Frisked in Fondant: Tulle and Tulips, Book 6 Read online

  With a single touch she calmed the inferno inside, but she didn’t ask him to stop. No, she kissed him back, kissing him until he gasped, inhaling her taste and scent into himself. Sweet sin was the only way he could think to describe her.

  Releasing a moan, he wrapped a hand around her hip and eased her down so she was lying beneath him. His body hummed, all over, inside and outside, muscle and marrow.

  Kyle pulled back and with another moan he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re a dangerous woman, Gisella.”

  “Only if you stop,” she said in a slightly hesitant tone.

  “If I keep going… I could kiss you for hours.”

  “I could let you.”

  “Yeah?” He wanted to do so much more than kiss her.

  “If you wanted.”

  “I want.” I want you more than is safe. I want you too much to care about proper. I want you more than my job. And he loved his job.

  “Would you want to spend the night again?” Her hesitance eased back, allowing the spunk he’d witnessed at the wedding and again last night when she’d come onto him to take charge.

  “Yeah.” Where had his vocabulary gone? He sounded as intelligent as a grunting primate.

  “I don’t mean because you feel a need to protect me.” There was almost no hesitance left in her voice now.

  He leaned in so close her breath brushed his lips, carrying with it a bit of chocolate from the cookie she’d just eaten. Need clawed at the base of his spine. “That’s not why I stayed last night. It’s not why I’ll stay tonight.”

  He teased her mouth, faintly touching her lips with his.

  A tiny moan, throaty and hungry, left her mouth and reached deep into his soul. Yeah, the woman was dangerous. She spiked his adrenaline and seduced him to the brink of surrender. Ready to cross the threshold, he lifted her into his arms and headed for her room.

  Many more tastes and he’d be a hopeless junkie hooked on her. He couldn’t be hooked on better.

  Chapter Four

  The trip from her living room to her bedroom gave Kyle time to stash his gun and phone after sending a quick text, and it gave Gisella too much time to think. Her only experience with sex was what she’d read in books and heard from her friends. Her only orgasms had been brought by her own hand, normally in a hot bath while reading a hotter book. She should warn him that she didn’t know what she was doing. If he knew he might be more patient if it wasn’t good. Or he might save himself the disappointment altogether.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  At first she thought he was asking because he knew about her virginity. Then she realized he was asking about her injuries. His consideration warmed her heart and made her doubt he’d stay if he knew. She nodded, letting him think she was answering his questions.

  “Tell me if anything I do causes you pain.”

  With a nod, she closed her eyes and debated again whether or not to tell him. She didn’t want him to turn away.

  Kyle pulled the comforter back. She settled among the pillows and stretched her legs straight. Sitting beside her with his hip against hers, he reached across her to brace his hand on the mattress.

  Her head buzzed.

  Then he kissed her.

  The buzz quieted. He slowly teased her lips. The touches were too soft for her to taste him. Memory and imagination worked together, blending what she had hoped would happen with what she wanted to happen tonight.

  With his free hand, he traced the outline of her ear and jaw. He swept his fingers over her shoulder and along the outside of her breast. Her blood thickened with a decadent combination of anticipation. Peaks of pleasure formed and spread, suffusing her.

  Hungry, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders. Gisella watched the play of his lean muscles beneath his T-shirt. Elegance and strength radiated off him when he turned back.

  Not satisfied with semi-chaste kissing, not that her body was reading the kisses as remotely chaste, she pulled his T-shirt from his waistband. She fisted her hands in the soft material and pulled him back to her.

  His kiss moved deeper this time, with the slightest part of his lips. She opened for him, inviting him in. His tongue played with the inside of her top lip and years of pent-up fantasies burst in her mind.

  The night before may have taken her to hell, but then Kyle had come to her door. With him, he brought a slice of heaven. She wanted more than a slice. She wanted the entire damn cake and she wanted it now.

  Flattening her hands against his stomach, Gisella moaned and curled into him. Kyle sank deeper into the kiss and pressed his body lightly against hers. It still wasn’t enough. Shifting again, rubbing her legs together and moaning again because of the friction, she moved a hand from him long enough to flip her maxi-skirt up.

  Kyle took her hint and shifted to suit her. His fingers flexed, dug lightly into her thigh. A second later his touch lightened and he caressed her thigh. The top, the outside, the back. He went from her knee to her panty line, up and down, and occasionally pinching her the tiniest bit.

  She rolled her hips and eased her hands up his torso, playing with his nipples, pinching him when he pinched her. Years of dreaming paled beneath his caresses. She was inexperienced, but every breath with him was natural. Instinctive.

  Again she wondered if she should tell him. And again she stopped herself out of fear.

  Kyle deepened his kiss, sweeping his tongue along hers. In and out, muscle caressed muscle, she struggled to focus on the bombarding sensations. Her vibrating skin, her buzzing head, her raging blood, her pulsing core. It was all too much and not enough.

