Desire Me More (7 page)

It was half the truth—and a gamble telling Lord Murray that much.

Lord Murray narrowed his eyes, disbelief and curiosity warring in his expression. “A bloody school?” he sputtered, obviously not expecting that revelation.

Nick turned again, not willing to spend another moment with his lordship, knowing he had to play hard if he was going to succeed in getting what he wanted.

“Where in hell are you going, Riley?”

“To investigate other options.”

“So you're no longer interested in Caldon Manor?” Lord Murray followed him out the door, not bothering with his jacket, even though the wind was cutting.

“That is not what I said.” Nick gave the older man a bland look. Lord Murray seemed worried he'd lost this deal, but Nick wouldn't give the man any hope. Tomorrow, he planned to see his solicitor about a lower offer for the lands. That should sufficiently anger Shauley, and that thought brought on a smile. Nick would eventually have to deal with Shauley . . . after the purchase of the lands.

“You can't just leave,” Lord Murray called after him.

Nick looked at the man one last time. “Yet that is exactly what I'm doing.”

And he left. He needed to stop at Landon's. Landon was Nick's business partner and friend. They were going into this deal together, and they'd have to stand firm on this gamble if they were going to succeed in getting exactly what they wanted in the end. Nicked needed to ensure this deal succeeded. And just maybe Lord Murray would sack Shauley for suggesting they play a harder hand.

Patience
, Nick counseled himself. He'd waited nearly twenty years for this opportunity, and he well knew Lord Murray was desperate, for he needed the money and could not afford this deal falling through.

A
melia woke with a start, not sure what had dragged her from the sweet tangle of limbs that had filled her dreams. Movement beside her had her rolling over to find Nick, who was usually wrapped around her, keeping her warm through the night. The only thing she could make out in the dark of Nick's room was his body twisted in the light blanket that normally was folded at the end of the bed.

Tentatively, she reached out to him. “Nick,” she whispered, her voice croaking, still full of sleep. He mumbled something she couldn't make out the words to.

“Nick,” she said louder. When he didn't wake, she curled her hand around his bicep, shaking him lightly.

He didn't respond, not that she'd expected it to be so easy to wake him.

She wished she knew why these nightmares gripped him so tightly. This was the third time she'd woken like this in the past week, as though something had triggered the increased frequency. When he was like this, he was unresponsive and sometimes violent, all while he slept. These nightmares frightened her, not for her sake but for his.

Sitting up in the bed, she pressed her hand harder into his chest—he usually woke if she talked for a while. “Nick, you need to wake up. Come back to me. Please . . . ”

She shook him with both hands, feeling desperate to pull him from the nightmare and desperate to protect their privacy. If Huxley heard Nick, as he often did, he'd be in here soon enough. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Leaning over him, she shook him more forcefully. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the pained expression that morphed his beautiful face. To see such a strong man made helpless terrified her beyond measure.

She was sprawled over him, doing her damnedest to shake him out of his dream state, but he wasn't responding to her touch or her voice like he usually did. She didn't know what to do. Any minute, Huxley would be here. They'd be found out. And while she knew she couldn't be discovered in here, she would not leave Nick in his current state.

Making a quick decision, she bolted out of Nick's bed and ran to the door to lock it. When she was back on the bed, shaking Nick again, she heard the turn of the latch.

She gazed back at the door. It shook.

Straddling Nick's waist, she squeezed her thighs around his hips. Her voice low and careful as she heard the force of Huxley's shoulder meet the door.

“Please, Nick. Please. You have to get up. I don't know what to do.”

When his eyes snapped open, a huge sigh of relief whooshed from her lungs. A second later, their positions were reversed, and his hand was around her throat. Madness lingered in his eyes as he stared back at her without actually seeing her.

“Nick.” Her voice was a rasp as his grip tightened. “Nick.” She coughed, trying to catch a deep breath as she attempted to yank his hands away from her throat. He eased up, but he didn't let her go, not completely.

A sob escaped her, not so much of fear for herself but of the situation in which they found themselves. Nick would never forgive himself if he hurt her, but she didn't know how to snap him out of what now appeared to be a waking nightmare.

There was a knock at the door, but Nick didn't acknowledge it. She wasn't sure he even heard it. Was he still dreaming? “Please see me,” she managed to croak. “Nick. Come back to me.”

