Anyone But Nick (Anyone But... #3) - Penelope Bloom Page 0,74

name on that poem would’ve been too much to ignore.”

I ran my thumb across his lips, marveling at how soft they were. “It’s a little ironic, isn’t it? We both wanted to be together so badly that we had to convince ourselves it was hatred instead of—” I cleared my throat. The awkwardness I felt broke the spell of his presence. I realized what I was about to say. Hatred instead of love. I hadn’t been back in Nick’s life long enough to throw around a word like that.

I couldn’t read his expression, but Nick saved me the embarrassment by pretending he hadn’t noticed. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess we’re both just cowards hiding behind false confidence, aren’t we?”

“Something like that,” I agreed.

His eyes started to get heavier again, almost like I could see the thoughtful, rational part of him retreating deeper inside. “Now,” he said deeply. “If you’re all out of questions, I need to fuck you before I explode.”

“Is there an option where you don’t explode? I’ve kind of started to like you.”

“We’ll have to work on the ‘kind of’ part,” he said.

I let out a small surprised moan when he emphasized his words with his hips, driving the hardness of his erection into me in just the right place.

“These need to go,” he said. With what seemed like no effort at all, he pulled my thong free, snapping the material in the process.

“Are you planning to replace those, Mr. King?” I asked.

“I’ll buy you an entire lingerie company, if that’s what it takes.”

I smirked. “No. I don’t want your money. I just want you.”

Nick’s eyes met mine for a moment, almost searchingly. He kissed me then, grinding himself into me until I could barely contain my need.

I couldn’t reach to help him with his pants because he still had me pinned with my legs wrapped around him, but with one hand he managed to strip them and his underwear in seconds. They flopped to the floor of the tub, and he kicked them out of our way.

“I’ve been dying to taste you,” he said. “All of you.”

I put my hands on the wall to steady myself as he raised me up and positioned my thighs over his shoulders. Wow. I had only a moment to marvel at how high I’d been lifted before the sensation of his hot tongue between my legs snapped me into focus.

Nick King was eating me out. The thought felt so bizarre that I had to replay it a few times before it stuck. I gasped and tightened my legs around his head. Before Nick, my experience of having a man’s head between my legs had been largely unpleasant. One guy acted like he was trying to dial a long distance number on an old-school rotary phone with his tongue. Another used his tongue like an exploratory probe, and he wasn’t sure which button turned the thing on, so he just slung it around without any form of plan or strategy. In both cases, I’d been left staring at the ceiling with a confused, slightly disturbed look.

Nick knew exactly what he was doing.

It was almost as if he could feel what I was feeling—like every time he found a rhythm or spot that drove me over the edge, he knew exactly how long to keep it up. Hottest of all was just the ferocity of his movements. I could feel the pent-up sexual frustration he must’ve had for years and years, and it was all getting channeled into me like an intravenous shot of bliss.

As much as I wanted to stay there all night while he explored me with his tongue, I couldn’t wait any longer. “I want you inside me,” I gasped.

Nick didn’t wait for me to ask twice. He slid me down to his hips and let me guide his length into myself. It was big, and I had a moment of panic at the idea of trying to make that fit inside me. But he took it slowly, easing himself in inch by inch.

I threaded my fingers behind his neck and reveled in the sensations of our slick bodies sliding together—of him filling me more deeply than anything I’d ever experienced.

I caught glimpses of him as the steam rose from behind his head, and it was like something out of a dream. He was too perfect to be real. This was too perfect to be real. Maybe that was why a finger of dread snaked its way into my head,