Page 36 of The Art of Scandal

Since Rachel started her exploration of his body, he’d hoped her curiosity would override her better judgment, that she might stroke him with the gentle reverence of a lover. He wasn’t prepared for how she traced the line of his neck like it was precious. Likehewas sacred. No one had ever touched him that way. Her fingers were hesitant at first, a flutter of movement. Then she whispered, “Your beautiful secret,” with astonishment that ground his willpower into dust. “This song. Your art. Nathan, why are you hiding?”

“I’m not.” He ran his thumb along her cheek and nudged her chin higher until she met his eyes. “You’re the only one who sees me.”

Rachel grabbed his shirt as he clasped her waist and they both pulled at each other, colliding. The taste of him, already familiar, made her head swim. She gave him her tongue, and he sucked and swirled until she was gasping. They broke apart so she could wrap her legs around him and the dress bunched at her hips. He slid his hands underneath and squeezed her thighs.

“We probably shouldn’t,” Nathan said, his voice thick and rough while he stared at her mouth. “I’m really trying not to be an asshole here.”

She braced against his shoulders and rocked into his erection. He made a guttural sound low in his throat. “You’re not an asshole, Nathan.”

Nathan sank both hands into her hair and gently pulled her head back. He pressed his mouth to her neck, and mumbled, “You don’t know me, Rachel,” into her skin. She felt his breath, his teeth, the flick of his tongue against her pulse. “But I really want you to.”

He cupped her breast. She arched into his hand while he teased her nipple, whispering, “Harder,” against his ear. He slipped his fingers beneath her dress to give her what she wanted—blurring the line between pleasure and pain, making a thrilling mess of her senses.

He kissed her again, tracing the strip of lace at her hip. “Can I taste you?” His hand stilled as he waited for permission. She said, “Yes,” and his expression shifted, darkening to something so greedy and determined, it might have been the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

He lowered her to the couch and paused to stare at the crooked half circle drawn on her hip. “Is this the mystery tattoo?”

She propped herself on her elbows. “Oh. It was supposed to be a moon, like inStarry Night.” Nathan tried and failed to hide his amusement. She rolled her eyes. “I know.”

He circled it with his fingertips. “I could draw something for you.” His hand slipped beneath her panties light and teasing, which she loved but also hated. Her legs trembled as he tugged them down her thighs. “You’re not a moon girl.”

“What am I?” she rasped. He held her gaze as he finally massaged her clit. She ignited.

“You’re the fucking sun.”

He pressed his lips against her like a kiss. One side, then the other. It had been so long since anyone had seen her like this—wet, exposed, and swollen. It made her want to hide from the hungry way he looked at her. She also wanted more.

She felt his tongue, slick and cool, and the intensity made her startle. Nathan leaned back. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” She extended a hand. “It’s not you, it’s—it’s been a while. I don’t know if… It might take a while,” she said, and hated that it sounded like an apology.

“I plan on being down here awhile, so I think we’re good.” He grinned, but his gaze was steady and measured, closely tracking her reaction. “Do you trust me?”

She was sprawled over his couch, her panties crumpled on his floor. “Of course I do.”

Nathan sat back on his heels. “I want to learn you.” He guided her hand between her legs. “Show me, Rachel.”

It felt like too much. Too intimate. But as he watched her, his thumb sweeping a reassuring trail over her knuckles, she realized that this was what he’d meant.Do you trust me enough to be seen too?

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. He hovered close, the heat from his body warming her sweat-glazed skin. She pressed her fingers inside, deep, the way she liked. Nathan voiced his approval in taut, chanting whispers.

She pictured him watching with those beautiful eyes—amber, like whiskey, and threaded with gold. The image nearly pushed her over the edge. His breath caressed the back of her hand, tempting her to look. She’d just caught her rhythm when he licked her, in the perfect spot, with the perfect pressure, and then settled into a slow, efficient devastation. Rachel broke apart. She came, hard and trembling, slurring his name. A filthy unraveling.

He straightened, flushed and short of breath. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, afraid that if she spoke, it would be a stream of babblingthank yous. Or worse. She might burst into tears.

By the time they moved to the bed, she had started to recover. She slid naked between the sheets and watched him undress. Nathan could have been a Greek sculpture with his contoured chest and defined six-pack that tapered in a V into his pants. She was in good shape, but she was also older—softer in places that used to be firm. Nathan’s body looked healthy and new in a way that made her feel every one of her thirty-seven years. She sat back on the bed and pulled the sheet up over her breasts.

“Hey.” He sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her gaze roamed over his chest. His tattoos were a living painting on a bronze canvas. “You’re a little too beautiful. It broke my brain for a minute.”

His face reddened, and he ducked his head—smiling big enough to make his eyes wrinkle at the corners. “I’m not thinking clearly either.” His eyes slid over her, lingering where the sheet covered her breasts. “I pictured this, you in my bed, but the real thing is just…” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t say what I’m thinking.”

She sat up, and the sheet slid lower. His eyes tracked its progression. “What are you thinking?”

“It’s inappropriate.”

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