A Little Night Music (13 page)

“Not yet,” he said.

Hannah frowned. “You’re not hungry?”

Nate laughed. Catching her wrist, he circled it lightly with his fingers, using it to draw her close. His mouth quirked into a smile, and her heart skipped a beat. “I am very—” a brush of his lips against one corner of her mouth “—very—” the other corner, the feathery caress sending a tingle of excitement through her “—hungry.” His mouth took hers, sending all thoughts of dinner right out of her head.

Nate’s tongue flicked her lips, learning their shape, drawing a whimper of need. He laughed again. The sound was a low masculine growl that thrummed along her nerve endings. His tongue dipped in, swiping the slick flesh inside her bottom lip.

Hannah tried to catch his tongue with hers, but he drew back. One long-fingered hand stroked the length of her back, soothing her protest. He kissed her again.

Hannah’s hands splayed on the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers curling tightly, wanting him to take the kiss deeper, to feel the connection her body longed for.

But he made her wait. Light caresses, the gentlest touch of his tongue to hers, had her trembling with desire. Nate caught her bottom lip between his teeth. He nibbled until she felt the sensation echoed in her breasts, in the aching bead of her nipples. Still not giving her what she wanted, Nate skimmed the line of her jaw with his mouth. He explored the hollow beneath her ear, his warm breath teasing her flesh.

“Please,” she murmured. Her hands moved to his shoulders, feeling the hard ridge of muscle. He was making her crazy. When he slid a thigh between hers, Hannah moaned, rubbing against him. Nate eased his leg away, refusing to let her seek the pressure she craved. All the while, his mouth continued to explore the smooth skin of her throat.

“You smell wonderful,” he murmured, his tongue flicking against her earlobe.

She thought he did too, but she wasn’t sure she had enough brain cells functioning to point it out.

“What are you wearing?”

Hannah licked her lips. He expected her to speak? “Bergamot,” she said, tipping her head back so his mouth could suck lightly at the place where her pulse thundered. “Lemongrass,” she added weakly.

“Mm,” he commented. His thigh rubbed lightly against her, tantalizing her with his nearness.

Hannah arched into him when his broad musician’s hands curved along her ribcage. His thumbs teased the undersides of her breasts, and she thought she was going to die if he didn’t take her soon. She squeezed the muscles of his arms, feeling the strength there, holding on to him when he nuzzled aside the edge of her shirt to lightly nip her collarbone.

“Do you know that my room still smells like you?” he asked. Nate drew back enough to look into her eyes. Hannah found herself fixated on the dark sweep of his eyelashes. She’d had more experience with men’s eyelashes since she was a teenager, and Nate’s really were amazingly sexy. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since you were there.”

“So you’re saying you’re too exhausted to function?” she asked with a quick lift of her eyebrows.

Nate laughed, the sapphire of his eyes lightening. “Sweetheart, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

Then he kissed her again. Finally, his mouth devoured hers the way she had hungered for since they’d parted. Her own dreams had been haunted by his taste, and she reveled in it now. He tasted of mint and coffee, and she moaned as he filled her senses. Suckling his tongue, Hannah felt a surge of power when he growled in response. He cupped her ass, lifting her to settle her hips against him. Wrapping one leg around his thigh, Hannah moved against the hard bulge of his erection, sending tremors through them both. The pressure did little to ease the ache in her crotch. She couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. Hungrily, she slipped her hands between them. Nate hissed when her fingers stroked him through his jeans.

“Didn’t you promise me dinner?” he asked. His eyes were closed, his forehead against hers. Her fingers were plucking at his belt buckle.

“Are you hungry?” she asked breathlessly.

“Now we’re back where we started,” he said with a laugh. A last kiss, his mouth clinging gently to hers, and then he stepped back. His hands remained on her hips. “We have all night.”

“You started this,” Hannah pointed out. Her body felt empty, needy. She ran her fingernails across his denim-covered cock, making him twitch. The sharp intake of his breath made her smile in feminine satisfaction.

“I’m going to change, Nate. Make yourself at home.” Slipping away from him, she left him standing in the foyer. Hannah could feel him watching her, and she smiled to herself, putting a little extra swing in her hips.

