Falling For Nick (31 page)

"I'm sorry. I'm running late." She smiled, showing him her perfect white teeth. "I haven't had time to dry my hair. Come in." She pulled the door open wider and he went inside.

The smell of cinnamon lingered in the air, yet the kitchen was neat and tidy, leaving him to guess she'd eaten earlier.

"Where's John?" He tossed his jacket on the dining room chair.

"He's staying overnight at Toby's." Clea ran a hand over her hair. "Let me go and dry my hair and throw on some makeup. I'll be right back."

"Don't," Nick said, still trying to digest the news that they were alone, and she had invited him over. He reached out and touched her hair. "You don't need makeup. You're beautiful just the way you are. And I like your hair curly, the way it was in school. Don't straighten it. Leave it."

She didn't move. "I haven't worn my hair curly for years." Her tongue came out to wet her lips, upping his desire he for her.

"What am I doing here, Clea?" he asked. "Because this is looking like an invitation to something more than conversation."

She spun away from him, giving him a great view of her back and her bottom, round and inviting inside her form-fitting pants.

"I broke the engagement." She turned. Clear green eyes stared at him, honest and wide. "I couldn't marry him. I thought I wanted to. Robert is safe, steady. But I just couldn't go through with it."

"I knew it." Her admission filled him with a rush of happiness, yet he knew what breaking the engagement had cost her.

"I didn't say anything yesterday, because I wanted to tell John first. I told him last night."

"How did he take the news? Is he okay?" John had seemed fine at the garage this afternoon, but the kid was good at holding his emotions in.

"I've explained things to him, but he has questions, most of them about us and where we go from here."

"Where do we go?" he asked, afraid to hope.

"I don't know, Nick, but I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"Where do I start?" She gave him a weak smile. "For the other night when I came to your place. You were right. I did go there hoping you'd try and seduce me. I realize now I was looking for an excuse to end things with Boomer. I was wrong to put you in the middle of my problems. I'm ashamed of my behavior."

"Forget it." He didn't want her apology. He understood about the other night, understood the driving need to find answers in her arms, just as she had looked for answers in his.

"I don't know what happens next," she said. "But I asked you over tonight to share something with you." She pointed to the window.

An easel stood near the window. "What's this?" He walked over to the picture resting there. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was a framed photograph of John and himself in The Boss. Clea had managed to capture them perfectly, from their smiles to the smooth paint job on the car. "This is wonderful."

"It's a gift, for you." She went to the hall closet and opened the door, removing what looked like several photo albums, as well as a couple of large leather-bound portfolios. "There's more."

Curious, Nick helped her. She placed the albums and portfolios on the floor.

"Sit down." She dropped to the carpet and opened one of the portfolios, turning the cover aside.

Nick went down on his knees. It was a picture of John as a baby. Unable to help himself, he reached out, tracing the line of the infant's cheek. God, he was beautiful with a head of dark hair. Although the photo was done taken in black and white, Clea had colored the eyes a startling blue. Nick glanced up at her, but couldn't find any words to describe what he felt.

"I took this when he was just three weeks old," she said. "He had the softest skin, and I wanted to capture that. I wasn't as good with lighting then as I am now, but every time I look at this I remember how soft he felt, how good he smelled. I colored the eyes in later, because I couldn't get over the shade of blue. He has your eyes Nick."

"He's beautiful," Nick said, his chest tight with emotion.

She turned the page. "This is John at about eight months. He's crawling, and getting into absolutely everything. As you can see, he's chubbier."

John had grown bigger. Clea had captured him in mid-crawl. A priceless moment, a moment he wished he'd been a part of.

"Let's see, what's next? I took so many pictures, it's hard to remember." She turned the page, revealing a portrait of Clea, John nursing at her breast. Dressed in white, she looked like an angel. Her hair curled wildly over her shoulders, one lock captured in John's chubby fist. This was the Clea Nick remembered. The wild hair, the younger face. John stared up at her. Nick could see the love in John's eyes, and in Clea's eyes as she returned the baby's stare.

"I used a tripod and a timer for this shot. I've always liked this one," she said wistfully. "John would die of embarrassment now if he were to see it. I nursed him until he was about eighteen months old." She smiled. "I loved holding him close, his cheek against my breast. The connection between us was strongest when he nursed. I fell so in love with him during those precious moments. There's nothing like it, Nick."

A whirlwind of emotions swept through Nick with the force of a tornado. Regret for the time he missed with Clea and John, mixed with an overwhelming love for them. Because of the love he felt for Clea, a baby had been born. His son. Their child. In this instant he knew he would never let anyone or anything take them away from him again.

"It's the most beautiful picture I've ever seen," he said, wishing he'd been there to witness the special closeness in person. "You've given me a gift."

Her smile widened. "I wanted to give you John's childhood. I took these pictures for you, Nick. I made a mistake when I returned your letters. I shut you out of John's life. You'll never know how much I regret that now."