Huxley's rough voice came through the door. “Nick, answer me if you're awake.”

The thud of Huxley's body hitting the door had her heart racing faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. She was running out of time.

Amelia searched Nick's eyes. There was no recognition in the black gaze that stared down at her in the darkness. Tears trailed down the side of her face as she forced herself to remain calm.

Think, Amelia.

While his hand hadn't tightened anymore, it was a little difficult to breath, and she suspected that if she tried to slide out from beneath him, his grip would intensify.

She opened her legs to him, letting him settle in the cradle of her thighs. She tangled her hands in his hair, gripping tightly at the base of his neck.

“Wake up,” she demanded. There was no fear left in her voice.

Think, Amelia. Think.

Straining against his hand, she did the last thing she could think of. She closed her eyes and strained her neck enough that she could kiss him.

The press of their lips was fleeting, as his restraint on her gave her limited mobility. She couldn't move another inch without hurting herself in the process. So she kissed the next best thing she could reach: his lower lip, his chin, the strong cut of his jawline. Between each gentle caress of her lips, she asked Nick to wake up over and over again.

The thickening of his member was almost instantaneous, the heavy weight of it wedged hard between the folds of her sex where their bodies were crushed together. Every muscle in Nick's body grew taut, as though he were preparing for a fight. Amelia continued to kiss him, hoping he awoke before Huxley broke through the door.

The pained look that had taken hold of Nick's expression gradually loosened. Where his eyes had been empty of life, the first flicker of awareness now met her head-on. She breathed a sigh of relief as he released his grip on her throat and tucked his head into her shoulder, as though he needed to catch his breath. Comprehension must have washed through Nick because he cursed a second before he rubbed his lips back and forth over the erratic pulse at her neck.

Her mouth parted on a silent moan, and her knees spread wider, as she tried to wedge the thick hardness of his shaft tighter against her sex. The heavy thud of Huxley ramming into the door brought her back to the reality of their situation.

“I'm fine!” Nick barked, his body stiffening as he held his weight from her. “Go back to bed, Huxley.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for long moments before they heard the wood-plank floors creak with Huxley's retreat.

Amelia closed her eyes. “What happened?” she whispered into the dark.

Nick hauled himself off her and went into the plunge bath that was attached to his room. Candlelight flickered, one stub at a time.

She could hear the water running in the sink, but Nick didn't speak to her. She sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to come back . . . but he didn't. Was he hiding from her? Did he not want to talk about what had happened? When he didn't return to the bed after five minutes, she reached for her robe on the floor, slipped into the cool silky material, and cinched it at her waist before she followed Nick into the bathing chamber.

Nick's scarred back faced her as she entered the room. His dark head was bowed, and his hands curled over the edge of the white porcelain sink. She approached him slowly, letting him hear every step she took as she walked across the tiled floor.

When she was close enough to touch him, she didn't lay her head against his back and wrap her arms around him, even though that was what she most wanted. She stood tall and firm behind him, knowing she would have to be direct if she wanted answers about what had happened. Answers about how to stop the dreams that tormented him too frequently.

“Nick?”

“Not now, Amelia.” His voice was soft, tired.

“Don't shut me out.”

“I can't have this conversation right now.” His head was shaking back and forth. His body clearly saying no, no, no.

“Can I draw a bath for you?” she offered, refusing to back down.

“Go back to bed. I'll join you soon.”

“I'm not leaving you like this, Nick. Help me understand what happened.”

He abruptly turned and had her backed up against the cold glass-tiled wall. The look in his eyes was broken. She reached her hand up and pressed her palm to the side of his face, the rough friction of his beard grounding her to the moment. She would not give in so easily to his demands.

“I won't leave because you matter to me. And I cannot help you if I don't understand what happened.”

“Stop. Just stop, Amelia. There are things you don't know—can't know. Let it be.” His eyes focused on her neck a second before he caressed the back of his hand over her. “I hurt you. I'll never forgive myself for that. I can barely live with myself right now after the way I woke up.”

She grasped his hand with her own and lowered it. “What were you dreaming about?”

He yanked himself away from her so fast, she nearly tumbled to the floor.