Up until now, he had been the one in control.

Tonight was where she took it back.

Chapter Eight

Nate wandered into the living room. His jeans were unbearably tight. The woman could turn him on like no one else.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The action only served to fill his lungs with her scent. It lingered in her condo, driving him crazy. He had to fight off the urge to follow her back to her bedroom, dinner be damned. Looking around for something to distract himself, his gaze settled on the mantel.

Photos graced the pale cream marble, interspersed with personal knickknacks. He picked up a silver-framed photo showing Gina on the beach next to a surfboard, a wide smile on her face. In the photo next to it, the two friends were together. Gina still displayed her board while Hannah, curvy in a one-piece emerald bathing suit, her hair slicked back, flashed the hang-ten sign. The photo had caught the mischief in her eyes, even while her tongue was stuck out at the photographer. Nate smiled. She looked young, but not as young as the gawky teenager he’d first met.

Setting down the photo, he picked up another. It showed an older couple, the man’s arm thrown around Hannah’s shoulder. She wore a graduation gown, the cap at a jaunty angle. He recognized the couple as her parents. It had been a few years since he’d seen Everett Forbes, having switched labels after his second album, but Hannah’s father had changed only a little. He touched a gentle fingertip to the young woman in the photo.

For whatever reason, Hannah didn’t seem to want him to know that they’d met before.

Still restless, Nate wandered to the sliding glass doors. Hannah’s condo was up high enough in the building that he could see over the palm trees. To his right he could see the rooftops of Hollywood, if he had his geography correct. The hills directly ahead were hazy, shifting to a darker blue-grey as the sun set.

“There’s a blanket on the end of the couch,” Hannah said from behind him. “Will you spread it out on the floor?”

“Planning on giving me a massage?” Nate asked as he turned.

His brief attempt at humor disappeared. He could only stare. The silk lounging pajamas were the same delicate purple as the sunset sky behind him. She’d left the bottom two shirt buttons undone, teasing him with glimpses of her flat stomach. She looked both totally hot and coolly untouchable.

It made him want to devour her.

She noticed his attention. Holding his gaze, she stroked one finger down the buttons of her shirt, then slowly popped open another at the bottom. A flash of creamy flesh, the dip of her navel. He actually groaned out loud. He took a step forward, intent on ripping open the rest of those buttons.

“The blanket, Nate,” she prompted. The smile she gave him was full of wicked female confidence. She knew exactly what she was doing. She slipped behind the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. She reached up to take Fiestaware plates from a shelf, her top’s silky material pulling taut across her breasts. Her nipples were hard.

Nate felt his cock twitch again. She was killing him. He pushed the coffee table aside and moved to pick up the blanket. It felt incredibly soft in his hands as he spread the cream expanse over the gold looped-leather area rug.

“We’re having a picnic,” she told him, carrying the plates and wine glasses into the room. He stole a kiss as he took them from her. She smiled and ducked away, her hair caught in a French braid. He wanted to unwind it, to feel the waves spilling across his fingers. Instead, he knelt, setting the plates and glasses on the blanket.

“What kind of picnic?” he asked when she carried a wicker basket into the room. He took it from her. When he tried to peer inside, she lightly slapped his hand.

“Patience,” she told him, and then returned to the kitchen to retrieve a bucket of ice and a chilled bottle of sparkling cider. She settled in a swirl of silk at his side. Her knee nudged his. He wanted to slide the silk up her leg, press his lips against the warm skin behind her knee. He bit back a groan.

“Will you open the bottle?” she asked.

Since it gave him something to do with his hands, Nate obliged. He cursed the cork as he wrestled  with it. She’d completely thrown him off guard, turning him into an adolescent boy on his first date. He felt shaky and unsure.

And totally turned on.

“Here,” Hannah said, leaning close to slip a grape between his lips. Her fingers brushed against his mouth. He felt the contact right down to his toes, and all the sensitive places in between. The grape burst between his teeth, flooding his mouth with its crisp taste.

When he poured their drinks, his hand trembled. Handing her a glass, Nate watched while she sipped. Her smoky grey eyes held his over the rim of the glass. She touched the tip of her pink tongue to her bottom lip, and a groan escaped him.

