Sebring

My heart got light.

I wanted him to come to me. I wanted his presence in my house, the memory of him in my bed.

But I did not want anyone who might be watching to see him come to me or see his Jag in my drive.

“Text me,” I said. “I’ll come to you.”

“Right, later.”

“Later, Sebring.”

We hung up.

I finished what I was doing at David’s office and headed home because I had to make myself dinner and then be ready for Nick whenever he was ready for me.

* * * * *

11:38 – Saturday Night

When the text came from Nick (that text being, I’m home), I should have let it go. It was late. Much later than I expected. Too late and thus rude to be texting a woman who you want to come over so you can fuck her.

I should absolutely not let him think I was up, waiting for him.

And I should never give him the impression a late summons such as that would get me in my car, driving the streets of Denver just to get a dose of him.

What I should do was answer it the next day, saying I’d gone to sleep and missed his text.

Or better yet, not answer at all and make him communicate with me.

I knew all of that.

However, the only thing I could muster was allowing twenty minutes to pass before I checked for signs anyone was watching the house and then I went to the garage to take the tracker off my car and I headed out.

I felt slightly better when I was barely on my way before another text came in from Nick.

You awake?

I didn’t text him back and not just because I was driving.

I went to his house. I parked. I walked up the iron stairs.

He had the door open by the time I made the top.

I barely walked through before he slid the door to at the same time he shoved me to the side.

He pushed me against the wall.

I was about to push back when I froze because Nick didn’t go for a kiss.

Or he did.

But he went for a different kind of kiss.

He dropped to his knees in front of me.

I drew in a sharp breath as I felt my hips jolt when he yanked my jeans and panties down to my thighs.

I dug the back of my head into the brick of the wall when I felt his tongue dart out, forcing itself into the tight juncture between my legs.

And I felt my jeans bite into my thighs as I automatically tried to force my legs wider to give him more access.

Nick didn’t need more access. He was doing just fine thrusting his tongue into my close wet.

Yes.

Oh God, yes.

He was doing just fine.

“Sebring,” I breathed, and lost his tongue as he surged up.

But I got his eyes and I got his finger as his gaze caught mine and he shoved his finger tight against my clit.

My eyes closed and my lips parted.

That was when Nick finally kissed me.

* * * * *

1:02 – Sunday Morning

“Fuck,” Nick grunted.

I’d had my bare ass to the top step to his bedroom, my legs had been around his hips as I took his cock, but I’d pulled off, squirmed up, turned to crawl out from under him to force him to follow me to the bed.

He didn’t follow me to the bed.

He wrapped an arm around my belly and yanked me back, pulling me between his legs. My thighs pressed together but bent at the hips, he rammed back in.

I moaned and pulled forward against the strong hold he had on me but only to drive myself back.

I heard his noises, thick and deep and greedy, mingling with my own, which were soft and desperate, and a wave of wet hit between my legs as a shaft of electricity shot from clit to nipples.

I drove back harder.

Nick thrust in faster.

I was close and I wanted it to happen together.

I tossed my hair to look over my shoulder at him.

“Come,” I ordered.

His liquid blue eyes came to me as he kept fucking me. “Do not come.”

“Come,” I hissed.

He pulled out.

“No!” I snapped.

He straightened, taking his feet and taking me with him, my ass in his hips, my back to his front.

I tried twisting in his arms.

Instead, I fell forward to the bed as Nick fell with me.

I tried to regain my knees and add my hands under me.

Nick used his weight to subdue me, his strong thighs to push between mine, and then he was filling me again, thrusting deep with me on my belly.

I stilled just so I could fully experience that beauty.

He didn’t still but shoved a hand under me, straight down, finger to my clit.

“Now you come,” he demanded in my ear.

I lifted my hips to get more of his cock at the same time I undulated them against his finger.

“Sebring,” I gasped.

“Come,” he ordered.

My entire body started trembling.

“Fuckin’ come,” he growled.

Shuddering under him, I came.

Spectacularly.

* * * * *

2:24 – Sunday Morning

Nick had me pressed against my car, one arm around me, his other hand in my hair at the side of my head.

“You’re a fuckin’ nut,” he muttered, looking amused.

“I am?” I asked, sounding confused.

“Olivia, you’re drivin’ home instead of sleepin’ in my bed and wakin’ up in a few hours on a Sunday, a day I think it’s a law is supposed to be lazy, which means I’ll fuck you slow then make you breakfast. And, just sayin’, I make fucking great cinnamon French toast.”

I’d had more than spaghetti from Nick, it had all been good, so I knew without a doubt he made great cinnamon French toast.

I also knew I wanted to taste it.

But what I knew most of all was that this was all I had left to hold on to in order to keep sane, smart and stay safe.