He ran a hand over her curves and then tugged on the thong. "Who makes this? I want to buy stock in the company."

She chuckled and then turned around. Grabbing his shirt, she tugged him closer and began unbuttoning. "Your turn."

She slowly undid his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, running her hands over his taut chest. He was muscular, the kind that was more like a construction worker than a pampered executive. His skin was tanned, like the perfect latte.

"When I was a kid, on Christmas my brother would always complain because I took too long opening my presents. The exterior delighted me as much as what was inside." She smiled up at Nico. "I may have been a little slower just to annoy him though."

"You and your brother are close."

Her humor faded, and she dropped her gaze to his chest. Instead of answering, she shrugged, and then she kissed his chest, to distract them both. Because she liked it, she did it again.

His hands gathered in her hair and he pulled her close. Lifting her head, she got on her toes and brought his mouth down to hers as she unbuckled his belt and slid her hand in. Her eyes widened when her fingers met naked, hard, silky flesh. "You
do
go commando."

He hummed deep in his throat, pressing her closer, his fingers sliding under her lace panties.

The tip of his longest finger grazed her sex, the faintest brush that had her panting, just like the last time. She unzipped his pants and shoved them down. He kicked off his shoes and, with her help, his socks and everything else.

They stood and stared at each other, admiring.

Wanting.

And then he picked her up and carried her to the couch, sitting so that she straddled his hips on top.

"We can get rid of this." He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. "I've admired my present long enough, I think."

"I think so too." She wiggled out of her underwear and tossed that aside, too.

Suddenly he held a condom—she had no idea where it came from, but she put her hand out. "Let me."

He handed it over silently and sat back, arms folded behind his head, watching her with so much desire it made her breath catch.

She ripped the wrapper off and slowly sheathed him, taking her time, knowing it was driving him crazy. Her hands caressed all of him in the process, until his hips were arching up and he groaned in need.

Then his hands grabbed her and settled her on top. His gaze was glittery with need, his jaw tight like his control was almost at an end. "You're playing with me."

"And you like it."

He growled as he rolled over so she was on the bottom. "We'll see how much you like."

She arched as his mouth trailed down her torso. "That sounded like a threat."

His hands pushed her thighs open. "I don't threaten, baby. I just do," he promised as he lowered his head.

And then he
did
—with his mouth and fingers, until she was writhing uncontrollably on the leather. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he focused on the one most sensitive spot and sucked gently.

She screeched, gripping his head, coming off the couch.

Without pause, he shifted and slid inside her to the hilt. Two thrusts and she came again, her cries swallowed by his kisses. She gripped him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging him faster.

He didn't take much urging. Moments later he groaned in orgasm himself, arching up, his face taut with ecstasy.

Then he lowered himself on top of her.

They lay there, sweaty, for a long time. Then she said, "I'm a big fan of having dessert before dinner."

He ran a hand over her hip and down her thigh. "I could tell."

"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't have dessert after dinner, too."

"You're already thinking to the next time?"

"Of course." She smiled innocently at him. "I have a sweet tooth."

Chapter Thirteen

Marley crouched in the doorway to the main kitchen in their house, peering around the corner to see Daniela in an overlarge man's shirt, barefoot and seemingly naked underneath, whisking something in a bowl.

Her boss was
singing
.

It wouldn't have been an unusual occurrence a year ago. But since before they'd moved to San Francisco, Marley would have been able to count on one hand the number of times she'd caught Daniela singing. She'd have been able to count on one hand even if she'd had both her hands amputated.

She ducked as Daniela danced around the corner and did a little two-step to Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

Singing. Cooking without clothes on. Strange phone calls. Not coming home until really early in the morning.

Brian was right: there was a man in this scenario.

Her cell phone rang. Cursing under her breath, she crawled backwards, away from the kitchen so her boss wouldn't catch her. She looked at the screen and, answered, whispering, "Brian, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That Daniela was seeing someone."

"Marley, do you have laryngitis?"

"No." She almost dropped the phone as she continued to crawl down the hallway, so Daniela wouldn't hear her. "I'm being stealthy."

"Oh." Then he whispered back, "Why?"

"Because I was peeking in on my boss."

"You mean you were spying."

"No, I was definitely only peeking." She frowned. "Why are you calling? Because obviously it's not to gloat over knowing she was seeing someone."

"I want to go to the Ferry Building. The farmers market is this morning."

"That's nice. Have a good time."

"Okay. I'll pick you up in fifteen."

"What?" She made a face. "
No
. I'm not going."

"What else are you going to do on such a beautiful Saturday morning? Spy on your boss? Read comic books?
Work
?"

"You say that like it's a curse."

"It's probably the nicest Saturday we're going to have in a long time, and you're passing up a ride on my bike to people watch and eat bad-for-you things from street vendors. But, hey, to each his own."

She rolled her eyes. But the ride on the bike was tempting, and the last time she'd gone to the Ferry Building it'd been with Daniela, and she'd
really
wished she'd had her camera. What was a culinary treat for most people was a visual treat for her. The thought of taking photos excited her. She hadn't taken any pictures in so long. "Twenty minutes," she said impulsively.