  Begging with her body, she arched into him. Still kissing her, still caressing her body and face with one hand, he slid the fingers on her leg toward her inner thigh. And up. She spread her legs, eager, but he didn’t touch her throbbing center.

  Instead, he slid his fingers up to the edge of her panties and then followed their line to the outside of her hip. She was growing desperate when he took mercy on her, at least she hoped he was, and reached for the waist of her underwear. He tugged. She lifted her hips. He pulled the panties down her legs and tossed them away.

  His fingers returned to her leg. Their teasing journey took a more direct route. Kyle slid a finger over her, circled her clit. She shifted, moving deeper into his touch. He slid inside, probing and pressing and playing.

  One finger. Two fingers. His thumb rubbing her clit. He swept her to the brink, pressed her closer. Then he froze, fingers and mouth, and eased back to look at her.

  “You’re…”

  “It changes nothing.” Please don’t let it change anything.

  “What changes nothing?”

  “That I’m a virgin.”

  “What?” He stared, not blinking. He shook his head sharply. “Oh hell.”

  “Please don’t stop.”

  “Sweetheart, I won’t stop, but it changes everything.”

  “You won’t stop?”

  So much of her life had been spent being a pimply faced fat girl boys wanted nothing to do with. She’d gotten her skin under control and lost sixty pounds, but she still struggled with feeling beautiful. Always being fifteen or twenty pounds heavier than her friends kept her self-doubts alive. Kyle silenced those doubts.

  “Only if you want me to.” His fingers moved in a circle. “I hope you don’t want me to.”

  “Hell no.”

  His lips curled upward. “Hell no it is.”

  He didn’t even change positions. His fingers resumed their exploration and he went back to kissing her. It was different though. His touch, his taste. They’d turned…reverent.

  Kyle’s fingers moved in and out of her, stretching her, pressing deeper. She ached with the hunger of having him go deep. He caressed her, patient and loving.

  She writhed beneath him, trying to press
herself closer to him. He withdrew his fingers and played with her. Then, just as she began her descent from the high, he thrust his fingers into her. She bucked her hips, pressing herself against him, and soared.

  His kiss hardened, as if he was as hungry as her for completion. She returned his fervor, wanting to memorize every aspect. Kyle, attentive to every illicit detail, touched and stroked and brushed until she finally did come down.

  With his forehead resting against hers and their breaths steadying, she asked, “Is it always like that?”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  “Oh.” For a moment she’d wondered why she hadn’t found someone to have sex with before. Then his answer had made her wonder if she’d made a mistake now. “I’ve heard the first time isn’t any good. I’d hoped it would get better.”

  “It will.” He eased back and met her gaze. Desire danced in the depths of his brown eyes. “Though that was a damn good start. Wait until we go the rest of the way.”

  Ready to discover how much better, Gisella traced his mouth. “I’m game when you are.”

  Kyle laughed a wonderful sounding laugh, which vanquished the darkness of her doubts. With a kiss to her temple, he said, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Craving Gisella to the point of being ready to strip down and dive deep, Kyle forced himself to ease away from her. In the bathroom, he washed his hands and found a rag to clean up Gisella.

  Gisella.

  The woman, like her name, inspired romantic thoughts and gestures. Even for an unromantic guy like Kyle. Add in her willingness to share her gift with him, and he was pretty well sunk. She’d struck him as innocent, because she was.

  She’d conquered her doubts, but not before he’d seen them. Her innocence and insecurity did nothing to change how much he wanted her. They did nothing to change his inability to view her like any other woman.

  He wanted to protect her as badly as he wanted to plunder.

  Every dumbass thing he’d ever thought or said about women, every shithead thing he’d ever done had led him to Gisella. He was sure he’d screw things up with her at some point, but until he did he would enjoy her. And after she saw the jerk he’d always been before and kicked him to the curb, he’d still value her gift as something precious.

  Why did she trust him in ways she trusted no one else? She’d asked him to spend the night with her when she was still fresh from an attack, which was an off time to let people in.

  She’d allowed him back inside. She’d upped the ante when she shared herself with him on an emotional and an intensely personal level. She’d only succeeded in making him want her more, in making him want to know every other secret she kept hidden from those who assumed they knew her best.

  He was wringing out the rag when something brushed against his leg. “Shit.”

  He jerked away from the sink in time to see a white fuzz ball dart across the tiled floor and through the open door. He’d known she had at least one cat, because he’d checked their robotic litter box to ensure Gisella’s jewelry was still safe in the drawer beneath it. He hadn’t seen any other sign of it though. Now that they’d scared each other he may not be seeing it again anytime soon.

  Kyle took the rag back to Gisella. Neither of them said anything while he washed her and straightened the bed covers. “Is your cat shy?”

  “Which one? There are two.”

  “White one.”

  “That’s Cream, and no, he doesn’t particularly like people.” She pulled her knees up and sat against the headboard.

  Taking it as a good sign she didn’t cover up with the blankets, he sat beside her. When she shifted a leg to rest over his, he took it as a very good sign.

