“Please.” The word slipped from her lips.
Not once during the three years of her marriage to Mike had she ever begged him to give her pleasure. Barely twenty-four hours with Nick and she suddenly felt sure she would say or do most anything to purge the need scorching her, roiling just under his deft touch. She couldn’t even pause to be shocked by her own response, by the fact that he seemed so capable of giving her the orgasm that had frequently eluded her in the past.
“I want to make you feel so good, baby. I took one look at you and I burned. I fucking fantasized about touching all that pristine skin, kissing you until you couldn’t think, and feeling you come all over me.”
“Nick…”
“Don’t say my name now. Scream it when I send you over. That feel good? Yeah. You’re close. I can tell.”
He dragged his fingertips slowly over the pearl she could feel growing harder with every moment. Sensations built, gathering, heavy, pressing onto her resistance until it began crumbling. The ache in her body converged, morphing tingles and feel-good sensations into a craving that had her grabbing the sheets in her fists, panting wildly, and burning in need as she tossed her head back.
“Nick!” she shouted as her entire body pulsed and jerked. Liquid ecstasy jetted through her veins in surges that never seemed to end. She climbed even higher with his next stroke. Higher again with the one following. He always had his fingers exactly where she needed them, always petting her with the perfect pressure. God, the man already knew her body better than she did. She hadn’t even finished this mammoth orgasm and already she feared she’d sell her soul for more.
When the climax finally tapered off, her throat actually hurt from crying out his name. Languid euphoria rolled heavy satisfaction through her veins. Perspiration dampened her hairline. Her body hummed. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was glowing.
Sasha smiled at him. “Nick…”
“Like that, huh?”
Somehow, she still blushed. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“Yeah.” He sat up, elbows braced on his knees, gripping his head in his hands, then sent her a pointed glance. “That was exactly what I wanted. Glad making you respond was easy. That’s how we convince people we’re in love.”
He’d given her ecstasy to…what? Prove she wasn’t immune to him? That he had power over her? Or to boost his ego? To manipulate her? He stared through her and shrugged, like nothing they’d done tonight had been out of the ordinary or meant a thing to him.
Sasha felt as if he’d slapped her.
“You bastard.” She rolled away, putting her back to him. Shame stung as she buttoned her nightgown. Her fingers shook in anger.
“Bastard? I know it didn’t take you this long to figure that out.”
No. She had always suspected he was dangerous to a woman’s sanity. Mike had warned her; Sasha wished she’d listened. Instead, she’d let her desperation to keep Harper alive mix dangerously with her attraction to Nick. Hope, loneliness, and need had run away with her.
Never again.
Feeling both violated and angry with herself for wanting him so badly, she curled into a self-protective ball. “Not at all.”
“Good. You knew I was a bastard when you knocked on my door. I’m just living up to your expectation. After an orgasm like that, you ought to sleep good. ’Night.”
Chapter Eight
After six restless hours of dick-hardened hell, Nick rose with a groan. Sure, touching Sasha last night—seeing her come for him—had been a fantasy come true. Better, even. And that was the problem.
Everything afterward had been an utter clusterfuck. He had to stop wanting her so badly. If he couldn’t, he’d have to continue behaving like an ass. Earning her contempt sucked. Worse, her nearness just kept wearing down his resistance. He was caught in an endless loop of shit, and his only way out was to find Mike’s evidence or fuck her blind.
After Sasha’s angry snit last night, he could guess which choice she’d vote for.
It was a little after eight when he showered and self-pleasured again. Lamenting the frequent workout his hand was getting, he shoved on his underwear and tiptoed out of the bathroom to see if this rattrap had anything that made coffee.
Sasha stood beside the bed, looking both embarrassed and pissed as hell. He hated the former, but the latter would keep her the fuck away. Right now, he needed that because the way he’d pounced on her last night proved he couldn’t rely on his self-control anymore.
“Need help with the hair dye?”
She hesitated, glaring at him for such a long time, he wondered if she was even speaking to him. “What do you know about coloring someone’s hair?”
“Nothing. But I can read a box.”
She pressed that rosy bow of a mouth into a straight line. “Fine. I’ll talk you through the rest. Just don’t touch me anywhere else.”
