Resisting Nick (Wicked in Wellington) by Kris Pearson

 
    Traffic swished by in the road below, and sudden rain spattered on the windows. Inside the bedroom, it was warm, dimly lit, and infinitely more welcoming. The real world could go to hell for a while.  
    “Nicky,” she murmured. “Thank you. Incredible.”
    “Not finished yet.”
    “No,” she agreed. “I’ve barely started on you.”
    “And I’m nowhere near finished with you.”
    He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, then drifted to her collarbone. She smelled sweet and fragrant—like honey and raspberries on a warm summer’s day. He closed his eyes, and operating on touch alone cupped one of her breasts in his hand and licked and teased her some more.  
      “It never felt like that in the packing shed,” she said in a breathy murmur.
    “The implement shed. Remember all the machinery?”
    “So it was. We were lucky Grandpa never caught us.”
    He was profoundly thankful for that. “I guess your body wasn’t developed enough, back then.” He slid down the bed, stroked her belly, ran a finger around and around her navel, and followed with his lips.
    “Not a natural blonde,” he whispered, playing in the neat little patch of curls a few inches lower.
    “You know I’m not,” she protested, stretching like a contented cat.
    Nick eased over her, pushing her thighs apart until he could bury his face there. God, the scent of a woman feeling sexy! He breathed her in, forcing her legs further apart with both hands when she tried to retreat into modesty.
    “Surrender to the inevitable,” he teased, holding her where he wanted her and sliding his tongue over her clit.
    Sammie’s hips jolted in response.
    “I’m allowed to treat you like a big girl now. All the things I couldn’t do back then. All the things I’d only heard about. Anything you want,” he whispered.
    He licked her again as though she was premium ice-cream. “Anything you want at all.”
    Another lick.
    “What would you like me to do, Sammie?”
    “Just...that...” she gasped in a strangled voice.  
    He smiled, enjoying his effect on her, tongue lapping slowly and deliberately at the juicy little peak. “Not this?” he asked a dozen soft strokes later, inserting a long finger.  
    Her sharp inhalation told him she liked that very much too.
    “And if I pressed up here...?”
    “Oh God Nick, yes!”
    “Found the sweet spot, have I?” Her fractured breathing and sexy little moans were answer enough. She’d relaxed her thighs completely, open to whatever he wanted. Her aroused clit now pushed out like the sweetest candy. He pursed his lips around it and sucked with a steady rhythm, massaging it from underneath with his finger pulsing deep inside her.  
    Soon he felt the first of her tiny tugs and flutters. He’d imagined this almost constantly. Sammie out of control—because she was normally very much in control. His aloof and capable new secretary with her so-perfect suit and sky high heels reduced to a keening growling kitten, animal as anything, and all for him.
    Now he had the extra thrill of knowing her true identity. His naughty little playmate, finally ripe and ready, so many years later.
    Sammie hissed in a sharp breath and tensed. She teetered on the very brink of orgasm and he pushed her a little further. Finally she gave a wild cry and came apart in a juddering, panting storm, one hand clenched in his hair, the nails of the other scoring his neck.
    He smiled, oblivious to the pain, and when she was done, reached for the first of the condoms.

CHAPTER TEN

    She lay gasping, dimly hearing Nick rip the glittering packet apart. The blood roared in her ears and guilt tried to eat at her conscience.  
    This was taking her ‘whole new life’ to levels she hadn’t planned.  
    In bed with Nick Sharpe? So fast? One moment she’d been picking up broken terracotta, and the next she found herself pinned underneath him being kissed to death.  
    And she’d invited him to bed. More than invited—pretty well dragged