"You got it." He hung up, probably so she couldn't change her mind.

Scrambling to her feet, she hurried downstairs. On impulse, she put on a pair of jeans and a turquoise blue long-sleeved shirt with beading—also a gift from Daniela. She topped it with a gray blazer, a scarf, and her camera bag.

She let herself out of her Batcave right as Brian drove up. He rolled up the driveway and stopped in front of her. She was momentarily struck speechless by the look of him. He looked
badass
.

Afraid to blurt out what she was thinking, she wordlessly took the helmet he offered, jammed it on her head, and hopped on. He turned around in the driveway and they roared off.

A thrill of excitement rushed through her. She held him tightly around his waist, even though she felt comfortable this time. She liked the solid feel of him against the front of her body.

She gasped at the thought, feeling guilty like she'd been unfaithful to Tony. She quickly erased it from her mind, as if he'd know.

Marley hopped off before Brian backed into a spot between two cars and parked the motorcycle. Undoing her helmet, she handed it to him.

He secured both helmets to the bike and then took her hand. "Let's go."

She followed, staring down at their linked hands. It felt... weird. Not bad, just weird. It was kind of nice, actually, in a way. Not awkward, like she'd have expected it to be.

"Uh-oh." A smile threatened his lips as he led her across the Embarcadero. "You're thinking. That can't result in anything good. Let me assure you that this is platonic."

"My friends don't usually hold my hand."

"Then you need better friends."

"Actually, I was trying to remember the last time I held anyone's hand."

"Do you remember the first time?"

She looked at him incredulously. "Do you?"

"Of course." He looked at her like she was silly. "Kindergarten. Mary Ellen Fisher. She had two blond braids and buck teeth."

Marley laughed.

"I loved her teeth. It broke my heart when she got braces in sixth grade." He shot her a grin. "Your turn."

She couldn't remember the first time. She couldn't even remember her mother holding it. She
did
remember one time when Tony had put his hand on hers—it'd lasted only a second, but she couldn't bring herself to wash that hand all day. "I don't think anyone held my hand in school."

"What about after? What about your One True Love, the guy you're waiting for?"

She tried to imagine Tony holding someone's hand and just couldn't see it. "I don't think he's that type, and other guys always saw me as another one of them."

Brian looked her up and down, a disbelieving look on his face. "Whatever you need to tell yourself. Come on. This stand over here has the best squash."

"Squash?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Wait till you see them. Close your eyes."

"Brian, that's just—"

"No, really. Trust me." He stared at her steadily, waiting.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. She wanted to say that she was humoring him, but she did trust him.

He slowly, carefully guided her for what seemed like forever before telling her to stop. "Open your eyes."

Blinking, she focused on an amazing array of oranges, greens, yellows, and whites. All shapes and sizes, it was more like an art exhibit than a squash stand.

"See." He poked her. "I wouldn't steer you wrong."

Enchanted by the colors, she pulled out her camera and began to take pictures, appreciating that Brian stood out of the way and patiently let her do her thing. She took close-ups and shots at a distance, photos of the merchant holding a long squash suggestively, and of a patron laughing. Inspired, she changed the aperture and did a long-exposure still with people moving in the background to create a blur.

Then she tossed a squat orange squash to Brian. "Kiss it."

"
Kiss it
?" He made sour a face at the squash.

She snapped the picture, grinning. "It might turn into the princess you've always been waiting for."

"I haven't always been waiting for a princess."

She snapped another, changing angles.

"And an inanimate object like a squash can't turn into a princess," he added with feigned superiority. "Someone like you should know that."

She took another photo. "Someone like me?"

"Smart. More than book smart." He studied her, as if looking for the right word, and she caught it with her camera. "Wise beyond her years."

She lowered it. "Please don't tell me you're calling me old."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"I'm thirty. I beat you." He took her hand and dragged her away. "Since you're taking pictures, let's go down the Embarcadero. Have you had any photo shoots by the arrow?"

"What arrow?"

He shook his head. "You're practically still a tourist rather than a resident, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll take care of some of the essentials today."

He led her down the piers toward the Bay Bridge, filling her in on history tidbits and pointing out hot spots, like the pier where he had his first kiss. She shook her head and caught his antics with her camera.

She also took pictures of other people walking by. She got a young couple to pose by the huge silver rocket ship, and caught the first steps of a baby who decided it was time to step out on her own as well as the parents' amazement.

After a little while, Brian said, "Let's walk up this pier. There's a bench at the end."

"Where you lost your virginity?" she asked with a little sarcasm.

"No. I lost my virginity in the backseat of my friend's classic Cadillac." He grinned at her. "It was green."

"I hope you mean the car."

"I can't imagine what else you'd think would be green." He sat down on the bench and stretched an arm on the backrest, leaving a space open for her to slide in.

She sat, stiff, aware of him so close.
Leaning
. His fingers played with the ends of her hair.

The bridge was behind him, the light was just right, and he had a contented look on his face. She took a picture of it to distract herself from the feel of him next to her.

"Give me that." He held his hand out.

"My camera?"

"No, your bra."

She gave him a baleful look.

"Of course, your camera." He grinned. "Unless handing over your bra would actually be a possibility."