She was in complete control, and knew it. He was going to have to do something about that.

Plucking a grape from the bunch she’d placed between them, he held it out. Stroking the cool globe across her lips, he leaned close. When she bit down, he kissed her, sharing the explosion of flavor on her tongue. He nipped her bottom lip. When she would have deepened the kiss, he drew back. He smiled at her soft sound of disappointment.

 “I have a present for you,” he said. “But you’re going to have to wait for it.”

“Why?” Hannah asked.

“Because I’m hungry. What’s on the menu?” he responded, surveying the spread of food she’d managed to arrange while he’d been opening the bottle.

“Finger food, for starters,” she said. The look in her eyes was a mixture of laughter and desire.

“Mm,” he murmured approvingly. Catching her hand, he lifted it to his mouth. The tip of his tongue traced a damp path from her palm up the sensitive inside of her index finger. “My favorite kind.”

“Behave,” she told him.

“Or?” he prompted.

Hannah smiled, spreading something that smelled delicious onto a stone-wheat pita. “Or you won’t get dessert.”

He bit down on her offering, the savory tastes of pesto, cream cheese, and sun-dried tomatoes unfurling in his mouth. He watched as she took a bite after him. A dot of pesto clung to her lip, and he swiped it off with his thumb, offering it to her.

“Finger food,” he told her with a grin. The grin faded as she swiped her tongue over his flesh, curling it around the warm digit. When she sucked his fingertip into her mouth, he almost came.

“Damn, Hannah, do that again, and we won’t be eating dinner,” he warned.

She laughed, delighted by his reaction.

She fed him apple slices, their tart crunch a delightful counterpoint to the robust combination of the pesto and tomato. He fed her a spread made of lemon and artichoke, the citrusy scent tantalizing as he layered it on a cracker. He shared the taste on her lips, helpless to do anything other than cup her cheek with his palm while he supped on her mouth.

She was making him crazy. And oh, so aroused.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked, trying to regain a semblance of control. If he didn’t, it was all going to be over too soon. And she’d promised him dessert.

“Sam had my luggage picked up already. I just have to throw the essentials in a bag.”

“Mm, I like a woman who doesn’t wait until the last minute.” He eased aside the collar of her silk pajama top. The flesh of her shoulder tasted better than anything he’d eaten. He nibbled, feeling the shiver that ran through her.

“Keep up the compliments, Fox. You may get lucky,” she told him. Her voice was breathy. He was pleased to have made it that way. He looked forward to making her even more incoherent. As much as he’d loved listening to the noises she made when aroused through the phone lines, it had been exquisite torture not to be actively touching her, not see her grey eyes go unfocused.

Nate grinned. He dipped a finger into his glass, painting a wet line down her throat. He followed it with his tongue. Hannah moaned as his teeth grazed her skin.

Soft red hair tickled his chin as she dipped her head to kiss his temple. The touch of her mouth on his skin made Nate’s hand clench into the blanket. When her mouth drifted lower, he closed his eyes, concentrating on sheer sensation. He was so hard it hurt. He wanted to grab her hand and place it on his crotch so she’d know what she was doing to him, but he made himself wait. Besides, he knew full well that she was aware of his every reaction.

Reaching out, Nate tickled his fingers along her instep, sliding her pant leg higher. She yelped, yanking her foot away, but not before he noticed that her toenails were painted a deep, sexy burgundy.

He dragged his finger through the lemony spread she’d fed him only minutes before, and caught her ankle. His eyes held hers, seeing the desire in her smoky gaze. With a light touch, he smeared the cool paste across the delicate bones of her foot. Still holding her gaze, he bent his head and slowly licked it off. He was pleased to hear her moan.

“What else is in that basket of yours?”

Hannah licked her lips. Her chest rose and fell, her nipples bold beneath the concealing fabric. “We haven’t finished the appetizers yet.”

“Yes, we have,” he told her. He licked her calf, tracing a wandering path across her flesh. Her scent was stronger here. His lips found the curve of her knee. She dotted her perfume there, in the crease of flesh he tasted so slowly. Up on his knees, he lifted his head, catching her mouth in a hot kiss.