  “The other one?”

  “She’s black. Her name’s Cookies. She only comes out when no one is home.”

  “Cookies and Cream.” He smiled. “Seems fitting.”

  Gisella shrugged. “I have a thing for sweets.”

  “Did you always want to bake?”

  She shook her head. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a lawyer like my dad, or an executive like Mom. She was president of a marketing firm. They rarely ate or allowed sweets in the house.”

  “So you’re making up for lost time?”

  She chuckled. “No. After my parents were… I was raised by my aunt who was more opposed to health food than my parents were to sweets. They became a problem for me as I got older, and while I got past them being a problem, I didn’t stop loving them.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “Weight. You might have noticed I’m not as skinny as some women.”

  Her curves were one of the things he loved about her. He played with her hair, because it was safer than playing with her body. He wanted to give her a little time before asking for more. “Yes, I have.”

  “Well, this is after losing sixty pounds. I’ve kept it off the last three years, but I haven’t gotten the next twenty off.”

  “I like this.” Kyle traced a hand up her leg and over her hip. “All of it. A lot.”

  “You don’t seem to be so bad yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  “A little too chatty though. You should work on that.”

  “My father said the same this morning.” And though he didn’t say much, it didn’t mean his mind sat idle. He’d learned the less he talked, the more other people filled the silence. As a detective, always looking to close cases, knowing the value of silence came in handy.

  With Gisella it meant learning more about her. For instance, he got the impression her parents’ deaths had been violent. It still haunted her. An aunt had taken her in, but however loving she may have been she hadn’t been enough to keep Gisella from eating her grief.

  “When a man comments on how much you talk, or don’t in your case, you know it’s bad.”

  Kyle shrugged. “I let my partner do all the chatting.”

  “Where’s he?”

  “She’s on maternity leave enjoying my new goddaughter.”

  Gisella raised a brow. “You like babies?”

  “Until their parents screw them up.”

  “Considering how you’ve been with me I shouldn’t be surprised, yet I am. I’m not sure I can imagine you with a baby in your arms.”

  “I’d show you pictures, but I’d have to move.” Jolene, already affectionately called Jo like her grandfather, had captured his heart the second he saw her. Hell, he nearly went gooey just thinking about her.

  Gisella brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. “Your eyes go all soft and doughy when you talk about her. It’s adorable.”

  He took her mouth with his and kissed her the way he’d wanted to kiss her since he stopped kissing her last time. He didn’t stop until she moaned, and when he did he pulled back and said, “Don’t call me adorable. It’s no big secret babies are cute.”

  Gisella gasped. “You said more than fifteen syllables.”

  She sounded like his father. It was another reason Kyle liked her, but it was also a reason not to rush things. “I do that on occasion.”

  “It’s a relief to know you have the ability.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Though she would get used to it if they spent any real time together. Every minute with her had him wanting more.

  “I’m taking it as a challenge to see how often you’ll do it.”

  “How can you count syllables so quickly?” Kyle had asked his dad, and always gotten a shrug as an answer, but he was curious what Gisella would say.

  “I’m always measuring things. Counting syllables is just another measurement.”

  It made sense. Everything about Gisella made sense.

  Losing her parents as a kid and then turning to food for therapy… She’d known life’s dark side. Baking wedding cakes, filling her home with vibrant colors and choosing clothes in
similar shades… She constantly reached for life’s light side.

  “Will you tell me about your parents?”

  She shook her head, but almost immediately began talking. “I’d gotten into a fight with a friend at a sleepover, so my dad picked me up.”

  “When we got home,” Gisella continued, trying not to think about what she was retelling, “it wasn’t to find Mom asleep in bed.” Memories flooded back. If it wasn’t for Kyle’s hand on her skin she’d be lost in them. “We walked into the kitchen to find a mess Mom would never have allowed. Then we heard a scream.”

  The same scream shattered the quiet in her mind. The same plea had fallen from her lips the night before.

  She sounded like a foreigner to herself, like someone else was talking while she relived the two most violent nights of her life. The far and not so far removed history.

  “Dad picked me up and put me in the laundry room. He promised to be right back.”

  “He didn’t come back.”

  She shook her head. He’d shut her in the dark room and then left her there. She’d heard it all too clearly and it came back to life as she told Kyle about her first home invasion.

  “Get away from her.” Dad’s command was muffled by space and the door, but it was the tone Gisella knew better than to ignore.

  “Ron. No.” Mom sounded sad. Like she was crying.

  Stronger than her dad’s command, or maybe just more violent, was another man’s voice. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Take whatever you want,” Dad said. “Just don’t hurt her.”

  A thud reached Gisella a second before her mom cried out. “I don’t like being told what to do,” the man said.

  Dad said something else Gisella couldn’t make out. Mom cried harder and begged the man to stop. Gisella sank into the tight space below the laundry room sink. Covering her ears offered no relief, so she held her breath and wished she could vanish into the wall.