“Ah!”
The orgasm took over and shattered her foundation. She rode out the release, but he kept going, until the second orgasm ripped through and she collapsed helplessly on the bed. He stroked and murmured soothing words as he rolled her boneless body over onto his chest and held her tight. She closed her eyes and wondered if her rocket scientist had ruined her for life.
thirteen
NATE KNEW THE moment reality broke through.
He half opened his eyes to find Kennedy hopping around the bedroom, trying to get dressed. Tiptoeing softly, she kept darting worried glances at the bed, as if afraid he’d rear up and grab her. He enjoyed the view as she tried to wiggle into her ruined thong, then muttered a curse as she balled it up. She bit her lip as if making a decision, and then shimmied into her miniskirt without underwear.
Oh, yeah.
He wondered what she’d do about the shirt, but she tugged her discarded bra from under the pillow, slipped it on, and went to his closet. With another quick look at the bed, she tugged a white button-down shirt from the hanger and donned it, fastening every last button up to the neck. It hung past the short skirt but she didn’t seem to care. She disappeared into the bathroom, and he heard the water running at a trickle while she probably tugged at her hair and brushed her teeth. He had a spare toothbrush in the cabinet, but he figured he’d let her find it and not ruin her escape plan.
At least, not yet.
Nate stared at the cheery light streaming through the cracks in the shutters. Birds chirped merrily, happy to embrace spring, but morning brought the end of his fantasy. He mourned the loss of taking her one last time, watching her face when she came, her body shuddering under his, knowing he was the one who caused such fierce pleasure and feeling more powerful than a Greek god.
She’d want to forget. Pretend it was a blip on the radar and they could go back to the way things were. Nate knew it was already too late.
He was in love with her.
The shattering conclusion did not come accompanied by harps, choirs singing, or bubbling joy. Instead, he felt like shit. Depressed. Helpless.
Pissed off.
He sifted through all his options. Admit his feelings and beg her to give him a chance. She’d panic, cite a dozen excuses why they wouldn’t work together, and maybe even stop being his matchmaker in an effort to run.
Scratch that one.
Pretend it was one great night of sex and he was already over it. Date Mary, date any woman who was interested, and focus on moving on. Connor would definitely advise this option. If he did that, Nate would come off a stud and keep his man card.
Scratch that one too.
Do nothing. Refuse to talk about it and see what happened. By not analyzing the entire episode, he’d give her enough rope to play the denial game, yet not enough to strangle any future interaction. In other words, leave all options open.
Best one yet.
The door creaked.
She tiptoed a few steps, saw he was up, and froze. A sick smile curved her lips. He craved to tumble her back on the bed, kiss her senseless, and give her the fortieth orgasm she begged him not to give her last night.
Instead, he said the first word that came to mind. “Hey.”
Her smile turned genuine. She tugged at his shirt. “Hey.”
He cleared his throat and threw off the covers. Ignoring his morning wood, he got up from the bed, dragged on his boxers, and turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of his erection, which only made it a hell of a lot worse. “Oh, my. Umm. I better get going. It’s kind of late. Thanks for last night.”
He raised his eyebrow.
She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I meant, thanks for letting me crash here. I meant—you know what I meant. Right?”
She was too adorable. There wasn’t another woman alive who had so many layers. She was a sexy hot mess. “Right. But you can’t sneak out just yet.”
“I wasn’t sneaking!”
“Baby, you’re doing the entire walk of shame thing. Not that I’m complaining. But I took good care of you last night, and you owe me something. Something big.”
Her gaze dropped to his straining dick. She swallowed, but the gleam of lust in her eyes almost killed him. “I thought you were satisfied.”
He took a step forward. “Only one thing is going to satisfy me this morning.”
“You’re not being very gentlemanly.” Her voice was breathless and had an edge of arousal. He took a deep breath and smelled her. “I think you got enough.”
“You cut me short on something and you know what it is.”
She trembled. Her tongue snaked out and licked her lower lip. “Maybe if you ask me nicely.”
Another inch and he faced her. He lifted her chin. Her whiskey eyes blurred and he knew one push would put her down on her knees. She’d like it. He’d love it. They could delay the inevitable daylight for an hour more. Or two.
“Then I’m asking.”
His thumb traced her pouty lower lip, picked up the moisture, and brought it to his own mouth to suck. She moaned. “Go ahead.”
“I want you to come—”
“Yes.”
“With me to have breakfast.”
He stepped back. Confusion flickered over her face. “Huh?”
“Breakfast. I’m starving, and there’s nothing good in the kitchen. Let me take a quick shower and we’ll go.”
“I have no clothes.”
“We’ll swing by your place so you can throw on a pair of jeans. Be out in a minute.”
He shut the door behind him, then cranked the water to the coldest setting. The key was to throw her off balance. Maybe with enough time, she’d come to the conclusion she was just as crazy about him. He may not be in her league, but he damned well wasn’t a pussy. Putting up a fight was nothing new to him, and he intended to give her a good one.
It was gonna be a hell of a morning.
AN HOUR LATER, THEY were squeezed into a booth at the Dish and Spoon diner. He asked for a Clorox wipe, cleaned the table on his own terms, and relaxed in the booth as if they hadn’t just had sex a hundred times.
For reasons unknown, Kennedy had meekly followed his plan. Changed into a respectful pair of jeans and clean T-shirt, Coach sneakers, and threw her hair into a messy topknot. Her original plan was to get the hell out of Dodge, give them some space, and have the talk.
Guilt and satisfaction intermingled and fought for dominance. She was setting him up with women from Kinnections and had no right to screw with his head. How could he go on a date with a clear mind and heart when they’d just had a rollicking night of sex? Upon waking, she’d sworn to herself that it wouldn’t happen again. She’d confess to Kate and Arilyn and turn over the rest of Nate’s journey into their capable hands.
Instead, he’d confused her with that mouthwatering naked body and sexy speak. She didn’t even fight him on the diner choice. Her breakfast consisted of fruit and Greek yogurt. The sight of his runny eggs, crisp bacon, and greasy hash browns made her sweat. She stuck with her original order and picked at a ripe strawberry, wondering why she suddenly felt cranky after experiencing a million orgasms.
“Do you know the fat content in that dish?” she pointed out. “That’s more than your daily share of calories per day.”
“I worked out. So did you.” He forked up an egg with a piece of rye toast. The top gleamed wetly with butter. “A bout of standard, missionary sex burns about three hundred calories per hour. An orgasm adds about an additional one hundred calories. Calculating the various positions we used, number of orgasms, and hours divided, we’re looking at about two thousand calories. One egg plus bacon is about one hundred thirty-six calories. Add the hash browns and toast, I’ll still be way under my calorie count for what we burned off last night. Here, have half a strip of bacon. You need the protein.”