All He Needs
Page 84

 C.C. Gibbs

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She sat up, gave him a hard stare. “Don’t you dare say Patty’s seen you nude before.”
Scooping her off his lap, he stood, holding her in his arms. “We met surfing. So that’s minimum clothes, but it’s clothes. Is that okay with you?” He moved toward the door.
“Have you slept with her?”
“Uh-uh. She and Jack have always been together. They lived in my ratty apartment in Half Moon Bay for a few years, but that’s as close as we got to seeing each other nude. Satisfied?” Opening the door, he turned to his right.
“Since I can’t send people off to Greenland like you do, I suppose I don’t have a choice.”
He laughed. “You couldn’t get Patty that far north for love or money. She’s like you. She’s a whole lot of trouble. But she’s a damned good cook, so the trade-off’s worth it.” Another smaller staircase at the end of the corridor led to the lower level. He took the stairs in a fast, smooth descent and entered a lighted room.
Kate nibbled on his earlobe. “Speaking of trouble and trade-offs, Mr. Knight. I know what you’re talking about.”
He grinned. “At least it’s never dull, baby.” He set her down in a small locker room with closet-size lockers. “Clothes there.” He pointed. “Some of the workout clothes are supposed to fit you. Swimsuits there.” He pointed again. “Don’t feel you have to wear one if you don’t want to. No one uses the pool but me and the water is constantly recirculated and filtered a thousand different ways. I don’t like chlorine or chemicals.” He lifted his brows. “What are you doing?”
She ran her finger down his arm. “Is this a turn-on for you too? Look how dark you are.” Standing nude under the bright locker-room lights, Dominic’s bronzed skin was even more conspicuous. “How dark I’m not. It reminds me of—do you read graphic novels?”
He grinned. “Am I your barbarian fantasy?”
She slid his hand between her legs, looked up, and smiled. “My real-life fantasy.”
He pulled her close, slid two fingers inside her slippery heat. “I have this lurid urge to plunder and pillage when I look at your pale fragileness, baby. And it has nothing to do with fantasy. You’re so fucking small. It’s been tantalizing as hell from the first. Here, look.” He half turned her so her back was to him, his fingers still deep inside. “See?” His powerful arm slanted across her body, his hand resting on her mons, his fingers cupping her sex, the two fingers inside her bringing a flush to her cheeks. His skin was shades darker, the black hair on his forearm, the network of veins in low relief faintly visible over his corded muscles in prurient contrast to her creamy skin.
Taking her chin in his other hand, he lifted her face to the mirrored wall. “Look at that.” His tall, powerful body dwarfed hers, their skin tones unfiltered dark and light, the divergent images reeking of hunter and hunted, of liberties taken, of urgency and entitlement. “Look how small you are. You’re my unspoiled gift, my sweet relief”—he smiled—“my flame-hot riot of need.”
Her heart did a little flip because his voice had dropped, as if he were talking to himself. But she knew how little he wished to hear about love so she smiled back, and brushed his arm with her fingertips. “The sensation of being overwhelmed by all this heavy-duty maleness turns me on too.”
“It’s weird.”
“But nice weird. I like that you’re stronger than me, bigger… taller, all muscle and mojo.”
He circled her with his arms. “I noticed the difference the first time I saw you. I felt”—he blinked, grinned—“probably just lust. I’m not good at distinguishing much else.”
She softly exhaled. “You scared me that first day.”
“Hey, remember who you’re talking to.” He bent his head and nuzzled the back of her ear. “You felt something else too.”
She turned her head and smiled at him. “I wasn’t sure what. Or if I had a chance.”
Every woman who stood still long enough had a chance with him in those days. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” he said politely, lifting his head. He drew in a small breath. “Sometimes I think of how close we came to never meeting and I start believing in fate. I never interview. But Max was busy and he was hot on hiring you so he insisted I fill in; he wanted me to see for myself how good you’d be for the company. And the reason I was late getting there was because I was thinking of blowing you off. Until Max called. Like he knew he had to nudge me.”
“And then I said no to you and you freaked.”
“I never like no. Although I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get a no when I fucked you.”
She turned fully in his arms and looked up. “I might have had something to say about that.”
He grinned. “Did you?”
She rapped him on the chin. “Smug bastard.”
“Your smug bastard. Get used to it.” Although talk of feelings always had a finite time limit for him. Longer now than before, but still not his favorite subject. “Need some help finding clothes?”
“Nah.” She was learning to read his restless shifts; although what man liked to analyze his emotions?
He waved toward another doorway. “I’ll be out there.” And he strode away nude and beautiful as a god.
Kate flipped through a closet of workout clothes, picked out green shorts and a T-shirt, dressed, then settled on a chaise by the pool and watched Dominic do laps in a smooth, easy crawl. She stopped counting laps after a hundred, when he was still going strong, and wandered over to the fly machine. Adjusting the seat and weights, she leisurely worked her pecs. The bracelets were loose enough not to be a problem. It felt good to lift. She’d started when Gramps bought her a Harley for her fourteenth birthday. He’d said, As soon as you can pick it up when it falls over, you can ride it. Within a month she could bench press 120 pounds. She kept free weights in her apartment in Boston, but this space was a weight lifter’s dream. She leisurely moved down the ranks of machines, testing them out, not killing herself, taking it easy.