Sweet On You - By Kate Perry Page 0,27

pampered executive. His skin was tanned, like the perfect latte.

"When I was a kid, on Christmas my brother would always complain because I took too long opening my presents. The exterior delighted me as much as what was inside." She smiled up at Nico. "I may have been a little slower just to annoy him though."

"You and your brother are close."

Her humor faded, and she dropped her gaze to his chest. Instead of answering, she shrugged, and then she kissed his chest, to distract them both. Because she liked it, she did it again.

His hands gathered in her hair and he pulled her close. Lifting her head, she got on her toes and brought his mouth down to hers as she unbuckled his belt and slid her hand in. Her eyes widened when her fingers met naked, hard, silky flesh. "You do go commando."

He hummed deep in his throat, pressing her closer, his fingers sliding under her lace panties.

The tip of his longest finger grazed her sex, the faintest brush that had her panting, just like the last time. She unzipped his pants and shoved them down. He kicked off his shoes and, with her help, his socks and everything else.

They stood and stared at each other, admiring.

Wanting.

And then he picked her up and carried her to the couch, sitting so that she straddled his hips on top.

"We can get rid of this." He unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. "I've admired my present long enough, I think."

"I think so too." She wiggled out of her underwear and tossed that aside, too.

Suddenly he held a condom—she had no idea where it came from, but she put her hand out. "Let me."

He handed it over silently and sat back, arms folded behind his head, watching her with so much desire it made her breath catch.

She ripped the wrapper off and slowly sheathed him, taking her time, knowing it was driving him crazy. Her hands caressed all of him in the process, until his hips were arching up and he groaned in need.

Then his hands grabbed her and settled her on top. His gaze was glittery with need, his jaw tight like his control was almost at an end. "You're playing with me."

"And you like it."

He growled as he rolled over so she was on the bottom. "We'll see how much you like."

She arched as his mouth trailed down her torso. "That sounded like a threat."

His hands pushed her thighs open. "I don't threaten, baby. I just do," he promised as he lowered his head.

And then he did—with his mouth and fingers, until she was writhing uncontrollably on the leather. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he focused on the one most sensitive spot and sucked gently.

She screeched, gripping his head, coming off the couch.

Without pause, he shifted and slid inside her to the hilt. Two thrusts and she came again, her cries swallowed by his kisses. She gripped him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist, urging him faster.

He didn't take much urging. Moments later he groaned in orgasm himself, arching up, his face taut with ecstasy.

Then he lowered himself on top of her.

They lay there, sweaty, for a long time. Then she said, "I'm a big fan of having dessert before dinner."

He ran a hand over her hip and down her thigh. "I could tell."

"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't have dessert after dinner, too."

"You're already thinking to the next time?"

"Of course." She smiled innocently at him. "I have a sweet tooth."

Chapter Thirteen

Marley crouched in the doorway to the main kitchen in their house, peering around the corner to see Daniela in an overlarge man's shirt, barefoot and seemingly naked underneath, whisking something in a bowl.

Her boss was singing.

It wouldn't have been an unusual occurrence a year ago. But since before they'd moved to San Francisco, Marley would have been able to count on one hand the number of times she'd caught Daniela singing. She'd have been able to count on one hand even if she'd had both her hands amputated.

She ducked as Daniela danced around the corner and did a little two-step to Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

Singing. Cooking without clothes on. Strange phone calls. Not coming home until really early in the morning.

Brian was right: there was a man in this scenario.

Her cell phone rang. Cursing under her breath, she crawled backwards, away from the kitchen so her boss wouldn't catch her. She looked at the screen and, answered, whispering, "Brian, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That