The unfamiliar sting of tears touched his eyes. He couldn't remember a time when he'd cried, not when he'd gone to prison, not when Maude had died. His heart swelled with unchecked love for Clea and for his son. Never would he have imagined that she'd even thought of him while he'd been in prison. And to find out she'd not only thought of him, but had photographed a history of their son's childhood for him. His heart soared.

"There are more," she said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. She showed him pictures of John's first steps, of his first day of school, of his sixth birthday party. Nick reveled in the photographs, committing them to memory. The photos were more than just images committed to paper, each picture captured a moment of history, of a life he'd missed. Clea had given him those moments back. He could see the love she felt for John with each picture she'd taken. She had a remarkable talent she couldn't waste here in Port Bliss.

"I can see why you won the internship," Nick said with awe. "Why don't you have these displayed?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't. It hurt to look at them with you gone."

"Clea."

"The pictures are so personal, so private." She gave him a small smile. "You're the only one I wanted to share them with."

He reached for her, taking her face in his hands, her skin smooth under his rough fingers. While in prison he'd tried to remember the way she felt, the way she tasted, but nothing he'd imagined prepared him for the reality of Clea in the flesh. She felt a million times softer, smelled a million times better. The scent of watermelon tempted his nose as he lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't kiss her, but kept his mouth a fraction away, savoring her, anticipating the kiss. Her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her breath soft and sweet between them. With a feather touch he moved his mouth across hers, the motion a tease of the kiss to come.

"Kiss me, Nick," she pleaded. "If you don't kiss me soon, I'll die."

Her words fanned his desire, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Lips as sweet as summer fruit met his, bringing to life the spark of desire low in his belly. Nick took her mouth, doing all the things he'd dreamed of while in prison. In his fantasies, he'd made love to her in every way imaginable. He'd forgotten the heat of her mouth and how wild it made him. He sucked her tongue, then mated with it, savoring the texture, the taste of her, deepening the kiss until she moaned low in her throat. She pressed her body to his, her hands in his hair, her breasts flattened against his chest, the mounds burning into him. He couldn't get enough of her, needed more, wanted more.

Together they fell back onto the carpet until his body covered hers. "You belong to me," he whispered against her lips. "Only to me." His fingers slid into her hair, still damp, but feather soft against his skin.

"I do belong to you, Nick. I've never stopped wanting you."

Her words blazed through him, his erection straining against his jeans. He wanted to be inside her, feel her hot and wet around him. "I want you naked, Princess. Now."

Desire filled her green eyes, making them shine with promise.

Nick rolled from her and pulled Clea to a sitting position. With frantic fingers they removed each other's clothing, until nothing separated them but air. Nick yanked his wallet from his pants pocket and removed a condom. There would be no unplanned pregnancy this time.

"You'll have to help me," he said, his hands shaking. "I don't think I can get the damn thing open. God knows, I haven't had much practice using one, but this time I want you protected."

Clea gave him a seductive smile and took the package from his fingers. "I'm not an expert either, but…" She tore the wrapper open. "I think it goes like this."

Nick shut his eyes as she placed the condom on him, rolling the protection down. By the time she finished, he was having trouble holding onto what little self-control he had left. She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders.

"Do you want to move to the bedroom?" he asked, thinking of her comfort.

"No." She held her arms out to him.

Slowly, so slowly, he lowered Clea down to the carpet.

"You're so beautiful." He touched her nipple with the back of his hand. Her breasts were round and fuller than he remembered, the nipples pink and sweet.

She reached for him, guiding his mouth to her breast. Nick licked her nipple, the swollen nub sending a shock wave of pleasure through him. If he was dreaming he didn't want to wake up.

"Oh, Nick," she moaned, her fingers twisting in his hair.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the tip, sucking, then rolling again, until she cried out, arching her back. Gently, he trailed his hand over her smooth stomach, threading his fingers through her triangle of honey curls. The softness fed his desire. When his fingers slipped inside of her, the slick wetness closing around him, he had to grit his teeth, so great was the rush of pure lust that shot through him.

"I want to touch you," she said, her hand closing around his most male part. Her voice was husky with desire, desire he'd put there. Again, lust jolted him, taking him closer to the edge.

"It's been too long for me," he whispered, knowing he couldn't hang on much longer. He couldn't remember if she'd climaxed the last time they'd been together, but he was sure as hell going to make sure she did this time.

His fingers moved inside her, urging her toward release. Clea moved against him, her cries of pleasure filling the air. For every movement he made, she stroked him with equal fever.

"You feel so good," Nick whispered against her breast, his tongue making a lazy circle around her nipple. "You can't imagine how many times I've made love to you in my mind, but it never felt like this."

"Oh, Nick," she cried. "Oh." Her back arched, her fingers tightening around him as she found release.

Nick didn't wait a moment longer. Her legs parted and he moved between them, looking deep into her eyes. Clea locked her legs around his waist, and he dove into her. A low moan escaped her lips and he wondered if he'd hurt her, but when he saw her face, lips parted, eyes closed, he knew the sound signaled her desire. Slowly, he pulled out, the pleasure almost more than he could bear.