Roni Loren - Need You Tonight

Uh-oh. That sounded like a no-win trap if ever there was one. But what was he supposed to say to that? “Well, since you’ve already declared that we’re not going to see each other after tonight, I’d say you probably have nothing to lose by asking.”

She took a deep breath, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip, and her gaze still locked on anything but him. “When I caught my husband cheating. He told me it was partly my fault, which I know is bullshit.”

“Total bullshit,” Kade agreed.

“But he said I was boring in bed,” she rushed on. “And I can’t help but wonder if maybe—”

“That fucker.”

Her attention snapped upward, surprise in her eyes.

He cupped her face in his hands. “Baby, I don’t know much about you. I don’t know your last name or what you do for a living. I don’t know if you take cream in your coffee or if you prefer tea. But I can tell you one thing for sure. There is nothing boring about you. Tonight was amazing. You were amazing. And if that idiot ex-husband of yours didn’t know what to do with a gorgeous woman and all that passion you have brewing right beneath the surface, then that’s on him.”

All the tension sagged out of her, and she closed her eyes, nodding in his hands. “Thank you.”

The soft response and her obvious relief nearly undid him. What kind of asshole made a vibrant woman like this doubt herself? He half wished her ex was here right now. Kade would let the guy watch as Kade took Contessa right in front of him, let him watch how glorious she was when given pleasure by a man who knew what he was doing.

“Don’t give his words another thought,” he said, kissing her forehead and wishing he could swipe the memory from her mind with the gesture.

“I know I shouldn’t, but it’s hard not to let doubt creep in. When you approached me tonight, I almost chickened out because I thought I might embarrass myself. I’m not that experienced. I married him so young and—”

“Contessa,” he said, frustration edging his words. “Stop.”

She blinked up at him, apparently taken aback at his change in tone.

He lowered his hands from her face, fighting the sudden urge to turn her over his knee and spank her for even giving that jerk another second of thought. “Stop doubting yourself. Inexperience does not mean boring. Boring is a woman who isn’t present with you in the moment. Boring is a woman who lies there and doesn’t participate or who isn’t open to trying new things. Boring is an attitude, not a lack of skill or experience. If you’ve got the desire, the rest can be learned. Taught.”

All it took was a good teacher and a willing student. And right now, he was feeling quite professorial.

“You think?” she said, looking unconvinced.

“Baby, nothing is sexier than a woman who wants to learn.” He moved forward, backing her into the wall, loving the little gasp she made when his burgeoning erection pressed against her. “In fact, it’s my biggest turn-on, showing a woman exactly what to do to please me.”

She wet her lips, her nerves visible right there at the surface. “Sounds like kind of a selfish way of looking at it. How to please you .”

He chuckled and slid his hand down along her hip. “Yes, but pleasing me reaps so many rewards. I always repay with interest.”

When he snuck his hand beneath her skirt and upward, she tilted her head back against the wall and groaned. “What would you teach me?”

He smiled with promise. She’d left her panties off since they’d been ruined earlier, and his fingers easily found what they were seeking. “The list is long, baby. It’d definitely take more than one night. I’m a kinky fucker.”

“Van,” she gasped, as he curled his fingers inside her, sliding deep into the slick heat.

“Want to be my student?” He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles. “I promise lots of one-on-one attention.”

“Oh, God.” She rocked against his hand almost as if she was trying to resist the urge but couldn’t stop the movement. Her voice went breathy. “I can’t—I can’t get involved. With anyone.”

The words sounded like a plea instead of a statement. She was so close to the edge already, even after her orgasms from earlier. God, he loved how hot she ran. Her arousal coated his hand, her sweet scent filling the sterile kitchen. “I’m not asking you to date me, baby. I’m not good at that anyway. I’m offering to show you what you’re capable of, to teach you what you want to learn. To have fun.”

Her fingers twisted in his hair as she rocketed toward release with her eyes squeezed shut and her head lolling from side to side against the wall. “Van!”

“Come for me,” he said, his voice going gritty with his own need to see her explode again. “Fuck my hand and take what you know I can give you.”

Her shout was sharp and desperate as she shattered in orgasm, the sound winding through the kitchen and empty restaurant. She called his name in a pleading prayer and melted against the wall like butter on hot cast iron.

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing deeply with his own desire pounding through his veins. God, she was something to behold when she let go. No fucking way was he going to let her get away with only tonight. He needed more of this.

More of her.

When her writhing had turned to gentle swaying, he slipped his hand from beneath her skirt and brought his fingers to his mouth. Her eyes fluttered open in time to see him savor her taste and suck his fingers clean. Her lips parted slightly, and her barely concealed shock made him want her even more. Innocence and passion—her mix of it was a potent drug to his system.

“Kiss me,” he said, a gentle command and challenge.

After only the briefest hesitation, she closed the distance between them and brought her mouth to his. He took her lips in a languid kiss, knowing she’d be able to taste her tart flavor on his tongue. He would convince her right here and now with actions and not words that she shouldn’t walk away yet, that she needed to explore this as much as he did. He would make her crave more. But right as he was deepening the kiss and pulling her against him, an acrid scent tickled his nose. He dismissed it for a moment, too wrapped up in the feel of Contessa in his arms, but soon the smell was too strong to ignore. He pulled back, alarm bells starting to ding through the growing fog of desire in his head.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Do you smell that?” He let her go and peered over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

She sniffed. “Smells burnt.”

He shook his head. That wasn’t a burnt smell. It was a burning smell. He strode toward the appliances, checking to see if an oven or stove had been left on or if a greasy towel had been left somewhere and ignited. But nothing seemed amiss. His staff was well-trained to check and double check everything for safety before closing up each night. But the smell was growing stronger.

“Van!”

He turned. Contessa pointed at the door that led out to the side hallway and exit. Dark black smoke was creeping beneath. Dread rushed through him. He closed the distance between the two of them in three long strides, grabbing her purse from the countertop and shoving it at her. “We need to get out of here. Now!”

She let him hustle her toward the door that led to the dining room, but when they swung the door open, a rush of hot, acrid smoke blew right in their faces. His eyes and throat burned with it, and Contessa started coughing beside him. “Van.”

“Get down low,” he barked, keeping a hold of her elbow. Heat shimmered in the air as they crouched down and heard the first roar of flame and crack of wood. The sound seemed to be coming from the main dining area, though it was impossible to see anything in the smoke. “Stay with me. Don’t let go. I’m going to get us to a back exit.”