“You can trust me with your secrets, just as I have trusted you with mine.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. If he didn't open himself up to her, how would they ever get beyond this point? “If you shut me out now, I will be forced to believe you do not seek a relationship with me, only someone to warm your bed.”

It hurt her to admit that, but if that was the truth, she might as well know sooner rather than later.

“That's not what you are to me.” He paced the floor in front of her, looking lost and angry. His hands were buried in his hair and periodically scrubbed over his face, as though he was still trying to shake remnants of the nightmare from his mind.

She walked toward him. How could she give up on him when she could clearly read the torment that hung over him, like a weight that wouldn't let up?

It was obvious that she wasn't going to get the answers she wanted right now. The one thing within her ability to offer was comfort.

Reaching for him, she threaded her fingers through his and led him back into his bedroom. He didn't fight her to leave him be, for which she was thankful, because she wasn't sure what she would have done, had that been the case.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tried to pull him down next to her. But he held firm; his expression, hovering on the edge of want and worry, told her he was torn in what to do. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against the hard ridges of his stomach. Eventually, he loosened his stance, his hand petting her hair, his penis growing thicker with need between them.

Amelia pressed small kisses against his belly, trailing through the dark hairs that drew a line down to his heavy manhood. He stopped her with his finger under her chin before she could take his member into her mouth.

He shook his head, his expression no longer lost, just . . . needful. “I don't trust myself right now.”

“I know you won't hurt me.”

“So sweet and innocent.” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her neck and then over her chin. “What I want
is
to hurt you. But not the way I did earlier. In a different way.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. His words were a warning that she would be well advised to take to heart, but she wanted to know more.

“Show me what you want, Nick. I trust you.”

Instead of answering her, he grasped the braid at the base of her head. “Are you sure you want this?”

She nodded, licking her lips.

“Suck my cock.” His voice was gravelly, his need taking over the tormented look that lingered in his eyes.

She would do anything to banish that look completely.

Her fist around the base of his penis, she sucked the head of him into her mouth, her tongue playing with the slit at the top, lapping up the precome before swirling fully around the silky head.

Nick's hand guided her head, making her draw him deeper into her mouth. His hips pumped forward and back, driving him deeper, deeper than she expected she could take him. It was too deep. Her throat closed around him, and she gagged when he pressed too far. Nick eased off, pulling out of her completely, the head of his cock drawing a wet line over her lips, waiting for her to take him again.

“Relax your throat, and you'll be able to take all of me. Go slower this time.”

She looked up at his hard expression. Hunger and desire fired his gray eyes, and in place of the haunting dream, something darker was there, darker than she'd ever seen before. She had no words to describe it and recalled his words:
“What I want
is
to hurt you.”
She suspected what he meant, and the thought only made her yearn for more.

With her eyes locked on his, she opened her mouth and let him slide between her lips. She rubbed the flat of her tongue over the thick vein that ran along the bottom of his manhood and took him deeply. Deeper than she had before. And then he started to rock into her mouth like he did her sheath. Spit dribbled out the side of her mouth, but she didn't care. His hand tightened in her hair again, his body strung taut as he held himself back from taking her harder. He was too big for her to take all of him, the head of his cock already touching the back of her throat with each motion of his hips.

Nick stayed in control of the situation, not giving himself over to her fully. He was holding back. And knowing that hurt. His thrusts came faster, shallower, so he wouldn't cause her to gag again. And that control he held over the situation made her angry. Made it difficult for her to lose herself in pleasing him.

Pulling against his hand tangled in her hair, she dislodged his cock from her mouth and looked up at him. His hips were still moving, his need bobbing wetly against her chin.

“You are holding yourself back from me.” The hurt was thick in her voice.

“I have to.”

“What part of ‘I trust you' did you disbelieve?”

With a groan, Nick's hand released her hair, and he hauled her up to her feet.

“You don't know what you're asking.”

“I want to be the person you come to when you need to forget what haunts your thoughts. I'm asking you to give me all you have.”

He yanked her robe down off her shoulders, trapping her arms at her sides. “The things I want will scare you.” When she glared back at him, he pushed her roughly down on the bed, face forward, bottom in the air. His hands were urgent, almost desperate, as he pushed the silky robe off her legs, tearing it in his haste to expose her rear. His hands squeezed each cheek of her buttocks.