All Tied Up

She inhaled a shaky breath. “Don’t apologize. It’s hard to get past the blame, Constantine, but you won’t do it by pretending it doesn’t exist. I know from experience that if you don’t deal with what you feel, it gets worse.”

Noting the stronger tone of her voice, he recognized her effort to pull her emotional armor into place. He didn’t want it in place. They had a lot in common, the two of them. They were both alone, both torn up inside. Right now, he wanted only one thing. To get lost in her. To forget everything but this woman.

His hands went up her back, molding her close, easing her mouth to his. “I’m going to make love to you, now, Nicole.” His mouth slanted over hers in what he meant to be a gentle kiss…but they were both wound tight, both in need of a release, a place to put the pain and loneliness. Outside a storm threatened their hiding place. Inside, passion thundered, threatening to take him to a place he’d never traveled before. A place he didn’t dare name. A place he didn’t dare go. A place he burned to make his own.

Chapter Thirteen

CONSTANTINE KISSED Nicole with a fiery passion borne of pent-up emotions. Why they’d surfaced now, why with this woman, he didn’t know, nor did he care. Because he felt her giving herself to him, felt he was her escape as much as she was his.

For every stroke of his tongue, every touch of his hand, she gifted him with some unique response: a sigh, a caress of her tongue, a nip of her teeth. Yes, he was hers for sure.

He barely remembered removing his shirt, though he remembered every caress of her hands on his bare skin. She sat back, facing him, her lush backside framing his cock, teasing him with delicate pressure. Silky blond hair fell around her face in sexy, wild array. She wore no makeup, her ivory skin flawless.

Eyes the color of a perfect sky stared at him, eyes brimming with a message—with freely offered passion, with tenderness he’d never accepted from another, yet he wanted it from her. There would be no games, no battle for control this time.

Her fingers latched on to the hem of her shirt, and she tugged it over her head, tossing it to the floor. She wore no bra, her high, full breasts displayed for his viewing. Her nipples swelled and tightened under his inspection. But when he would have reached for her, he held back, willing himself to refrain from making demands, to enjoy every moment of her, every way possible. For now, he was savoring the view she made, which was tightening his groin.

A soft sound escaped her lips as she took his hands, pressing them to her breasts. Her mouth lingered near his. “I need you to touch me,” she whispered, her teeth scraping his bottom lip, arching into his palms as he kneaded.

The boldness of her actions shot fire through his veins, but it was her words, and the passionate way she stared at him, that ran over him like a firestorm. Need. She needed him. Who was he to deny her?

He pressed her breasts together, using his thumbs to tease the erect rosy-red peaks of her plump breasts. She rewarded him with a moan, the response rocketing to his cock, thickening it with demand.

Burning to hear another, to pleasure her, his head lowered, his tongue lapping at one pert nipple and then suckling. Her hands went to his head, fingers sliding into his hair. She covered her other breast with her hand, aiding his efforts. He pulled it away, his mouth finding the unattended nipple, lavishing it with attention.

She whispered his name, and he lifted his mouth to hers, somehow knowing a kiss to be her demand. Her lips were sweet, her tongue caressing his with careful strokes. He traced the gentle curve of her jaw with his fingers, before traveling the sensual line of her neck.

For a moment, he stared into her heavy-lidded eyes, touched by what he felt for this woman. As hot as he was, as much as he wanted inside her, the tenderness between them consumed him—it was unexplainably perfect. Their passion was both erotic and innocent, simple and complex. The emptiness inside him cried out, twisted in his gut, reaching for her.

Constantine kissed Nicole again, desire pulsing in his blood, warning that a kiss would soon not be enough. Nevertheless, he found himself lingering, savoring these moments. The taste of her, the feel of her skin against his, her breasts pressed to his chest.

Slowly, Nicole lifted her lips from his, depriving him of her kiss. She searched his face, emotion brimming from beneath her dark lashes, emotion that made words unnecessary. She was looking for confirmation that they felt the same way; he could see it in her eyes. There was something about her in that instant, a vulnerability that spoke to him with such completeness that he thought he might be looking in a mirror, seeing himself. A likeness that drove past the sexual desire they shared—a likeness that wrapped around them and made them one. He wanted to be one with her, buried to the hilt, the warmth of her surrounding him.